Celebrating Teresa of Avila

Today, October 15, is the feast day of one of my favorite saints and Christians, Teresa of Avila. A sixteenth century Carmelite nun, she was a mystic, a reformer, an influential woman in an era when that wasn’t common, a woman of strength, beauty, deep faith, and a sharp wit. She was vivacious and daring and deeply in love with God.

The first book of hers I read, over fifteen years ago, is entitled The Interior Castle. That book describes the progression of the spiritual life, using the image of a castle to teach the steps on the journey to union with God. Images from that book stay with me even today, and while she was writing for the nuns in her order, the book has remained relevant through the centuries.

Teresa was wise and witty, strong and sure in her relationship with God. Once, when a cart in which she was riding broke down in a river, she said to God, “If this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few of them!” I love that she was so intimate with God that she felt free to speak in this way!

A few years ago, as part of my commitment to a word of the year, which in that year was free, I chose Teresa to be my spiritual teacher for the year. I read everything I could that she wrote, and read books that others wrote about her. To immerse myself in her being for the year was a deeply meaningful practice, and, as part of the journey, I found this wonderful icon of her, created by Marcy Hall, which I purchased and hung on my wall to help me keep my focus on my word and on Teresa. It has this lovely quote: “Allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise, and love.”

Teresa was brought before the Spanish Inquisition, and faced both health challenges and challenges from leaders in the church to her reforms, yet she continued to work, drawing others to her, and I’m sure her joy and wit and energy were part of the reason people were attracted to her. So today, celebrate with me this strong woman of faith whose influence shaped the church for centuries to come!

Wrestling with Scripture

Recently, I posted a scripture on Facebook from the devotion I was reading, and a comment about the challenge of trying to follow the example of God that was reflected in the verse I posted. Because it was about loving and caring for immigrants, I received several comments that were on the argumentative side. 

I was reminded in reading the comments how we are often made uncomfortable by scripture. It challenges us, it offends us, it invites us to wrestle with it. And there is value in that. If we aren’t finding ourselves challenged by scripture, if we’re not questioning and discussing and wrestling with it, then we aren’t growing. We’ve removed ourselves from the process of becoming stronger in our faith.

I remember hearing a story about trees that were grown under a dome, where there was no wind, no environmental challenges that could impair or otherwise affect their growth. The trees grew straight and tall, but they had no strength. Because they hadn’t been challenged by wind or storms or even changes in temperature, they were weak and spindly. Sure, a tree in the wild is subject to a lightning strike or being blown over in a storm or bent over in an ice storm, but the challenges it faces also makes it more durable, able to withstand difficulty.

Somewhere along the way, we decided that we had to be certain about everything. Maybe it’s just basic human nature to want everything to be black and white, wrong or right, good or bad. But if you’ve lived any length of time at all as a thinking person, you will find such dualities don’t hold up. There is always more than meets the eye. Certainty is a bit like living in a dome. Our unwillingness to wrestle and be challenged by scripture makes us weak and spindly Christians, Christians whose faith won’t hold up when times are difficult.

Certainty and faith are opposites. Doubt is not the enemy of faith, rather it is the wind, the storm, the season changes that enable our faith to get stronger and grow. Doubt can cause us to turn away, the spiritual equivalent of a tree being blown over in a storm, but doubt is not fatal to faith the way certainty is.

I’m glad people engaged with the Facebook post I made. It was an opportunity for me to reflect on views different than my own, and I hope the commenters did likewise. In reflecting and wrestling and pondering, there is opportunity to grow. And at the very least, we should be able to listen to one another with grace and patience.

When have you wrestled with scripture or theology in your own life? How has that affected your faith?

 

Soaking

One of my potted herbs, a basil plant, takes time to water. If I try to pour water on it from my watering can, the water simply runs across the top of the soil and over the edge of the pot. The plant itself gets no benefit.

What I’ve learned is that I have to use a small watering bottle with a straw, and squeeze water through the small opening in the straw to give the plant what it needs. It takes time, but it’s the only way I can adequately water the plant.

I thought about this plant as I was reading from the epistle attributed to James. James begins his letter with these words:

My brothers and sisters, think of the various tests you encounter as occasions for joy. After all, you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance. Let this endurance complete its work so that you may be fully mature, complete, and lacking in nothing. (James 1:2-4)

To build endurance involves some soaking. It takes time, patience, consistency, and the ability to be content when you don’t see “progress.” Endurance requires showing up, day after day, moment by moment. It isn’t glamourous. It doesn’t draw much attention. It doesn’t generate a rush of adrenaline. It may not garner you any praise or recognition.

Endurance is about remaining in the flow of God’s grace so that you are gradually reshaped. I think about rocks worn smooth by constant contact with the flow of a stream. It takes a very long time for a rock to go from jagged to smooth. In the same way we grow more complete in our faith by remaining in the flow of grace.

The willingness to be consistent and constant without any significant signs of progress does test our faith. We would prefer that God would bestow signs and wonders on us that enable us to be certain of our growth. It’s been my experience, though, that God works mostly in small, subtle, barely perceptible ways. We have to trust that the soaking, the flow, is moving us toward maturity and completeness.

Working for Good

 It’s been a heavy time recently. The upsurge in Covid cases and the fatigue of medical workers, the fall of Afghanistan to the Taliban, Haiti’s earthquake, and tropical storm systems, and more events that are probably coming to your mind as you read this. It is easy to get swept away in the heaviness. There is much that isn’t right in the world.

Add to all of this, it’s my week to prepare a Sunday school lesson, and we’re in the midst of a month-long study of Job. Oh joy. I am tasked to teach about despair, about what we do when God is unresponsive.

All of this was on my mind this morning as I headed outside for my walk. I stopped to watch a

vivid sunrise and remembered the morning prayer I often recite, one that begins with these words: 

New every morning is your love, great God of light, and all day long you are working for good in the world.

Yes. All day long God is working for good in the world, but to see it, I have to change the way I look at things. I have to go from macro to micro, from the broad sweep of news stories to the particular—the individuals who are making a difference in many small ways.

As I neared home, I passed two homeless men in a park near my apartment. I spoke and they responded, and we had a brief conversation. One of them said, “I’m blessed,” and once again the words of my morning prayer came to mind: All day long you are working for good in the world.

I saw the man’s perspective. He is alive, he was sharing conversation with his friend, and he was enjoying a morning of pleasant weather.

I came home and read an email from an organization* I support that is active in Afghanistan. They are still there, providing care and community to the Afghan people. Their work goes on, in small yet significant ways, though they’ll never draw the attention of news outlets. They are a light shining in difficulty, and they aren’t the only light shining in Afghanistan. When I support their work, my small gift adds to the light.

It is right to lament the evil and devastation we see in the world. But we also must look past the surface and recognize that, even when it is hard to see, God is working for good in the world. Rather than wringing my hands in hopeless despair, my work is to do the small things that show faith: to speak a word of kindness, to support those on the front lines in difficult places, to be a bearer of light however I can. If we all do that, the love of God is made new every morning.

 

 *If you are interested in supporting the Afghan people, here is a link to the organization I mentioned.

Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth

 It couldn’t have been a pleasant journey—

pregnant, possibly nauseous, wondering if she would be welcomed?

Did she know her cousin, Elizabeth?

Had they met before? If so, Mary

would have been a child, and Elizabeth, already old.

Not much different now, and yet

everything different. Two pregnant women,

bound by blood, and now, by womb, by God.

Quiet strength connecting them, living miracles within them.

The greeting melted all the stress, turned it to joy,

leaping babies, hearts and songs fill the welcoming space,

a place of belonging, a sanctuary,

a womb for these already born and yet becoming.

 

Eastertide and Change

How do the changes of Eastertide help us as we navigate the latest stage of pandemic change?