Life of St Teresa of Jesus, Teresa of Avila [top ten books to read TXT] 📗

Dei comparatione justificabitur?”

Chapter XXI.

Conclusion of the Subject. Pain of the Awakening.

Light Against Delusions.

1. To bring this matter to an end, I say that it is not necessary

for the soul to give its consent here; it is already given: the

soul knows that it has given up its will into His hands, [1] and

that it cannot deceive Him, because He knoweth all things. It is

not here as it is in the world, where all life is full of deceit

and double-dealing. When you think you have gained one man’s

good will, because of the outward show he makes, you afterwards

learn that all was a lie. No one can live in the midst of so

much scheming, particularly if there be any interests at stake.

2. Blessed, then, is that soul which our Lord draws on to the

understanding of the truth! Oh, what a state for kings!

How much better it would be for them if they strove for this,

rather than for great dominions! How justice would prevail under

their rule! What evils would be prevented, and might have been

prevented already! Here no man fears to lose life or honour for

the love of God. What a grand thing this would be to him who is

more bound than those beneath him to regard the honour of our

Lord!—for it is kings whom the crowd must follow. To make one

step in the propagation of the faith, and to give one ray of

light to heretics, I would forfeit a thousand kingdoms. And with

good reason: for it is another thing altogether to gain a kingdom

that shall never end, because one drop of the water of that

kingdom, if the soul but tastes it, renders the things of this

world utterly loathsome.

3. If, then, the soul should be wholly engulfed, what then?

O Lord, if Thou wert to give me the right to publish this abroad,

people would not believe me—as they do not believe many who are

able to speak of it in a way very different from mine; but I

should satisfy myself, at least. I believe I should count my

life as nothing, if I might make others understand but one of

these truths. I know not what I shall do afterwards, for I

cannot trust myself; though I am what I am, I have a violent

desire, which is wasting me, to say this to those who are in

authority. And now that I can do no more, I betake myself to

Thee, O my Lord, to implore a remedy for all. Thou knowest well

that I would gladly divest myself of all the graces which Thou

hast given me,—provided I remained in a condition never to

offend Thee,—and give them up to those who are kings; for I know

it would then be impossible for them to allow what they allow

now, or fail to receive the very greatest blessings.

4. O my God, make kings to understand how far their obligations

reach! Thou hast been pleased to distinguish them on earth in

such a way that—so I have heard—Thou showest signs in the

heavens when Thou takest any of them away. Certainly, when I

think of this, my devotion is stirred, because Thou wilt have

them learn, O my King, even from this, that they must imitate

Thee in their lives, seeing that, when they die, signs are

visible in the heavens, as it was when Thou wert dying Thyself.

5. I am very bold; if it be wrong, you, my father, will tear this

out: only believe that I should speak much more to the purpose in

the presence of kings,—if I might, or thought they would listen

to me,—for I recommend them greatly to God, and I wish I might

be of service to them. All this makes one risk life; for I long

frequently to lose mine,—and that would be to lose a little for

the chance of gaining much; for surely it is not possible to

live, when we see with our eyes the great delusion wherein we are

walking, and the blindness in which we are living.

6. A soul that has attained to this is not limited to the desires

it has to serve God; for His Majesty gives it strength to bring

those desires to good effect. Nothing can be put before it into

which it will not throw itself, if only it thinks that God may be

served thereby: and yet it is doing nothing, because, as I said

before, [2] it sees clearly that all is nothing, except pleasing

God. The trial is, that those who are so worthless as I am, have

no trial of the kind. May it be Thy good pleasure, O my God,

that the time may come in which I may be able to pay one farthing

at least, of the heavy debt I owe Thee! Do Thou, O Lord, so

dispose matters according to Thy will, that this Thy servant may

do Thee some service. Other women there have been who did heroic

deeds for Thee; I am good only to talk; and so it has not been

Thy pleasure, O my God, that I should do any thing: all ends in

talk and desires—that is all my service. And yet even in this I

am not free, because it is possible I might fail altogether.

7. Strengthen Thou my soul, and prepare it, O Good of all good;

and, my Jesus, then ordain Thou the means whereby I may do

something for Thee, so that there may be not even one who can

bear to receive so much, and make no payment in return. Cost

what it may, O Lord, let me not come before Thee with hands so

empty, [3] seeing that the reward of every one will be according

to his works. [4] Behold my life, behold my good name and my

will; I have given them all to Thee; I am Thine: dispose of me

according to Thy will. I see well enough, O Lord, how little I

can do; but now, having drawn near to Thee,—having ascended to

this watchtower, from which the truth may be seen,—and while

Thou departest not from me, I can do all things; but if Thou

departest from me, were it but for a moment, I shall go thither

where I was once—that is, to hell. [5]

8. Oh, what it is for a soul in this state to have to return to

the commerce of the world, to see and look on the farce of this

life, [6] so ill-ordered; to waste its time in attending to the

body by sleeping and eating! [7] All is wearisome; it cannot run

away,—it sees itself chained and imprisoned; it feels then most

keenly the captivity into which the body has brought us, and the

wretchedness of this life. It understands the reason why

St. Paul prayed to God to deliver him from it. [8] The soul

cries with the Apostle, and calls upon God to deliver it, as I

said on another occasion. [9] But here it often cries with so

much violence, that it seems as if it would go out of the body in

search of its freedom, now that they do not take it away. It is

as a slave sold into a strange land; and what distresses it most

is, that it cannot find many who make the same complaint and the

same prayer: the desire of life is more common.

9. Oh, if we were utterly detached,—if we never placed our

happiness in anything of this world,—how the pain, caused by

living always away from God, would temper the fear of death with

the desire of enjoying the true life! Sometimes I consider, if a

person like myself—because our Lord has given this light to me,

whose love is so cold, and whose true rest is so uncertain, for I

have not deserved it by my works—frequently feels her banishment

so much, what the feelings of the Saints must have been.

What must St. Paul and the Magdalene, and others like them, have

suffered, in whom the fire of the love of God has grown so

strong? Their life must have been a continual martyrdom.

It seems to me that they who bring me any comfort, and whose

conversation is any relief, are those persons in whom I find

these desires—I mean, desires with acts. I say with acts, for

there are people who think themselves detached, and who say so of

themselves,—and it must be so, for their vocation demands it, as

well as the many years that are passed since some of them began

to walk in the way of perfection,—but my soul distinguishes

clearly, and afar off, between those who are detached in words,

and those who make good those words by deeds. The little

progress of the former, and the great progress of the latter,

make it plain. This is a matter which a person of any experience

can see into most clearly.

10. So far, then, of the effects of those raptures which come

from the Spirit of God. The truth is, that these are greater or

less. I say less, because in the beginning, though the effects

are wrought, they are not tested by works, and so it cannot be

clear that a person has them; and perfection, too, is a thing of

growth, and of labouring after freedom from the cobwebs of

memory; and this requires some time. Meanwhile, the greater the

growth of love and humility in the soul, the stronger the perfume

of the flowers of virtues is for itself and for others. The truth

is, that our Lord can so work in the soul in an instant during

these raptures, that but little remains for the soul to do in

order to attain to perfection. No one, who has not had

experience of it, will ever be able to believe what our Lord now

bestows on the soul. No effort of ours—so I think—can ever

reach so far.

11. However, I do not mean to say that those persons who during

many years make use of the method prescribed by writers on

prayer,—who discuss the principles thereof, and the means

whereby it may be acquired,—will not, by the help of our Lord,

attain to perfection and great detachment with much labour; but

they will not attain to it so rapidly as by the way of raptures,

in which our Lord works independently of us, draws the soul

utterly away from earth, and gives it dominion over all things

here below, though the merits of that soul may not be greater

than mine were: I cannot use stronger language, for my merits are

as nothing. Why His Majesty doeth this is, because it is His

pleasure, and He doeth it according to His pleasure; even if the

soul be without the fitting disposition, He disposes it for the

reception of that blessing which He is giving to it. Although it

be most certain that He never fails to comfort those who do well,

and strive to be detached, still He does not always give these

effects because they have deserved them at His hands by

cultivating the garden, but because it is His will to show His

greatness at times in a soil which is most worthless, as I have

just said, and to prepare it for all good: and all this in such a

way that it seems as if the soul was now, in a manner, unable to

go back and live in sin against God, as it did