Mga Tanong at Sagot: Sta. Teresa ng Avila

Tanong 1:  Ano itong nabalitaan ko na magse-celebrate daw sa Year 2015 ang mga Carmelites ng 500^th birthday si Santa Teresa ng Avila? Sino ba siya?

Sagot:   Si Sta. Teresa ay isang madreng Kastila, tinaguriang “Master of Prayer” at kauna-unahang babaeng “Doctor of the Church” ng Simbahang Katolika.   Ipinanganak siya sa Avila sa Spain, noong March 28, 1515.  Ang mga magulang niya ay sila Don Alonso Sanchez de Cepeda at Doña Beatriz Davila y Ahumada.  Siyam silang magkakapatid, pangatlo si Teresa.  May tatlo pang anak ang kanyang ama sa unang asawa.  Sa lengguahe natin ngayon, si Teresa ay matatawag na “makulit” na bata, may malikot na imahinasyon, lista at matalino.  Dahil sa pinalaki siya ng relihisyosong mga magulang, gustung gusto niya ang mga kuwento tungkol sa mga santo at martir, tulad ng kapatid niyang nakababata, si Rodrigo, na tsokaran niya sa kalikutan. Biruin nyo, nung 7-yars-old pa lang si Teresa at dala ng matinding kagustuhang makita ang Diyos, hinimok niya si Rodrigo na pumunta sa lupain ng mga Moro, para magpapugot ng ulo bilang mga martir, at nang makarating sila  sa langit para makita ang Diyos! 

Tanong 2:  Pitong taon, gustong magpapugot ng ulo’t magpakamartir para makita ang Diyos?  Grabe pala si Sta. Teresa… pero kahanga-hanga din.  O, ano’ng nangyari? 

Sagot:  Tumakas ang magkapatid, naglayas—pero naunsiyami ang plano nila!  Bumuo ng isang “search party” ang mga magulang ni Teresa para hanapin ang mga nawawalang bata.  At hayun, hindi pa sila nakakalayo ay nasalubong na nila ang isang tiyuhin nila!  Siyempre, ibinalik sila ng tiyuhin nila sa nanay nilang balisa.  Pero hindi ganoong kadaling sawayin si Teresa.  Niyaya niya ulit si Rodrigo—dahil kung hindi rin lang sila puwedeng magmartir, mag-ermitanyo na lang daw sila.  “Oo” na naman itong si Rodrigo, kaya sige, naghakot sila ng mga malalaking bato sa hardin nila, pinag-patung-patong para maging mga “selda” na tulad ng tirahan ng mga ermitanyo.  Kung ang karaniwang mga bata ay mahilig mag-“bahay-bahayan”, kakaibang laro ang gusto ni Teresa.  Musmos pa lang ay nababakas nang patungo sa Diyos ang takbo ng isip niya.

Tanong 3:  Ganoon ba ang naging laro niya hanggang maging madre siya? 

Sagot:  Ay, hindi!  Hindi nagtagal ay nabuwag ang mga seldang itinayo nila ni Rodrigo, at kung saan-saan naman nabaling ang pansin ni Teresa.  Sa paglakad ng panahon, isusulat ni Teresa na “Nagsimula ko nang mapansin ang mga likas na kaakit-akit na mga katangiang ipinagkaloob sa akin ng Diyos—na sabi ng mga tao’y marami daw.”  Para kasing magnet si Teresa sa pansin ng tao, magaling makihalubilo at magustuhin sa tao lalo na kung gusto rin siya ng mga ito.  Nagpadala siya sa agos, ika nga, hati ang puso niya sa Diyos at sa mundo.

Tanong 4:  Tila magiging isang makamundong babae si Teresa, ah.  Ano naman ang sinasabi ng nanay niya tungkol sa nangyayari sa kanya?

Sagot.  Namatay ang nanay ni Teresa noong 12-taong gulang pa lang siya, isusulat niya paglaon ang lungkot niya noon:  “Nang maunawaan ko na kung gaano kalaki ang nawala sa akin nang mamatay siya, labis akong nagdusa, kaya humarap ako sa isang imahen ng ating Mahal na Ina, at luhaan akong sumamo sa kanya na siya naman sana ang aking maging ina.”   Ayon pa rin sa kaniyang isinulat, “Nagsimula akong manamit nang magara, at humilig na magpaganda; sobra ang pag-aalaga ko sa mga kamay at buhok ko; nahilig ako sa mga pabango at sa kung anu-anong mga walang kapararakang bagay na kawiwilihan dahil napakabanidosa ko. Ilan taon ding pinaghirapan kong maging sobrang malinis, na sa tingin ko noo’y hindi naman makasalanan.”

Tanong 5:  Naku, pinahirapan siguro ni Teresa ang tatay niya, ang “single father” at biyudong nagpapalaki ng isang dosenang anak!

Sagot:  Sigurado!  Delikado kasing maiwan ang dalagitang si Teresa nang walang yayang nakabantay!  Kaya hayun, noong taong 1529, ipinasok siya ng tatay niya sa isang kumbentong Agustinyano na nagpapatakbo ng isang “finishing school” kung saan ang mga dalagang kauri ni Teresa ay tinuturuan at ihinahanda para sa isang matimtimang buhay-may asawa.  Tinuturuan silang maging pino, maging mahusay sa mga gawaing pambahay tulad ng pagbuburda, pagluluto, pag-aayos ng bahay, at pagiging mabuting ina at maybahay, mga ganon ba.

Tanong 6:  Ah… ipinasa ni Don Alonso Sanchez de Cepeda ang sakit ng ulo niya sa mga madre?

Sagot:  Tama ang ginawa ng tatay niya!  Bumait si Teresa, nabawasan ang pagka-selfish! Samantala, lumalim at tumibay naman ang pagtingin ni Teresa sa mga madre ng Our Lady of Grace.  Na-impress si Teresa sa kabanalan at kabutihan noong Novice Mistress nila, si Sr. Maria Briceño na namamahala sa mga estudyante.  Unti-unti, sa bago at matiwasay niyang kapaligiran, napansin ni Teresa na mukhang papunta na sa Diyos ang mga iniisip niya.  Pero kahit na naging parte na ng buhay niya ang pagdadasal, isinulat pa niya, “…wala akong hilig magmadre, at hiningi ko sa Diyos na huwag ibibigay sa akin ang bokasyong iyon, pero takot din naman akong mag-asawa…”

Tanong 7:  Hindi ba kakatwa iyon, ang magiging Santa at Doctor of the Church  ay ni ayaw magmadre?

Sagot:  Opo, at napilitan nang pumili si Teresa dahil kinabukasan na niya ang nakataya.   Pinaikot-ikot na niya sa isip niya ang maaaring mangyari—sa pag-aasawa o pagmamadre man—pero hindi pa rin siya makapag-pasya.  Ganoong katindi ang paghihirap niya, nagkasakit tuloy siya.  Simula na iyon ng sunod-sunod na misteryosong mga sakit na tila kakambal na niya pang habang buhay.  Tatlong buwan siyang nakipagbunuan sa mga pangamba niya, at sa wakas, nangibabaw ang common sense, at isinulat niya,  “Bagama’t hindi lubos na sang-ayon ang kalooban ko sa pagmamadre, nakita kong ang buhay-relihiyoso ang pinakamabuti at pinakaligtas, kaya’t unti-unti kong pinilit ang sarili kong tanggapin ito.”

Tanong 8:  May “common sense” nga.   Tuwang tuwa siguro ang tatay niya sa desisyon niya?

A.  Maniwala kayo’t hindi, nasiphayo si Don Alonso nang humingi ng pahintulot ang paborito niyang anak para magmadre!  Tigas ang tanggi—hindi diumano niya mapapayagang magmadre si Teresa habang siya’y nabubuhay!    Pero walang takot si Teresa.  Nagtapat siya sa isa pa niyang kapatid, si Antonio, kaya isang gabi sa buwan ng Nobyembre, sinamahan siya nitong tumakas patungo sa kumbento para ialay ang buhay sa pagmamadre.  Dinamitan siya ng abitong Carmelitano noong taong 1536; ang pangalang relihiyosong pinili niya ay “Teresa de Jesus”.  Hindi na iyon laro-laro tulad ng naunsiyaming pagpapapugot ng ulo noong paslit pa siya—totohanan nang matutuloy ang paghubog ng isang masugid na alagad ni Kristo, isang matapang na repormadora, tapat sa kaniyang mga panata, isang santa na hihiranging kauna-unahang babaeng “Doctor of the Church”.  Sa kalaunan, malilimi ni Teresa nang buong linaw ang kahulugan ng kanyang buhay, na simpleng-simple niyang isasaad sa mga katagang ito:  “Sa wakas, Panginoon, ako’y isa nang supling ng Simbahan.”

Tanong 9:  Paano bumaligtad si Teresa mula sa pagiging paboritong anak ng tatay niya hanggang sa pagiging anak ng Simbahan?

Sagot:  Naku, mahabang kuwento iyon, pero eto ang buod:    Ang relasyon ni Teresa sa Simbahan ay hindi lamang sa panimulang antas ng kapanganakan, o tawag ng katapatan.  Sa panahon natin ngayon, marami sa ating mga katoliko ang mga “KBL”—mga pumapasok lamang sa simbahan kapag Kasal, Binyag at Libing—at akala natin, sapat na iyon para tayo’y mabuhay at matawag na “katoliko”.   Para kay Teresa, ang pakikipag-ugnayan sa Simbahan ay higit na malalim at nakapagbabagong-anyo, pero dawit dito ang lakas ng loob at paglago bilang isang nilalang.  Mula sa edad na 23 hanggang 41 lamang napagtanto ni Teresa na gustuhin man niya, hindi maaaring apurahin ang paglapit sa Diyos, ang pagpapakabanal, pagkat ang tunay na paglago at paghinog ay mabagal.  Napaglimi niya na ang kabanalan ay ang matuto tayong tumanggap sa katotohanan, maging bukas sa salita ng Diyos, at iayon ang ating kalooban sa kalooban ng Diyos.  Tulad ng pagbubuntis, kung saan ang isang nilalalang ay kailangang alagaan nang siyam na buwan sa sinapupunan ng ina bago iluwal, ang pakikipagugnayan sa pagitan ng Diyos at ng tao ay nangangailangan din ng mahabang panahon ng pag-aaruga.  Ngunit batid ni Teresa na ang Panginoon ay handang maghintay kahit ilang araw, buwan o taon para tayo tumugon sa Kanya—di ba’t 20 taon ngang naghintay ang Panginoon sa kanya?

Tanong 10:  Pampalubag-loob ding malaman na pinaghintay din pala ni Teresa ang Diyos, katulad ng ginagawa nating lahat ngayon…

Sagot:  Tama!  At ito siguro ang dahilan kung bakit tahasang inaamin ni Teresa ang mga kahinaan niyang isipirituwal—para bigyan tayo ng lakas ng loob sa panahon natin.  Kaparehong-kapareho natin si Teresa—hati ang puso.  Napakatagal niyang binuno ang sarili niya.  Mientras nanalangin niya,  lalo niyang naunawaan ang mga pagkakamali niya, ayon sa isinulat niya:  “Kapag kinalulugdan ko ang mga inihahain ng mundo, nanglulumo akong alalahanin ang pagkakautang ko sa Diyos.  Kapag kapiling ko naman ang Diyos, binabagabag naman ako ng pagkahumaling ko sa mundo.  Sadyang napaka-maligalig ng labanang ito kaya’t hindi ko malaman kung papaano ko ito natiis ng isang buwan, lalo pa ng maraming taon!  Mahigit labing-walong taon sa loob ng dalawampu’t walo mula nang magsimula akong manalangin, tiniis ko ang ganitong labanan sa pagitan ng pakikipagkaibigan ko sa Diyos at pakikipagkaibigan ko sa mundo.”

Tanong 11:  Para pala siyang iyung nasa popular na kanta, ‘Torn Between Two Lovers’… parang tayo din, kaya siguro makakatulong sa sarili nating paglalakbay ang malaman natin ang paghihirap ng loob ni Teresa.

Sagot:  Totoo na may dalawang puwersang nagtatalo sa kalooban ni Teresa, pero ganunpaman, ginagantimpalaan pa rin ng Diyos ang pagsisikap niya.  Mas sumasama ang inaasal niya, tila mas lalo pang nalulugod sa kanya ang Diyos a pinadadalhan pa rin siya ng higit na maraming grasya.  Isinulat niya, “Tunay nga, aking Hari, Ikaw na nakababatid kung ano ang higit kong ipaghihirap, ay pumili ng pinakamasakit na parusa.  Sa kamangha-mangha Mong mga kaloob, pinarusahan Mo ang aking mga kasalanan!”  Sa bawa’t pagkakasala niya ay lalo siyang nababagabag.  Para sa kanya, “bagsak” na siya, “sira na ang rekord” niya sa Panginoon, pero naisip pa rin niya na maaaring ang dinaraanan niya ang siyang makakatulong sa mga taong nahihirapan sa kanilang pananalangin.  Katuwiran niya, kung pinagtiyagaan ng Diyos ang isang katulad niya, papagtiyagaan din Niya kahit sino.

Tanong 12:  Hmmm... nakakabuhay naman ng loob isipin na walang sawang sinusuyo ng Diyos ang mga makasalanan.  Ano pa?

Sagot:  Napakasakit at napakabagal ng pag-unlad para kay Teresa, hindi naganap dahil sa isang milagrong naglayo sa kanya sa sakit at pasakit.  Magkagayonman, nagsimulang mamukadkad ang buhay ni Teresa sa kabanalan, katatagan sa panalangin, at pag-ibig sa kapwa.  Napuna ng mga tao ang ibinubunga ng Espiritu Santo sa pagbabago ni Teresa, at ang mga dati niyang kaaway ay unti unting naging mga kaibigan at tagahanga. Ang Kristong minahal niya ang bumabago sa anyo ni Teresa para maging magkawangis silang dalawa—at hindi na maitago ang ganitong pagbabagong-anyo.  Naging uliran si Teresa bilang isang iginagalang at kinikilalang relihiyoso na marubdob na nagsasabuhay ng kanyang bokasyon.   Pero hindi pa rin siya mapakali.  Pakiramdam niya’y may higit pa siyang dapat gawin para sa Diyos, pero hindi niya malaman kung ano iyung “higit” na iyon.

Tanong 13:   Si Teresa, pinagbabagong-anyo ni Kristo?  Nahulaan kaya ni Teresa kung ano ang parating sa kanya? 

Sagot:  Mukhang hindi.  Wala siyang kamalay-malay na nagsisimula na ang kanyang pinaka-mapagsapalarang paglalakbay.   Aasahan siyang iwanan ang katiyakan at katiwasayan para humayo at simulan ang isang repormang magmumula sa kanyang sarili.  Babaeng-babae si Teresa at ang kanyang henyo ay naipahayag sa buhay na kinatha niya para sa kanyang mga “anak” na madre.  Tarok ni Teresa kung ano ang nararapat at makakatulong, at ipinaloob niya ito sa mga praktikal na alituntunin at ispirituwal na pagdidili-dili, na siya namang nagbigay-buhay sa tinatawag nating ngayong “Teresian ideal”.  Sila’y isang maliit na pangkat ng mga Kristiyanong magiging mabubuting kaibigan ng Panginoon sa pamamagitan ng pagtalima sa Kanyang mga habilin, at sa isang payak na buhay ng pananalangin, alang alang sa mga nangangaral at tagapagtanggol ng Simbahan; sa gayon, isang buhay ng paglilingkod sa Simbahan, paglilingkod kay Kristo.

Tanong 14:  Mula noon, puro na ba panalangin para kay Teresa?  Ibig bang sabihin noon, sa wakas ba eh, ermitanyo na rin siya kung hindi man naging martir? 

Sagot:  Iyan ang kahanga-hanga kay Teresa.  Ang Carmel ay hindi para sa mga “ mistikong matayog ang lipad” kundi para doon sa mga taong nakatanim ang mga paa sa lupa.  Para kay Teresa, ang pananalangin ay isang apostolado, pagka’t “ang isang sandali ng dalisay na pag-ibig ay higit na kapaki-pakinabang para sa Simbahan kaysa lahat ng mabubuting gawaing pinagsama-sama, kahit na mukhang walang naisasagawa.”  Sa buhay niya, makikita mo kung ano ang nagagawa ng “isang sandali ng dalisay na pag-ibig”.  Mula sa unang pundasyon ng kumbento ni San Jose noong Agosto 24, 1562, humayo si Teresa at nagtatag ng 16 pa, pati na dalawang monasteryo para sa mga prayle.  Naglalakbay siya sa buong Espanya, tumatawid ng mga bundok, ilog, mga tigang na parang, sakay ng mga karwahe o kariton na hinihila ng mga kabayo o bisiro sa napakasamang mga daanan.  Tiniis niya at ng kanyang mga kasama ang hirap at sakit na dala ng malulupit na panahon, kakulangan ng makakain, at mga gabing pinalipas sa mga panuluyang-bahay (inns) na pinamumugaran ng mga daga.  Mantakin ninyong nagawa itong lahat ng monghang ito!!!

Tanong 15:  Isang mongha, nagtatag ng 17 kumbento para sa mga madre, at 2 monasteryo para sa mga prayle?  Sus, “tigasin” pala yang si Teresa!

Sagot:  “Tigasin”, opo, pero hindi siya si Superwoman!  Sadyang matatag ang pananalig ni Teresa sa Panginoon na para sa kanya ay isa ngang nagmamahal na Kaibigan, kaya nga may lakas siya ng loob sa dinadaanang mga pagsubok. Noong minsang nahulog sa kanal ang karwaheng sinasakyan nila, may buntung-hininga si Teresang nagwika sa Panginoon, “Kung ganito ang pagtrato Mo sa mga kaibigan mo, hindi nga kataka-takang napakakaunti nila!”  Masigla man ang kanyang diwa, sa edad na 67, hindi na makaya ng lakas ng loob niya ang nanghihina niyang katawan.  May kanser na siya.  Sa kumbento sa Alba de Tormes, masunurin niyang tinanggap ang mga iniresetang gamot ng mga doktor sa kanya, kahit alam niyang wala nang silbi ang mga iyon.

Tanong 16:  Bakit, alam ba ni Teresa na mamamatay na siya?

Sagot:  Batid niyang nalalapit na ang katapusan at habang napapaligiran siya ng mga madre sa kanyang higaan, bumulong siya:  “Mga anak, isinasamo ko sa inyo, patawarin ang masamang halimbawa ko, ako na siyang pinakamalaking makasalanan sa mundo… alang-alang sa pag-ibig sa Diyos, nawa’y tupdin ninyo nang buong giting ang ating mga Patakaran at Alituntunin, at tumalima kayo sa mga nakatataas.”  Unti-unting pumalaot ang diwa ni Teresa at namutawi sa kanyang mga labi ang kahulugan ng kanyang buhay sa mga katagang, “Sa wakas, Panginoon, ako’y isa nang supling ng Simbahan.”   Oktubre 4, 1582 noon, ika-9 ng gabi.  Hinirang na Santa si Teresa noong Marso 12, 1662 ng Santo Papa Gregorio XV; noong Setyembre 27, 1970, itinanghal siyang kauna-unahang babaeng “Doctor of the Church” ng Santo Papa Pablo VI.

Tanong: 17  Parang napaka-importante yata ang pagiging isang Doctor of the Church.  Ano ba talaga ang kahulugan niyon at paano hinihirang na ganoon ang isang tao?

Sagot: Ang “Doctor of the Church” ay isang natatanging titulo na iginagawad ng Santo Papa sa mga piling santo na dahil sa kanilang panulat, turo o pahayag ay naging lubhang mahalaga sa  kabuuan ng doktrina at teolohiya ng Simbahan.  Hindi batayan ng paghirang sa kanila bilang “Doktor” ang taas ng naabot nila sa paaralan; anupa’t ang ilan nga sa kanila’y halos hindi nakatuntong ng paaralan.  Kinikilala sila dahil sa kanilang kabanalan, sa lalim ng kanilang pang-unawa sa Wika ng Diyos, sa lawak at katapatan ng kanilang mga turo tungkol sa Diyos, at sa kabutihang naidudulot nila sa buhay-pananalig ng Simbahan sa anumang panahon—mga makinang na palatandaan na ang kanilang mga panulat ay kinasihan ng biyaya ng Espiritu Santo.  May 35 “Doctor of the Church” ang Simbahang Katolika, at apat dito ay mga babae.  Si Sta. Teresa ng Avila ang kauna-unahang babae na ginawaran ng ganitong parangal.

Updated November 1, 2013

for the National Commission on the 5^th Birth Centenary of St. Teresa of Avila

For more on St. Teresa of Avila, please visit:

www.teresa500philippines.com

Who wants to be a saint?

By Teresa R. Tunay, OCDS

Part 1

Teresa of Avila: a saint who is so like us

     All believers are invited to become saints, but the idea seems scary to people who are quite content going to church on Sundays, period. Whatever we ordinary mortals have learned from our colonized past we seem to think saints are people who were brought up with eyes cast downward and mumbling prayers non-stop.  We like to equate sanctity with sinlessness, forgetting the forgiveness part of being Christian.  A saying in Pilipino, “hindi makabasag-pinggan”—a quality of one so pious that even breaking a dish would constitute a mortal sin—aptly describes our perception of saints, thus when the homilist asks “Who among you wants to be a saint?” nobody raises a hand.

            One saint the laypeople can easily relate to is St. Teresa of Avila, Doctor of the Church.  The word “human” suits her to a T.  She was born in 1515, in Avila, Spain, at a time when women were raised to become perfect homemakers, but she grew (up) to be a passionate and Christ-centered reformer of the Carmelite Order.  Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI himself on several occasions would hail St. Teresa of Avila as the perfect model for the Catholic Church’s efforts towards the New Evangelization.  Teresa wrote Way of Perfection, but would shamelessly admit in detail why she was far from perfect. 

            People who have difficulty praying may be surprised to find encouragement from this great Saint and Teacher of Prayer. Although famous for her extraordinary faith experiences and her writings on mystical prayer and the spiritual, St. Teresa of Avila spent 18 years struggling to pray.  She would write:  “I was more occupied in wishing my hour of prayer were over, and in listening whenever the clock struck, than in thinking of things that were good. Again and again I would rather have done any severe penance that might have been given me than practice recollection as a preliminary to prayer. Whenever I entered the oratory I used to feel so depressed that I had to summon up all my courage to make myself pray at all.”

            Parents today might be delighted to know that their “makulit” children may be so like the young girl Teresa whose rich imagination would sometimes upset her elders.  Before she even turned seven, Teresa was curious to see God.  She had heard from pious elders that martyrs go to heaven and therefore see God, and one way to become a martyr was to be beheaded by the Moors.  So she prevailed upon her younger brother Rodrigo to join her in her childish quest for martyrdom—they ran away from home to go to the land of the Moors to offer their necks.  Missing the children, their mother mobilized a search party; an uncle found Teresa and Rodrigo just outside Avila’s walls and herded them back to their anxious parents.  With her plan of martyrdom thwarted, Teresa settled for a less drastic way to see God: she again engaged her brother, this time to become “hermits” instead.  They gathered stones in the garden and piled them up to build quaint “hermitages” where they could be with God all they wanted.

            As a teenager, Teresa was very much like our teenagers today.  Her mother died when she was barely 14; despite her sorrow over her great loss, Teresa grew into a charming teenager with a magnetic personality. At 15, she was vivacious, pretty, fond of clothes, jewelry and perfume.  She devoured romantic novels of knights and chivalry—so like many young women today who follow telenovelas and Twilight novels with gusto.  She liked people who liked her, one of them an older female cousin who was fond of gossip and vanities.  This cousin’s influence would sooner than later get Teresa involved in a flirtation which sent the town abuzz with gossip, and caused her father sleepless nights.  Convinced that the budding woman would not be safe without some female watchdog tethered to her, her father sent Teresa off to a nearby Augustinian convent that ran a kind of finishing school where young women of her class were being educated—on social graces, home arts, and things like embroidery, cooking, child care, etc.—and really being prepared for a devout domestic life.  Teresa feared marriage, but as she would later write, she also asked God not to make her a nun.

Part 2

A heart torn between God and the world

It seems unthinkable that one who would become the first woman Doctor of the Church had so dreaded becoming a nun, but Teresa herself wrote thus in her autobiography, Life:  “…I had no desire to be a nun, and I asked God not to give me this vocation; although I also feared marriage… I looked more to pleasing my sensuality and vanity than to what was good for my soul. These good thoughts about being a nun sometimes came to me, and then would go away; and I could not be persuaded to be one.”

Her agony over marriage-versus-nunnery was such that Teresa succumbed to a mysterious illness, one of the many that would cling to her throughout her life.  Confronting herself, she wrote, “I was engaged in this battle within myself for three months, forcing myself with this reasoning: that the trials and hardships of being a nun could not be greater than those of purgatory and that I had really merited hell; that it would not be so great a thing while alive to live as though in purgatory; and that afterward I would go directly to heaven, for that was my desire. And in this business of choosing a state, it seems to me I was moved more by servile fear than by love.”

Long story short, she decided on her vocation, choosing religious life over marriage, and sought her father’s permission.  But Don Alonso, who before had sent her to a convent to tame her wild side, was now strongly opposed to Teresa’s entering the cloister.  As before, Teresa was resolute—she confided her desire to another brother, Antonio, and one November night secretly left home with him as escort to enter the Carmelite convent of The Incarnation in Avila.

A religious habit and life within the high walls do not guarantee sanctity.  It should console us ordinary people living in the 21st century—when all the comforts of life and unprecedented technological advances conspire to rub God out of our consciousness—that a future saint nearly 500 years ago was undergoing the same predicament as we are in our interior life today.

In St. Teresa’s Life, the autobiography she wrote in obedience to her superiors, the contemporary man might find someone to resonate with, as did the German philosopher Edith Stein, who considered herself an atheist but after reading Life overnight declared that the Catholic faith was true.  Life paved the way to Stein’s conversion to Catholicism and her entry into the Order of Discalced Carmelites.  As a Carmelite nun she willingly marched to her death in the gas chambers of Auschwitz for the sake of her people, the Jews.  Beatified in 1987 and canonized in 1998, Edith Stein is now known as St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, a true “daughter” of the Great Teresa.

Stein’s atheism must have crumbled under the weight of St. Teresa of Avila’s admission of the deterioration of her prayer life: “I thus began to go from pastime to pastime, from vanity to vanity . . . . And I was aided in this vanity by the fact that as the sins increased I began to lose joy in virtuous things and my taste for them. . . . This was the most terrible trick the devil could play on me, under the guise of humility: that seeing myself so corrupted I began to fear the practice of prayer… It seems I desired to harmonize these two contraries—so inimical to one another—such as are the spiritual life and sensory joys, pleasures, and pastimes…  I should say that it is one of the most painful lives, I think, that one can imagine; for neither did I enjoy God nor did I find happiness in the world.  When I was experiencing the enjoyments of the world, I felt sorrow when I recalled what I owed to God.  When I was with God, my attachments to the world disturbed me.  This is a war so troublesome that I don’t know how I was able to suffer it even a month, much less for so many years . . . For more than eighteen of the twenty-eight years since I began prayer, I suffered this battle and conflict between friendship with God and friendship with the world.” 

Part 3 

Teresa de Avila and the gaze of faith

            A missionary priest frequenting Quiapo church would observe that Filipinos are “natural contemplatives.”  He was impressed by the sight of ordinary people in Quiapo church “who would just sit there and stare at the crucifix for hours.”  He would say: “It’s amazing that a middle aged man wearing a T-shirt, shorts and rubber slippers—like the sidewalk vendors around the church—would devote so much time doing nothing before the image of the suffering Christ.”

            St. Teresa of Avila (whose religious name is Teresa of Jesus) is not that well-known to Filipinos, thus it would be presumptuous to say that the Quiapo devotees observed by the missionary priest must be imitators of the great saint from Avila.  Whether it is coincidence or grace at work here, it is heartening to know that such devotees are on the right track as far as this Doctor of the Church teaches to those at the earliest stages of their prayer life.

Filipinos, often praised by foreign visitors and tourists for their friendliness, would naturally take to Teresa of Avila’s idea that “Mental prayer … is nothing else than an intimate sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with Him who we know loves us.”  Aware that some minds could be so distracted when trying to pray, she writes, “I am not asking you now to think of Him, or to form numerous conceptions of Him, or to make subtle meditations with your understanding.  I am asking you only to look at Him.  For who can prevent you from turning the eyes of your soul … upon this Lord?

“Believe me, you should stay with so good a Friend for as long as you can before you leave Him.  If you become accustomed to having Him at your side, as if He sees that you love Him to be there, and are always trying to please Him, you will never be able, as we put it, to send Him away.”

In our world today when people’s hunger for social approval and friendship makes them satisfied to be surrounded by (and proud of) hundreds of Facebook friends, Teresa of Avila assures us that in Jesus we have a Friend who will never “unfriend” us in spite of our unfaithfulness.  And we don’t even have to try too hard to befriend Him and keep Him company, as she says, “If you are happy, look upon your risen Lord.  If you are suffering trials, or are sad, look upon Him on His way to the Garden.  Love to speak to Him, not using forms of prayer, but words issuing from the compassion of your heart.”

For St. Teresa, keeping the Lord’s company is almost like having Jesus the man around in the flesh.  The humanity of Christ, in fact, is a fundamental tenet in her teachings—a mystery which Teresa had grasped first-hand.  In 1554 she was to have a spiritual experience she would call her “conversion” for the deep mark it would leave on her life—she was 39 then, and her “soul was now grown weary” due to the “miserable habits it had contracted.”  She would write, “It came to pass one day, when I went into the oratory, that I saw a picture (the Ecce Homo) which they had put by there, and which had been procured for a certain feast observed in the house. It was a representation of Christ most grievously wounded, and so devotional, that the very sight of it, when I saw it, moved me—so well did it show forth that which He suffered for us. So keenly did I feel the evil return I had made for those wounds, that I thought my heart was breaking.  I threw myself on the ground beside it, my tears flowing plenteously, and implored Him to strengthen me once for all, so that I might never offend Him any more… It seems to me that I said to Him then that I would not rise up till He granted my petition.”  The experience made her “very distrustful of myself, placing all my confidence in God.”

Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, in his presentation on the Doctors of the Church

in February 2011 said, “St. Teresa of Jesus is a true teacher of Christian life for the faithful of every time. In our society, which all too often lacks spiritual values, St. Teresa teaches us to be unflagging witnesses of God, of his presence and of his action.  She teaches us truly to feel this thirst for God that exists in the depths of our hearts, this desire to see God, to seek God, to be in conversation with Him and to be His friends.  This is the friendship we all need that we must seek anew, day after day.” 

           Might this be the kind of “friendship” the devotees in Quiapo church hunger for when they rub and kiss the foot of the suffering Nazarene, or when they sit for hours on end staring at the statue of the Crucified Christ?  Are the Filipinos truly “natural contemplatives”?  Who knows?  Suffice it to say that a “profoundly contemplative and effectively active” unschooled woman from Avila who would become a Doctor of the Church would now—almost 500 years after her birth—serve to encourage simple believers by her example.  She merely asks us to “look at Him”—and that gaze of faith will lead to the grace of friendship with the One who we know loves us very much.

How I met Teresa of Avila

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By Ma. Lourdes Ll. Galza, OCDS

I met Santa Teresa de Avila in the kitchen. Newly wed, I had to learn to cook; it was imperative.  Mom was a coloratura; her rendition of Ave Maria by Gounod could mend a broken heart.  When she played Rachmaninov’s concerto in C minor, the piano trembled and people wept.  But she could not cook.

My father took the situation in hand.  More Spanish than Ilocano, he missed virgin olive oil in his food and also wanted me to have the benefit of homespun wisdom on marriage and family life.  To address both concerns, he deposited me in the home of mom’s cousin, my Tia Amalia Lallave Perez of St. Teresa of Jesus of Avila, OCDS. We sautéed, braised, and steamed from that day on while she told  stories about Santa Teresa “La Grande”.            

“Nada te turbe, pour in hot water gently,”  she couched when I panicked over the broth drying up in my pan. For Spanish type tinola (boiled meat dish with ginger, green papaya and pepper leaves), she placed chicken, whole white onions and big potatoes on crushed garlic and diced onion sautéed in olive oil over a low flame. No ginger.

“Prayer in my opinion is nothing else than an intimate sharing between friends,” Tia said matter-of-factly. “It means taking time frequently to be alone with Him who we know loves us.”   The rich aroma of olive oil wafted through the kitchen but as I reached for the cover of the pan to take a peak, she blocked me and placed the mortar I had used to crush the garlic, right on the cover to seal in the flavors.

It was a witty Teresa I met in the kitchen. A woman of grace who brooked no nonsense and could tell it like it is and still be politically correct. Teresa haggling over fresh vegetables was an eye -opener and for an Ilocana like me, pure vindication.

Tia’s story about the toad that Teresa saw in the parlor convinced me that even good activities can be the devil’s way of  distracting us from the crucified Christ. Four decades since, I have learned that Teresa felt that her efforts to be holy were inadequate. Her experience was similar to that of St. Paul who wrote: “I am no longer trying for perfection by my own efforts, the perfection that comes from the law, but I want only the perfection that comes through faith in Christ, and is from God and based on faith. I want to know Christ.” (Phil 3, 10).

I pray to learn three habits St. Teresa wanted: “The first of these is love for one another; the second is detachment from all created things; the third is true humility, which, even though I speak of it last, is the main practice and embraces all the others” (Way of Perfection 4, 4).

 Teresa wrote of a subtle self-love that does not allow one to understand what it is to want to please ourselves rather than God. Yet she acknowledged that the active works they were worried about “were all spent in the fulfilment of the duties of obedience and charity,” adding: “know that if it is in the kitchen, the Lord walks among the pots and pans, helping you both interiorly and exteriorly” (Found 5, 8).

Am really glad that the Lord, and Teresa, do walk among pots and pans!

Questions & Answers about St. Teresa of Avila

Q-1.  What’s this we hear about the Carmelites celebrating St. Teresa’s 500^th  birth anniversary in 2015.  Tell us a little about her.

A.  Sure!  First, about her childhood.  St. Teresa of Avila was born on March 28, 1515 to Don Alonso Sanchez de Cepeda and Doña Beatriz Davila y Ahumada.  There were nine children of this marriage, of whom Teresa was the third, and three children of her father's first marriage.  Teresa Sanchez de Ahumada was an unusually active, imaginative, and sensitive child.  Piously reared as she was, Teresa became completely fascinated by stories of the saints and martyrs, as was her younger brother Rodrigo, her partner in youthful adventures.  Once, when Teresa was seven, burning with a child’s desire to see God, she prevailed upon Rodrigo to offer themselves as martyrs.   They made a plan to run away to the land of the Moors to be beheaded, imagine!

Q-2.  A seven-year-old, wanting to be beheaded?  That’s awful... but awesome, too.  So what happened?

A.  Their plan was aborted!  They had set out secretly, but had gone only a short distance from home when they met an uncle just outside Avila’s walls!  The uncle, of course, wasted no time in bringing the two kids back to their anxious mother.  But Teresa was unstoppable.  Shifting instantaneously, she now persuaded Rodrigo that if they could not be martyrs, they might as well become hermits.  And so they piled up stones to construct “hermitages” in the garden—she liked playing hermit, not playing house, bahay-bahayan as most girls that age do.  Thus we see that religious thoughts and influences already dominated the mind of the future saint in childhood.

Q-3.  Did Teresa “play hermit” until she became a nun?

A.  No, but this is interesting.  The make-believe hermitages in the orchard soon tumbled down, and the would-be prioress began to turn her attention elsewhere. As the years passed, Teresa was to write that she “began to be aware of the natural attractive qualities the Lord had bestowed on me—which people said were many.”  Teresa was a magnet for attention, a sociable girl who could not help liking people—as long as they liked her.  She basically let herself be swept by the tide, her heart divided between God and the world.

Q-4.  Hmmm… sounds like a woman of the world in the making.  What did her mother say to all that? 

A.  Well, Teresa’s mother died when she was barely 12, and she later wrote of her sorrow in these words: “As soon as I began to understand how great a loss I had sustained by losing her, I was very much afflicted; and so I went before an image of our Blessed Lady and besought her with many tears that she would be gracious enough to be my mother.”  At 14, “I began to dress in finery and to desire to please and look pretty, taking great care of my hands and hair and about perfumes and all the empty things in which one can indulge, and which were many, for I was very vain…. For many years I took excessive pains about cleanliness and other things that did not seem in any way sinful.”

Q-5.  She must have been quite a handful for her father who was raising a dozen children singlehandedly...

A.  You bet!  Clearly the young girl could not be left without a female watchdog.  And so in 1529 her father decided to pack her off to a nearby Augustinian convent that ran a kind of finishing school where other young women of her class were being educated—on social graces, home arts, and things like needlepoint and embroidery, cooking, child care—and really being prepared for a devout domestic life.

Q-6.  So, Don Alonso turned over his headache to the nuns?

A.  Quite the contrary.  This period showed some change in the self-centered teenager. Teresa conceived a deep and abiding affection for the nuns of Our Lady of Grace.  The novice mistress, Sr. Maria Briceño, who was in charge of the pupils, impressed the young Teresa with her piety and goodness.  Gradually, in her tranquil new environment, she found her thoughts turning towards God; but, although prayer now became a part of her daily life, she wrote, “But still, I had no desire to be a nun, and I asked God not to give me this vocation; although I also feared marriage…”

Q-7.  Isn’t that ironic?  The would be Saint and Doctor of the Church asked God not to make her a nun? 

A.  Well, it seemed to Teresa she had to make a choice.  What direction should she take regarding her own future?  Her mind toyed with the options, unable to decide finally one way or another.  Her indecision was so bad it affected her health.  She fell ill with the first of many mysterious ailments that dogged her through life.  For three months she wrestled with her fears but at last common sense prevailed and she yielded.   She would write:  “And although my will did not completely incline to being a nun, I saw that the religious life was the best and safest state, and so little by little I decided to force myself to accept it.”

Q-8.  Sensible girl, indeed.  Her father must have rejoiced over her decision...

A.  Hard to believe but Don Alonso was heartbroken when his favorite daughter sought his permission!  Stubbornly he refused consent—Teresa would go only over his dead body!  But Teresa was undaunted about getting her own way and took her brother Antonio into her confidence.  One November night they set out secretly together.  She took the Carmelite habit in 1536, and chose the religious name “Teresa of Jesus”.  This time it was not longer a game of unconsummated martyrdom but a continuing saga on the making of a mystic, reformer, Saint and Doctor of the Church who sums up without complication the meaning of her life with the words: “Finally, Lord, I am a daughter of the Church.”

Q-9.  How did Teresa switch from being papa’s favorite daughter to being a “daughter of the Church”?

A.  That’s a long story, but here’s the gist: Teresa’s relationship with the Church was not only on the elementary level of birth, nourishment, and a call to loyalty, but was, moreover, a transforming relationship involving risk and growth.  She wanted instant mysticism but it took her from ages 23-41 to realize that true growth is slow.  She realized that sanctity is learning to accept reality, being open to God’s word and of bringing our own will into conformity with His.  She understood that although union with God was a gift, it was not necessarily achieved overnight.  Just as a child once conceived still takes up to nine months to become a viable person, so does the divine-human relationship sometimes require a lengthy period of careful nurturing.  She knew the Lord was prepared to wait days, even years for us to respond.  After all, hadn’t He waited almost 20 years for her?

Q-10.  It consoles us to know Teresa also made God wait, just as we all like to do...

A.  Correct, and this is perhaps why she is so open about her own spiritual failures—to bolster our confidence today.  Teresa was so like everybody else!  She was for the longest time at cross-purposes with herself.  The more she prayed, the more she understood her faults, as she wrote, “When I was experiencing the enjoyments of the world, I felt sorrow when I recalled what I owed to God. When I was with God, my attachments to the world disturbed me.  This is a war so troublesome that I don’t know how I was able to suffer it even a month, much less for so many years… For more than eighteen of the twenty-eight years since I began prayer, I suffered this battle and conflict between friendship with God and friendship with the world.”

Q-11.  That reminds me of the popular song “Torn Between Two Lovers”—just like us.  Knowing Teresa’s struggle certainly helps in our own journey...

A.  Yes, Teresa was in conflict, yet God kept rewarding her efforts. “Indeed, my King, You as One who well knew what to me would be most distressing, chose as a means the most delicate and painful punishment.  With wonderful gifts You punished my sins!”  The worse she behaved, the better God seemed to like her.  Every failure increased her anxiety.  She considered this a terrible record but also reasoned that it might be the very thing to help those who are struggling with prayer: if God will stick with someone like her, He will stick with anyone.

Q-12.  Hmmm... it is very encouraging to know God never tires of wooing sinners.  Tell me more...

A.  It was a painful and slow growth for Teresa, not one accomplished by a miracle dispensing her from effort and pain.  However, her life was beginning to blossom in holiness, steadfastness in prayer and love for others.  People came to recognize these fruits of the Spirit operative in her changed demeanor, and enemies gradually became friends and admirers.  The Christ whom Teresa loved was transforming her into His likeness and the transformation could not be hidden.  She had become the personification of a respected and established religious, acknowledged to be seriously living her vocation.   Yet... she was somewhat restless. She felt she should be doing more for God, but what should that ‘something more’ consist of?

Q-13.  So Christ was transforming her...  Did Teresa know what was coming?

A.  It didn’t look like she knew.  Teresa seemed unsuspecting that she was on the threshold of the most adventurous of her journeys.  She would be asked to abandon security and set out to launch a reform that began with herself.  Teresa was a woman’s woman whose genius was expressed in the life she designed for her daughters.  She had an intuitive grasp of what was suitable and helpful which she enshrined in practical legislation, as well as spiritual insight, giving birth to what is now known as the “Teresian ideal”—a small group of Christians who would be good friends of the Lord by striving to follow the evangelical counsels as closely as possible, and living a life of prayer for preachers and theologians, the defenders of the Church; thus a life in service of the Church, in service to Christ.

Q-14.  From then on, was it all prayer to Teresa?  Did it mean she was finally becoming a hermit if not a martyr?

A.  That’s the wonder of Teresa.  Carmel is not for ‘mystical high-flyers’ but for those whose feet are firmly planted on the ground.  For Teresa, prayer was a definite apostolate, for “one moment of pure love is more useful to the Church than all good works put together, though it seems that nothing were done.”  From her life you could see what that “one moment of pure love” can do.  From the first foundation of the convent of St. Joseph on August 24, 1562, Teresa went on to found 16 more, including two monasteries for friars, journeying across mountains, rivers, and arid plateaus on curtained carriages or carts drawn by mules through extremely poor roads.  She and her companions endured all the rigors of harsh climates, scanty food, and nights spent in rat-infested inns.  Imagine a cloistered nun doing all this!

Q-15.  A cloistered nun, founded 17 convents for nuns and two monasteries for friars!  Gosh, Teresa was one tough lady!   

A.  Tough, yes, but alas, Teresa was not Superwoman!  Truly steadfast was Teresa’s faith in God whom she considered a loving Friend, enabling her to face all trials with courage and confidence.  Once when their carriage fell into a ditch,  Teresa sighed and told the Lord, “If this is how You treat Your friends, no wonder you have so few!”  While her spirit remained invincible, at age 67, her failing strength could no longer be conquered by her determined will.  She had cancer of the uterus.  At the convent in Alba de Tormes she patiently submitted to the prescribed remedies, though she knew in herself they were of no avail.

Q-16.  You mean, Teresa knew when she was going to die?

A.  She knew the end was approaching and as the nuns gathered around her bed she whispered: “Daughters, I beseech you to pardon the bad example I have set you, I who have been the greatest sinner in the world, and who have kept her Rule and Constitutions the worst.  For the love of God may you keep the Rule and Constitutions with great perfection and obey your superiors.”  Gradually she entered into a trance and summed up the meaning of her whole life with the words: “Finally, Lord, I am a daughter of the Church.”  It was the evening of October 4, 1582.  Teresa was canonized on March 12, 1662 by Pope Gregory XV; after which, on September 27, 1970, was declared the “first woman Doctor of the Church” by Pope Paul VI.

Q-17:  Being a “Doctor of the Church” seems to be a very important thing.  What does it mean anyway, and how does a person get to be declared as one? 

A: “Doctor of the Church” is a distinction given by the Holy Father to certain Saints whose body of writings, teachings or homilies contributed much to the formulation of doctrine and theology of the Church. A high degree of formal education is not a prerequisite for one to be proclaimed a Doctor of the Church; indeed, some of them are even unschooled.  They are raised to that distinction due to their holiness in life, the depth of their understanding of the Word of God, the orthodoxy of their theological teaching and the universal value of their contribution in the faith-life of the Church—all luminous proofs that their writings have been inspired by the Holy Spirit.   There are 35 Doctors of the Church at present, and four of these are women.  St. Teresa of Avila is known as the first woman to have been given that distinction.

From the National Commission on the 5^th Birth Centenary of St. Teresa of Avila

Education and Publicity Committees

Refer to: 0918-878-5683

For more information on St. Teresa of Avila, please visi

 www.teresa500philippines.com