With the dawn of the Renaissance and Reformation comes the Catholic response to it all: the Counter-Reformation (oh–such a creative name!). The Catholics tried to get rid of all the corruption that had snowballed and led to the Protestant split. In some ways, they were successful (when’s the last time you’ve tried to buy your way into heaven?). In other ways, well…
Out of the chaos of that time period came two of the greatest powerhouse mystics of the church: Tereas of Avila and St. John of the Cross.
A couple quick notes: First, though I grew up Catholic, I currently attend a Lutheran church. Unlike Teresa, who truly thought the Lutherans were hell-bound, I’m all for Christian mystics of any denomination. It just so happens that the majority of the notable ones come from the Catholic tradition. I suppose monks and nuns just have more time on their hands to chill with God?
Second, Teresa is the first female mystic featured in this series. I’m sure that over history there have been just as many female as male Christian contemplatives. However, for thousands of years women have typically not had the same access to formal education as men. Thus, there aren’t many theological treatises penned by females. To make it even tougher on these XX types, until recently, the Western world was male-dominated (some readers will argue that the Western world is still heavily male-dominated. There has been at least some movement toward equality, though). As a result of this male-centric world, female mystics, though they existed, may not have been as highly regarded.
Oh well. At least we have Teresa. And, boy does she try to make up for it. The impact she made on contemplative theology is monumentous.
Daddy Trouble
Teresa started off her teen years on the “wrong” side of just about everything. Her mother died when Teresa was in her early teens. Teresa didn’t handle it well and (probably as a distraction) became a social butterfly. Teresa (despite her appearance in the painting below) was a beauty and drew the attention of quite a few of her male cousins. Dad, understandably concerned, thought a year at a school run by the very austere Augustian nuns would coax her back in line.
Her father’s plan worked well–a little too well.
Much to Dad’s dismay (and without his blessing, at least at first), Teresa entered the convent a few years later. The choice of convent choice played into her father’s disapproval. Dad preferred the austere Augustinian order, Teresa the gentler Carmelites. Teresa would later come to appreciate Dad’s wisdom.
Betrothed to Christ
Ultimately, Teresa desired to be God’s. She desired to transform herself into whom she believed God wanted her to be. However, the Carmelite order was not conducive to the contemplative lifestyle that Teresa felt so drawn to.
In order to fund the convent, the Carmelites would entertain wealthy families. These families were invited to visit the convent. The nuns would also make home visits. Teresa and her fellow nuns gave spiritual advice and entertainment (conversation only, folks, get your head out of the gutter–these are holy women we are talking about!). Beautiful, witty Teresa was a favorite among these wealthy families and she found time to pray hard to come by.
Eventually (and despite the distracting Carmelite lifestyle), Teresa grew in her faith. She learned the art of prayer and how to cultivate inner stillness. This journey was anything but smooth sailing. Reading a page from a biography of her physical health will make anyone cringe. This woman experienced partial paralysis, headaches, heart trouble, fevers, full-body aches, frequent vomiting, rotted teeth and back pain. She also engaged in self-inflicted austerities that further negatively impacted her health (a common theme for the Christian mystics). Yet, Teresa was unmoved by all of it. She deemed it all as penance for sins and begged for more. Though I personally see her self-deprecation and extreme asceticism as her one flaw, she was so filled with Holy Spirit that she could literally levitate. So, I’ll let you do decide. 🙂
A more spiritually mature Teresa yearned for a more austere, quiet lifestyle. This more contemplative lifestyle was, in fact, the original intention of the Carmelite order. Thus, she founded the discalced (shoeless) Carmelites. Instead of entertaining the rich and famous and asking for provisions, these women lived a cloistered life and depended only on what was provided freely by others.
What was provided freely by others wasn’t much…thus the “shoeless” part of their name.
St. John of the Cross, Teresa’s dear friend and disciple later on in her life, formed the male Discalced Carmelite order. Both Teresa and John’s written works are well-known as Christian “go-to” resources for understanding the growth of the soul. And Teresa and John themselves are two of the most influential Christian mystics in church history.
Watering the Soul
One of the reasons Teresa’s work is so famous in contemplative circles (and even a bit outside of it) is the beautiful imagery she uses to describe the inward spiritual journey. She makes two analogies to describe spiritual maturation. Her first compared the soul to a garden.
At the start, Teresa explains, the garden of the soul has little growing in it besides undesirable weeds. God plants good seed in the soil (take that, weeds!), but Teresa believes it to be our job to bring the water to help the plants to grow. As the well-tended garden blossoms, God enjoys residing there. Thus, the blossoming garden of the soul is a joint effort between us and God.
All well and good, but what do we do to water the garden? Teresa likens the watering process to prayer. This prayer/watering can take many forms. Some forms of prayer require very little effort on our part, but rather deep surrender to God. However, complete surrender to God, though requiring little mental effort, does ask for spiritual maturity far beyond most of us beginning or even intermediate contemplatives. If you, like me, have a wandering mind in meditation or still feel attached to the physical world in one way or another, you’re not ready for the easy way yet.
Yet, there’s still hope! There are other ways to water the garden. These variations on prayer are considerably more labor-intensive, but easier to access for the majority of us.
Hauling buckets
The easiest to access but most work-intensive is meditation.
Yeah, I said it, meditation is the EASIEST. Teresa was something else when it came to her faith.
I know, some of you might be balking at this. Very few of us (including myself, at least at this point in my life), have even gotten a strong handle on meditation! How is this the easiest to access?
Teresa likens meditation to hauling buckets of water to the garden from a well. What she refers to as meditation is not so much sitting and watching the breath but rather a inner relationship with God. In this relationship, we not only share out inmost thoughts with God but we also listen to his response and guidance. We enjoy his presence and companionship.
Agua from the Aqueduct
Next up in Teresa’s analogy is watering the garden using contraptions my generation just can’t understand, like water wheels or aqueducts. I have a faint idea of what these things look like. But really, the main point is that the water gets from point A (water source) to point B (garden) without requiring the person bringing the water to elicit chiropractic help. Teresa compares this watering method to the prayer of simplicity.
The prayer of simplicity is quite simple, as its name implies. Just focus on what God is doing within you and allow your mind to rest in the loving awareness of your heavenly father… I wrote the preceding two statements tongue-in-cheek.
There is nothing at all simple about releasing the intellect for us humans. However, what is impossible with man is possible with God. The prayer of simplicity requires surrender of the concept of a self separate from God. Once we release the need to define ourselves in any way, we can let go of almost all thought and just be in communion with the Father.
Irrigation
As we move ever closer to completely handing over the watering responsibilities, we reach infused prayer. Here, the “I,” as we tend to think about ourselves, is more or less gone and God is speaking directly to our hearts. In this form of prayer, Teresa describes all of our senses being stilled/unaccessible. As we move through these stages, there is increasingly the working of God within and less and less of a sense of a self separate from the divine.
This is a beautiful form of prayer. Teresa gives hope to those of us who may feel that the spiritual journey is “hard”. Prayer is meant to be joyful and easy. The hard part isn’t about efforting, but rather about letting go.
Let It Rain
Finally, we have rain, which requires no effort from the gardener. This stage is where our souls fully merge with God in prayer and the dividing line between us and God is absent altogether. Yes, Teresa made it there. Like I said, she is one of a kind among contemplatives.
Castle in the Heart
If you deepen your prayer life, your relationship with God also deepens. To describe this growing relationship, Teresa offers a second analogy. She compares the soul to a castle within the soul.
The center of the castle (the inner rooms) is the residence of God Himself. As the contemplative spiritually develops, they move towards the inner rooms of the castle. With each move, the soul moves closer to union with God.
Interior Castle
I could write a whole book on this metaphor. Teresa did. So, if you want more on this, go read it (it’s free online)! In the meantime, here’s the cliffnotes version of the various “dwellings” within the castle.
Again, there’s a metaphorical “castle” inside our hearts. The innermost part of the castle holds the place where we commune with God. As we progress through the various types of prayer (ways to water the garden), we simultaneously move towards the inside of the castle. Let’s check out this castle! Sounds fun (if you aren’t scared of snakes and other reptiles).
The Grand Tour:
- First mansions: Here resides the Christian who only turns to God a few times a month. They are very distracted by the world and unaware of of the beauty of the castle. There are lots of reptiles (=distractions/doubts/worldly concerns) which apparently enjoy hanging out in the castle courtyard. “Snakes, why does it always have to be snakes?”
- Second mansions: At this point, the Christian has begun to practice prayer regularly and gets that there’s something to this God thing. Unfortunatley, there is more suffering here than in the first mansion because they actually give a dang! They want to draw closer to God but they keep getting tripped up by the blasted snakes. If you’re thinking Christianity is a tough road/a drag, then you might be in this stage.
- Third mansions: The Christian has turned the corner. They spend hours in meditation, live a life of love, and avoid even the tiny sins. Still some reptiles hanging about, but less of them. (Most of us are probably in the second or third mansions)
- Fourth mansions: Here the Christian doesn’t see reptiles very often but is happy when they appear (challenges are growth opportunities). They abandon their souls to God. They have very few fears, except the fear of offending God. Mystical stuff starts happening.
- Fifth mansions: No more snakes! Teresa describes the mind and body as being “suspended” for 30 minutes at a time. During these times, the soul dwells in God and God in it. They care for nothing earthly. However, at least in Teresa’s case, they desire great penances to get closer to God. Synonymous to betrothal in Earthly marriages.
- Sixth mansions: Great desire to be with God (beloved). This longing is painful. They experience spiritual raptures/ecstasy. Lots of mystical stuff happens in these mansions.
- Seventh mansions: The final mansions are akin to spiritual marriage to God. The Christian’s only concern here is advancing the honor and glory of God/serving. There is no longer a fear of death. The soul is nearly always calm.
St. John: Dark Night of the Soul
As stated earlier, this is the first post in this series to feature a female mystic. So far, it has been fairly uplifting (fairly–asceticism can be a bit of a downer).
Now it’s time to talk about John of the Cross, Teresa’s male counterpart (or, more specifically, what he known for). We are going to take a brief journey into the dark night of the soul. You’re welcome.
Many of us have heard about the “dark night of the soul” but few of us have probably understood it properly. Growing up in the Catholic church, I took it to be a time when you couldn’t feel God–when God felt distant and out of touch. While this description of the dark night is accurate, the true depth of the dark night is actually quite beautiful and not at all a downer.
God’s Role in Awakening
Often, we think of spiritual awakening as something we do (hauling the water!!!). First, we have to desire awakening; we have to want it more than anything else in our lives. God is all about free will. As you have just read, Teresa talks a lot about the role of prayer and our part in awakening, but not as much about God’s part (or at least, God’s part before we surrender). Luckily, we have the modern mystics to help us with that (the next and final installment in this series, because there are about 300 years of church history that I’m just not going to bother with).
For now though, I’ll give you a sneak peak: God is in constant communication with us. God is that near and dear friend who just won’t shut up. He talks ALL the time. Though, as Elijah found out (1 Kings 19:11-12), God’s voice is rarely loud or overbearing. And, like that near and dear friend, we may tune him out, much to our detriment.
God puts up with us. And he keeps talking (whether or not we listen). Eventually, if we want awakening more than anything, we will move to the threshold of surrender to him (infused prayer/dwelling in God). Getting over the threshold is difficult for us humans, and God is willing to help. Once God knows we are ready to release the hold on the world and all the stories our brains contrive about the world, ourselves, and God, our loving heavenly Father gives us a gentle push over the finish line.
In the “dark night,” God temporarily withdraws our ability to find enjoyment in the world and in our meditations (own thoughts) on the qualities of God. Eventually, with nothing else to turn to, we let go of what isn’t working and surrender to silence. And in that silence, God breaks through in the most beautiful way.
A Blessing in Disguise
For those curious of the parallels between Teresa and John, I believe the dark night happens as we transition to the 5th and then again to the 7th mansions. Thus, most of us have not experienced the dark night of the soul in the way that John described.
However, many of us have had mini dark nights–experiences of emptiness as we play around with the snakes of this world (using Teresa’s analogy). Perhaps we have spent years working hard earning money for a new house, training for a new job, or saving for that new car, just to find that it didn’t bring the peace and joy we had been longing for.
Ultimately, a dark night of the soul is just good divine parenting. God puts us in a little time out so that we can realize that we have our priorities backwards and are running away from what would truly fulfill us.
Going Beyond Fear
This is what it all comes down to. God is pure love, pure joy, pure peace. He wants only our highest good, for us to surrender all the illusions and lies and fall head over heels in love with him. This surrender to love will give us more joy, more fulfillment, than we can even imagine right now.
Those who surrender their hearts to God–to their true nature–have no regrets. It’s like trading in a McDonald’s quarter pounder for a gourmet all-you-can-eat buffet. Or trading an abusive relationship for someone who loves you for the heart of who you are. Or…you get the idea.
Friend, what are we waiting for? I don’t know about you, but the only reason I want any more snakes in my life is if they draw me closer to the true lover of my soul. Are you with me?