St. Therese Speaks:
A Young Saint Looks at Life
Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus
Carmelite of Lisieux, better known as the Little Flower of Jesus, born at Alençon, France, 2 January, 1873; died at Lisieux 30 September, 1897.
She was the ninth child of saintly parents, Louis and Zélie Martin, both of whom had wished to consecrate their lives to God in the cloister. The vocation denied them was given to their children, five of whom became religious, one to the Visitation Order and four in the Carmelite Convent of Lisieux. Brought up in an atmosphere of faith where every virtue and aspiration were carefully nurtured and developed, her vocation manifested itself when she was still only a child. Educated by the Benedictines, when she was fifteen she applied for permission to enter the Carmelite Convent, and being refused by the superior, went to Rome with her father, as eager to give her to God as she was to give herself, to seek the consent of the Holy Father, Leo XIII, then celebrating his jubilee. He preferred to leave the decision in the hands of the superior, who finally consented and on 9 April, 1888, at the unusual age of fifteen, Thérèse Martin entered the convent of Lisieux where two of her sisters had preceded her.
The fame of her sanctity and the many miracles performed through her intercession caused the introduction of her cause of canonization only seventeen years after her death, 10 Jun, 1914.
An Admirer of Saint Joan of Arc
This warrior aspect of Saint Thérèse’s soul is dominant in her moral profile. Yet, even those who love her most, tend to forget this trait.
Saint Thérèse signed her Canticle to obtain the canonization of Saint Joan of Arc as “A French soldier, defender of the Church and admirer of Joan of Arc.”
Saint Joan, the Virgin of Orleans, and Saint Thérèse, the Virgin of Lisieux, are two models of militant Catholic combatants against the enemies of the Church and of Christian Civilization. Two great saints, though leading such different lives–one a strictly military life and the other a contemplative one–nonetheless have profound affinities with each other.
Saint Thérèse did not live to see Saint Joan’s canonization, and she was far from imagining that, on May 18, 1925, Pope Pius XI would present her, Saint Thérèse, to the Catholic world as “a new Joan of Arc”; and that during the Second World War, Pope Pius XII would declare her, like the Virgin of Orleans, “secondary patron of all France!”
Saint Thérèse gradually became increasingly aware of the profound similarities between her life and that of the Virgin of Domrémy. Thus, on January 21, 1894, the 101st anniversary of the martyrdom of the unfortunate King Louis XVI, she wrote a theater play titled, The Mission of Joan of Arc. The following year, as Pope Leo XIII declared her “Venerable,” and France celebrated it’s holy martyr and warrior, Saint Thérèse wrote the play, Joan of Arc Fulfills Her Mission, which the whole religious community staged. Saint Thérèse played the role of Joan of Arc.
The play featured the conquest of Orleans, the coronation of King Charles VII, but above all Saint Joan of Arc’s burning at the stake, which to Saint Thérèse meant the apex of the achievement of the heroine’s mission.
A Crusader Soul; Apparitions; the Combatant
The same combative spirit animated her in the struggles of the spiritual life: “Sanctity! We need to conquer it at the tip of the sword…we need to fight!”
Such is the mettle of this extremely active and energetic warrior soul, according to the testimonies of those who knew her: “Under a suave and gracious aspect [she] revealed at every instant, in her actions, a strong character and a manly soul; she would not be discouraged in her dedication to the interests of the Church.”
“This is a manly soul, a great man,” Pope Pius XI later said. Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus thus followed the advice of the great Saint Thérèse of Avila to her daughters: “I want you not to be women in anything, but equal to strong men in everything!”
“I went to sleep for a few moments during prayer,” she would tell Mother Agnes. “I dreamt there were not enough soldiers for a war against the Prussians. You said: We need to send Sister Thérèse of the Child Jesus. I answered that I agreed, but that I would prefer to fight at a holy war. But finally I went all the same.
The idea of fight constantly fed the strong soul of the saint of the “Shower of Roses.”“When I think I’m dying in bed! I would want to die in an arena!”
“Oh no, I would not fear going to war. With what joy, for example, at the time of the Crusades, I would have gone to combat heretics. Yes! I would not have been afraid to be shot; I would not have feared the fire!
St. Therese Speaks:
Pride
There was another fault I had when wide awake, which Mama
doesn't mention in her letters, and this was an excessive self-love. I will give
only two examples of this in order not to prolong the recital. One day, Mama
said: "Little Therese, if you kiss the ground I'll give you a sou." A
sou was a fortune at the time and to get it I didn't have to lower my dignity
too much, my little frame didn't put much of a distance between my lips
and the ground. And still my pride revolted at the thought of "kissing the
ground"; so standing up straight, I said to Mama: "Oh! no, little
Mother, I would prefer not to have the sou!"
Vanity
Another time we had to go to Grogny to Mme. Monnier's home.
Mama told Marie to dress me in my Sky-blue frock with the lace trimmings but not
to leave my arms bare lest the Sun burn them. I allowed myself to be dressed
with the indifference a child of my age should really have, but I thought within
myself that I would look much more pretty with my arms bare.
Vigilance of Parents
With a nature such as my own, had I been reared by Parents
without virtue or even if I had been spoiled by the maid, Louise, as Celine was,
I would have become very bad and perhaps have even been lost.
Flattery
I was six or seven years old when Papa brought us to
Trouville. Never will I forget the impression the sea made upon me; I couldn't
take my eyes off it since its majesty, the roaring of its waves, everything
spoke to my soul of God's grandeur and power. I recall during the walk on the
seashore a man and a woman were looking at me as I ran ahead of Papa. They came
and asked him if I were his little daughter and said I was a very pretty little
girl. Papa said, "Yes," but I noticed the sign he made to them not to
pay me any compliments. It was the first time I'd heard it said I was pretty and
this pleased me as I didn't think I was. You always took great care, Mother, to
allow me to come in contact with nothing that could destroy my innocence, and
you saw it, too, that I heard nothing capable of giving rise to vanity in my
heart. As I listened to what you and Marie said, and as you had never directed
any compliments to me, I gave no great importance to the words or admiring
glances of this woman.
The World and Worldliness
God gave me the grace of knowing the world just enough
to despise it and separate myself from it. I can say it was during my stay at
Alencon that I made my first entrance into the world. Everything
was joy and happiness around me; I was entertained, coddled and admired; in a
word, my life during those two weeks was strewn only with flowers. I must admit
this type of life had its charms for me. Wisdom is right in saying: "The
bewitching of vanity overturns the innocent mind!" At the age of ten
the heart allows itself to be easily dazzled, and I consider it a great grace
not to have remained at Alencon. The friends we had there were too worldly; they
knew too well how to ally the joys of this earth to the service of God. They
didn't think about death enough, and yet death had paid its visit
to a great number of those whom I knew, the young, the rich, the happy! I love
to return in spirit to the enchanting places where they lived, wondering
where these people are, what became of their houses and gardens where I saw them
enjoy life's luxuries? And I see that all is vanity and vexation of spirit under
the sun, that the only good is to love God with all one's heart and to be
poor in spirit here on earth.
Flattery again
With my nose in the book, I heard everything that was said
around me and even those things it would have been better for me not to hear
because vanity slips so easily into the heart. One lady said I had pretty hair;
another, when she was leaving, believing she was not overheard, asked who the
very beautiful young girl was. These words, all the more flattering since they
were not spoken in my presence, left in my soul a pleasurable impression that
showed me clearly how much I was filled with self-love. Oh! how I pity souls
that are lost! It is so easy to go astray on the flowery paths of the world.
Undoubtedly, for a soul a little advanced spiritually, the sweetness which the
world offers is mixed with bitterness, and the immense void of the desires
cannot be filled by the praises of an instant. However, if my heart had
not been raised to God from the dawn of reason, if the world had smiled on
me from my entrance into life, what would have become of me? O my dear Mother,
with what gratitude I sing the Mercies of the Lord! Did He not, according to the
words of Wisdom: "...drawn me from the world before my spirit was
corrupted by its malice and before its deceitful appearances had seduced my
soul?" The Blessed Virgin, too, watched over her little flower and, not
wanting her to be tarnished by contact with worldly things, drew her to her
mountain before she blossomed.
Possessions and Worldly
Honors
During the course of the whole trip, we were lodged in
princely hotels; never had I been surrounded with so much luxury. There's no
mistake about it: riches don't bring happiness, for I would have been much
happier under that thatched roof with the hope of Carmel in the offing, than in
the midst of these sumptuous dwellings, these marble staircases, and silk
tapestries, and all the while bitterness in my heart! Ah! I really felt it: joy
isn't found in the material objects surrounding us but in the inner recesses of
the soul. One can possess joy in a prison cell as well as in a palace. The proof
of this: I am happier in Carmel even in the midst of interior and exterior
trials than in the world surrounded by the comforts of life, and even the
sweetness of the paternal hearth!
St. Thérèse / God's Little Flower
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