Remembering God in a world that forgets

On this Thanksgiving Day, we remember the countless blessings of Almighty God. Simply our grateful remembrance of God is transformative and inclines us to become more and more vessels of Divine Charity, other "humanities" (as Bl. Elizabeth of the Trinity would say) wherein Christ can live His Paschal Mystery.

From the Soliloquies of St. Teresa of Jesus: “My soul grew greatly distressed, my God, while considering the glory You've prepared for those who persevere in doing Your will, the number of trials and sufferings by which Your Son gained it, and how much in its greatness love [which at such a cost taught us to love] deserves our gratitude. How is it possible, Lord, that all this love is forgotten and that mortals are so forgetful of You when they offend You? O my Redeemer, and how completely forgetful of themselves they are! What great goodness is Yours, that You then remember us, and that though we have fallen through the mortal wound we inflicted on You, You return to us, forgetful of this, to lend a hand and awaken us from so incurable a madness, that we might seek and beg salvation of you! Blessed be such a Lord; blessed be such great mercy; and praised forever such tender compassion!” (3.1).

Let us always remember ... and give thanks.

The lineage of holiness...

St. Teresa of Jesus, foundress and reformer

I am in Brighton, MA for a gathering of the Plenary Provincial Council, which is a consultative body composed of the provincial, his council, the superiors of all our monasteries, and elected delegates from the various communities.

Today, for the Feast of All Carmelite Saints, Fr. Santulino Ekada, OCD, the prior of our monastery/student house in Nairobi, Kenya, preached on the responsibilities incumbent upon us friars who are "descendants" of the saints of Carmel.  He spoke strikingly of the African mindset of lineage.  It is of primary importance in the African culture to maintain the bloodline, to pass on the heritage of father to son, and to assure the continuity and growth of the clan or the tribe.  Still more, Fr. Santulino told us that one who breaks the lineage is considered accursed. And so, those religious and priests, who do not have biological children for the growth of the tribe, are also regarded accursed.

Analogously, it is the Discalced Carmelite community existing TODAY that bears aloft the call to holiness in Carmel.  As St. Teresa wrote, "...if those of us who are alive now have not fallen away from what they did in the past, and those who come after us do the same, the building will always stand firm. What use is it to me for the saints of the past to have been what they were, if I come along after them and behave so badly that I leave the building in ruins because of my bad habits?" "Any of you who sees your Order falling away in any respect must try to be the kind of stone the building can be rebuilt with—the Lord will help to rebuild it" (Foundations, 4.6,7).

Carmel is not a history to be learned, nor simply a spirituality to be studied, but a life to be lived.  May the Lord keep us faithful one day at a time that we may be counted one day among the saints!

Post-Resurrection Impressions

In April of 1571, St. Teresa of Jesus was living in Salamanca.  The day after Easter Sunday she was feeling very down and put to paper a reflection for her confessor at the time--Fr. Martín Gutiérrez, S.J., who was rector of the Jesuit house there.  She says: "All day yesterday I felt very lonely, for except when I received Communion I benefited little from the fact that it was Easter Sunday" (Spiritual Testimonies, 12).  Loneliness.  It is an affliction that touches us at the core and it is a suffering that we make great efforts to remedy time and time again.  There are times in our lives, no matter how we surround ourselves with others or lose ourselves in some task or another, when we simply pine for a rendezvous wherein we know ourselves to be known and loved intimately.  And with a love that is all-assuring and absolute.  To be embraced from within.


Teresa says that shortly thereafter: "One day after receiving Communion, it seemed most clear to me that our Lord sat beside me; and He began to console me with great favors, and He told me among other things: "See Me here, daughter, for it is I: give Me your hands." And it seemed He took them and placed them on His side and said: "Behold My wounds. You are not without Me. This short life is passing away" (ibid.).  ... Ah, this is the love we desire--the love of One who has been to the depths of hell, bearing aloft like a torch His unquenchable love, seeking any who are lost.  One who understands my longings.  Just as Jesus showed His wounds to His disciples, He shows them to Teresa in order to console her and to awaken her to His divine perspective.  Forever He bears His wounds in order to assure us that His love is stronger than death.  And He does not "leave us orphans" but rather "prepares a place" for us to finally be with Him (John 14:3,18).


Teresa's experience of loneliness serves as the pretext for her visit from the Risen Christ.  Perhaps it is there, in our painful longing for a definitive rendezvous, where Christ our God takes our hands and places them on His side.  Our ache is met by the touch of God.  Dark faith conceals and reveals the One for whom we long.  Behold My wounds. You are not without Me. This short life is passing away.


(Icon painted by Br. Claude Lane, OSB of Mt. Angel Abbey, OR)

The Truth Will Set You Free

"If man lives without truth, life passes him by: ultimately he surrenders the field to whoever is the stronger.... In Christ, God entered the world and set up the criterion of truth in the midst of history. Truth is outwardly powerless in the world, just as Christ is powerless by the world's standards: he has no legions; he is crucified. Yet in his very powerlessness, he is powerful: only thus, again and again, does truth become power." - Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth, Vol II, p. 194.

"I would rather a spirit without prayer than one that has not begun to walk in truth." -- St. Teresa of Jesus (Life, 13.16)

“Now is the time of judgment on this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out.” (John 12:31)

St. Teresa of Ávila, Life 9.4: "The scene of His prayer in the garden, especially, was a comfort to me; I strove to be His companion there. If I could, I thought of the sweat and agony He had undergone in that place. I desired to wipe away the sweat He so painfully experienced, but I recall that I never dared to actually do it, since my sins appeared to me so serious. I remained with Him as long as my thoughts allowed me to, for there were many distractions that tormented me. Most nights, for many years before going to bed when I commended myself to God in preparation for sleep, I always pondered for a little while this episode of the prayer in the garden. I did this even before I was a nun since I was told that one gains many indulgences by doing so. I believe my soul gained a great deal through this custom because I began to practice prayer without knowing what it was; and the custom became so habitual that I did not abandon it, just as I did not fail to make the sign of the cross before sleeping."

Foundation Day...

Feast of St. Bartholomew, August 24, 2010
448th anniversary of the Foundation of San José in Ávila
The beginning of the Discalced Reform of Carmel!

…We’ll it’s been a LONG time since I entered anything in this blog. And I’m thinking I should re-title it “The Blog I Forgot.” But perhaps today is a good day to make another start. It is the very day in 1562 that St. Teresa took the plunge. The first daughters of her fledgling reform broke the silence of early morning in Ávila, having rung the monastery bell, to announce the celebration of Mass. Fr. Gaspar Daza, respected diocesan priest of the town—at one time skeptical of Teresa’s mystical experiences, even believing them to be of the devil (cf. Life, 23.14)—now presided at the firs Mass and read aloud the papal bull granting the nuns permission to found San José.

In the Life, Our Holy Mother St. Teresa of Jesus writes:
“One day after Communion, His Majesty earnestly commanded me to strive for this new monastery with all my powers, and He made great promises that it would be founded and that He would be highly served in it. He said it should be called St. Joseph an that this saint would keep watch over us at one door, and our Lady at the other, that Christ would remain with us, and that it would be a star shining with great splendor. He said that even though religious orders were mitigated one shouldn't think He was little served in them; He asked what would become of the world if it were not for religious and said that I should tell my confessor what He commanded, that He was asking him not to go against this or hinder me from doing it” (32.11).

It remains the custom of all Carmels to keep a statue of St. Joseph prominently stationed at the front entrance, as a guardian of the place. The Carmel would be another Nazareth, a quiet place where God is present and another "holy family" may reside to the glory of God. May Christ continue to be "highly served" in every Carmel through the guidance of St. Joseph and Our Lady. St. Teresa of Jesus, pray for us!

The Transverberation of St. Teresa of Jesus

Today the Discalced Carmelite Order celebrates that mystical grace granted to St. Teresa which we call the Transverberation, also referred to within the Carmels of Ávila as "la gracia del dardo" or the "grace of the dart." St. Teresa herself recounts the experience in chapter 29 of her Life:

“I saw close to me toward my left side an angel in bodily form. … the angel was not large but small; he was very beautiful, and his face was so aflame that he seemed to be one of those very sublime angels that appear to be all afire. They must belong to those they call the cherubim, for they didn't tell me their names. … I saw in his hands a large golden dart and at the end of the iron tip there appeared to be a little fire. It seemed to me this angel plunged the dart several times into my heart and that it reached deep within me. When he drew it out, I thought he was carrying off with him the deepest part of me; and he left me all on fire with great love of God. The pain was so great that it made me moan, and the sweetness this greatest pain caused me was so superabundant that there is no desire capable of taking it away; nor is the soul content with less then God. The pain is not bodily but spiritual, although the body doesn't fail to share in some of it, and even a great deal. The loving exchange that takes place between the soul and God is so sweet that I beg Him in goodness to give a taste of this love to anyone who thinks I am lying.” (Life, 29.13)