There exists a union with Mary at the foot of the Cross, which is a grace belonging to the summits of the Mystical Life [2]. Mary’s degree of conformity to Christ will never be surpassed, never equalled. At best, can one come close to it…? Ultimately, will not our conformity to Christ be all the greater as it draws nearer to that of Mary? [3] Conformity to Mary finds its perfection in conformity to Our Lady of Compassion [4]. Since conformity to Our Lady of Compassion is normally a culmination, the crowning of a Christian life [5], what was St. Teresa’s personal journey towards Mary?

At Carmel, we know that every spiritual journey has an active phase, the fruit of man’s necessary effort towards God, and a passive phase where man undergoes the divine action which alone can lead him to God, the two phases or rather the periods of this experience possibly being lived simultaneously. Bl. Father Marie-Eugène, in an article, applies this same journey to the Marian life [6].

To speak of St. Teresa’s prayer to Mary would amount to developing the paragraph concerning her teaching where she shares her own experience (page , § B). As this would be too long, we shall be content with affirming St. Teresa’s deep Marian devotion:

     -fruit of her upbringing [7].

     -which blossoms through a consecration [8].

     -which deepens through trials [9].

     -which deepens through prayer [10].

     -which culminates in a long gaze fixed on Mary [11] and especially on the sufferings of Mary [12].

As for the interventions of Christ and the Virgin, the simplest way is briefly to review the film in chronological order. Here, one thing becomes evident: all these mystical graces are ordered to her mission as Reformer of the Order of the Virgin. In other words, beyond all possible classifications, there exists a profound unity in all that St. Teresa tells us about the Virgin. Destined to be the Reformer (or Restorer) of Her Order, she was to receive everything necessary to bring this work to completion, from her childhood devotion to the Rosary instilled by her mother, to the highest Marian mystical graces.

The idea of a “reformed Carmel” had been suggested in St. Teresa’s circle. She was in favour of it, but hesitated because “I was extremely happy in the house where I lived” (Life 32,10 236). Yet:

“One day when I had received Communion, the Lord earnestly commanded me to work for it with all my strength; He promised that the monastery would certainly be founded, that God would be very well served there, and told me to dedicate it to St. Joseph; he would guard one of our doors, Our Lady would guard the other, and Christ would stand in our midst; He also told me that this convent would be a shining star, […].” (Life 32,11 236)

This is, then, the launching of the Reform, a kind of “Annunciation to St. Teresa”, moreover repeated (the whole passage should be reread). It is Christ Himself, one day when He came to St. Teresa in Communion, who “commands” this foundation consecrated to St Joseph, who would be one of its protectors, the other protector being the Virgin Mary. It would be difficult to aim higher. And everything is given to St. Teresa, to the Reform.

After the “command of Christ”, St. Teresa courageously set to work. Despite great difficulties and amid much suffering, this “material” foundation was being prepared more or less secretly. And behold, the two promised protectors came to take personal care of the Foundress.

“At that same time, on the feast of Our Lady of the Assumption, in a monastery of the Order of the glorious St. Dominic, I was reflecting on the great number of sins I had formerly confessed in that house, and on certain things from my wretched life. I fell into such a great rapture that I was almost beside myself. I sat down, and as afterwards it seemed to me that I had not even seen the Host raised nor followed the Mass, I felt a scruple about it. While I was thus enraptured, it seemed to me that I was being clothed in a garment of very luminous whiteness. At first I did not see who was clothing me, but I afterwards saw Our Lady, on my right, and my father St. Joseph, on my left, covering me with this garment. I was given to understand that from that moment I was cleansed from my sins. As soon as I was clothed, in the delight of immense beatitude, it seemed to me that Our Lady took my hands. She told me that I gave her great joy in serving the glorious St. Joseph; I could believe that my project of a monastery would be realised, and that the Lord would be very well served in that convent, as well as they both; I should not fear failure in this matter; even if the obedience to which I would be subject were not to my liking, they would watch over me, her Son had already promised to be with us, and in pledge of the truth of this promise she gave me this jewel. It seemed to me that she passed round my neck a very beautiful golden necklace from which hung a cross of great value. This gold and these jewels are so different from those of this world that they cannot be compared, their beauty entirely different from what we can imagine; the understanding cannot conceive the substance of these garments nor imagine the whiteness with which the Lord wills them to shine before our eyes, for, by comparison, everything here below seems as if drawn with soot, so to speak.

I saw that Our Lady was of immense beauty, yet without distinguishing any one of her features in particular, but, taken together, the form of her face, the whiteness with which her garments softly shone, without dazzling. I did not see as clearly the glorious St. Joseph, though I saw that he was there, as in those visions of which I have already spoken, where one does not see with the eyes. Our Lady seemed to me very young. When they had remained thus for a while near me – I was in the beatitude of immense joy, more vivid than anything I had ever experienced, and from which I would never have wished to emerge – it seemed to me that I saw them ascending to heaven, surrounded by a great multitude of angels. I found myself quite alone, yet so comforted, elevated, recollected in prayer and moved, that for a while I was incapable of movement or speech, almost beside myself.” (Life 33,14–15 247–8)

For the “reading” of this grace, I owe much to the collection “St. Teresa of Avila, the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Mystery of Carmel” by Fr Joseph of St. Mary, 13–15 July 1970 [13]. Several points should be highlighted:

a) The setting: a Mass. St. Teresa is thinking of her sins. Feast of the Assumption.

b) The first thing St. Teresa sees in her rapture (which prevented her from seeing the Host raised) is a white garment with which she is clothed – a symbol of baptism: “I was given to understand that from that moment I was cleansed from my sins.”

c) Then St. Teresa discovers that it is the Blessed Virgin who has clothed her, together with St Joseph. And Our Lady takes her hands. Is it exaggerated to see in this a gesture similar to that of profession? A kind of gesture of obedience which the Virgin asks of St. Teresa?

d) The giving of a necklace with a cross, both of great value. Following Father Joseph of St. Mary, I see here the solemn investiture of St. Teresa as Reformer of the Order of the Virgin. It is, in the end, the bestowal of the pectoral Cross – the rite of consecration of Bishops, but also of Abbots and Abbesses.

In summary, there is perfect coherence between the first grace and the second. They are the continuation of one another. After having been chosen for a work (first grace), St. Teresa is actively prepared spiritually for that work (second grace). A new life begins for her, in the company of the Virgin and St Joseph, whose presence fills the Reformed Carmel. In the midst of the celebration of the Eucharist, on the day when the Church celebrates the glorification of Mary, they came, as it were, to plunge St. Teresa once more into baptismal grace (the white garment), to ask of her a gesture of submission (her hands in the hands of the Virgin), and then to consecrate her as Reformer (pectoral cross).

Much more could still be said about this account. I shall limit myself to pointing out only three details:

a) This is the first vision of the Blessed Virgin, and it takes place in a sumptuous, glorious setting, etc.

b) It is the Virgin alone who acts, who speaks, and who is clearly visible. She is the head of the expedition.

c) St Joseph is not “seen” but perceived. He does not say a word – as in the Gospel!

St. Teresa receives permission to return permanently to the Carmel of St Joseph.

“The day of our return was for me one of immense consolation. In prayer, in the chapel, before entering the monastery, almost in ecstasy, I saw Christ who seemed to receive me with great love; He placed a crown upon my head, thanking me for what I had done for His Mother.” (Life 36,24 276)

A new grace received in the presence of the Eucharist. St. Teresa has fulfilled the mission entrusted to her, and Christ comes to crown her as one crowns a victor.

But the most astonishing thing is Christ’s “thanks”, for St. Teresa well knew – she even wrote it – that Christ had done everything in this foundation – “I have always understood that the Lord has done everything.” (Life 36,6 268)

In short, this divine delicacy leaves one thoughtful… Truly, heaven is not in the image of earth!

It should again be noted that the Virgin holds the first place. Christ does not give thanks for what has been done for St. Joseph.

“Another time, while we were all at prayer in choir after Compline, I saw Our Lady, in immense glory, clothed in a white mantle under which she seemed to shelter us all. I understood the high degree of glory that the Lord would give to the nuns of this house.” (Life 36,24 276)

A new Marian grace. Mary’s protection over the Order manifested by a highly symbolic gesture? Our Lady again manifests herself in a climate of prayer (in choir!) and once more “in immense glory”. In the first vision (cf. no. 2 above), she looks after St. Teresa. In the second, her solicitude enfolds all the Carmelite nuns. And in the next two, we shall see this solicitude extend to the “benefactors of Carmel.”

“Another time I saw Our Lady covering with a very white cloak the priest of the same Order of whom I have spoken several times. She told me that in reward for the service he had rendered her in helping with the foundation of this house, she was giving him this mantle, a sign of the purity his soul would henceforth preserve, for he would not fall into mortal sin.” (Life 38,13)

Here the Virgin does not take this religious under her own mantle. But just as Christ thanked St. Teresa for what she had done for His Mother by the gift of a crown, so Our Lady thanks this Dominican for what he has done for Her by the gift of a “white mantle.” It is worth noting that “white” accompanies each of these first three visions of Our Lady.

A gentleman of high birth offered St. Teresa a house and a large garden in that town, in case she might be inclined to found there a “dovecote of the Virgin”. But… (Foundations 10,1–2)

“1. Four or five months before the foundation of the monastery of Malagón, a gentleman of high standing told me that if I wished to found one at Valladolid, he would give me a house where there was a large and very beautiful garden with a vineyard; and he made this offer in such a courteous manner that he wished to put me in possession of it that very hour. Thus, although I was not greatly inclined to found in that place, because the house was a quarter of a league away from Valladolid, I thought I ought not to refuse a gift which he made with such good will, nor to deprive him of the merit of so good a work, and I thought that after we had taken possession, we might find some means of establishing ourselves within Valladolid.

2. Two months later, this gentleman, being some distance from where I was, fell suddenly ill. He lost the power of speech, and so could not confess; but he gave many signs that he was asking God’s forgiveness, and lived only a few days longer. Our Lord told me that He had shown mercy to him in consideration of the service he had rendered to His Mother by the gift of that house, and that he would come out of purgatory when the first Mass had been said there. I was so moved by the suffering that soul was enduring that, much as I desired to make the foundation of Toledo, I left everything so as not to lose a moment in working with all my power for that of Valladolid.”

So St. Teresa hastened to make this foundation, and at the first Mass she saw that soul ascend to Heaven, concluding: “One sees how much Our Lord takes account of the least thing that is done for His Mother; great is His Mercy.” (Foundations 10,5)

I have deliberately placed this grace before the following one because it is in continuity with graces 3, 4, and 5. It is striking to see how greatly Our Order is regarded by Christ as the personal possession of His Mother. All that is done for the Order, He considers as done for Mary. And the reward is always eternal salvation. Here, as previously, the white mantle given to the Dominican was a sign that he “would not fall into mortal sin.” If only all our benefactors knew this!

“One day on the Feast of the Assumption of the Queen of Angels, Our Lady, the Lord deigned to grant me this favour: in a rapture, I was shown her ascent into Heaven, the joy and the solemnity with which she was received there, and the place she occupies there. I could not say how this took place. My spirit was made glorious by seeing that immense glory. This vision had very great effects; it increased my desire to suffer greater trials, and I retained the keen desire to serve this Lady, who has so greatly merited it.” (Life 39,26)

In my opinion, this grace marks a turning point in St. Teresa’s Marian experience. On the one hand, it is indeed in line with the preceding graces: a day of great feast, a glorious vision, joy and solemnity; but on the other hand, it ends on a note of gravity. A little like in the Transfiguration of Christ, where the Apostles see Christ in glory but hear Him speaking of what He is to endure in Jerusalem. Here, it seems that Our Lord or Our Lady made St. Teresa understand that this glorious Assumption, of which she was the rapt witness, came after the great sufferings of the Compassion (“this Lady who has so greatly merited!”), and that the path to attain that glory was the path of trials (through compassion also). We thus see Our Lady of Compassion, somewhat in filigree, presenting herself to St. Teresa as the model to imitate. This grace is typical of divine pedagogy: to show the “glorious” goal in order to give courage to climb the arduous ascent that leads to it.

These great trials, to which St. Teresa aspires by grace, will be given to her through the work of the foundations, that is to say, the growth of the Order of the Virgin. Thus will her “keen desire to serve Our Lady” be fulfilled. (The verb “to serve” has an extraordinary density under St. Teresa’s pen, and would deserve that one day someone make an in-depth study of it.)

“The Lord said to me one day: ‘Always you desire trials, and on the other hand you refuse them; I dispose things according to what I know of your will, and not according to your sensuality and weakness. Take courage, since you see how much I help you: I have willed that you should win this crown. During your lifetime you will see the Order of the Virgin make great progress.’” (Favours of God)

It is difficult to determine exactly the nature of the trials in question. The simple coherence of Christ’s words inclines one to think that these trials concern the foundations which take place by His Will: “I have willed that you should win this crown.” But St. Teresa’s trials will bear fruit: “During your lifetime you will see the Order of the Virgin make great progress”, therefore “courage”. The foundations allow St. Teresa not only to realise her desire to serve Our Lady, but also to grow in the imitation of Our Lady. The following grace, granted two months after this one, is revealing of the Marian deepening of St. Teresa.

On Easter evening, at the end of a day without consolation, while listening to the little song of a sister who was saying how hard life is to bear without God, St. Teresa fell into impetuous transports that broke her physically, and the next day she recounted the event. Here is part of it:

“Lately I could not cast off my pain, and as I was fully conscious, this intolerable pain made me utter loud cries that I could not restrain. Now this piercing has increased; it has reached its term; I understand better that of Our Lady, for until now, as I say, I had not understood what a piercing is. My body was so broken by it that even today I find it very hard to write this; my hands seem disjointed and painful.” (Favours of God)

St. Teresa now sheds light on her own experience in the light of what Our Lady of Compassion lived, and Christ comes to confirm her in this understanding, for the account continues:

“One day, after Communion, I very clearly felt that Our Lord was sitting beside me; He began by consoling me with great signs of tenderness, and He said to me, among other things: ‘Here I am, my daughter, it is I; show me your hands.’ It seemed to me that He took them and brought them near His side, saying to me: ‘Look at my wounds; I do not leave you; endure this life, it is short.’ From certain things He said, I understood that He has never come down to earth again after His Ascension to communicate with anyone, except in the Most Holy Sacrament. He told me ‘that after His Resurrection He had seen Our Lady; overwhelmed and pierced through with grief, she was in such deep distress that she did not immediately recover herself to enjoy that joy.’ That made me understand the piercing of which I have spoken, though mine was very different. What must that of the Virgin have been! He had stayed long with her, for it was necessary to console her.” (Favours of God)

We are in a fully “Paschal” atmosphere—an ecstasy on Easter Day—but the content of this ecstasy projects St. Teresa to Good Friday, near Our Lady. Some time later, during thanksgiving after Communion, Christ lets her touch His wounds and consoles her. He comes to console St. Teresa as He came to console His Mother on Easter Day. Our Lady was “pierced through” with grief; St. Teresa is also pierced through by love and by the absence of God. And if she understands better what she lives by looking at Our Lady, what she lives also makes her understand better what Our Lady experienced: “What must the piercing of the Virgin have been!” Thus, little by little, she draws closer to Our Lady of Compassion, Christ helping her.

“On the eve of the feast of St. Sebastian, the first year that I was Prioress at the Incarnation, at the beginning of the Salve, I saw descend upon the Prioress’s stall, where the statue of Our Lady is, and sit there, the Mother of God, surrounded by a great multitude of angels. I did not, it seems to me, see the statue, but this Lady of whom I speak. It appeared to me that she resembled the image given to me by the Countess, but I had little time to make sure of it, for I was immediately rapt into a great ecstasy. It seemed to me that I saw angels upon the cornices of the stalls and upon the armrests; I did not see them in bodily form, for it was an intellectual vision. She remained there during the whole Salve, and said to me: ‘You have done well to place me here; I shall be witness to the praises addressed to my Son, and I shall present them to Him.’ After that, I entered into prayer, where it happens that my soul finds itself with the Most Holy Trinity; it seemed to me that the Person of the Father was drawing me to Himself, and He said to me words full of sweetness. Among other things, He said to me, showing me thus how much He loved me: ‘I have given you to My Son, to the Holy Spirit, and to this Virgin. What can you give Me in return?’” (Favours of God)

We are here at the very heart of Carmel! The Virgin presides over the Office, seated in the Prioress’s stall. The sisters sing the Salve. The Virgin approves of having been placed there, wishing to be both witness to the praises addressed to her Son and the one who presents them to Him! What a grace! And immediately after the liturgical prayer, St. Teresa enters into orison. It is of perfect logic. Prepared, as it were, by the Virgin, this prayer introduces her into Trinitarian intimacy.

Moreover, just as the Son had given St. Teresa (in the person of John) to His Mother, here the Father gives St. Teresa to the Virgin. Now what the Father and the Son do, the Holy Spirit does likewise. Must we see here the total belonging of St. Teresa to the Virgin, by the express will of the Holy Trinity? The very type of Marian vocation?

“The Lord made me understand what the spirit is, and in what state the soul then finds itself, and how one must understand the words of the Magnificat: ‘Exultavit spiritus meus’ but I could not repeat it.” (Favours of God, Ávila 1572)

I simply record this grace so that the account may be complete, but it is difficult to make use of it. In any case, that same year, this Marian teaching continues.

One day, St. Teresa of Jesus had such severe headaches that it was impossible for her to enter into orison. Then the Lord came to her to explain the value of suffering. Among other things, He said to her:

“Do you think, my daughter, that merit consists in enjoyment? It consists only in acting, in suffering, and in loving. […] Do not believe, when you see My Mother holding Me in her arms, that she enjoyed these joys without grave torments. Since Simeon spoke to her the words that you know, My Father made her clearly see what I would have to suffer.” (Favours of God, Ávila 1572)

This time, it is no longer Our Lady of Compassion who is presented to St. Teresa, but Our Lady in the fullness of the mystery of her life, which the Christ reveals as full of suffering. Even if in this passage it was not the only example the Lord used to give St. Teresa courage in suffering, it allowed her to penetrate more deeply into the intimacy of the life of the Virgin Mary. Indeed, the Lord would also draw upon the example of St. Paul and the Desert Fathers.

The Lord continues His teaching:

“Believe, my daughter, that My Father inflicts His severest trials on those He loves most; they correspond to their love. How could I show you this love better than by desiring for you what I desired for Myself? Look at these wounds; your pains will never reach this point. Such is the way of truth. Thus you will help Me to weep over the state of perdition in which those of the world live […].”

And the Lord would ask her to remember often the words He had spoken to His apostles: “The servant is not greater than the master” (Jn 13:16). Can we say that, in this case, it seems more a question of physical pains than moral ones—let us recall that she had severe headaches? In fact, these physical pains do not exclude profound trials of participation in Redemption.

Five years later, she gives the same teaching to her daughters in the Book of the Foundations (around early November 1577). In the fourth chapter of the seventh mansion, she tries to explain to her daughters “the purpose for which the Lord grants so many favours in this world”:

“His Majesty cannot grant us a greater favour than to make us live in the imitation of the life of His most beloved Son [14]; I therefore have the certainty that these favours aim to strengthen our weakness, as I have sometimes said here [15], so that we may know, by His example, to suffer much. We have always seen that those who lived closest to Christ Our Lord underwent the greatest trials. Consider those of His glorious Mother and the glorious Apostles.” (7Mansions 4,4-5) [16]

We see that she remains in the same logic.

“On the day of Our Lady of the Nativity, I experienced a particular joy. When this feast arrived, it seemed good to me to renew my vows; I was about to do so when Our Lady appeared to me in an illuminative vision. I felt that I pronounced them in her hands, and that they were pleasing to her. This vision lasted a few days; Our Lady remained near me, to my left.” (Favours of God, Seville, 8 Sept 1575)

[…] In any case, this grace opens St. Teresa of Jesus to a new Marian experience. It is the first time she admits to living in the company of Our Lady. (St. Thérèse lived a week under the veil of Our Lady.) Indisputably, we are approaching the summit.

“During the octave of All Saints, I passed two or three very painful days…

…And that very night, at Matins, this same Lord, in an intellectual vision so elevated that it seemed almost imaginative, placed Himself in my arms as He is depicted in the ‘Fifth Sorrow’ of the Most Holy Virgin. This vision inspired in me a keen fear; it was so apparent and so close to me that I wondered whether it was an illusion. He said to me: ‘Do not be astonished by this; my Father, without comparison, is much more intimately united to your soul.’ I still retain the image of this vision. What I said of Our Lord lasted for more than a month. It has now passed.” (Favours)

By placing Himself in the arms of St. Teresa as tradition represents Him in the arms of the Virgin at the Descent from the Cross (actually the Sixth Sorrow of Our Lady), Christ establishes a real similarity between Our Lady of Compassion and St. Teresa. One understands her fear of being under an illusion. This is, in my view, the supreme grace of conformity to Our Lady of Compassion, rarely given with such evidence in the whole history of the Church! A grace of Marian life accorded as it should be by Christ, who leads to the fullness of the Mystery of Mary. According to one of the two possible readings of the text, it seems that this grace lasted more than a month. It would then be the longest Marian mystical grace experienced by St. Teresa.

St. Teresa had requested and obtained the grace of representing St. Mary Magdalene at the foot of the Cross (cf. 22 July 1572, Favours of God). Christ gives her more: the place of His Mother.

St. Teresa recounts no further Marian graces after this one. Perhaps because it is unsurpassable? Received three years after the grace of the Spiritual Marriage, this grace of conformity to the Virgin in the fullness of her Motherhood consecrates St. Teresa as Mother of the Carmelites, for the great trial. This took place on 8 November in Seville. The following month, she received notification of the decrees of the General Chapter of Piacenza: she was ordered to cease all foundations and to retire definitively to a convent of her choice. At the same time, following the denunciation of a former novice from Seville, the Inquisition raided the convent. This marked the beginning of the great storm. John of the Cross was seized and imprisoned. All Discalced friars and nuns would be placed under the jurisdiction of the shod. In short, the future of the Reformed Carmel was at stake. But St. Teresa faced it admirably, demonstrating the measure of her motherhood by moving heaven and earth to save the Reform and fulfil the mission received from God.

This mission was almost completed with the holding of the Chapter of Alcalá (early March 1581), which consecrated the autonomy of the Teresian Reform. That same month, echoing the interior words heard in 1571, St. Teresa writes—one could say “exclaims”—“I can speak like Simeon, for I have seen realised in the Order of the Virgin what I desired” (Letter 361, March 1581, M.A., p. 708).

Could the One whom Christ had chosen to reform the Order of His Mother—an Order devoted to “reflecting the image of Mary in the world”—fail to grant a full grace of conformity to His Mother, in the greatest of her mysteries, that of her Compassion?

After all this, can we still minimise the place of the Virgin in the life of St. Teresa?