St. Teresa of Ávila
Jul 30, 2018 19:24:57 GMT
Post by Admin on Jul 30, 2018 19:24:57 GMT
Excerpts from "The life of St. Teresa of Jesus of the order of Our Lady of Carmel"
by Saint Teresa of Avila, Reverend Benedict Zimmerman O. C. D. 1916
Divine Locutions. Discussions on that Subject
. . . . . I look upon it as a most certain truth, that the devil will never deceive, and that God will not suffer him to deceive, the soul which has no confidence whatever in itself; which is strong in faith, and resolved to undergo a thousand deaths for any one article of the creed; which in its love of the faith, infused of God once for all,--a faith living and strong,--always labors, seeking for further light on this side and on that, to mold itself on the teaching of the Church, as one already deeply grounded in the truth. No imaginable revelations, not even if it saw the heavens open, could make that soul swerve in any degree from the doctrine of the Church.
If, however, it should at any time find itself wavering even in thought on this point, or stopping to say to itself, If God says this to me, it may be true, as well as what He said to the Saints--the soul must not be sure of it. I do not mean that it so believes, only that Satan has taken the first step towards tempting it; and the giving way to the first movements of a thought like this is evidently most wrong. I believe, however, that these first movements will not take place if the soul is so strong in the matter--as that soul is to whom our Lord sends these graces--that it seems as if it could crush the evil spirits in defense of the very least of the truths which the Church holds.
If the soul does not discern this great strength in itself, and if the particular devotion or vision help it not onwards, then it must not look upon it as safe. For though at first the soul is conscious of no harm, great harm may by degrees ensue; because so far as I can see, and by experience understand, that which purports to come from God is received only in so far as it corresponds with the sacred writings; but if it varies therefrom ever so little, I am incomparably more convinced that it comes from Satan than I am now convinced it comes from God, however deep that conviction may be.
In this case, there is no need to ask for signs, nor from what spirit it proceeds, because this varying is so clear a sign of the devil's presence, that if all the world were to assure me that it came from God, I would not believe it. The fact is, that all good seems to be lost out of sight, and to have fled from the soul, when the devil has spoken to it; the soul is thrown into a state of disgust, and is troubled, able to do no good thing whatever--for if it conceives good desires, they are not strong; its humility is fictitious, disturbed, and without sweetness. Any one who has ever tasted of the Spirit of God will, I think, understand it. Nevertheless, Satan has many devices; and so there is nothing more certain than that it is safer to be afraid, and always on our guard, under a learned director, from whom nothing is concealed.
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Our Lord shows St. Teresa the place which she had by her sins deserved in hell. The Torments there. She narrates how it pleased God to put her in spirit in that place of hell she had deserved by her sins. She tells a little compared with what there was besides of what she saw there.
Some considerable time after our Lord had bestowed upon me the graces I have been describing, and others also of a higher nature, I was
But
as to what I then felt, I do not know where to begin, if I were to
describe it; it is utterly inexplicable. I felt a fire in my soul. I
cannot see how it is possible to describe it. My bodily sufferings were
unendurable. I have undergone most painful sufferings in this life, and,
as the physicians say, the greatest that can be borne, such as the
contraction of my sinews when I was paralyzed, without speaking of
others of different kinds, yea, even those of which I have also spoken,
inflicted on me by Satan; yet all these were as nothing in comparison
with what I felt then, especially when I saw that there would be no
intermission, nor any end to them.
These sufferings were nothing
in comparison with the anguish of my soul, a sense of oppression, of
stifling, and of pain so keen, accompanied by so hopeless and cruel an
infliction, that I know not how to speak of it. If I said that the soul
is continually being torn from the body it would be nothing,--for that
implies the destruction of life by the hands of another; but here it is
the soul itself that is tearing itself in pieces. I cannot describe that
inward fire or that despair, surpassing all torments and all pain. I
did not see who it was that tormented me, but I felt myself on fire, and
torn to pieces, as it seemed to me; and, I repeat it, this inward fire
and despair are the greatest torments of all.
Left in that
pestilential place, and utterly without the power to hope for comfort, I
could neither sit nor lie down: there was no room. I was placed as it
were in a hole in the wall; and those walls, terrible to look on of
themselves, hemmed me in on every side. I could not breathe. There was
no light, but all was thick darkness. I do not understand how it is;
though there was no light, yet everything that can give pain by being
seen was visible.
Our Lord at that time would not let me see more
of hell. Afterwards I had another most fearful vision, in which I saw
the punishment of certain sins. They were most horrible to look at; but,
because I felt none of the pain, my terror was not so great. In the
former vision our Lord made me really feel those torments, and that
anguish of spirit, just as if I had been suffering them in the body
there. I know not how it was, but I understood distinctly that it was a
great mercy that our Lord would have me see with mine own eyes the very
place from which His compassion saved me. I have listened to people
speaking of these things, and I have at other times dwelt on the various
torments of hell, though not often, because my soul made no progress by
the way of fear; and I have read of the diverse tortures, and how the
devils tear the flesh with red-hot pincers. But all is as nothing before
this; it is a wholly different matter. In short, the one is a reality,
the other a picture; and all burning here in this life is as nothing in
comparison with the fire that is there.
I was so terrified by
that vision,--and that terror is on me even now while I am
writing,--that though it took place nearly six years ago, the natural
warmth of my body is chilled by fear even now when I think of it. And
so, amid all the pain and suffering which I may have had to bear, I
remember no time in which I do not think that all we have to suffer in
this world is as nothing. It seems to me that we complain without
reason. I repeat it, this vision was one of the grandest mercies of our
Lord. It has been to me of the greatest service, because it has
destroyed my fear of trouble and of the contradiction of the world, and
because it has made me strong enough to bear up against them, and to
give thanks to our Lord, who has been my Deliverer, as it now seems to
me, from such fearful and everlasting pains.
Ever since that
time, as I was saying, everything seems endurable in comparison with one
instant of suffering such as those I had then to bear in hell. I am
filled with fear when I see that, after frequently reading books which
describe in some manner the pains of hell, I was not afraid of them, nor
made any account of them. Where was I? How could I possibly take any
pleasure in those things which led me directly to so dreadful a place?
Blessed for ever be Thou, O my God! and, oh, how manifest is it that
Thou didst love me much more than I did love Thee! How often, O Lord,
didst Thou save me from that fearful prison! and how I used to get back
to it contrary to Thy will.
It was that vision that filled me
with the very great distress which I feel at the sight of so many lost
souls, especially of the Lutherans,--for they were once members of the
Church by baptism,--and also gave me the most vehement desires for the
salvation of souls; for certainly I believe that, to save even one from
those overwhelming torments, I would most willingly endure many deaths.
If here on earth we see one whom we specially love in great trouble or
pain, our very nature seems to bid us compassionate him; and if those
pains be great, we are troubled ourselves. What, then, must it be to see
a soul in danger of pain, the most grievous of all pains, for ever? Who
can endure it? It is a thought no heart can bear without great anguish.
Here we know that pain ends with life at last, and that there are
limits to it; yet the sight of it moves our compassion so greatly. That
other pain has no ending; and I know not how we can be calm, when we see
Satan carry so many souls daily away.
This also makes me wish
that, in a matter which concerns us so much, we did not rest satisfied
with doing less than we can do on our part,--that we left nothing
undone. May our Lord vouchsafe to give us His grace for that end! When I
consider that, notwithstanding my very great wickedness, I took some
pains to please God, and abstained from certain things which I know the
world makes light of,--that, in short, I suffered grievous infirmities,
and with great patience, which our Lord gave me; that I was not inclined
to murmur or to speak ill of anybody; that I could not--I believe
so--wish harm to any one; that I was not, to the best of my
recollection, either avaricious or envious, so as to be grievously
offensive in the sight of God; and that I was free from many other
faults,--for, though so wicked, I had lived constantly in the fear of
God,--I had to look at the very place which the devils kept ready for
me. It is true that, considering my faults, I had deserved a still
heavier chastisement; but for all that, I repeat it, the torment was
fearful, and we run a great risk whenever we please ourselves. No soul
should take either rest or pleasure that is liable to fall every moment
into mortal sin. Let us, then, for the love of God, avoid all occasions
of sin, and our Lord will help us, as He has helped me. May it please
His Majesty never to let me out of His hands, lest I should turn back
and fall, now that I have seen the place where I must dwell if I do. I
entreat our Lord, for His Majesty's sake, never to permit it. Amen.
When
I had seen this vision, and had learned other great and hidden things
which our Lord, of His goodness, was pleased to show me,--namely, the
joy of the blessed and the torment of the wicked,--I longed for the way
and the means of doing penance for the great evil I had done, and of
meriting in some degree, so that I might gain so great a good; and
therefore I wished to avoid all society, and to withdraw myself utterly
from the world. I was in spirit restless, yet my restlessness was not
harassing, but rather pleasant. I saw clearly that it was the work of
God, and that His Majesty had furnished my soul with fervor, so that I
might be able to digest other and stronger food than I had been
accustomed to eat. I tried to think what I could do for God, and thought
that the first thing was to follow my vocation to a religious life,
which His Majesty had given me, by keeping my rule in the greatest
perfection possible.
(1) Way of Perfection, ch. xiii. 2.--As
Ribera remarks, it does not follow from this passage that St. Teresa had
ever committed a mortal sin--and thereby deserved hell--as there is
abundant evidence even from her own words that she never had such a
misfortune, but only that she would have fallen into grievous sins if
she had not mended her life.
SourceSome considerable time after our Lord had bestowed upon me the graces I have been describing, and others also of a higher nature, I was
Our Lord shows St. Teresa the place which she had by
her sins deserved in hell. The Torments there. She narrates how it
pleased God to put her in spirit in that place of hell she had deserved
by her sins. She tells a little compared with what there was besides of
what she saw there.
Some considerable time after our Lord had
bestowed upon me the graces I have been describing, and others also of a
higher nature, I was one day in prayer when I found myself in a moment,
without knowing how, plunged apparently into hell. I understood that it
was our Lord's will I should see the place which the devils kept in
readiness for me, and which I had deserved by my sins (1). It was but a
moment, but it seems to me impossible I should ever forget it, even if I
were to live many years.
The entrance seemed to be by a long
narrow pass, like a furnace, very low, dark, and close. The ground
seemed to be saturated with water, mere mud, exceedingly foul, sending
forth pestilential odors, and covered with loathsome vermin. At the end
was a hollow place in the wall, like a closet, and in that I saw myself
confined. All this was even pleasant to behold in comparison with what I
felt there. There is no exaggeration in what I am saying.
her sins deserved in hell. The Torments there. She narrates how it
pleased God to put her in spirit in that place of hell she had deserved
by her sins. She tells a little compared with what there was besides of
what she saw there.
Some considerable time after our Lord had
bestowed upon me the graces I have been describing, and others also of a
higher nature, I was one day in prayer when I found myself in a moment,
without knowing how, plunged apparently into hell. I understood that it
was our Lord's will I should see the place which the devils kept in
readiness for me, and which I had deserved by my sins (1). It was but a
moment, but it seems to me impossible I should ever forget it, even if I
were to live many years.
The entrance seemed to be by a long
narrow pass, like a furnace, very low, dark, and close. The ground
seemed to be saturated with water, mere mud, exceedingly foul, sending
forth pestilential odors, and covered with loathsome vermin. At the end
was a hollow place in the wall, like a closet, and in that I saw myself
confined. All this was even pleasant to behold in comparison with what I
felt there. There is no exaggeration in what I am saying.
But
as to what I then felt, I do not know where to begin, if I were to
describe it; it is utterly inexplicable. I felt a fire in my soul. I
cannot see how it is possible to describe it. My bodily sufferings were
unendurable. I have undergone most painful sufferings in this life, and,
as the physicians say, the greatest that can be borne, such as the
contraction of my sinews when I was paralyzed, without speaking of
others of different kinds, yea, even those of which I have also spoken,
inflicted on me by Satan; yet all these were as nothing in comparison
with what I felt then, especially when I saw that there would be no
intermission, nor any end to them.
These sufferings were nothing
in comparison with the anguish of my soul, a sense of oppression, of
stifling, and of pain so keen, accompanied by so hopeless and cruel an
infliction, that I know not how to speak of it. If I said that the soul
is continually being torn from the body it would be nothing,--for that
implies the destruction of life by the hands of another; but here it is
the soul itself that is tearing itself in pieces. I cannot describe that
inward fire or that despair, surpassing all torments and all pain. I
did not see who it was that tormented me, but I felt myself on fire, and
torn to pieces, as it seemed to me; and, I repeat it, this inward fire
and despair are the greatest torments of all.
Left in that
pestilential place, and utterly without the power to hope for comfort, I
could neither sit nor lie down: there was no room. I was placed as it
were in a hole in the wall; and those walls, terrible to look on of
themselves, hemmed me in on every side. I could not breathe. There was
no light, but all was thick darkness. I do not understand how it is;
though there was no light, yet everything that can give pain by being
seen was visible.
Our Lord at that time would not let me see more
of hell. Afterwards I had another most fearful vision, in which I saw
the punishment of certain sins. They were most horrible to look at; but,
because I felt none of the pain, my terror was not so great. In the
former vision our Lord made me really feel those torments, and that
anguish of spirit, just as if I had been suffering them in the body
there. I know not how it was, but I understood distinctly that it was a
great mercy that our Lord would have me see with mine own eyes the very
place from which His compassion saved me. I have listened to people
speaking of these things, and I have at other times dwelt on the various
torments of hell, though not often, because my soul made no progress by
the way of fear; and I have read of the diverse tortures, and how the
devils tear the flesh with red-hot pincers. But all is as nothing before
this; it is a wholly different matter. In short, the one is a reality,
the other a picture; and all burning here in this life is as nothing in
comparison with the fire that is there.
I was so terrified by
that vision,--and that terror is on me even now while I am
writing,--that though it took place nearly six years ago, the natural
warmth of my body is chilled by fear even now when I think of it. And
so, amid all the pain and suffering which I may have had to bear, I
remember no time in which I do not think that all we have to suffer in
this world is as nothing. It seems to me that we complain without
reason. I repeat it, this vision was one of the grandest mercies of our
Lord. It has been to me of the greatest service, because it has
destroyed my fear of trouble and of the contradiction of the world, and
because it has made me strong enough to bear up against them, and to
give thanks to our Lord, who has been my Deliverer, as it now seems to
me, from such fearful and everlasting pains.
Ever since that
time, as I was saying, everything seems endurable in comparison with one
instant of suffering such as those I had then to bear in hell. I am
filled with fear when I see that, after frequently reading books which
describe in some manner the pains of hell, I was not afraid of them, nor
made any account of them. Where was I? How could I possibly take any
pleasure in those things which led me directly to so dreadful a place?
Blessed for ever be Thou, O my God! and, oh, how manifest is it that
Thou didst love me much more than I did love Thee! How often, O Lord,
didst Thou save me from that fearful prison! and how I used to get back
to it contrary to Thy will.
It was that vision that filled me
with the very great distress which I feel at the sight of so many lost
souls, especially of the Lutherans,--for they were once members of the
Church by baptism,--and also gave me the most vehement desires for the
salvation of souls; for certainly I believe that, to save even one from
those overwhelming torments, I would most willingly endure many deaths.
If here on earth we see one whom we specially love in great trouble or
pain, our very nature seems to bid us compassionate him; and if those
pains be great, we are troubled ourselves. What, then, must it be to see
a soul in danger of pain, the most grievous of all pains, for ever? Who
can endure it? It is a thought no heart can bear without great anguish.
Here we know that pain ends with life at last, and that there are
limits to it; yet the sight of it moves our compassion so greatly. That
other pain has no ending; and I know not how we can be calm, when we see
Satan carry so many souls daily away.
This also makes me wish
that, in a matter which concerns us so much, we did not rest satisfied
with doing less than we can do on our part,--that we left nothing
undone. May our Lord vouchsafe to give us His grace for that end! When I
consider that, notwithstanding my very great wickedness, I took some
pains to please God, and abstained from certain things which I know the
world makes light of,--that, in short, I suffered grievous infirmities,
and with great patience, which our Lord gave me; that I was not inclined
to murmur or to speak ill of anybody; that I could not--I believe
so--wish harm to any one; that I was not, to the best of my
recollection, either avaricious or envious, so as to be grievously
offensive in the sight of God; and that I was free from many other
faults,--for, though so wicked, I had lived constantly in the fear of
God,--I had to look at the very place which the devils kept ready for
me. It is true that, considering my faults, I had deserved a still
heavier chastisement; but for all that, I repeat it, the torment was
fearful, and we run a great risk whenever we please ourselves. No soul
should take either rest or pleasure that is liable to fall every moment
into mortal sin. Let us, then, for the love of God, avoid all occasions
of sin, and our Lord will help us, as He has helped me. May it please
His Majesty never to let me out of His hands, lest I should turn back
and fall, now that I have seen the place where I must dwell if I do. I
entreat our Lord, for His Majesty's sake, never to permit it. Amen.
When
I had seen this vision, and had learned other great and hidden things
which our Lord, of His goodness, was pleased to show me,--namely, the
joy of the blessed and the torment of the wicked,--I longed for the way
and the means of doing penance for the great evil I had done, and of
meriting in some degree, so that I might gain so great a good; and
therefore I wished to avoid all society, and to withdraw myself utterly
from the world. I was in spirit restless, yet my restlessness was not
harassing, but rather pleasant. I saw clearly that it was the work of
God, and that His Majesty had furnished my soul with fervor, so that I
might be able to digest other and stronger food than I had been
accustomed to eat. I tried to think what I could do for God, and thought
that the first thing was to follow my vocation to a religious life,
which His Majesty had given me, by keeping my rule in the greatest
perfection possible.
(1) Way of Perfection, ch. xiii. 2.--As
Ribera remarks, it does not follow from this passage that St. Teresa had
ever committed a mortal sin--and thereby deserved hell--as there is
abundant evidence even from her own words that she never had such a
misfortune, but only that she would have fallen into grievous sins if
she had not mended her life.