Moradas quintas, Capítulo 2. Prosigue en lo mismo. - Declara la oración de unión por una comparación delicada. - Dice los efectos con que queda el alma. - Es muy de notar.
Our Part in the Work of Union
Teresa introduces the silkworm comparison to explain how the soul prepares itself for the prayer of union by using the means of the Church, meditation, and self-denial, and how God rewards this humble work by becoming the soul's dwelling.
1. It may seem to you that everything there is to see in this dwelling has already been said, and a great deal is still missing, because—as I said—there is more and less.1 As for what union is, I don't think I can say any more; but when the soul to whom God grants these favors prepares itself, there is much to say about what the Lord works within such souls.2 I will describe some of these things, as well as the state in which the soul is left.3 To make it easier to understand, I want to make use of a comparison that serves this purpose well, and also so that we may see how, although in this work the Lord does we can do nothing, still, for His Majesty to grant us this favor, we can do a great deal by preparing ourselves. 2. You've already heard of His wonders in how silk is raised — for only He could have made such an invention — and how from a seed that they say is like tiny grains of pepper (I've never seen it myself, only heard of it, so if anything here is twisted, the fault isn't mine), with the warmth, when the mulberry trees begin to put out leaves, this seed starts to live; for until there's this food they live on, it stays dead; and they're raised on mulberry leaves until, once they've grown large, some little twigs are set out for them, and there with their little mouths they go spinning the silk from themselves and make very tight little cocoons where they shut themselves in; and this worm, which is large and ugly, comes to an end, and out of that same cocoon comes a little white butterfly, very lovely.4 But if this weren't seen, and they only told us about it from other times, who could believe it? Nor by what reasoning could we conclude that something so without reason as a worm and a bee should be so diligent in working for our benefit and with such skill, and that the poor little worm should lose its life in the undertaking?5 This is enough for a stretch of meditation, sisters, even if I say no more to you — for in it you can consider the wonders and wisdom of our God. Well then, what would it be like if we knew the nature of all things?6 It's of great benefit to occupy ourselves in thinking on these grandeurs and to take delight in being spouses of so wise and powerful a King. 3. Let's return to what I was saying. Then this worm begins to come alive when, with the heat of the Holy Spirit, it starts to make use of the general help God gives to us all, and when it starts to make use of the remedies He left in His Church—both by keeping up with confession and through good lessons and sermons—which is the remedy a soul that is dead in its carelessness and sins and caught up in occasions of sin can have.7 Then it begins to live and keeps sustaining itself on this and on good meditations until it has grown—which is what matters for my purpose; the rest is of little importance.8 4. Once this worm has grown—as I mentioned at the beginning of this writing—it begins to spin its silk and build the house where it is to die. I want to be clear that this house is Christ. I believe I’ve read or heard somewhere that our life is hidden in Christ, or in God—which amounts to the same thing—or that our life is Christ. Whether that’s accurate or not matters little for my purpose. 5. So you see here, daughters, what we can do with God's favor: make His Majesty Himself our dwelling, as He is in this prayer of union, by working it ourselves. It seems I mean that we can take things away from God and put things into Him, since I say that He is the dwelling and that we ourselves can build it in order to enter it.9 And how we can!10 Not by taking away from God or adding to Him, but by taking away from ourselves and building, as these little silkworms do. For we will hardly have finished doing all we can in this when God joins this little bit of work—which is nothing—to His greatness and gives it such great value that the Lord Himself is the reward of this work. And just as He is the one who has borne the greater cost, so He wants to join our little labors with the great ones His Majesty suffered, and have it all become one. 6. So come on, my daughters! hurry to do this work and weave this little cocoon, stripping away our self-love and our own will, clinging to nothing of the earth, putting in place works of penance, prayer, mortification, obedience, and everything else you know—if only we would act as we know and as we are taught we ought to act! Let this worm die—die, as it does once it has finished doing what it was created for! and you will see how we see God and find ourselves as deeply immersed in His greatness as this little worm is inside this cocoon. Notice that when I say seeing God, I mean, as I have already said, that He makes Himself felt in this manner of union.
The Butterfly's Flight: A Soul Transformed
After the prayer of union, the soul emerges transformed like a butterfly, experiencing new desires for penance, solitude, and praise of God, yet also a restless dissatisfaction with earthly things and the beginning of new trials.
7. So let's see what becomes of this worm—that's what all the rest I've said was for—that when it's in this prayer it's thoroughly dead to the world: a little white butterfly comes out. Oh, the greatness of God—and how a soul comes out from here, from having been only a little while plunged in God's greatness and so closely united with Him—which, I think, never lasts even half an hour!11 I tell you truly that the soul itself doesn't know itself; because look at the difference between an ugly worm and a little white butterfly—the same difference is here. It doesn't know how it could have deserved so much good—where it could have come from, I mean, for it well knows it doesn't deserve it; it finds itself with such a desire to praise the Lord that it would want to dissolve, and to die a thousand deaths for Him.12 Then it begins to long to suffer great trials, without being able to do anything else.13 Immense desires for penance, for solitude, and for everyone to know God; and from this comes a great sorrow at seeing that He is offended. And though in the next dwelling these things will be treated in more detail—because although what is in this dwelling and the one that follows is almost all the same, the force of the effects is very different—because, as I've said, if after God brings a soul here it strives to go forward, it will see great things. 8. Oh, then—seeing the restlessness of this little butterfly, when she's never been quieter or more at peace in her life—is something to praise God for! And the truth is she doesn't know where to settle and make her resting place, because once she's had such a one, everything she sees on earth leaves her dissatisfied—especially when God often gives her this wine; almost every time she comes away with new gains.14 She no longer thinks anything of the works she used to do when she was a worm—slowly weaving the cocoon; wings have grown on her—how is she supposed to be content, when she can fly, with going step by step? Whatever she can do for God seems little to her, given how great her desires are. She doesn't make much of what the saints went through, now understanding by experience how the Lord helps and transforms a soul—so that it no longer looks like itself, or even like its own form. Because the weakness she used to think she had for doing penance she now finds is strength; and as for the attachment to relatives or friends or property—which neither acts nor resolutions nor wanting to pull away were enough to break, for then she seemed only more tightly bound—she now finds herself so free of it that it weighs on her even to be still bound to what she must do so as not to go against God.15 Everything tires her, because she has found that creatures cannot give her true rest. 9. It seems I'm going on at length, and I could say much more, and anyone to whom God has granted this favor will see that I fall short; and so there's no reason to be surprised that this little butterfly looks for a resting place again, since she finds herself a stranger to the things of the earth. Well then, where will the poor little thing go? For she cannot go back to where she came from, since—as has been said—it is not in our hands, no matter how much we do, until God is pleased to grant us this favor again. O Lord! And what new trials begin for this soul! Who would have said such a thing after so exalted a favor? In the end, finally, one way or another there has to be a cross while we live; and if anyone should say that after arriving here the soul is always at rest and in delight, I would say that person never arrived, but that it was perhaps some pleasure—if they entered the previous dwelling—aided by natural weakness, and even, perhaps, by the devil, who gives them peace so as to wage a much greater war on them afterward.16 10. I don't mean that those who reach this point have no peace — they do, and a very great peace; because those same trials are of such worth and spring from so good a root that, though they are very great, peace and contentment come from the trials themselves. From the same discontent that the things of the world give rises a desire to leave it so painful that if the soul has any relief, it is thinking that God wills it to live in this exile — and even that is not enough, because even with all these gains the soul is not yet so surrendered to God's will as will be seen further on, though it does not fail to conform itself; but it does so with a great distress of feeling — that it can do no more, because no more has been given it — and with many tears.17 Every time it enters into prayer, this is its grief. In some way, perhaps, it comes from the very great grief that comes over it at seeing that God is offended and little esteemed in this world, and from the many souls that are lost — heretics as well as Moors; though those that wound it most are the souls of Christians, for though it sees how great God's mercy is — that however badly they live they can still amend and be saved — it fears that many are condemned.18
Sealed in the Wine Cellar of Love
Teresa explains the deeper source of the soul's painful love for God and neighbor, using the image of the Bride in the wine cellar and the wax and seal, and shows how this participation in Christ's own desires leads to a profound conformity with His will.
11. Oh, the greatness of God! Only a few years ago—and perhaps even days ago—this soul thought of nothing but herself: who has put her into such painful cares? For even if we wanted many years of meditation, we could never feel it as painfully as this soul feels it now. Well then—God help me! If for many days and years I strive to dwell on the great evil of God's being offended, and to think that those who are damned are His children and my brothers and sisters, and on the dangers we live in, and how good it is for us to leave this miserable life—won't that be enough? No, daughters, the pain felt here isn't like ordinary pains. Those we could well have, with the Lord's favor, by thinking a great deal about these things; but they don't reach the innermost depths of the heart the way this does—here it seems to crush a soul to pieces and grind her down, without her seeking it, and sometimes even without wanting it.19 So what is this? Where does it come from? I'll tell you. 12. Haven't you heard—I've already said it here once before, though not for this purpose—about the Bride, how God brought her into the wine cellar and ordered charity within her?20 Well, this is it: since that soul already gives herself into His hands, and the great love has her so surrendered that she neither knows nor wants anything more than that God do with her whatever He wills (for God will never, as I see it, grant this favor except to a soul He already takes thoroughly as His own), He wants her to come out from there sealed with His seal, without her understanding how. Because truly the soul there does no more than the wax when someone else presses the seal into it—for the wax doesn't impress the seal on itself; it is only ready, I mean soft; and even for this readiness she doesn't soften herself either, but stays still and consents to it. Oh goodness of God—everything has to be at Your expense! You only want our will, and that there be no impediment in the wax. 13. So here you see, sisters, what our God does here so that this soul already knows herself as His: He gives of what He has, which is what His Son had in this life. He cannot grant us a greater favor.21 Who had more reason to want to leave this life? And so His Majesty said it at the Supper: "With desire I have desired."22 Then how is it, Lord, that the hard death You had to die—so painful and dreadful—did not rise before You? No; because the great love I have, and my desire that souls be saved, surpasses those pains beyond comparison; and the very greatest sufferings I have endured and still endure since I have been in the world are enough to count those as nothing beside them.23 14. I’ve often thought about this: knowing the torment a certain soul I know endures—and has endured—from seeing our Lord offended, a pain so unbearable that she would much rather die than suffer it. If a soul with so very little charity compared to Christ’s (which, by comparison, you could almost call none at all) feels such unbearable torment, what must our Lord Jesus Christ have felt? What a life He must have lived, since all things were present to Him and He was constantly seeing the great offenses committed against His Father? I myself believe without a doubt that they were far greater than those of His most sacred Passion; because then He already saw the end of those labors, and with that, and with the joy of seeing our remedy through His death and of showing the love He had for His Father by suffering so much for Him, He would moderate the pains—as happens here with those who, by the force of love, do great penances: they barely feel them; rather, they'd want to do more and more, and everything seems little to them.24 So what must it have been for His Majesty, finding Himself in so great an occasion to show His Father how completely He was obeying Him—and with love of neighbor? Oh, what a great delight—to suffer in doing the will of God! But seeing so continuously so many offenses done to His Majesty, and so many souls going to hell—I hold that to be so hard a thing that I believe if He had been no more than man, one day of that pain would have been enough to end many lives, how much more one!
Read the original Spanish
1. Pareceros ha que ya está todo dicho lo que hay que ver en esta morada, y falta mucho, porque -como dije- hay más y menos. Cuanto a lo que es unión, no creo sabré decir más; mas cuando el alma a quien Dios hace estas mercedes se dispone, hay muchas cosas que decir de lo que el Señor obra en ellas. Algunas diré y de la manera que queda. Para darlo mejor a entender, me quiero aprovechar de una comparación que es buena para este fin, y también para que veamos cómo, aunque en esta obra que hace el Señor no podemos hacer nada, mas para que Su Majestad nos haga esta merced, podemos hacer mucho disponiéndonos.
2. Ya habréis oído sus maravillas en cómo se cría la seda, que sólo El pudo hacer semejante invención, y cómo de una simiente, que dicen que es a manera de granos de pimienta pequeños (que yo nunca la he visto, sino oído, y así si algo fuere torcido no es mía la culpa), con el calor, en comenzando a haber hoja en los morales, comienza esta simiente a vivir; que hasta que hay este mantenimiento de que se sustentan, se está muerta; y con hojas de moral se crían, hasta que, después de grandes, les ponen unas ramillas y allí con las boquillas van de sí mismos hilando la seda y hacen unos capuchillos muy apretados adonde se encierran; y acaba este gusano que es grande y feo, y sale del mismo capucho una mariposica blanca, muy graciosa. Mas si esto no se viese, sino que nos lo contaran de otros tiempos, ¿quién lo pudiera creer? ¿Ni con qué razones pudiéramos sacar que una cosa tan sin razón como es un gusano y una abeja, sean tan diligentes en trabajar para nuestro provecho y con tanta industria, y el pobre gusanillo pierda la vida en la demanda? Para un rato de meditación basta esto, hermanas, aunque no os diga más, que en ello podéis considerar las maravillas y sabiduría de nuestro Dios. Pues ¿qué será si supiésemos la propiedad de todas las cosas? De gran provecho es ocuparnos en pensar estas grandezas y regalarnos en ser esposas de Rey tan sabio y poderoso.
3. Tornemos a lo que decía. Entonces comienza a tener vida este gusano, cuando con el calor del Espíritu Santo se comienza a aprovechar del auxilio general que a todos nos da Dios y cuando comienza a aprovecharse de los remedios que dejó en su Iglesia, así de continuar las confesiones, como con buenas lecciones y sermones, que es el remedio que un alma que está muerta en su descuido y pecados y metida en ocasiones puede tener. Entonces comienza a vivir y vase sustentando en esto y en buenas meditaciones, hasta que está crecida, que es lo que a mí me hace al caso, que estotro poco importa.
4. Pues crecido este gusano -que es lo que en los principios queda dicho de esto que he escrito-, comienza a labrar la seda y edificar la casa adonde ha de morir. Esta casa querría dar a entender aquí,que es Cristo. En una parte me parece he leído u oído que nuestra vida está escondida en Cristo, o en Dios, que todo es uno, o que nuestra vida es Cristo. En que esto sea o no, poco va para mi propósito.
5. Pues veis aquí, hijas, lo que podemos con el favor de Dios hacer: que Su Majestad mismo sea nuestra morada, como lo es en esta oración de unión, labrándola nosotras. Parece que quiero decir que podemos quitar y poner en Dios, pues digo que El es la morada y la podemos nosotras fabricar para meternos en ella. Y ¡cómo si podemos! , no quitar de Dios ni poner, sino quitar de nosotros y poner, como hacen estos gusanitos; que no habremos acabado de hacer en esto todo lo que podemos, cuando este trabajillo, que no es nada, junte Dios con su grandeza y le dé tan gran valor que el mismo Señor sea el premio de esta obra. Y así como ha sido el que ha puesto la mayor costa, así quiere juntar nuestros trabajillos con los grandes que padeció Su Majestad y que todo sea una cosa.
6. Pues ¡ea, hijas mías! , prisa a hacer esta labor y tejer este capuchillo, quitando nuestro amor propio y nuestra voluntad, el estar asidas a ninguna cosa de la tierra, poniendo obras de penitencia, oración, mortificación, obediencia, todo lo demás que sabéis; que ¡así obrásemos como sabemos y somos enseñadas de lo que hemos de hacer! ¡Muera, muera este gusano, como lo hace en acabando de hacer para lo que fue criado! , y veréis cómo vemos a Dios y nos vemos tan metidas en su grandeza como lo está este gusanillo en este capucho. Mirad que digo ver a Dios, como dejo dicho quese da a sentir en esta manera de unión.
7. Pues veamos qué se hace este gusano, que es para lo que he dicho todo lo demás, que cuando está en esta oración bien muerto está al mundo: sale una mariposita blanca. ¡Oh grandeza de Dios, y cuál sale una alma de aquí, de haber estado un poquito metida en la grandeza de Dios y tan junta con El; que a mi parecer nunca llega a media hora! Yo os digo de verdad que la misma alma no se conoce a sí; porque, mirad la diferencia que hay de un gusano feo a una mariposica blanca, que la misma hay acá. No sabe de dónde pudo merecer tanto bien -de dónde le pudo venir, quise decir, que bien sabe que no le merece-; vese con un deseo de alabar al Señor, que se querría deshacer, y de morir por El mil muertes. Luego le comienza a tener de padecer grandes trabajos, sin poder hacer otra cosa. Los deseos de penitencia grandísimos, el de soledad, el de que todos conociesen a Dios; y de aquí le viene una pena grande de ver que es ofendido. Y aunque en la morada que viene se tratará más de estas cosas en particular, porque aunque casi lo que hay en esta morada y en la que viene después es todo uno, es muy diferente la fuerza de los efectos; porque -como he dicho- si después que Dios llega a un alma aquí se esfuerza a ir adelante, verá grandes cosas.
8. ¡Oh, pues ver el desasosiego de esta mariposita, con no haber estado más quieta y sosegada en su vida, es cosa para alabar a Dios! Y es que no sabe adónde posar y hacer su asiento, que como le ha tenido tal, todo lo que ve en la tierra le descontenta, en especial cuando son muchas las veces que la da Dios de este vino; casi de cada una queda con nuevas ganancias. Ya no tiene en nada las obras que hacía siendo gusano, que era poco a poco tejer el capucho; hanle nacido alas, ¿cómo se ha de contentar, pudiendo volar, de andar paso a paso? Todo se le hace poco cuanto puede hacer por Dios, según son sus deseos. No tiene en mucho lo que pasaron los santos, entendiendo ya por experiencia cómo ayuda el Señor y transforma un alma, que no parece ella ni su figura. Porque la flaqueza que antes le parecía tener para hacer penitencia, ya la halla fuerte; el atamiento con deudos o amigos o hacienda (que ni le bastaban actos, ni determinaciones, ni quererse apartar, que entonces le parecía se hallaba más junta), ya se ve de manera que le pesa estar obligada a lo que, para no ir contra Dios, es menester hacer. Todo le cansa, porque ha probado que el verdadero descanso no le pueden dar las criaturas.
9. Parece que me alargo, y mucho más podría decir, y a quien Dios hubiere hecho esta merced verá que quedo corta; y así no hay que espantar que esta mariposilla busque asiento de nuevo, así como se halla nueva de las cosas de la tierra. Pues ¿adónde irá la pobrecica? Que tornar adonde salió no puede, que -como está dicho- no es en nuestra mano, aunque más hagamos, hasta que es Dios servido de tornarnos a hacer esta merced. ¡Oh Señor! , y ¡qué nuevos trabajos comienzan a esta alma! ¿Quién dijera tal después de merced tan subida? En fin, fin, de una manera o de otra ha de haber cruz mientras vivimos, y quien dijere que, después que llegó aquí, siempre está con descanso y regalo, diría yo que nunca llegó, sino que por ventura fue algún gusto, si entró en la morada pasada, y ayudado de flaqueza natural, y aun, por ventura, del demonio, que le da paz para hacerle después mucha mayor guerra.
10. No quiero decir que no tienen paz los que llegan aquí, que sí tienen y muy grande; porque los mismos trabajos son de tanto valor y de tan buena raíz, que, con serlo muy grandes, de ellos mismos sale la paz y el contento. Del mismo descontento que dan las cosas del mundo nace un deseo de salir de él tan penoso, que si algún alivio tiene es pensar que quiere Dios viva en este destierro, y aun no basta, porque aun el alma con todas estas ganancias no está tan rendida en la voluntad de Dios, como se verá adelante, aunque no deja de conformarse; mas es con un gran sentimiento, que no puede más, porque no le han dado más, y con muchas lágrimas. Cada vez que tiene oración es ésta su pena. En alguna manera quizá procede de la muy grande que le da de ver que es ofendido Dios y poco estimado en este mundo y de las muchas almas que se pierden, así de herejes, como de moros; aunque las que más la lastiman son las de los cristianos, que aunque ve es grande la misericordia de Dios, que por mal que vivan se pueden enmendar y salvarse, teme que se condenan muchos.
11. ¡Oh grandeza de Dios! , que pocos años antes estaba esta alma, y aun quizá días, que no se acordaba sino de sí, ¿quién la ha metido en tan penosos cuidados? Que, aunque queramos tener muchos años de meditación, tan penosamente como ahora esta alma lo siente no lo podremos sentir. Pues ¡válgame Dios! , si muchos días y años yo me procuro ejercitar en el gran mal que es ser Dios ofendido y pensar que estos que se condenan son hijos suyos y hermanos míos, y los peligros en que vivimos, cuán bien nos está salir de esta miserable vida, ¿no bastará? -Que no, hijas, no es la pena que se siente aquí como las de acá; que eso bien podríamos con el favor del Señor tenerla, pensando mucho esto; mas no llega a lo íntimo de las entrañas como aquí, que parece desmenuza un alma y la muele, sin procurarlo ella y aun a veces sin quererlo. Pues ¿qué es esto?
¿De dónde procede? -Yo os lo diré.
12. ¿No habéis oído -que ya aquí lo he dicho otra vez, aunque no a este propósito- de la Esposa, que la metió Dios a la bodega del vino y ordenó en ella la caridad? Pues esto es; que como aquel alma ya se entrega en sus manos y el gran amor la tiene tan rendida que no sabe ni quiere más de que haga Dios lo que quisiere de ella (que jamás hará Dios, a lo que yo pienso, esta merced sino a alma que ya toma muy por suya), quiere que, sin que ella entienda cómo, salga de allí sellada con su sello. Porque verdaderamente el alma allí no hace más que la cera cuando imprime otro el sello, que la cera no se le imprime a sí, sólo está dispuesta, digo blanda; y aun para esta disposición tampoco se ablanda ella, sino que se está queda y lo consiente. ¡Oh bondad de Dios, que todo ha de ser a vuestra costa! Sólo queréis nuestra voluntad y que no haya impedimento en la cera.
13. Pues veis aquí, hermanas, lo que nuestro Dios hace aquí para que esta alma ya se conozca por suya; da de lo que tiene, que es lo que tuvo su Hijo en esta vida; no nos puede hacer mayor merced. ¿Quién más debía querer salir de esta vida? Y así lo dijo Su Majestad en la Cena: Con deseo he deseado. Pues ¿cómo, Señor, no se os puso delante la trabajosa muerte que habéis de morir tan penosa y espantosa? -No; porque el grande amor que tengo y deseo de que se salven las almas sobrepuja sin comparación a esas penas; y las muy grandísimas que he padecido y padezco, después que estoy en el mundo, son bastantes para no tener esas en nada en su comparación.
14. Es así que muchas veces he considerado en esto, y sabiendo yo el tormento que pasa y ha pasado cierta alma que conozco de ver ofender a nuestro Señor, tan insufridero que se quisiera mucho más morir que sufrirla, y pensando si una alma con tan poquísima caridad, comparada a la de Cristo, que se puede decir casi ninguna en esta comparación, sentía este tormento tan insufridero, ¿qué sería el sentimiento de nuestro Señor Jesucristo, y qué vida debía pasar, pues todas las cosas le eran presentes y estaba siempre viendo las grandes ofensas que se hacían a su Padre? Sin duda creo yo que fueron muy mayores que las de su sacratísima Pasión; porque entonces ya veía el fin de estos trabajos, y con esto y con el contento de ver nuestro remedio con su muerte y de mostrar el amor que tenía a su Padre en padecer tanto por El, moderaría los dolores, como acaece acá a los que con fuerza de amor hacen grandes penitencias, que no las sienten casi, antes querrían hacer más y más, y todo se le hace poco. Pues ¿qué sería a Su Majestad, viéndose en tan gran ocasión, para mostrar a su Padre cuán cumplidamente cumplía el obedecerle, y con el amor del prójimo? ¡Oh gran deleite, padecer en hacer la voluntad de Dios! Mas en ver tan continuo tantas ofensas a Su Majestad hechas, e ir tantas almas al infierno, téngolo por cosa tan recia, que creo, si no fuera más de hombre, un día de aquella pena bastaba para acabar muchas vidas, ¡cuánto más una!
Notes
- 1 ↩"hay más y menos": Teresa's recurring claim that within one dwelling there are degrees of experience (more and less), not a single uniform state.
- 2 ↩"ellas" is plural after singular "el alma"; rendered as the class of souls who receive these favors. Less likely referent: the favors themselves.
- 3 ↩"de la manera que queda" is elliptical; chapter heading indicates the effects/condition in which the soul remains after the favor.
- 4 ↩Spanish 'capuchillos'/'capucho' literally suggests little hooded caps; rendered as 'cocoons' for clarity of the silkworm image.
- 5 ↩'sin razón' kept as 'without reason' to preserve Teresa's wordplay between irrational creatures and rational explanation; 'industria' rendered as 'skill' (not modern 'industry' as economic sector); 'demanda' as 'undertaking'.
- 6 ↩'propiedad' rendered as 'nature' (essential character/properties of things), not legal ownership.
- 7 ↩"ocasiones" is rendered as "occasions of sin," the usual spiritual sense in Teresa: situations that expose the soul to falling.
- 8 ↩"estotro" (esto otro) points back to the silk-raising details Teresa has just been describing; rendered as "the rest."
- 9 ↩"quitar y poner en Dios" is the idiom of rearranging God at will; Teresa voices the objection she is about to correct.
- 10 ↩Exclamatory "¡cómo si podemos!" read as emphatic affirmation ("and how we can!"), not ironic doubt; s5 supplies the clarifying "not by rearranging God, but by emptying ourselves."
- 11 ↩"cuál sale" marks astonished quality of transformation, not mere manner of exit; rendered as "how a soul comes out" to keep Teresa's marvel.
- 12 ↩Parenthetical self-correction kept: Teresa first says "merecer" (deserve), then revises to "venir" (come from), insisting the soul knows it does not merit the gift.
- 13 ↩"le comienza a tener de padecer" is elliptical; desire/longing is supplied from the preceding sentence's "deseo" and the desires listed next. "trabajos" rendered as trials/hardships, Teresa's usual sense.
- 14 ↩"este vino" continues Teresa's image of the intoxicating draught of union; rendered literally as "this wine" to preserve the metaphor.
- 15 ↩"atamiento" rendered as "attachment"; the parenthesis explains that former efforts only seemed to tighten the bond. The closing clause means remaining lawful duties now feel heavy because the soul longs for freer availability to God.
- 16 ↩Source doubles 'En fin, fin'; rendered as emphatic 'In the end, finally' rather than treated as dittography.
- 17 ↩"rendida en la voluntad de Dios" rendered as "surrendered to God's will"; the later contrast with incomplete conformity ("aunque no deja de conformarse") is kept explicit.
- 18 ↩Spanish elides the noun after "la muy grande"; sense taken from the preceding "pena" (grief/distress) in s4.
- 19 ↩Contrast of aquí (this infused stage of prayer) with las de acá (ordinary pains stirred by deliberate meditation). 'Favor del Señor' rendered as the Lord's favor/grace-aid, not vague kindness.
- 20 ↩Spanish caridad echoes the Vulgate Song reading ordinavit in me caritatem; rendered charity to keep that theological-virtue force rather than flattening to love alone.
- 21 ↩Spanish merced rendered as favor (divine gift/privilege), not generic kindness; Teresa regularly uses merced for a bestowed grace.
- 22 ↩Quoted fragment Con deseo he deseado echoes Luke 22:15 (Desiderio desideravi); Teresa cites only the intensifying opening, not the full clause about eating the Passover.
- 23 ↩Compound subject amor… y deseo: love and the desire for souls' salvation together outweigh the Passion pains; second clause contrasts those Passion pains with the still greater pains of seeing offenses / lost souls since the Incarnation.
- 24 ↩«fueron muy mayores» resumes the preceding torments/feelings of seeing offenses to the Father, claimed greater than the pains of the Passion itself.
The Interior Castle (Las Moradas / El Castillo Interior) companion
A daily portion of stillness
Chosen Portion delivers one short contemplative reading and a guided moment of silence each day — the ascent, one step at a time.
Chosen Portion is the paced doorway into this collection: it portions the dense mystical treatises into one daily reading plus guided silence, exactly as the 14-day plan teaches.
- Daily bite-sized excerpts from the contemplative classics, never a wall of text
- A built-in timed stillness practice that grows from 2 minutes to 10
- Gentle progression through the tradition — the app remembers where you are on the ascent