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Why did God create time?

Other excerpts from the writings of Sister Marie by St. Therese

The text is an attempt to synthesize the basic ideas of St. Teresa of Jesus on prayer.

Jesus suggested that we spend an hour together. It was an exciting offer, so I started preparing several days in advance...

On March 21, 1993, a barefoot Carmelite from Chile – Teresa of Jesus – was canonized in Rome. In the following article, we introduce her in more detail.

Continuation of the reflections of H. Nouwen to his friend Fred

further excerpts from the writings of Sister Maria by St. Teresa

“Good works are not accomplished except by the power of God”

(Spiritual Song 35:7)

For the “modern” person as advertised: young, dynamic, energetic, self-confident, successful, and healthy, this statement by Saint John of the Cross is surely provocative; it will be dismissed with a weary smile. And another person who – as the saying goes – “believes in God” will likely question it rather than agree. “How so? Can’t I achieve something good on my own? – And what about those who don’t believe in God at all? …” The statement of St. John of the Cross becomes understandable only when we face a heap of shards that we have created – “But I worked so hard!” – or intentions – “But I meant well!” – that do not bring the expected success. Only then is this statement full of hope. It tells me what nobody is going to tell me so quickly today: that – in every case before God – I do not always have to be successful or powerful. God does not expect from me a “strong will” with which everything will succeed, nor does He expect “perfect” actions from my own strength. Before Him – in every case before Him! – I do not need to show up “in shape,” proving what I can do and that I can do something. He knows that “good works cannot be accomplished except by the power of God.” With John of the Cross, we encounter an image of the person who is entirely different from what today’s society – and often even the “church’s” finger – suggests. Because he takes biblical revelation seriously, St. John knows that a person on this earth is not created “complete,” finished – and thus cannot yet be “perfect,” neither in character nor in actions! Theologically and dogmatically, the church has expressed this reality, that we are flawed beings, through the teaching on original sin, which all – all people! – suffer from. And with John of the Cross, we encounter the image of God, who since the days of Jesus has continually fallen into forgetfulness. Like a “loving mother,” says St. John of the Cross, God’s joy and concern is for a person to believe that He loves His still imperfect creature – and in the strength of this faith, the person develops and grows into a mature human being for eternity. Therefore, I do not always have to show better performances before God, constantly more “good works” and visible “improvements” of my character; rather, it is important for me to trust Him – the “loving mother” – that I am loved and accepted by Him despite my imperfections. “Christian perfection,” says Thérèse of Lisieux, a good “student” of St. John of the Cross, “does not consist in being perfect, but in perfectly accepting imperfection.”

All unilluminated “efforts for perfection,” which have caused pharisaism or resignation, often also neuroses and complexes of guilt, reveal themselves to be a pagan attitude, which ultimately seeks – under the guise of piety and spirituality – only oneself. Such “paganism” – as St. John saw it in his time with uncompromising clarity – exists among believers, in the church and society, in each of us.

The “perfection” that matters today, according to the church teacher John of the Cross, is this:

- to continually renew and correct our image before God at the “source,” at God’s Son Jesus of Nazareth, who became man: a life task that requires a great deal of “perfection”;

- to learn to see ourselves ever more realistically, ever more truly, with our good and imperfect sides (this is meant by the word “humility,” which is often misunderstood): helpful are the people who have had experiences with themselves and with God, as well as those who “brotherly admonish us,” even the “great ones” like John of the Cross;

- and to then “make the best out of it,” without falling into resignation or overestimating oneself or succumbing to the “pressure of perfection.” Then our “good works” become a collaboration with God – who wanted it this way, so that He would also be “dependent” on us: for He has no other hands and feet today but ours.

Fr. Ulrich Dobhan, OCD

Pure contemplation consists in acceptance

(The Living Flame of Love 3:26)

More frequently than in earlier times, there is talk of “contemplation.” We speak of a “contemplative lifestyle,” “contemplative meditation,” “struggle and contemplation”… It almost seems that the “wave of meditation” of the seventies and eighties has been replaced by a “wave of contemplation.” The very word has an air of something special, mysterious, higher, and exceptional… For one to be or become contemplative – this is usually thought – one must, if possible, live in seclusion and regularly perform certain “spiritual exercises”: maintain prayer times, meditate, engage in spiritual discussions…; in monasteries of so-called “contemplative orders,” there is more emphasis on adhering to enclosure, on as little contact with the “world” as possible, including family members, while the mesh in the visiting room is ascribed an indispensable function of “sign.” Meditation in the form of concentrating the spirit and immersing the soul in solitude is considered a necessary prerequisite for attaining contemplation, the “higher stage” of spiritual life. This is based on the idea that one must merely carry out the necessary – the more “spiritual exercises,” the better! – and then will reach this goal. In contrast, St. John of the Cross’s words sound like a contrasting program: “Pure contemplation is in acceptance.” Not effort and exercise, nor the seemingly necessary external circumstances, are in the foreground, nor human action at all, but the conviction that God is doing something; it is up to the person to be open to that. The phrase “empty hands” or “listening heart” certainly expresses more than the term “spiritual exercise” what makes a person contemplative. Can one learn to contemplate? As a skill? As an “art”? Not in any case! This is continually emphasized by both John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, both of whom are “competent” church teachers on these questions. Their writings therefore call into question many commonly held notions and guidelines for “contemplative life.” And “acceptance”? Yes. One just has to keep in mind what “acceptance” means. Not to learn a “technique” of prayer or meditation, “emptying oneself,” “isolated” lifestyles, but to be available, and that where I have been placed. To be open to the reality that surrounds me, to be flexible, changeable, not to insist on my “principles,” to be like “soft wax” (to use Teresa's imagery), into which a seal can be pressed – that is what needs to be practiced. This often means doing (and being) nearly the opposite of what is said and written in so many guides to “contemplative life.” St. John was able to sing about this in his time! For him, this is best and most exemplarily evident in Mary, about what is truly at stake. Not – as is poetically stated – that she was withdrawn into the background in Nazareth, but her attitude of being available for God and for the task that He has for her. Her “I am the servant of the Lord, let it be done to me according to your word!” makes her great in contemplation. Contemplation means: “to accept” the task that God has for me now, “to accept” the knowledge that corrects my previous thinking, “to accept” the person who comes to me at this moment, to hear the “joyous message” that the Father has long been speaking to me, “to accept” the night of faith in which God hides… To be a contemplative person can be learned by anyone, regardless of state and personal calling: one in a “contemplative monastery,” another “in the midst of the world”; and only the contemplative calls God into so-called “active orders”… – The contemplative life, to which the church teacher John of the Cross leads, makes no distinctions between states and overlooks the divisions that we humans make.

Fr. Ulrich Dobhan, OCD

To point out one's need instead of asking for what is desired

(Spiritual Song 2:8)

Only once in the entire work, in a small quatrain, does John of the Cross explicitly mention Mary:

By the divine word
the pregnant girl
comes along the road:
give her a place!

In another twelve instances, he mentions her as if incidentally. However, some of these instances show what he thinks of the Mother of Jesus: she is for him – as for the group of founders of his order in the mountains of Carmel at the beginning of the 13th century – an example of a spiritual, contemplative person. His entire work, which deals with a person's life in their personal relationship with God, is therefore, in a sense, about her. At one point, when pointing to her example, he not only mentions her name but also refers to events from her life that he particularly wishes to bring closer to the reader. He is concerned there with the correct understanding of intercessory prayer. The full text from which our thoughts are drawn reads: The spiritual person limits themselves to present their misery and distress to the beloved; for whoever loves discerningly will only point out their need, rather than ask for what they desire. Thus it is left to the beloved to decide how to help. Thus the blessed Virgin said to her beloved Son at the wedding (in Cana): They have no wine. The explanation speaks for itself. Once again, St. John attempts – with good reason – to hold up a mirror to our superficial, ultimately still too egoistic relationship with God. By the example of Mary, he shows what Jesus truly meant when He said to the disciples: “Ask, and you shall receive!” Tell me of your misery and the misery of your neighbors – but do not prescribe to me what I should do. Trust that I know better what will turn away this misery. Be the “receiver,” open to my way of responding to your misery… St. Augustine, whose writings St. John diligently studied, once wrote: “Why does God lead us to prayer? He already knows what is necessary for us, even before we ask Him.” We can only understand this in such a way that our Lord and God does not want to know our will, which cannot be unknown to Him. Rather, prayer should strengthen our desire to accept what God intends to give us. For His gift is very great, but we are small and limited in receiving. Therefore, He says to us: “Open yourselves, so that you do not become unequally yoked with unbelievers.” (1 Cor 6:13 and following.) The petitioner who expects from God a predetermined solution to their affairs becomes blind to the true “answers to prayer” that are often full of surprises and adventures – and blind to the blessing that may lie in the misery that God (seemingly) does not change.

Fr. Reinhard Körner, OCD

From the magazine Karmelimpulse II/1992, pp. 5-9
translated by Dr. Vojtěch Pola

Three Kings

The word "eternity" is no longer popular. Does eternity not belong to that well-known opiate that intoxicates a person and prevents them from engaging in the present and devoting their efforts to worldly tasks?

... the words: “You are my beloved son” reveal the innermost truth of every person, regardless of which particular tradition they belong to...

Further excerpts from the writings of Sister Marie by St. Therese

Thérèse of Lisieux

How I would have loved to become a priest to preach about the Virgin Mary! Just once would have been enough for me to express everything I think about this subject of faith!

First, I would say that we know very little about her life.

And therefore we should not speak improbable things about her of which we have no knowledge, such as that even as a very small child, at the age of three, she went to the temple to consecrate herself to God in fervent love and with completely extraordinary feelings; in reality, she probably went there simply to obey her parents.

And why say that from the moment she heard the prophetic words of the elder Simeon, she constantly had the suffering of Jesus before her eyes; "A sword will pierce your own soul," the elder said. This was not applicable to the present; it was a general prediction for the future.

For me to enjoy and benefit from the preaching about the Blessed Virgin, I must see before me her life as it truly was, and not as we have imagined it; I am convinced that her actual life was quite simple. We imagine her to be so distant. We should show that she can be imitated; we should present her virtues, say that she lived by faith like us, and provide evidence from the gospel, where we read: "They did not understand what he was saying to them." And another equally mysterious place: "His father and mother marveled at what was said about him." This wonder indicates a certain amazement, don’t you think?

It is certainly right to talk about her merits; but we should not limit ourselves to that. When the preaching only constantly calls out "Oh! Oh!", we have had enough! Who knows, perhaps this leads many to feel alienation toward such a superior being and ultimately they might only say: If it is so, I would rather retreat to a corner and shine there as best as I can.

(From a conversation with Thérèse on her sickbed, August 21, 1897,
recorded by her prioress Sister Agnes OCD).

(How I Would Preach About Mary, Carmelite Impulses II, 1993)
Translated by Dr. Vojtěch Pola