THERE

HERE is surely scarcely a region of Europe, Asia or America which has not come under the spell of the devotion to the little St. Teresa of the Child Jesus, the young Carmelite nun who, in spite of her actual desire "to be forgotten, not only by others but by herself"; her dream of happiness, "to be so well hidden that nobody thought of her, unknown, even amongst those those with whom she lived!" was paradoxically to achieve world-wide fame. Pleas for Teresa's beatification were sent to Rome from men and women of every rank and nationality. An authority says that no great man of business has had more intricate affairs pass through his hands than have been confided to the Carmelites at Lisieux since her death, nor controlled more correspondence in a fortnight than is dealt with from the same source within a day. The Chapel of the Shrine was "raised by contributions from the world at large." The pilgrims who flock to Lisieux and kneel there surrounded by flags of their different countries -votive offerings-within walls covered with marble tablets, all ex voto, are eminently cosmopolitan. High dignitaries of the Church, magnificent in purple, parish priests in shabby soutanes, royalties and street scavengers, diplomatists and ignorant children, philosophers and peasants, the maimed in body praying alongside those whose hidden wounds are possibly no less grievous, are drawn to "the second

1L'Esprit de la Bienheureuse Thérèse de l'Enfant Jésus, p. 130.

Lourdes" by the same object,-to hand petitions to God's little messenger. Teresa, "bien-aimée et bienheureuse," as some one said, is appealed to by her country's bitterest enemies, for sanctity speaks any tongue.

At the time when Cardinal Dougherty was presiding over the Lisieux Triduum in her honor, he told an official audience the story of how, when he was first setting out upon his travels in China and Japan, he determined to do his best to make the devotion known in both countries. Arriving at Shanghai he was met by a Jesuit priest who presented him with a copy of Teresa's Autobiography, translated into Chinese. At Tokyo, another Jesuit presented him with a second copy of L'Histoire d'une Ame, translated, this time into the Japanese language.

Yet there are still certain Catholics, who, in all good faith, misinterpret the Saint's mission for want of studying her life and teaching. They know that she must have had heroic virtues or the Church would not have canonized her. But they accord her no special place within their own individual gallery of saints. Much that they read, bewilders them. Those whom they call "the great saints" almost all practiced great austerities, or suffered martyrdom, or had ecstasies. But little Teresa ranked corporal penance low in comparison with charity, often quoting that passage from the prophet Isaias which begins, "Is this such a fast as I have 2lbid., p. 183.

chosen for a man to afflict his soul for a day?" As for visions, she did not even want to have them. When on her deathbed, the nuns spoke to her of "revelations," her answer was, "I do not want to see the good God on earth. . . . I would sooner wait for the eternal vision." She had no gift of prophecy. A few days before her death Mother Agnes of Jesus asked her if she had no intuition as to when, precisely, she would leave the earth? Smiling, she said, "Oh, no Mother, I assure you that I have no intuitions! I know only as you know-I divine nothing except by what I see and feel like you."3

Her picture carrying a crucifix partially concealed by roses is a charming fancy, those who have not come under the spell of her influence, concede, but surely it suggests some kind of evasion. A cross is a cross. Wreathing it with roses may alter the outline but does not take an ounce from its weight. The way to Calvary was long and uphill; Our Lord took no short cut there.

But perhaps what really antagonizes them in their secret hearts, is the expression "little souls" as applied to those for whom Teresa's teaching is specifically meant. Why be content to be a little soul, they say, why not, at the outset, try to be a great one? All the most modern teaching of the day lays stress on the importance of self-confidence. Catholics, so often urged by their bishops to take prominent places in public life, surely should practice it. With constant repetition of that phrase "little soul," as applied to oneself, the subconscious must ultimately be impressed.

God grant it may!

The Church, happily, is so rich зlbid., p. 168.

in her treasury of saints that there is no reason why each one of us, her members, should not choose as our patron one amongst them whose particular attributes seem to apply directly to our personal needs. But looking at the history of the past, it seems as though intentionally, from time to time, special saints were raised up at special epochs to counteract the special tendencies of their age. Never was a time of more self-assertion than now. The god in the car, which the majority bows down before, is Self. The letter "I" is the one letter of the alphabet which we nearly all can read at any distance. Advertisements, posters, and lectures preach self-expression; inform us at every turn that efficiency is the crying need, and that to be efficient we must impress others with our own belief in our powers. The sense of our own importance looms so large on the horizon as to obscure the greater part of the remaining landscape. The highest ecclesiastical powers of the Established Church of England meet to criticize God's word and explain it according to their private interpretation. "We have gone a long way beyond St. Paul," an author wrote, not long ago. John Galsworthy's heroine in The Saint's Progress is not alone in the conviction that if she had time enough to spare, she could teach God.

Which is why, perhaps, here and now, His answer to the problems of the day is to put before us an example of complete sincerity, simplicity, humility, self-abandonment and love in the form of a young girl whose friends still live and may be questioned, if you will, as to the impression which she made upon them. To a restless, unstable world, His answer comes home, serene and

sure. The old answer of the old days, Love. Little Teresa proved by her life and teaching that the "love of God which passeth understanding" may apply to every minute detail of ordinary, everyday existence, and transform it.

A book written by Père G. Martin, Superior of the Diocesan Missionaries of La Vendée, admirably translated into English by the Carmel of Kilmacud, interprets Teresa's teaching simply and clearly. Called The "Little Way" of Spiritual Childhood according to the Life and Writings of B. Thérèse de l'Enfant Jésus, it should be read in conjunction with L'Esprit de la Bienheureuse, compiled by the Lisieux Carmel, from her letters, from notes taken by her novices during the course of their instructions, and the records of Mère Agnès de Jésus, (her sister Pauline) as set down daily, during the last months of Teresa's life. Père Martin submitted his manuscript to Carmel, only to be assured that his rendering of its daughter's "true mind and teaching" was altogether faithful, and accurate.

4

Père Martin, now one of the most devoted of the Saint's adherents, was not, however, impressed by l'Appel aux Petites Ames when first it came his way, until he had opened it. After all a priest does not expect to hear theology from the lips of children. What was this young religious of twenty-four, who had entered an inclosed order of religious at a particularly early age, but a child? Yet in l'Appel, Père Martin was actually to light upon "more doctrine and instruction than in all the works of asceticism read

4Mère Agnès de Jésus is now once more Prioress of the Lisieux Carmel. By the Holy Father's special dispensation she will remain in that office until her death.

in the course of his life." He "found a secret of holiness there, a way of perfection wholly simple and strong and sweet . . . an inexhaustible mine, real treasure!"

Having come upon this unexpected wealth, he felt in honor bound to dispense it to others. Many chapters of this labor of love, undertaken in the hope of bringing love's message home to those who had unaccountably escaped it, were written at night, after so hard a day's work that it was all he could do, physically worn out as he was, to keep his eyes open. Yet there is not sign of "staleness" in the writ

ing. From first to last, the little book is an inspiration; a practical help for Catholics which should be kept at hand.

"More and more as one meditates on the life (in the Gospels) and the actual words of Our Blessed Lord and of St. John, the beloved Apostle, who knew his Master so well, does one realize that Teresa's little way of spiritual infancy and law of Love is simply Christianity as preached and lived by Our Lord Himself. It is only because the world has grown so complicated and so selfish that the pure doctrine of the Gospels has been almost forgotten," an inclosed nun wrote, in a letter to a friend, not long ago.

Through Teresa's deep study of Our Lord's own words, she learned, little by little, the lovely secrets of Christianity. "Books are no more use to me: the Gospels are enough," she said. There is nothing really new in what she has to tell us. What is new is her opportune application of Christ's teaching, and her rules for guidance along the "little way" to Heaven which she evolved, painstakingly through

5L'Esprit, p. 185.

studying His every message. She took God at His word. He Himself told us to call Him "Our Father." This gave her courage to approach Him with the same joy and tenderness with which she had approached her own beloved earthly father. Our Lord said, "Suffer the little children to come unto Me." Her reply was, "I too will be His little child!" and she leapt into His arms. Once there, she did as any normal child does when the father who loves it and whom it loves is near; she told Him how she loved Him, and that never, if she could help it, would she do what would hurt Him, or cause Him pain. For "in every way, by word and deed, has He shown His predilection for little children, not only for those who are so by nature, but also for those who have become so, again, by grace." It follows that if we really want to please Him, we should do as He explicitly directs. "Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, shall not enter into it.”

"God wills," therefore, "that everyone of us, not only in prayer, but in every circumstance, shall look upon himself as His child."8 If we can count with certainty upon the fidelity of the human friend who has never failed us, how much more may we count upon God! We may throw not only our sins but our follies, our errors, and misjudgments, into the furnace of Love which will consume them. "My way is complete love and confidence in God! I cannot understand the souls that fear such a tender friend," said Teresa." "We should be confident to the point of audacity in His Fatherly goodness."10

The human child, anxious to please his father, gives its little heart wholly to him. It blindly follows where he leads, because it knows that he is doing his best for it, and will lift him up when he is over-tired. It is too small to climb even a few steps alone, but borne in his arms it can reach incredible heights. So with God. Teresa's "theory of the Divine Lift" or "short cut to perfection" is neither more nor less than complete abandonment to Him. There is nothing presumptuous in it, nor is it in any sense an evasion of personal activity, in one sense. For "the sleep of the soul in the arms of God does not exclude vigilance . . . I sleep; that is abandonment; but my heart watcheth: that is the part of the soul's activity and her correspondence with grace. Even at the highest point of abandonment this part of activity continues. It does not suffice to surrender ourselves once for all to the Divine action. As this action is continual, we must bring to it a continual coöperation."11 Grace, flooding the soul, saturates it through and through, but the pores of the soul must be kept open to take it in.

The story of Teresa's life was one long act of love to God; a love so sensitive, so exquisitely delicate that she never missed a single opportunity which God put in her way, of making some little sacrifice of self. "It was through watchful and sustained effort that Teresa made of her life a magnificent garland of virtues.' virtues."12 She had a hard struggle "always to give up her will"; and the supernatural revelations which so many saints have had to cheer them on their way were denied

11The "Little Way," p. 69.
12L'Esprit, p. 18.

her. "When I sing in my verses of the happiness of Heaven and of the eternal possession of God, I sing only of what I wish to believe... The night of my soul is a wall which reaches to the very Heaven shutting out the starry sky."1 "I prefer the monotony of obscure sacrifice to any ecstasy."14 "If, at my death, when I see God, Who will shower His tenderness upon me for eternity, I could not prove mine by sacrifices, if I had not done all that I could to give Him pleasure, I could not bear it."15

Truth at all costs was her aim. "Let none come to me who does not want the whole truth."16 "Let me see things as they are!"17 "You know, God, that I seek for Truth!"18 She had no illusions, neither about herself nor about others. "You make a mistake," she wrote to her sister, "if you think that I walk in the way of sacrifice with ardor; I am weak, very weak, and every day I have some new and salutary experience.' 9919 "Oh, what a lot I have still to acquire!" cried a novice. "Say, rather, to lose!" was Teresa's quick answer. "Jesus fills your soul according to the measure by which you rid yourself of imperfections."20

"When a soul has practiced with an unfailing generosity and ever-watchful tenderness . . . the exercise of charity, it does indeed seem as though she should at the same time attain to the perfection of Love." Teresa, daily more and more receptive to love, living more

and more in its presence, began to realize what was her real vocation. Spiritual childhood led to God, for He had said so, and the essence of childhood was love. Love was all that a very little child could achieve. Perfectly to love, would be to draw Love to oneself. "It was in order to be able to diffuse His love that God created the world," but "as for men, the majority of them scornfully reject His loving advances . . . If souls were to offer themselves as victims of holocaust to His love, the good God, glad not to restrict the flames of infinite tenderness pent up within Him, would not fail to consume them rapidly." When the idea came to her, she offered herself, straightway, "to receive into her heart all the Love that sinners disdain"22-the first little victim of the oblation of merciful love, which has numbered SO many votaries since that hour.

Naturally "there is no martyrdom without pain, not even the martyrdom of love." But even the human lover longs rather to give than to take. He who loves supernaturally is not backward in generosity. "There are exchanges of love which can be made only on the Cross."23 Teresa grudged God nothing. Always she gave smilingly. She would never ask Him for a temporal favor "for fear of giving Him the pain of a refusal." She would never complain to Him, however great her physical or mental suffering. "The good God has quite enough trouble," she said, "without our constantly telling Him that we feel ill."24

"What it costs us to give Jesus all He asks!" she wrote to her sister

22lbid., pp. 73, 74. 231bid., pp. 79, 80. 24L'Esprit, p. 47.