St. Therese & Our Own Genius

Ste. Thérèse de L’Enfant Jesus et de la Sainte Face

From the Responsory for today’s Office of Readings:

From the very beginning, O God, you came to me with your love,
which has grown since my childhood
– Its depths I cannot fully grasp.

O Lord, how great is the goodness
you have stored up for those who fear you.
– Its depths I cannot fully grasp.

Coming directly after Therese’s nearly ecstatic words in the second reading, the quiet acknowledgment of ongoing mystery and unplumbable depths in the Responsory were particularly striking to me; it laid a quietening hand upon my own soul, which had been rallied into a roar by the words of this Doctor of the Church, who -for all she is known as “The Little Flower”- was no shrinking violet.

Therese is so boisterous, in today’s reading; she is writing so excitedly on her inspired insight that one wants to pat her back and say, “there, there, kid, calm down; you don’t want to start a coughing fit.”

Except I am pretty sure Therese would not appreciate either the condescension, nor the concern. She would throw off my hand and keep going, urged on by love. Remember, this is the woman who -as a 14 year old making a pilgrimage to Rome- did the utterly unthinkable:

“…they told us on the Pope’s behalf that it was forbidden to speak as this would prolong the audience too much. I turned toward my dear Celine for advice: ‘Speak!’ she said. A moment later I was at the Holy Father’s feet….Lifting tear-filled eyes to his face I cried out: ‘Most Holy Father, I have a great favor to ask you!….Holy Father, in honor of your jubilee, permit me to enter Carmel at the age of fifteen.”

… “Well, my child,” the Holy Father replied, “do what the superiors tell you.”

Resting my hands on his knees, I made a final effort, saying, ‘Oh, Holy Father, if you say yes, everybody will agree!’ He gazed at me speaking these words and stressing each syllable: ‘Go – go – you will enter if God wills it.”
– – The Story of a Soul, the Autobiography of St. Therese

She entered the Carmel at Lisieux at age 15.

Despite the inclination of some Catholics to indulge in such sloppy sentiment as to make her seem like the Hello Kitty of Saints, this Therese was a tough young woman. To endure the mean deprivation of a 19th Century cloistered life, suffer through an extended spiritual “Dark Night” and -all while coughing up bits and pieces of her own lungs- continually proclaim the great love and mercy of the Lord, is substantial and inspiring evidence of her formidable interior life.

When I prayed this morning’s Office of Readings, I especially asked St. Therese to pray for my two sons, who could use the guidance and prayers of one who saw God’s purpose for her life at a very early age, and allowed nothing to deter her from pursuing His will for her. That very act of obedience -as it so often does- unleashed her genius.

I suspect that all of us, if we are living our lives to God’s purpose, do tap into our own God-given genius.

But that is not as simple as it sounds. For so many, including for my “gifted” sons, the very choices available to us in this modern and developing world can confuse or distract, preventing us from being able to hear and hone in on what it is God has waiting for us.

It is almost like we need a spiritual sonar, as we negotiate through the dark and rocky depths, and Therese is one of the bouys. If that is a right metaphor. I know nothing nautical.

All I know is that today, I asked Therese -the headstrong daughter of Louis and Zélie Martin, now a Doctor of the Church- to kindly pray for my headstrong, “certified genius” sons, that they may learn God’s will for their lives.

I know she will say, “His will for them is Love.” And I accept that. I just want them to be able to earn livings, too! :-)

Fr. James Martin notes here:

Though there are parts of her story that I find difficult to accept (her childhood religiosity can sound pretentious, precious and even a little neurotic), though her efforts at self-denial sometimes are close to masochistic, and though it is embarrassing to admit that one of my favorite saints is one of the most girlish and cloying, it is finally the woman herself who appeals to me. Like every other saint, Thérèse Martin was a product of her times, raised in the overheated environment of a super-religious family and formed in the pieties of nineteenth-century French convent life. So it is hardly surprising that some of her words and actions occasionally baffle us. But shining through the nineteenth-century piety, like a pale green shoot bursting through dark soil, is a stunningly original personality, a person who, despite the difficulties of life, holds out to us her little way, and says to us one thing: Love.

Webster Bull, who has quickly become a favorite daily read, writes of Therese:

I have read her book only once, but my copy is heavily underlined, and several passages stand out. Here are a few small petals from “The Little Flower”:

Jesus has made me feel that in obeying simply, I would be pleasing Him.

Perfection consists in doing His will, in being what He wills us to be.

I see that all is vanity and vexation of spirit under the sun, that the only good is to love God with all one’s heart and to be poor in spirit here on earth.

I felt it was far more valuable to speak to God than to speak about Him, for there is so much self-love intermingled with spiritual conversations!

If you are not up to reading her autobiography, but are curious to know more about St. Therese, an excellent place to start is with Fr. James Martin’s My Life With the Saints, which I cannot recommend enough.

More here and here.

Also writing:
The Patron Saint of Common Sense
McNamara
The Miracle of St. Therese