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Chapter 18TeresaVida.1.18

Capítulo XVII

The Heavenly Gardener's Work

Teresa introduces the third degree of prayer, where God becomes the gardener, the soul rests in total abandonment, and virtues grow effortlessly.

She continues to explain this third degree of prayer, finishes describing the effects it produces, and discusses the obstacles that imagination and memory cause at this stage. We've already said a fair amount about this kind of prayer, and about what the soul has to do—or rather, what God does in her, since he's the one who now takes over the gardener's work and wants her to rest: the will only consents to those favors she's enjoying, and she must offer herself to whatever true Wisdom wants to do in her, because real courage is needed; for the joy is so great that sometimes it seems there's scarcely a moment left before the soul finishes leaving this body—and what a blessed death that would be! Here, it seems to me, what was said to your Reverence fits well: abandon yourself completely into God's arms. If he wants to take the soul to heaven, let her go; if to hell, she has no fear, so long as she goes with her Good; if he wants to end her life altogether, that is what she wants; if he wants her to live a thousand years, that too. Let His Majesty do with her as with something that is his own; the soul is no longer her own—she has been given entirely to the Lord; let her cast all care aside.1 I say that in so high a prayer as this (for when God gives it to the soul, she can do all this and much more, since these are its effects) she understands that she does it without any weariness of the intellect; it only seems to me she is as if astonished to see how good a gardener the Lord is, and that he doesn't want her to take on any work at all, but only to delight in beginning to smell the flowers. For in one of these arrivals, however little it lasts, since such is the gardener—after all, the Creator of the water—he gives it without measure; and what the poor soul has not been able to store up by toil, perhaps through twenty years of wearing out the intellect, this heavenly gardener does in a moment, and the fruit grows, and he ripens it so that she can live on her garden, if the Lord wills it; but he does not give her leave to share out the fruit until she is so strong from what she has eaten of it that it will not go to waste on her, giving her no benefit and not being repaid by those she gives it to—rather, she is to support them and feed them at her own cost, and she herself may end up dead of hunger.2 This will be well understood by minds like yours, and they will know how to apply it better than I can say it—and I'm getting tired.3

Union and the Active-Contemplative Life

Teresa explains how virtues deepen, the will is bound while intellect and memory remain free, allowing the soul to combine contemplation with active charity.

In short, the virtues are left stronger now than they were in the earlier prayer of quiet; because the soul finds herself changed, and doesn't know how she begins to do great things by the fragrance the flowers give off—flowers the Lord wants opened so that she may believe she has virtues, though she sees very clearly that she herself could not win them, and has not been able to win them in many years, and that in that brief little while the heavenly gardener gave them to her. Here, the humility left in the soul is much greater and deeper than it was before, because she sees more clearly that she did little or nothing except consent to the Lord granting her favors, and that her will should embrace them. It seems to me this kind of prayer is a very clear union of the whole soul with God — except that His Majesty seems to want to give the faculties leave so they can understand and enjoy how much He is working there. It happens sometimes — and very often — that while the will is united (so that Your Reverence may see this can be, and understand it when you have it; at least it left me bewildered, and that's why I say it here), you understand that the will is bound and enjoying; and in deep quiet only the will remains so, while on the other hand the intellect and memory are so free that they can handle business and attend to works of charity.4 This, though it seems all one thing, is different from the prayer of quiet I described, because there the soul doesn't want to stir or move at all, enjoying that holy leisure of Mary's; in this prayer it can also be Martha. So the soul is almost working at the same time in both the active and the contemplative life, and can occupy itself with works of charity and with affairs that suit its state, and with reading; though they aren't entirely masters of themselves, and they understand well that the better part of the soul is elsewhere. It's as if we were talking with one person and, on the other side, another person were speaking to us—so that we wouldn't be fully present to either one. It's something you feel very clearly, and it gives deep satisfaction and contentment when you have it; and it's a very great preparation, so that when you have time for solitude, or a break from business, the soul may come into a very peaceful quiet.5 It's like going about as someone who's inwardly satisfied—who doesn't need to eat, but feels the stomach content, so they wouldn't take to every dish; yet not so full that if they see good ones, they stop eating with a good appetite. In the same way, worldly contentment doesn't satisfy them then, nor would they want it, because within themselves they have what satisfies them more: greater joys from God, desires to satisfy their longing, to enjoy being with Him more. That is what they want.6

The Struggle of Memory and Imagination

Teresa describes a lesser union where memory and imagination wage war, causing distraction and weariness, and reflects on the harm of sin.

There is another kind of union that isn't yet complete, but it's more than the one I just described—though not as much as what has been said about this third water. Your Reverence will be very glad—if the Lord grants you all of these, or if you don't already have them—to find them written down and to understand what they are. For it is one favor for the Lord to grant the gift; another to understand what that gift and what grace it is; and yet another to know how to describe it and clarify what it's like. And although it doesn't seem that anything beyond the first is needed for the soul to avoid confusion and fear, and to walk with more courage along the Lord's path with all the things of the world underfoot, it is still a great benefit—and a favor—to understand it. For each one is reason enough for whoever has it, and whoever doesn't, to praise the Lord greatly, because His Majesty gave it to someone among the living so that it might be of use to us. Now then, this kind of union I'm speaking of happens often—especially to me, as God grants me this favor in this way very frequently—where God takes hold of the will, and even the understanding, it seems to me, because it doesn't reason discursively. Instead, it's occupied with enjoying God, like someone looking who sees so much they don't know where to turn: one thing after another is lost from sight, so that they can't give any account of anything. The memory remains free, and it must be together with the imagination; and since it finds itself alone, the war it wages—and how it tries to unsettle everything—is enough to make one praise God. It has worn me out, and I detest it; and many times I beg the Lord, if it has to hinder me so much, to take it from me during these times.78 Sometimes I say to Him: "When, my God, will my soul at last be wholly gathered in Your praise, and not torn to pieces, unable to help itself?" Here I see the harm sin caused us, for it subjected us in this way so that we can't do what we want: to be always occupied with God. I say that this happens to me at times (and today was one of them, and so I remember it well): I see my soul coming undone from wanting to be joined where the greater part of it is — and that being impossible — because memory and imagination wage such war on it that they won't let it be of any use; and since the other faculties are absent, these two are of no use even for doing harm.9 They do quite enough by unsettling it — I mean as far as doing harm — because they have no strength and don't stay still in one state; since the understanding doesn't help it in the least with what it presents, it settles on nothing, but goes from one thing to another, so that it seems just like those little night moths, bothersome and restless: that's how it flits from one end to the other.10 This comparison seems to me to fit it extremely well, because although it has no strength to do any harm, it bothers those who see it. For this I don't know what remedy there may be, for until now God hasn't shown me one that I would gladly take for myself — it torments me, as I say, many times. Here our misery is made plain, and God's great power is very clearly shown; for this faculty that remains loose harms us and wears us out so much, while the others that are with His Majesty give us the rest they do.11

Remedies and Final Exhortation

Teresa offers the remedy of ignoring the restless memory like a madman, compares it to Jacob and Leah, and concludes with advice to seek learned counsel and a doxology.

The last remedy I've found, after wearing myself out for many years, is what I said about the prayer of quiet: pay no more attention to it than you would to a madman—just leave it with its obsession, for only God can take it away; and in the end, here it remains as a slave. We have to bear with it patiently, as Jacob did with Leah; because the Lord does us a great kindness in letting us enjoy Rachel. I say it remains a slave because, in the end, no matter how hard it tries, it can't draw the other faculties to itself; on the contrary, they bring it over to themselves without any effort at all. Sometimes God is pleased to take pity on seeing it so lost and restless, longing to be with the others, and His Majesty lets it burn in the fire of that divine candle where the others are already turned to dust, their natural state gone, almost supernaturally enjoying such great goods. In all the ways I've described regarding this last spring water, the glory and rest of the soul are so great that the joy and delight unmistakably share themselves with the body—quite unmistakably—and the virtues remain as greatly increased as I've said. It seems the Lord has wanted to make known these states in which the soul finds itself—as much, to my mind, as can be made understandable here.12 Discuss it with a spiritual person who has reached this point and is learned: if he tells you it's sound, believe that God has said so to him, and hold His Majesty in high regard for it; because, as I've said, as time goes on he'll take great delight in understanding what it is. Until God gives him the grace to understand it (even if He gives him the grace of enjoying it), once His Majesty has given him that first grace, he'll understand it from this account by means of his intellect and learning.13 May He be praised forever and ever, for everything. Amen.

Read the original Spanish

Prosigue en la mesma materia de declarar este tercer grado de oracion; acaba de declarar los efetos que hace; dice el impedimiento que aquí hace la imaginacion y memoria.

Razonablemente está dicho de este modo de oracion, y lo que ha de hacer el alma, ú por mejor decir, hace Dios en ella, que es el que toma ya el oficio de hortolano, y quiere que ella huelgue: solo consiente la voluntad en aquellas mercedes que goza y se ha de ofrecer á todo lo que en ella quisiere hacer la verdadera sabiduria, porque es menester ánimo cierto; porque es tanto el gozo, que parece algunas veces no queda un punto para acabar el ánima de salir de este cuerpo; ¡y qué venturosa muerte seria! Aquí me parece viene bien, como á vuesa merced se dijo, dejarse del todo en los brazos de Dios; si quiere llevarle al cielo, vaya; si al infierno, no tiene pena, como vaya con su bien; si acabar del todo la vida, eso quiere; si que viva mil años, también: haga su Majestad como cosa propia, ya no es suya el alma de sí mesmo, dada está del todo á el Señor; descúidese del todo. Digo, que en tan alta oracion como esta (que cuando la da Dios á el alma, puede hacer todo esto y mucho más, que estos son sus efetos) entiende que lo hace sin ningun cansancio del entendimiento; solo me parece está como espantado de ver cómo el Señor hace tan buen hortolano, y no quiere que tome el trabajo ninguno, sino que se deleite en comenzar á oler las flores. Que en una llegada de estas, por poco que dure, como es tal el hortolano, en fin criador del agua, dala sin medida, y lo que la pobre del alma con trabajo, por ventura de veinte años de cansar el entendimiento, no ha podido acaudalar, hácelo este hortolano celestial en un punto, y crece la fruta, y madúrala de manera, que se puede sustentar de su huerto, queriéndolo el Señor; mas no le da licencia que reparta la fruta, hasta que él está tan fuerte con lo que ha comido de ella, que no se le vaya en gastaduras y no dándole nada de provecho ni pagándosela á quien la diere, sino que los mantenga y dé de comer á su costa, y quedarse ha él por ventura muerto de hambre. Esto bien entendido va para tales entendimientos, y sabránlo aplicar, mijor que yo lo sabré decir, y cánsome.

En fin es que las virtudes quedan ahora mas fuertes que en la oracion de quietud pasada; porque se ve otra el alma, y no sabe cómo comienza á obrar grandes cosas con el olor, que dan de sí las flores, que quiere el Señor que se abran, para que ella crea que tiene virtudes, aunque ve muy bien, que no las podia ella, ni ha podido ganar en muchos años, y que en aquello poquito el celestial hortolano se las dió. Aquí es muy mayor la humildad, y mas profunda, que al alma queda, que en lo pasado; porque ve mas claro, que poco ni mucho hizo, sino consentir que le hiciese el Señor mercedes y abrazarlas la voluntad.

Paréceme este modo de oracion union muy conocida de toda el alma con Dios, sino que parece quiere su Majestad dar licencia á las potencias para que entiendan y gocen de lo mucho que obra allí. Acaece algunas, y muy muchas veces, estando unida la voluntad (para que vea vuesa merced puede ser esto, y lo entienda cuando lo tuviere; al menos á mi trájome tonta, y por eso lo digo aquí) entiéndese, que está la voluntad atada y gozando; y en mucha quietud está sola la voluntad, y está por otra parte el entendimiento y memoria tan libres, que pueden tratar en negocios y entender en obras de caridad. Esto, aunque parece todo uno, es diferente de la oracion de quietud que dije, porque allí está el alma, que no se querria bullir ni menear, gozando en aquel ocio santo de María: en esta oracion puede tambien ser Marta.

Ansí que está casi obrando juntamente en vida activa y contemplativa, y puede entender en obras de caridad y negocios, que convengan á su estado, y leer; aunque no del todo están señores de sí, y entienden bien que está la mejor parte del alma en otro cabo. Es como si estuviésemos hablando con uno, y por otra parte nos hablase otra persona, que ni bien estarémos en lo uno ni bien en lo otro. Es cosa que se siente muy claro y da mucha satisfaccion y contento cuando se tiene, y es muy gran aparejo, para que en tiniendo tiempo de soledad, ó desocupacion de negocios, venga el alma á muy sosegada quietud. Es un andar como una persona que está en sí satisfecha, que no tiene necesidad de comer, sino que siente el estómago contento, de manera, que no á todo manjar arrostraría; mas no tan harta, que si los ve buenos, deje de comer de buena gana: ansí no le satisface, ni querria entonces contento del mundo, porque en sí tiene el que le satisface mas; mayores contentos de Dios, deseos de satisfacer su deseo, de gozar mas de estar con él: esto es lo que quiere.

Hay otra manera de union, que aun no es entera union, mas es mas que la que acabo de decir; y no tanto, como la que se ha dicho de esta tercer agua. Gustará vuesa merced mucho de que el Señor se las dé todas, si no las tiene ya, de hallarlo escrito, y entender lo que es, porque una merced es, dar el Señor la merced, y otra es entender, qué merced es y qué gracia; y otra es saber decirla y dar á entender como es; y aunque no parece es menester mas de la primera, para no andar el alma confusa y medrosa, é ir con más ánimo por el camino del Señor, llevando debajo de los pies todas las cosas del mundo, es gran provecho entenderlo, y merced; porque cada una es razon alabe mucho al Señor, quien la tiene y quien no, porque la dió su Majestad á alguno de los que viven, para que nos aprovechase á nosotros. Ahora pues acaece muchas veces esta manera de union, que quiero decir (en especial á mí, que me hace Dios esta merced de esta suerte muy muchas) que coge Dios la voluntad, y aun el entendimiento, á mi parecer, porque no discurre, sino está ocupado gozando de Dios, como quien está mirando, y ve tanto, que no sabe hácia donde mirar: uno por otro se le pierde de vista, que no dará señas de cosa. La memoria queda libre y junto con la imaginacion debe ser, y ella como se ve sola, es para alabar á Dios la guerra que das y como procura desaso segarlo todo: á mí cansada me tiene, y aborrecida la tengo, y muchas veces suplico al Señor, si tanto me ha de estorbar, me la quite en estos tiempos.

Algunas veces le digo: ¿Cuándo, mi Dios, ha de estar ya toda junta mi alma en vuestra alabanza y no hecha pedazos, sin poder valerse á sí? Aquí veo el mal que nos causó el pecado, pues ansí nos sujetó á no hacer lo que queremos, de estar siempre ocupados en Dios. Digo que me acaece á veces (y hoy ha sido la una, y ansí lo tengo bien en la memoria), que veo deshacerse mi alma, por verse junta adonde está la mayor parte, y ser imposible, sino que le da tal guerra la memoria é imaginacion, que no la dejan valer; y como faltan las otras potencias, no valen, aun para hacer mal, nada. Harto hacen en desasosegar, digo para hacer mal, porque no tienen fuerza ni paran en un ser; como el entendimiento no la ayuda poco ni mucho, á lo que le representa, no para en nada, sino de uno en otro, que no parece sino de estas maripositas de las noches, importunas y desasosegadas: ansi anda de un cabo á otro. En extremo me parece le viene al propio esta comparacion, porque aunque no tiene fuerza para hacer ningun mal, importuna á los que la ven. Para esto no sé qué remedio haya, que hasta ahora no me le ha dado Dios á entender, que de buena gana le tomaria para mí, que me atormenta, como digo, muchas veces. Represéntase aquí nuestra miseria, y muy claro el gran poder de Dios; pues esta que queda suelta, tanto nos daña y nos cansa, y las otras que están con su Majestad, el descanso que nos dan.

El postrer remedio que he hallado, á cabo de haberme fatigado hartos años, es lo que dije en la oracion de quietud, que no se haga caso de ella mas que de un loco, sino dejarla con su tema, que solo Dios se la puede quitar; y en fin, aquí por esclava queda. Hémosla de sufrir con paciencia, como hizo Jacod á Lia; porque harta merced nos hace el Señor que gocemos de Raquel. Digo que queda esclava, porque en fin no puede, por mucho que haga, traer á sí las otras potencias; antes ellas sin ningun trabajo la hacen venir á sí. Algunas es Dios servido de haber lástima de verla tan perdida y desasosegada, con deseo de estar con las otras, y consiéntela su Majestad se queme en el fuego de aquella vela divina, donde las otras están ya hechas polvo, perdido su natural, casi estando sobrenaturalmente gozando de tan grandes bienes.

En todas estas maneras, que de esta postrer agua de fuente he dicho, es tan grande la gloria y descanso del alma, que muy conocidamente aquel gozo y deleite participa de el cuerpo, y esto muy conocidamente, y quedan tan crecidas las virtudes como he dicho. Parece ha querido el Señor declarar estas estados, en que se ve el alma, á mi parecer, lo mas que acá se puede dar á entender.

Trátelo vuesa merced con persona espiritual, que haya llegado aquí y tenga letras: si le dijere que está bien, crea que se lo ha dicho Dios, y téngalo en mucho su Majestad; porque, como he dicho, andando el tiempo se holgará mucho de entender lo que es; mientras no le diere la gracia (aunque se la dé de gozarlo) para entenderlo, como le haya dado su Majestad la primera, con su entendimiento y letras lo entenderá por aquí. Sea alabado por todos los siglos de los siglos, por todo, amen.

Notes

  1. 1 ↩«vuesa merced» rendered as «your Reverence» (address to the confessor-reader); «su bien» as «her Good» (God).
  2. 2 ↩«llegada» kept as «arrival» (Teresa's term for these brief divine touches). The long «hasta que… sino que…» clause is dense: the sense taken is that the soul may not distribute spiritual fruit until fortified enough to feed others at real personal cost without waste or repayment. Golden Age «él» for the soul rendered as «she» for English consistency with «soul».
  3. 3 ↩Source spelling «mijor» read as «mejor».
  4. 4 ↩"vuesa merced" rendered as "Your Reverence," Teresa's formal address to her confessor-reader.
  5. 5 ↩aparejo rendered as 'preparation' (readiness/disposition for further quiet), not as equipment.
  6. 6 ↩arrostraría (would face/confront) rendered idiomatically of appetite as 'wouldn't take to every dish'.
  7. 7 ↩Normalized 'desaso segarlo' as 'desasosegarlo' ("to unsettle / disturb it all"), a clear line-break split in the source.
  8. 8 ↩Source has 'la guerra que das' (2nd person). Rendered as 3rd-person 'the war it wages' to match the surrounding reference to memory as 'ella'; possible apostrophe to memory or a 'da'/'das' variant.
  9. 9 ↩"la mayor parte" refers to the soul's faculties already taken up with God (will and understanding), while memory and imagination remain free and restless.
  10. 10 ↩"maripositas de las noches" rendered as "little night moths" (pesky moths), not decorative butterflies; the image is of restless, importunate fluttering.
  11. 11 ↩"esta que queda suelta" is the free faculty (memory/imagination); "las otras" are the faculties absorbed with God. The Spanish is elliptical in the second limb.
  12. 12 ↩Source has 'estas estados' (feminine determiner with masculine noun); translated as the intended 'these states'.
  13. 13 ↩Read as the first grace named in the parenthetical—the grace of enjoying the experience—after which learning can grasp the account; a looser reading takes it as an initial grace of insight.

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