Thorns Among the Roses--Part 2

      Sightseeing in Europe is quite different than here in the states. Many of the places we visited touted a 3,200-year history and more, with palaces, ancient cathedrals and basilicas, cobblestone streets lined with quaint shops and a town square. 

     Alba de Torres was no different. The town square was quite charming! It had been decorated with flags the week before to celebrate St. Teresa’s feast day and a group of men were marching around playing instruments to continue the celebration.

     Teresa was born in 1515, in Avila, Spain. As a young girl she was drawn toward God and loved the stories of the saints. When she was seven years old, she and her brother ran away from home to fight against the Moors and become martyrs for the Church. Their plot was spoiled when their uncle saw them outside the walls of Avila and returned them home. Her mother died when she was twelve which increased her devotion to Our Lady. At age twenty Teresa entered the Carmelite Order, which would later lead to her conversion and the reform of the order.

     We visited the Monastery of the Annunciation, one of the convents that Teresa founded and the place where she died and is buried. We attended Mass there and I was excited to be the lector. The church was still decorated for St. Teresa’s feast day in a very ornate and colorful way. 

     The monastery contains many relics and artifacts of both St. Teresa of Jesus and St. John of the Cross: her habit, prayer books, his chalice and vestments, and many too numerous to mention. 

     The room where she died is “staged” to look like it did at the time of her death. There is a mannequin of St. Teresa in bed, while a partial statue of the scourged Christ is gazing upon her. 

     One of the highlights that was particularly thrilling to me, was to venerate the relics of her heart, and her left arm, which was her writing arm. What is left of her remains is contained in a closed case. The relics are housed above the altar, but are accessible from the museum, which is located on the upper floor. As I venerated the relics, I prayed that St. Teresa would intercede for my writing and to ask God to give me a heart enflamed with love for Him.

     After leaving the monastery, we toured the town, had lunch, and then traveled on to Avila. 

     Although Avila’s history goes back to the third century, a wall was built around it in the eleventh to fourteenth centuries. It was quite impressive to gaze upon and travel in our imaginations to the times of kings and knights!

     We first visited the Basilica of St. Teresa: a church that was built upon the place where Teresa was born. Inside the church, a bedroom is decorated to mimic the way it may have looked in her day and is said to be the very spot she was born.

     Outside the bedroom was a foyer which housed paintings and statues, which signified significant spiritual events of Teresa’s life.

     Outside the church, was a wall on which a bronze life-size statue of Teresa sat. Jonathan suggested that I go and sit with her, while he took my picture. It was delightful, as I had a real heart to heart talk with “Mother Teresa,” and ask that she bless all of my Carmelite brothers and sisters.

     We left the basilica to visit the Monastery of the Incarnation: the convent where Teresa entered as a young girl. The convent at the time was very worldly and Teresa was very much a part of that world. It would take many years till her conversion which happened instantaneously, while looking at a painting of the scourged Christ. She was forever changed and began to reform and found many other Carmelite Monasteries, with the eventual help of St. John of the Cross.

     This convent housed many relics and artifacts as well: Teresa’s pillow, which was a block of wood, the bust of the scourged Christ, which traveled with her wherever she went, St. John of the Cross’ chalice and the famous pencil sketch of Jesus on the Cross above the world, among so many others. Many rooms were still like they would have looked in her time, to give us an idea of life in the convent. 

   It was truly incredible, walking in the very footsteps of saints and praying where they lived and prayed! Today St. Teresa and St. John, tomorrow, St. Ignatius of Loyola! 

     We left the next morning for Loyola, hopefully leaving rain behind us. Although we had had quite a few rainy days, it did not interfere with the joy we were experiencing from our pilgrimage. Besides, a pilgrimage is quite different from a tour: rain on a tour is a nuisance, while on a pilgrimage, it is a sacrifice; we unite our sacrifice with Christ’ and hopefully grow in grace and virtue.

     As we drove to our next destination, the sun burst forth and a beautiful rainbow accompanied us for a while. The scenery on the road changed quite dramatically, from dry and brown landscape to a rich, dark green, and beautiful mountains. As the landscape changed, so did our saint, and I looked forward to peering into the life of Ignatius! 

     St. Ignatius was born in the late 1400’s to a very wealthy family. They lived in a castle, and he became interested in dancing, fencing, gambling, the pursuit of young woman and dueling. He joined the army at seventeen and was quite full of himself. 

     In 1521, he was injured severely in Pamplona while at battle. He was hit in the right leg with a cannonball and was returned to his father’s castle to recover. While recovering there from surgery, the only books available to read were the life of Christ and the lives of the saints. Ignatius was accustomed to reading about knights and damsels and would have not chosen these types of books. God’s grace worked in a powerful way: Ignatius had a radical conversion, and would become the founder of the Jesuit Order, sometime later.

     We arrived at the Basilica of Loyola: a massive building built next to the home of the wealthy and prestigious Loyola family. It was absolutely beautiful and was built in the very ornate Baroque style. 

     We then went “next door,” to the home of Ignatius’ family—a castle made of stone and brick. It was massive! In the portico before entering was a bronze statue of Ignatius on a litter, arriving home from battle. 

     The castle was huge! It had large wooden beams, columns and stairways. The walls were either brick or stone, framed by wood. There were massive fireplaces, tapestries and bulky wooden furniture. The books that inspired his conversion were in a glass bookcase. We were blessed to attend Mass in the very room where his conversion took place. I asked in prayer, that St. Ignatius intercede for all of our family members who are away from the church, and that they embrace once more, our precious Catholic faith. 

     Being there in that room, reminded me how St. Ignatius had touched my life, many years ago, in a deep and profound way: I had been struggling with accepting God’s will in my life in a particular area. I felt stuck! I couldn’t move forward, and I didn’t want to go backward. During that time, our parish church had an evening service. The only thing I remember from that evening was that most of the time I was tear-filled. I had been wrestling with God and felt weary. Our pastor invited us to pray a prayer after him. 

     “Take, O Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will, all that I have and possess. Thou hast given all to me. To Thee, O Lord, I return it. All is Thine, dispose of it wholly according to Thy will. Give me Thy love and Thy grace, for this is sufficient for me.” 

     As I prayed that prayer, with tears streaming down my face, I was finally opened to accept the grace to surrender my will in the way that God had been asking of me. A deep sense of peace descended into my very being and a drew a deep breathe in gratitude to God for His great love and patience with me.

     The memory brought a smile to my face, and I thanked St. Ignatius for all of the ways he had interceded in my life….and I gave my dear Sarah to him as well!