“Love is nourished by sacrifice. The more the soul refuses natural satisfactions, the more its tenderness becomes strong and unselfish.”

Newsdesk (04/10/2022 10:45 PM, Gaudium Press) Considering her weakness and the impossibility of sanctifying herself by her own strength, the young Carmelite abandoned herself to the love of Our Lord, with complete trust in the divine mercy, and in a short time she attained perfection. She thus became a model for all those who feel unable to imitate the outstanding acts of virtue performed by the great saints of Christianity.

Saint Thérèse left us the path of her spiritual struggles in three texts written in obedience to her superiors, the famous autobiographical manuscripts. In them, she knew how to transmit the highest supernatural realities by means of simple comparisons, following the example of the Divine Master. Let us look at some of these parables.

Parable of the flowers of the garden

She found it difficult to understand why God gave His graces to souls in such an unequal way: some received them in such quantity that they maintained an unblemished innocence all their lives; others sank into sin, but the Lord, so to speak, forced them to convert; and others, like the aborigines of the mission lands, “died in great numbers without ever having heard the name of God pronounced. What is the reason for such diversity?

Innocent souls are capable of seeing supernatural realities through the simplest creatures. Sister Thérèse found the answer in observing the flowers in a garden: all are beautiful, the splendour of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not exclude the perfume of the violet or the simplicity of the marigold. Then she understood that “if all the little flowers wanted to be roses, nature would lose its springtime beauty and the fields would no longer be decked out with little flowers”.

And she concluded: “It is the same in the world of souls, which is Jesus’ garden. He wanted to create the great saints, who can be compared to lilies and roses; but He also created the lesser ones, and these must be content to be marigolds or violets, destined to delight the eyes of the Good Lord when He places them at His feet. Perfection consists in doing His will, in being what He wants us to be“.

From that moment on, in a poetic language, she will identify herself with a fragile little flower, in need of God’s constant help.

A little flower replanted on Mount Carmel

This little flower grew and soon manifested its spiritual beauty. She was barely out of childhood and already possessed one of the most difficult virtues to acquire: self-denial. At first, as she herself said, her physiognomy showed the “marks of the struggle” that she had undertaken to acquire this virtue, but afterwards it became easy to practise.

The reading of “The Imitation of Christ” was fundamental in forging the soul of little Thérèse. She recited from memory large passages of this book, which she took as a sure guide to sanctification. Thus strengthened, the little flower was prepared to ask for admission to Carmel.

For this, her father’s consent was indispensable. She could not have chosen a better day to make her request: the Solemnity of Pentecost. After entreating the intercession of the holy Apostles, because she wished with her prayers to be an apostle of the apostles, Thérèse met her father in the peaceful atmosphere of the garden of the house. The setting sun was gilding the treetops when she opened her heart to him. After a moment’s hesitation, because her daughter was less than fifteen years old, he realized that this was the will of God and immediately gave his consent. He then approached a wall, picked a white flower, like a miniature lily, and gave it to his daughter, explaining to her how carefully God had brought it to birth and kept it until that day. It was an especially symbolic gesture, since the flower had been torn out with its roots, as if to be replanted somewhere else.

“I am not an eagle…”

However, what would Thérèse’s specific vocation be? Walking through the cloisters of the convent, she asked herself this question. She ardently desired martyrdom, but this was not enough for her: she also wanted to be a missionary, a doctor, a warrior, a prophet, an apostle. One mission alone did not satisfy her fervour, she longed to be everything at the same time! Finally she found the answer in chapters 12 and 13 of the First Letter of Saint Paul to the Corinthians: love embraces all vocations. And she exclaimed, overflowing with joy: “In the heart of the Church, my Mother, I will be love … thus will I be everything, thus will my dream come true!”

However, little Thérèse was convinced that she was too weak and imperfect for such an elevated vocation. This, however, was no obstacle for her, for it was her own weakness which gave her the audacity to offer herself to Jesus as a victim of love.

And with another beautiful parable she expressed her situation in Carmel: “I am but a feeble little bird covered only with a light down. I am not an eagle, I have only the eyes and heart of an eagle, because, in spite of my extreme smallness, I dare to look at the Divine Sun, the Sun of Love, and my heart feels all the aspirations of the eagle. And so, finding herself unable to fly towards that Sun, she contemplated it with love here on Earth.

As the daring Carmelite well recognised, in her figurative language, sometimes the little bird was distracted by earthly trifles, but then she would return repentantly, fix her eyes again on the sun and spread her wet wings to dry off in contact with the beneficial rays. At moments like these, she would turn with greater ardour to the great eagles – the Angels and Saints in Heaven – who helped her to persevere in love.

But the little bird also knew that she was surrounded by dangerous vultures – the demons – who were looking for a propitious occasion to seize her. She was not afraid of them, for in the centre of the sun she saw her great protection: the eternal Eagle, Christ our Lord, defending her from all infernal snares.

The kingdom of light and the land of darkness

One of the most beautiful parables of the Saint of Lisieux was written during the period when she suffered terrible temptations against her faith. “One must have passed through that dark tunnel to understand its darkness,” she commented.

In an attempt to give an idea of the intensity of this ordeal, the young Carmelite imagines that she was born in a country covered by dense fog, where it was not possible to contemplate the wonders of nature bathed in the rays of the sun. But she knows, by intuition and by having heard, of the existence of a luminous kingdom, where everything is excellent and admirable, the true homeland of souls.

For the moment, however, men live in the land of darkness. The King of the luminous country wanted to open everyone’s eyes to the wonders that await them, but many did not want to listen to him: “The darkness did not understand that this Divine King was the light of the world?

The more she seeks the Kingdom of Light, the more darkness envelops her and instils thoughts of despair in her soul. From time to time a tiny ray of light would bring her some encouragement, but soon afterwards darkness would envelop her again.

Little Thérèse never gave in to this temptation. She faced the enemy so bravely that she could declare: “I think I have made more acts of faith this year than in the rest of my life. She showed her joy in suffering for love of Jesus, as well as her willingness to suffer even more if she could make reparation for just one sin against the faith.

The paintbrush of God

Recognizing the rare virtues of Sister Thérèse, the superior of Carmel invited her to be the novice mistress. She did not think she was up to the task, so she took on the role, but in the capacity of auxiliary to the Mother Superior, who was also in charge of both posts.

In carrying out this task, Thérèse soon became aware of how different souls are and, above all, how delicate is the task of leading them to God. How many prayers, how many sacrifices are necessary to do them good!

To explain how she understood the role of a novice mistress, the young Carmelite used a simple parable. If a canvas painted by a great artist could think and speak, it would certainly not complain of receiving successive brushstrokes, nor would it envy the paintbrush, a mere instrument in the hands of the painter to which it owes its beauty. The brush, for its part, could not boast of the work done, because with a good or bad instrument, what really counts is the skill of the artist.

And she concluded: “My beloved Mother, I am a little brush chosen by Jesus to paint his image on the souls you have entrusted to me.

Thérèse exercised her difficult task with dedication. As she had already won many spiritual battles, she was prepared to teach her disciples the way of perfection. “Love is nourished by sacrifice. The more the soul refuses natural satisfactions, the more its tenderness becomes strong and unselfish” – she insisted.

In all certainty, the humble nun did not imagine that the Divine Artist, much more than “touching up” details on the canvas of the souls of the novices of the Carmel of Lisieux, would use that humble little brush to produce works of art in all the nations of the universe.

Let us know how to take advantage, for our own sanctification, of the lessons of Saint Thérèse.

Fr. Thiago de Oliveira Geraldo, EP

Text extracted, with adaptations, from the magazine Heralds of the Gospel n. 166, October 2015.