A Soul on Fire

 

 

I recently finished reading St. Teresa of Ávila’s The Book of My Life in a superb translation by Mirabai Starr.  Starr’s rendering conveys the personality, vitality and humor of this 16^th century Spanish mystic.  It is a delight to spend time with this blessed saint. 

 

It is easy to become fascinated by the visions, locutions, and miracles St. Teresa experienced, but what is most important is the fruit that it bore in her life.  The through-line of her story that deserves our attention is the gradual transfiguration of her interior life, the dispossession of the self, that she undergoes.  Although the details of her experience are particular, the basic structure or progression of this transfiguration is remarkably congruent with the witness of mystics before and after her. 

 

St. Teresa sounds like Evagrius or Cassian (4^th century monks) when she writes about the relinquishment of egocentricity through the healing of stuck emotions, obsessions, and compulsions.   These are surrendered to God, seemingly dropping of their own accord when we realize the truth that they no longer serve us very well.  We don’t strive to let go of these things (that just keeps us locked in self-preoccupation), so much as they are lifted from us when we are willing to trust God’s presence and action in our life. 

A soul who has been given mastery of her own desires has a huge advantage.  But she does not bequeath this dominion to herself.  It is a gift from God.  Someone who does not have this kind of detachment cannot understand what it’s like.  It is not a matter of self-control; it comes naturally, without any labor on our part.  God does it all.  And he does it by revealing truths in such a way that they are imprinted on our souls.  It is obvious to us that this detachment is a divine gift, because we never could have acquired it so quickly and easily on our own. (p. 312)

Teresa is describing the ideal of apatheia, freedom from disordered passions and attachments, that leads to metanoia, a larger consciousness in which the soul becomes transparent to the divine energy of agape.  The fruit of the awakened heart is truly creative action in conformity with the invitations to love made possible by a new clarity of vision (purity of heart).  We no longer receive our identity from the story we tell ourselves about ourselves, or our attachments to external sources, but from God.

It’s amazing!  When we are united with this fire, it annihilates the old self, with all her cravings and faults, her insipid misery.  We are like the phoenix, which is completely burned and then rises again from those same ashes.  And so the soul, once she is consumed by the fire of love, becomes something altogether different.  She has new desires and tremendous fortitude.  She is not what she was before, and she follows the way of the Lord with new purity.  (p. 333)

St. Teresa combines a rare humility with a bold affirmation of the endless possibilities for the evolution of human consciousness.  Our Beloved desires such wonderful things for us.  By grace we can become so much more than we think we are capable of becoming.  We can become a living flame of love (as St. Teresa’s friend, St. John of the Cross, would say).