On the Prayer and Patience of St. Thérèse I

We are to consider the prayer of St. Thérèse of Lisieux, yet I must confess that I have hesitated to write on this subject. At first it attracted me strongly; then as I reflected thereon I asked myself whether I were not dreaming of the impossible. It is commonly said, and most rightly so, that St. Thérèse never had any method of prayer. But this is negative, purely eliminative, and this aspect alone would not supply material for an essay, especially a practical one on the prayer of the Saint. I realised therefore that one would have to seek the positive, and actually it was the desire to make this search which first roused my enthusiasm to treat of this subject. Positive data were required, but the difficulty was, where to find positive data concerning the prayer of St. Thérèse who has nowhere left us an account of her prayer. And this is a characteristic of the Saint which distinguishes her from her companions in holiness and mysticism: the great St. Thérèse, her mother, St. Catherine of Siena, St. Margaret Mary, St. Mary Magdalen of Pazzi and others, and near our own day, Sister Elizabeth of the Trinity. It seemed strange that the "story of a soul," and a contemplative soul like that of Thérèse, that this story told by herself should reveal nothing of her interior life and her prayer, and my immediate thought was: since Thérèse has told us nothing of her prayer, is it not rash for us to try to speak of it? Shall we not risk uttering almost inevitably mere gratuitous hypotheses and fanciful ideas? But the answer to this objection appeared no less spontaneously and urgently, and I asked myself: is it admissible that we can say nothing and discover nothing about the prayer of this Saint? 

It is our endeavour and God has called us to this endeavour to get to know this privileged soul. Now one can only know a soul, especially a deep interior soul like Thérèse's, by following it in its intimate relations with God, by penetrating its prayer. Thérèse herself has told us over and over again that there is nothing in her way of spirituality wherein "little souls" cannot imitate and follow her. Therefore is it to be admitted that her manner of prayer-essential element of all spiritual life-must remain totally unknown and indefinable, and consequently impossible to expound to her disciples? Is this to be the only point on which she evades us? It is a point of first importance, for if the Saint does evade us here, then we shall suddenly feel that her whole life and teaching have become inaccessible. This is beyond acceptance and we absolutely refuse to admit such an idea. So let us try with the help of St. Thérèse herself, who surely can desire nothing better than to enlighten us on this matter, let us try to grasp the secret of her prayer. Let us set ourselves with confidence at her school.

Now, first of all, we must not look for any method, for this would definitely be a step in the opposite direction to our desired goal. It is important and essential to note at the outset that St. Thérèse obviously takes up the interior life at the point when what we call methods of prayer are no longer necessary, or would be harmful and therefore an obstacle. Whence we see one lesson which Thérèse clearly teaches: namely, that at a given moment the soul must be set free from method. And this moment, contrary to what is usually believed, occurs fairly soon with those who apply themselves to the spiritual life. At the beginning a method is necessary for the majority of people. I say, for the majority, because for some more intuitive souls and Thérèse belongs to this category-there is never any need of a method.

A great number, however, require a method, but even for these it is only a last resource, a means, and clearly a temporary means. For our prayer is real only in so far as we free ourselves from the artificial scaffolding of method. It is for the director to judge with prudence when the moment for this emancipation has come sometimes sooner, sometimes later, according to the individual case. But-and St. Thérèse tells us this clearly and emphatically-for "little souls," for the upright and sincere of heart, this moment comes early in the spiritual life. 

Here St. Thérèse has rendered us a service. In general we are too attached to our human means and methods, and this applies not only to others but maybe, without our knowing it, to ourselves also. We confuse the means with the end; very often we grow to think that in practice prayer is method, and we should consider ourselves at fault if we did not cleave to this method, cost what it may. To free ourselves from the artificial and place ourselves in reality is essential to prayer. There is nothing less dependent on a method than prayer. Prayer is the soul submitting itself sincerely to the action of God, that is to say to infinite Love, the soul surrendering itself to God in all humility but at the same time with absolute confidence. So many of us lack confidence in God. Unconsciously we place our confidence in ourselves, our work, our own ability and effort; we rely on all this with the inevitable result that we adhere to it as though it were of main importance. One is tempted to call such an attitude pitiable, for it ignores the fact that God and God alone must do the whole work of our sanctification, that He alone can make us holy. All we have to do is submit ourselves with simplicity to the action of Almighty God. This is elementary, and, in theory, everyone admits it. Yet how far practice strays from theory, even if it does not actually oppose it. The proper way to begin prayer is by a strong and fervent act of faith in God's love for our wretched soul with the desire to learn from Him how to respond to His love. This, says Cardinal Mercier, is the only true way of placing ourselves in the presence of God: Deus caritas est.

Hence we already see the very definite service that St. Thérèse has rendered us by setting prayer free from method. Moreover she reminds us of the meaning of prayer: that it is an exchange of love between God who is essential love and man who is made to love and who can receive love from God alone-in other words, an exchange of love between the misery of the human creature and the loving mercy of the Creator. This is prayer, and all the rest is only a means to prayer. Therefore what we call "meditation," that is to say the exercising of the mind, of the understanding, of the reason working things out, is simply a means, yet in the eyes of many it is the principle, the essential, the whole of prayer. It is is simply an introductory passage-way to prayer; a necessary means, if you like, but a means which can and should with advantage be gradually reduced to the minimum, in fact to just what is sufficient to stir the heart and rouse the affections.

Here again St. Thérèse teaches us a valuable lesson. We make the work of the mind and reason in our prayers far too complicated. We argue and dissertate and subtilise; we divide and subdivide our subject; we drain its rational contents; we exhaust our theme and ourselves. And we end by a logical, very logical conclusion which we honour with the name of resolution, a resolution which is marvellous from the angle of reasoning, but which will be absolutely sterile from the practical point of view. A resolution which will soon be forgotten because it has been formed outside of reality and truth, because it is the result of human effort.

May I venture at this point to offer an opinion on books of meditation? Literature of this kind is on the increase and in recent years we have been inundated with publications rivalling one another in long and complicated considerations It seems to me that there comes a time when nearly all books of meditation are really an obstacle to prayer. It is to be feared that these interminable arguments which are a torture to most minds, encumber the soul with thoughts and ideas which are not its own, with reflections which have nothing in common with its particular state or needs, and especially with the action of grace, the real work of the Holy Spirit in the soul. What too often happens? The meditation (what we erroneously call prayer) becomes an artificial labour, lacking in depth and reality, and for this reason a tedious undertaking, so that instead of increasing its desire to pray the soul wearies and if it does not abandon its meditation, it makes it in a purely formal manner and under painful compulsion. Hence the meditation becomes an utterly mechanical exercise without any practical result. St. Thérèse of Avila has most rightly said: "Prayer consists, not in much thinking, but in much loving." Her daughter, St. Thérèse of Lisieux, expresses it more simply than her mother: she teaches us the meaning of prayer, not by talking about it but by showing us how she prayed with the heart, by loving.

Before proceeding further let us note what we have already learnt from St. Thérèse. Above all she shows us that "prayer is an absolutely simple thing." This is a very important lesson and we should be grateful to our Saint for having taught it us by her very silence. Let us strive therefore to simplify our prayer rather than complicate it.

A quotation from St. Thérèse will take us a step further. "I find nothing in books," she tells us, “The Gospel suffices me." The Gospel suffices me these simple words are a veritable light. For indeed Our Blessed Lord came down to earth in human form to tell us all that we need to know in order to strive after and attain to holiness, to the furthest heights of holiness. He tells us, not by argument and philosophy, but by His life and actions, by His words and example, by the light and inspiration of His lessons: in short, by all that we find in the Gospel. This is the " Book of Meditation" par excellence: four volumes written by God made Man. Surely it would be only reasonable to suppose that every Christian, particularly those who are cager for perfection, should say with St. Thérèse: "The Gospel suffices me"; especially as, if they were sincere, they would first say as she did, from experience, " I find nothing in books." Yet how true it is that we readily depart from the truth which is perfectly simple to involve ourselves in the false and artificial which is complicated and discouraging.

And here, it seems to me, we are at the heart of our subject. We shall find it relatively easy to picture what the prayer of St. Thérèse must have been. She would open the Gospel and read a few verses; not many, for the Gospel is not a book that one can absorb in large doses if one wishes to assimilate its contents. Then, renewing her simple, child-like faith in the love of God, she would humbly adore this infinite Love; she would ask for a deeper understanding of the love which is in Jesus Christ, and she would offer herself to this love so that it might do its work in her and teach her how to love Him in return. In this attitude of faith, humility, adoration and desire she would contemplate Our Blessed Lord and listen to Him. By this utterly simple gaze she allowed her soul to be imprinted with what the Gospel had told her of the words and actions of her Divine Model. She sought for love alone and thus she saw, beyond the letter of the Gospel, the spirit of life which it contains. Very gently, without strain or hurry, she received these lights. God revealed Himself to her more and more as her infinitely loving Father. She yielded to the desire to love Him, and she learnt from Our Blessed Lord how, helpless child as she was, she could and should love her Heavenly Father.

Thus, without any deliberate or artificial effort, almost unconsciously it sometimes happened that she formed a particular resolution if God prompted it, but she did not force herself to end with what the books call the resolution for the day. On the other hand, she constantly renewed her great resolution to do everything for the pleasure of God. She came from prayer without mental fatigue and with her heart dilated, not because of many beautiful reflections but because her heart was filled with love and resolved to miss no opportunity for little sacrifices, that she might prove by these little nothings, as she called them, the sincerity of her love. Fine and lofty thoughts she would have speedily forgotten, but this desire to love, ever urgent in her heart, pursued her and continued active and affective throughout the actions of the day. This was the prayer of St. Thérèse; this was how the Gospel sufficed her. And how sad it is that the Gospel does not suffice us too!

Here a question arises why is it that many who do read the Gospel find nothing in it and remain in dryness? Why do they not find it suffices them? The reason is that we generally approach the Gospel engrossed with intellectual considerations and intent upon discovering matter to furnish the mind with fresh ideas and thoughts. We look for what is not there, and we pass over what is there. What is in the Gospel is love; the Gospel is the book of love. It is through love that it becomes light and illuminates the mind.

I am not aware that Thérèse read many commentaries on the Gospel. For there are commentaries just as there are books of meditation which are necessary at the beginning to clear the text of difficulties and obscurities which may occur here and there. But as regards our spiritual enlightenment it is not to men that we must look for a commentary on the sacred text. The only true commentator on the Gospel is the Holy Spirit in the deep recesses of each individual soul. Our Lord tells us this: "Paraclitus autem Spiritus Sanctus suggeret vobis omnia quaecumque dixero vobis." "But the Paraclete, the Holy Ghost,... will bring all things to your mind whatsoever I shall have said to you."

Thus without forcing the sense or rather by giving their full sense, we can understand those words of the Imitation: "Sacra scriptura eo spiritu debet legi quo scripta est." "Holy Scripture should be read in the spirit in which it was written." The Holy Spirit wrote the Gospel; He alone can enable us to read it as we should, He alone can make us really understand it.

Was the prayer of St. Thérèse contemplative ? Yes, but contemplative in a way so simple that it lies within our capacity and encourages us to desire to imitate it, us who, like Thérèse, have in our souls the Holy Spirit with His gifts which are the source of contemplation: the gifts of Understanding, Wisdom and, above all, Piety. It is to be regretted that writers on contemplation overlook the gift of Piety. It is, in my opinion, by this gift that the soul receives the grace of true mysticism which is a touch of love received in the will rather than a grace of light residing in the understanding. This, however, is just a passing remark. The prayer, the contemplation of Thérèse was clearly first and foremost a prayer of love.

Now we can understand what St. Thérèse thought about dryness and distractions in prayer. Distractions and drowsiness are about all she reveals of her prayer. These famous distractions of which we complain so much occur precisely because we make our prayer chiefly an intellectual exercise; distractions, it seems to us, spoil and ruin prayer. Little Thérèse, like her mother the great Thérèse, held a different view. Let us recall those utterances of hers, so childlike in their simplicity yet containing a depth of wisdom. "I suppose I ought to be distressed that I so often fall asleep during meditation and thanksgiving after Holy Communion, but I reflect that little children, asleep or awake, are equally dear to their parents, and that the Lord knoweth our frame. He remembered that we are but dust.?" "Dryness and drowsiness-such is the state of my soul in its intercourse with Jesus! But since my Beloved wishes to sleep, I shall not prevent Him. I am only too happy that He does not treat me as a stranger or stand on ceremony with me; indeed, I can assure you that He makes no effort to hold conversation with me." Obviously these lines can have only one meaning; they set prayer in its proper place, not in the mind but in the heart, in the will, in affective union with God through love. In this way distractions like all our natural miseries automatically turn into humility, increased confidence and finally a childlike love for God.

In conclusion I would quote a sentence from the late Father Petitot on the prayer of St. Thérèse ofthe Child Jesus, containing a statement which appears paradoxical and exaggerated but is fundamentally most sound: "We shall either pray (virtually) all day long, or we shall not pray at all." Which means: a soul which in the course of the day is not habitually recollected may make what it calls meditation, that is to say an exercise of fixed duration in which it will apply its mind more or less laboriously to certain thoughts and reflections of the supernatural order, but it will not really pray in the true sense of the word. And this gives us another indication, and a necessary one if we would set out on the way of prayer which St. Thérèse followed.

The only explanation of her utterly simple manner of entering into prayer by means of the Gospel lies in her habit of recollection. Therefore we must now determine in what the habitual recollection of St. Thérèse consisted. It is commonly said that habitual recollection is a preparation, a condition of prayer, but in what does it consist with many people? In an effort of the mind, in a fairly frequent renewal of the thought of God. Thought, mind: meritorious labour maybe, but not very fruitful, a tedious effort of which the soul wearies. The recollection of Thérèse was something different from this, and so indeed is all true habitual recollection; it is a matter, not of the mind, but of the heart; not of thought, but of love. 

And from this we may draw a valuable conclusion, for we see that habitual recollection and prayer are no longer two separate exercises; they are one and the same thing, they are one continuous, uninterrupted process; together they are the very life of the soul which lives on love alone. This is the final word on the prayer of St. Thérèse of Lisieux. This is the only explanation of the simplicity and ease with which she placed herself in harmony with God in prayer. Prayer was her life. Her desire to do everything for the pleasure of God and her prayer were one and the same thing: the expression of her love. Hence there was no need for method… “Ama et fac quod vis!”

Père Liagre, C.S.Sp