St. Therese

Generations of Catholics have admired this young saint, called her the "Little Flower", and found in her
r short life moreinspiration for own lives than in volumes by

theologians.
Yet Therese died when she was 24, after having lived as cloistered Carmelite for less than ten years. She never went on missions, never founded a religious order,
never performed great works. The only book of hers, published after her death, was an brief edited version of her journal called "Story of a Soul." (Collections of
her letters and restored versions of her journals have been published recently.) But within 28 years of her death, the public demand was so great that she was
canonized.
Over the years, some modern Catholics have turned away from her because they associate her with over- sentimentalized piety and yet the message she has for us is
still as compelling and simple as it was almost a century ago.
Therese was born in France in 1873, the pampered daughter of a mother who had wanted to be a saint and a father who had wanted to be monk. The two had
gotten married but determined they would be celibate until a priest told them that was not how God wanted a marriage to work! They must have followed his
advice very well because they had nine children. The five children who lived were all daughters who were close all their lives.
Tragedy and loss came quickly to Therese when her mother died of breast cancer when she was four and a half years old. Her sixteen year old sister Pauline
became her second mother -- which made the second loss even worse when Pauline entered the Carmelite convent five years later. A few months later, Therese
became so ill with a fever that people thought she was dying.
The worst part of it for Therese was all the people sitting around her bed staring at her like, she said, "a string of onions." When Therese saw her sisters praying to
statue of Mary in her room, Therese also prayed. She saw Mary smile at her and suddenly she was cured. She tried to keep the grace of the curesecret but people
found out and badgered her with questions about what Mary was wearing, what she looked like. When she refused to give in to their curiosity, they passed the
story that she had made the whole thing up.
Without realizing it, by the time she was eleven years old she had developed the habit of mental prayer. She would find a place between her bed and the wall and in
that solitude think about God, life, eternity.
When her other sisters, Marie and Leonie, left to join religious orders (the Carmelites and Poor Clares, respectively), Therese was left alone with her last sister
Celine and her father. Therese tells us that she wanted to be good but that she had an odd way of going about. This spoiled little Queen of her father's wouldn't do
housework. She thought if she made the beds she was doing a great favor!
Every time Therese even imagined that someone was criticizing her or didn't appreciate her, she burst into tears. Then she would cry because she had cried! Any
inner wall she built to contain her wild emotions crumpled immediately before the tiniest comment.
Therese wanted to enter the Carmelite convent to join Pauline and Marie but how could she convince others that she could handle the rigors of Carmelite life, if she
couldn't handle her own emotional outbursts? She had prayed that Jesus would help her but there was no sign of an answer.
On Christmas day in 1886, the fourteen-year-old hurried home from church. In France, young children left their shoes by the hearth at Christmas, and
then parents would fill them with gifts. By fourteen, mostchildren outgrew this custom. But her sister Celine didn't want Therese to grow up. So they continued to
leave presents in "baby" Therese's shoes.
As she and Celine climbed the stairs to take off their hats, their father's voice rose up from the parlor below. Standing over the shoes, he sighed, "Thank goodness
that's the last time we shall have this kind of thing!"
Therese froze, and her sister looked at her helplessly. Celine knew that in a few minutes Therese would be in tears over what her father had said.
But the tantrum never came. Something incredible had happened to Therese. Jesus had come into her heart and done what she could not do herself. He had made
her more sensitive to her father's feelings than her own.
She swallowed her tears, walked slowly down the stairs, and exclaimed over the gifts in the shoes, as if she had never heard a word her father said. The following
year she entered the convent. In her autobiography she referred to this Christmas as her "conversion."
Therese be known as the Little Flower but she had a will of steel. When the superior of the Carmeliteconvent refused to take Therese because she was so young, the
formerly shy little girl went to the bishop. When the bishop also said no, she decided to go over his head, as well.
Her father and sister took her on a pilgrimage to Rome to try to get her mind off this crazy idea. Therese loved it. It was the one time when being little worked to
her advantage! Because she was young and small she could run everywhere, touch relics and tombs without being yelled at. Finally they went for an audience with
the Pope. They had been forbidden to speak to him but that didn't stop Therese. As soon as she got near him, she begged that he let her enter the Carmelite
convent. She had to be carried out by two of the guards!
But the Vicar General who had seen her courage was impressed and soon Therese was admitted to the Carmelite convent that her sisters Pauline and Marie had
already joined. Her romantic ideas of conventlife and suffering soon met up with reality in a way she had never expected. Her father suffered a series of strokes that
left him affected not only physically but mentally. When he began hallucinating and grabbed for a gun as if going into battle, he was taken to an asylum for the
insane. Horrified, Therese learned of the humiliation of the father she adored and admired and of the gossip and pity of their so-called friends. As a cloistered nun
she couldn't even visit her father.
This began a horrible time of suffering when she experienced such dryness in prayer that she stated "Jesus isn't doing much to keep the conversation going." She
was so grief-stricken that she often fell asleep in prayer. She consoled herself by saying that mothers loved children when they lie asleep in their arms so
that God must love her when she slept during prayer.
She knew as a Carmelite nun she would never be able to perform great deeds. " Love proves itself by deeds, so how am I to show my love? Great deeds are
forbidden me. The only way I can prove my love is by scattering flowers and these flowers are every little sacrifice, every glance and word, and the doing of the least
actions for love." She took every chance to sacrifice, no matter how small it would seem. She smiled at the sisters she didn't like. She ate everything she was given
without complaining -- so that she was often given the worst leftovers. One time she was accused of breaking a vase when she was not at fault. Instead of arguing
she sank to her knees and begged forgiveness. These little sacrifices cost her more than bigger ones, for these went unrecognized by others. No one told her how
wonderful she was for these little secret humiliations and good deeds.
When Pauline was elected prioress, she asked Therese for the ultimate sacrifice. Because of politics in the convent, many of the sisters feared that
the family Martin would taken over the convent. Therefore Pauline asked Therese to remain a novice, in order to allay the fears of the others that the three sisters
would push everyone else around. This meant she would never be a fully professed nun, that she would always have to ask permission for everything she did.
This sacrifice was made a little sweeter when Celine entered the convent after her father's death. Four of the sisters were now together again.
Therese continued to worry about how she could achieve holiness in the life she led. She didn't want to just be good, she wanted to be a saint. She thought there
must be a way for people living hidden, little lives like hers. " I have always wanted to become a saint. Unfortunately when I have compared myself with the saints, I
have always found that there is the same difference between the saints and me as there is between a mountain whose summit is lost in the clouds and a humble
grain of sand trodden underfoot by passers-by. Instead of being discouraged, I told myself: God would not make me wish for something impossible and so, in spite
of my littleness, I can aim at being a saint. It is impossible for me to grow bigger, so I put up with myself as I am, with all my countless faults. But I will look for
some means of going to heaven by a little way which is very short and very straight, a little way that is quite new.
" We live in an age of inventions. We need no longer climb laboriously up flights of stairs; in well-to-do houses there are lifts. And I was determined to find a lift to
carry me to Jesus, for I was far too small to climb the steep stairs of perfection. So I sought in holy Scripture some idea of what this life I wanted would be, and I
read these words: "Whosoever is a little one, come to me." It is your arms, Jesus, that are the lift to carry me to heaven. And so there is no need for me to grow up: I
must stay little and become less and less."
She worried about her vocation: " I feel in me the vocation of the Priest. I have the vocation of the Apostle. Martyrdom was the dream of my youth and this dream
has grown with me. Considering the mystical body of the Church, I desired to see myself in them all. Charity gave me the key to my vocation. I understood that the
Church had a Heart and that this Heart was burning with love. I understood that Love comprised all vocations, that Love was everything, that it embraced all times
and places...in a word, that it was eternal! Then in the excess of my delirious joy, I cried out: O Jesus, my Love...my vocation, at last I have found it...My vocation is
Love!"
When an antagonist was elected prioress, new political suspicions and plottings sprang up. The concern over the Martin sisters perhaps was not exaggerated. In
this small convent they now made up one-fifth of the population. Despite this and the fact that Therese was a permanent novice they put her in charge of the other
novices.
Then in 1896, she coughed up blood. She kept working without telling anyone until she became so sick a year later everyone knew it. Worst of all she had lost her
joy and confidence and felt she would die young without leaving anything behind. Pauline had already had her writing down her memories for journal and now she
wanted her to continue -- so they would have something to circulate on her lifeafter her death.
Her pain was so great that she said that if she had not had faith she would have taken her own life without hesitation. But she tried to remain smiling and cheerful -
- and succeeded so well that some thought she was only pretending to be ill. Her one dream as the work she would do after her death, helping those on earth.
"I will return," she said. "My heaven will be spent on earth." She died on September 30, 1897 at the age of 24 years old. She herself felt it was
a blessing God allowed her to die at exactly that age. she had always felt that she had a vocation to be a priest and felt God let her die at the age she would have been
ordained if she had been a man so that she wouldn't have to suffer.
After she died, everything at the convent went back to normal. One nun commented that there was nothing to say about Therese. But Pauline put together
Therese's writings (and heavily edited them, unfortunately) and sent 2000 copies to other convents. But Therese's "little way" of trusting in Jesus to make her holy
and relying on small daily sacrifices instead of great deeds appealed to the thousands of Catholics and others who were trying to find holiness in ordinary lives.
Within two years, the Martinfamily had to move because her notoriety was so great and by 1925 she had been canonized.
Therese of Lisieux is one of the patron saints of the missions, not because she ever went anywhere, but because of her special love of the missions, and
the prayers and letters she gave in support of missionaries. This is reminder to all of us who feel we can do nothing, that it is the little things that keep God's
kingdom growing.

St. Therese, "the little flower"

Therese Martin was the last of nine children born to Louis and Zelie Martin on January 2, 1873, in Alencon, France. However, only five of these children lived to reach
adulthood. Precocious and sensitive, Therese needed much attention. Her mother died when she was 4 years old. As a result, her father and sisters babied young
Therese. She had a spirit that wanted everything.

At the age of 14, on Christmas Eve in 1886, Therese had a conversion that transformed her life. From then on, her powerful energy and sensitive
spirit were turned toward love, instead of keeping herself happy. At 15, she entered the Carmelite convent in Lisieux to give her whole life to God. She took the
religious name Sister Therese of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face. Living a hidden, simple life of prayer, she was gifted with great intimacy with God. Through sickness
and dark nights of doubt and fear, she remained faithful to God, rooted in His merciful love. After a long struggle with tuberculosis, she died on September 30, 1897, at
the age of 24. Her last words were the story of her life: "My God, I love You!"
The world came to know Therese through her autobiography, "Story of a Soul". She described her life as a "little way of spiritual childhood." She lived each day with
an unshakable confidence in God's love. "What matters in life," she wrote, "is not great deeds, but great love." Therese lived and taught a spirituality of attending to
everyone and everything well and with love. She believed that just as a child becomes enamored with what is before her, we should also have a childlike focus and
totally attentive love. Therese's spirituality is of doing the ordinary, with extraordinary love.

Therese saw the seasons as reflecting the seasons of God's love affair with us. She loved flowers and saw herself as the "little flower
of Jesus," who gave glory to God by just being her beautiful little self among all the other flowers in God's garden. Because of this beautiful analogy, the title "little
flower" remained with St. Therese.

Her inspiration and powerful presence from heaven touched many people very quickly. She was canonized by Pope Pius XI on May 17, 1925. Had she lived, she would
have been only 52 years old when she was declared a Saint.

"My mission - to make God loved - will begin after my death," she said. "I will spend my heaven doing good on earth. I will let fall a shower of roses." Roses have been
described and experienced as Saint Therese's signature. Countless millions have been touched by her intercession and imitate her "little way." She has been acclaimed
"the greatest saint ofmodern times." In 1997, Pope John Paul II declared St. Therese a Doctor of the Church - the only Doctor of his pontificate - in tribute to the
powerful way her spirituality has influenced people all over the world.

The message of St. Therese is beautiful, inspiring, and simple. Please visit the areas in this section of the Web site to learn more about this wonderful Saint.
Her Parents
The Beatification of Louis and Zelie Martin
On Saturday, July 11, 2008, 7:00P.M., it was announced that Louis and Zelie Martin, parents of St. Therese of Lisieux, will be beatified on Mission
Sunday this year.

Louis and Zelie Martin

THE WATCHMAKER - Louis Martin
Louis Martin (1823 - 1894) was a watchmaker by trade, and quite a successful one. He also skillfully managed his wife's lace business. But, as with so many men,
Louis' life had not turned out at all the way he had planned.
Born into a family of soldiers, Louis spent his early years at various French military posts. He absorbed the sense of order and discipline that army life engenders. His
temperament, deeply influenced by the peculiar French connection between the mystical and the military, tended toward things of the spirit.

At twenty-two, young Louis sought to enter religious life at the monastery of the Augustinian Canons of the Great St. Bernard Hospice in the Alps. The blend of courage
and charity the monks and their famous dogs manifested in rescuing travelers in Alpine snows appealed powerfully to Louis Martin. Unfortunately, the Abbot insisted
the young candidate learn Latin. Louis, whose bravery would have carried him to the heights of the Alps in search of a lost pilgrim, got himself lost among the peaks
and valleys of Latin syntax and grammar. His most determined efforts failed. He became ill and dispirited, and abandoned his hopes for the monastic life.
Eventually, Louis settled down in Alencon, a small city in France, and pursued his watchmaking trade. He loved Alencon. It was a quiet place and he was a quiet man.
It even had a lovely trout stream nearby, offering him the opportunity to pursue his favorite recreation.
THE LACE MAKER - Zelie Guerin Zelie Guerin

Most famous of Alencon's thirteen thousand inhabitants were its lace makers. French peoplegreatly admired the skill and talent required to produce the exquisite lace
known throughout the nation as Point d' Alencon.
Zelie Guerin (1831 - 1877) was one of Alencon's more talented lace makers. Born into amilitary family, Zelie described her childhood and youth as "dismal."
Her mother and fathershowed her little affection. As a young lady, she sought unsuccessfully to enter the religious order of the sisters of the Hotel-Dieu. Zelie then
learned the Alencon lace-making technique and soon mastered this painstaking craft. Richly talented, creative, eager, and endowed with common sense, she started
her own business and became quite successful. Notable as these achievements were, Zelie was yet to reveal the depths of the strength, faith, and courage she
possessed.
THE MARTINS
Louis Martin and Zelie Guerin eventually met in Alencon, and on July 13, 1858, Louis, 34, and Zelie, 26, married and began their remarkable voyage through life.
Within the next fifteen years, Zelie bore nine children, seven girls and two boys. "We lived only for them," Zelie wrote; "they were all our happiness."
The Martins' delight in their children turned to shock and sorrow as tragedy relentlessly and mercilessly stalked their little ones. Within three years, Zelie's two baby
boys, a five year old girl, and a six-and-a-half week old infant girl all died.
Zelie was left numb with sadness. "I haven't a penny's worth of courage," she lamented. But her faith sustained her through these terrible ordeals. In a letter to her
sister-in-law who had lost an infant son, Zelie remembered: "When I closed the eyes of my dear little children and buried them, I felt sorrow through and
through....People said to me, 'It would have been better never to have had them.' I couldn't stand such language. My children were not lost forever; life is short and
full of miseries, and we shall find our little ones again up above."
The Martins' last child was born January 2, 1873. She was weak and frail, and doctors feared for the infant's life. The family, so used to death, was preparing for yet
another blow. Zelie wrote of her three month old girl: "I have no hope of saving her. The poor little thing suffers horribly....It breaks your heart to see her." But the
baby girl proved to be much tougher than anyone realized. She survived the illness. A year later she was a "big baby, browned by the sun." "The baby," Zelie noted, "is
full of life, giggles a lot, and is sheer joy to everyone." Death seemed to grant a reprieve to the Martin household. Although suffering had left its mark on mother and
father, it was not the scar of bitterness. Louis and Zelie had already found relief and support in their faith.
The series of tragedies had intensified the love of Louis and Zelie Martin for each other. They poured out their affection on their five surviving daughters; Marie, 12,
Pauline, 11, Leonie 9, Celine, 3, and their new-born. Louis and Zelie named their new-born; Marie-Francoise-Therese Martin. A century later people would know her as
St. Therese, and call her the "Little Flower."
The Early Years
THE BABY OF THE FAMILY
Read More
About St. Therese, "the little flower":
Her Parents: Louis and Zelie Martin
Her Early Years
Her School Years
Her Life at Lisieux Carmel
Important Dates in the Life of St. Therese
Marie-Francoise-Therese Martin was born on January 2, 1873, and baptized two days later on January 4th. "All my life, God surrounded me with love. My first
memories are imprinted with the most tender smiles and caresses...Those were the sunny years of my childhood." Thus Therese, twenty-one years later, described
her home life in Alencon, France. "My happy disposition," she added with characteristic candor, "contributed to making my life pleasing."
The Martin household was a lively place. Therese's father, Louis, had a nickname for each of his daughters. Her mother, Zelie,
wrote her relatives constantly about the joys each child gave her. Therese was the baby and everyone's favorite, especially her mother's. Due to Therese's weak and
frail condition at birth, she was taken care of by a nurse for her first year and a half. Because of this care, she became a lively, mischievous and self-confident child.
But Zelie was not blind to her baby's faults. Therese was, she wrote, "incredibly stubborn. When she has said 'no', nothing will make her change her mind. One could
put her in the cellar for the whole day." Therese's candor appeared early and was unusual. The little one would run to her mother and confess: "Mama, I hit Celine (her
sister) once-but I won't do it again."
Little Therese was blond, blue-eyed, affectionate, stubborn, and alarmingly precocious. She could throw a giant-sized tantrum. Her bubbling laughter could make a
gargoyle smile. In a note, Zelie advised her daughter Pauline: "She (Therese) flies into frightful tantrums; when things don't go just right and according to her way of
thinking, she rolls on the floor in desperation like one without any hope. There are times when it gets too much for her and she literally chokes. She's a nervous child,
but she is very good, very intelligent, and remembers everything."
Through it all, however, Therese thrived on the love which surrounded her in this Christian home. It was here, where prayer, the liturgy, and practical good works
formed the basis of her own ardent love of Jesus - her desire to please Him and the Virgin Mary.
"I CHOOSE ALL"
At the age of twelve, Therese's sister Leonie felt she had no further use for her doll dressmaking kit, and stuffed a basket full of materials for making new dresses.
Leonie then offered it to her six year old sister, Celine, and her two year old sister, Therese. "Choose what you wish, little sisters," invited Leonie. Celine took a little
ball of wool that pleased her. Therese simply said, "I choose all." She accepted the basket and all its goods without ceremony. This incident revealed Therese's attitude
toward life. She never did anything by halves; for her it was always all or nothing.
On Sundays, Louis and Zelie Martin would take their daughters on walks. Therese loved the wide open spaces and the beauty of the countryside about Alencon.
Frequently, the walks tired little Therese. This would result in "Papa" Martin carrying his daughter home in his arms.
Unfortunately, the pleasant family times would soon come to an end. The shadow of death that had previously occupied the Martin household, once more relentlessly
returned. Therese's mother, Zelie (after an illness of twelve years), died of breast cancer in August, 1877. Therese was only four years old at the time.

THE WINTER OF GREAT TRIAL
Shortly after his wife's death, Louis Martin moved his family of five girls (ranging in ages from four to seventeen) to Lisieux. He rented a home and named it "Les
Buissonnets" ("The Hedges"). Therese then entered what she termed "the second" and "most painful" period of her life. Because of the shock of her mother's death,
"my happy disposition completely changed," she remembered. "I became timid and retiring, sensitive to an excessive degree...."
Louis Martin and his daughters did all they could to help little Therese who missed her mother so much. They lavished affection and attention upon the motherless
child. At Les Buissonnets, under the tutelage of her sisters Marie and Pauline, Therese began her first schooling. Each day after classes were over she joined her father
in his study. Louis called Therese his "little queen." Eventually the two would go for a walk. They would visit a different church each day and pray before the Blessed
Sacrament. The bond between father and daughter grew stronger and stronger. "How could I possibly express the tenderness which Papa showered upon his queen?"
she later exclaimed. Her sister Celine, nearly four years older, became her favorite playmate.
The passage is all the more remarkable because it revealed the theme of exile which dominated her whole life. Therese maintained the first word she learned to read
was "heaven." From her childhood she interpreted all her world as only the beginning, only a glimpse of a glorious future. Sundays had tremendous significance. They
were days of rest tinged with melancholy because they must end. It was on a Sunday evening this youngster felt the pang of exile of this earth. "I longed," she
explained, "for the everlasting repose of heaven - that never ending Sunday of the fatherland...."
Therese, given the proper occasion, continued to produce extreme temper tantrums. The following is her own account of one of the more sparkling scenes that took
place between herself and her poor nurse, Victoire. "I wanted an inkstand which was on the shelf of the fireplace in the kitchen; being too little to take it down, I very
nicely asked Victoire to give it to me. But she refused, telling me to get up on a chair. I took a chair without saying a word, but thinking she wasn't too nice; wanting to
make her feel it, I searched out in my little head what offended me the most. She often called me a 'little brat' when she was annoyed at me and humbled me very
much. So before jumping off my chair, I turned around with dignity and said, 'Victoire, you are a brat!' Then I made my escape leaving Victoire to meditate on the
profound statement I had just made... I thought, if Victoire didn't want to stretch her big arm to do me a little service, she merited the title 'brat.'"
Her School Years
OFF TO SCHOOL
Read More
Her Early Years
Her School Years
In October, 1881, Louis enrolled his youngest daughter (Therese) as a day boarder at Lisieux's Benedictine Abbey school of Notre-Dame du Pre. Therese hated the
place and stated "the five years (1881 - 1886) I spent there were the saddest of my life." Classes bored her. She worked hard, and loved catechism, history and
science, but had trouble with spelling and mathematics. Because of her overall intelligence, the good nuns advanced the eight-year-old to classes for fourteen-year-
olds. She was still bored. Her keenness aroused the envy of many fellow pupils, and Therese paid dearly for her academic successes. Genius has its price, and the
youngest Martin girl was paying it. The ordinary games and dances of other children held little interest for her. She was uncomfortable with most children and seemed
to be at ease only with her sisters and very few others. Of all the Martin girls, Pauline was closest to Therese.
Therese thought of her as her second mother. Pauline was the little one's first teacher and ideal. Then one day
Therese's second mother told her she was leaving to enter the convent at the Carmelite Monastery in Lisieux. Nine-year-old Therese was stunned. Again employing the
exile theme, she described her sorrow: "....I was about to lose my second mother. Ah, how can I express the anguish of my heart! In one instant I understood what life
was; until then I had never seen it so sad, but it appeared to me in all its reality and I saw it was nothing but a continual suffering and separation. I shed bitter
tears...."
"OUR LADY OF THE SMILE"
During the winter following Pauline's entrance into the Carmelite monastery, Therese fell seriously ill. Experts have diagnosed her sickness as everything from
a nervous breakdown to a kidney infection. She blamed it on the devil. Whatever it was, doctors of her time were unable to either diagnose or treat it. She suffered
intensely during this time from constant headaches and insomnia. As the illness pursued its vile course, it racked poor little Therese's body. She took fits of fever and
trembling and suffered cruel hallucinations. Writing of one bout of delirium, she explained: "I was absolutely terrified by everything: my bed seemed to be surrounded
by frightful precipices; some nails in the wall of the room took on the appearance of big black charred fingers, making me cry out in fear. One day, while Papa was
looking at me and smiling, the hat in his hand was suddenly transformed into some indescribable dreadful shape and I showed such great fear that poor Papa left the
room sobbing." None of the treatments helped. Then, on May 13, 1883, Therese turned her head to a statue of the Virgin near her bed, and prayed for a cure.
"Suddenly" Therese writes, "....Mary's face radiated kindness and love." Therese was cured. The statue has since been called "Our Lady of the Smile."
It was shortly after Pauline's departure that Therese decided to join her at Lisieux's Carmelite Convent. She approached the prioress of the monastery and sought
entrance. Carefully little Therese explained she wished to enter, not for Pauline's sake, but for Jesus' sake. The prioress advised her to return when she grew up.
Therese was only nine years old at the time.
During her long illness, her resolve to join the Carmelites grew even stronger. "I am convinced that the thought of one day becoming a Carmelite made me live," she
later declared. After her illness, Therese was more than ever determined to do something great for God and for others. She thought of herself as a new Joan of Arc,
dedicated to the rescue not only of France but of the whole world. With unbelievable boldness the ten-year-old stated, "I was born for glory." And thus another great
theme of Therese's life manifested itself. She perceived her life's mission as one of salvation for all people. She was to accomplish this by becoming a saint. She
understood that her glory would be hidden from the eyes of others until God wished to reveal it.
At ten years of age, then, she reaffirmed and clarified her life's goals. She was intelligent enough to realize she could not accomplish them without suffering. What was
hidden from her eyes was just how much she would have to endure to win her glory.
THE PRICE
"Spiritual torment" was to be her lot for years to come, slackening only when she started preparing for her long-awaited First Communion. At the age of eleven, on May
8, 1884, Therese received her first "kiss of love", a sense of being "united" with Jesus, of His giving Himself to her, as she gave herself to Him. Her eucharistic hunger
made her long for daily communion. Confirmation, "the sacrament of Love," which she received on June 14, 1884, filled Therese with ecstasy. Shortly thereafter
though, the young Martin girl experienced a peculiarly vicious attack of scruples. This lasted seventeen months. She lived in constant fear of sinning; the most
abhorrent and absurd thoughts disturbed her peace. She wept often. "You cry so much during your childhood," intimates told her, "you will no longer have tears to
shed later on!" Headaches plagued her once more. Her father finally removed her from the Abbey school and provided private tutoring for her. During this time her
sister, Marie, became very close with Therese, and helped her to overcome these fears. But Marie in turn, also entered the Lisieux Carmel (on October 15, 1886). This
was very hard on Therese, who at the age of thirteen, had now lost her "third" mother.
THE CHRISTMAS CONVERSION
After midnight Mass, Christmas, 1886, the shadow of self-doubt, depression and uncertainty suddenly lifted from Therese, leaving her in possession of a new calm and
inner conviction. Grace had intervened to change her life as she was going up the stairs at her home. Something her father said provoked a sudden inner change. The
Holy Child's strength supplanted her weakness. The strong character she had at the age of four and a half was suddenly restored to her. A ten year struggle had ended.
Her tears had dried up. The third and last period of her life was about to begin. She called it her life's "most beautiful" period. Freed from herself, she embarked on her
"Giant's Race." She was consumed like Jesus with a thirst for souls. "My heart was filled with charity. I forgot myself to please others and, in doing so, became happy
myself."
Now, she could fulfill her dream of entering the Carmel as soon as possible to love Jesus and pray for sinners. Grace received at Mass in the summer of 1887 left her
with a vision of standing at the foot of the Cross, collecting the blood of Jesus and giving it to souls. Convinced that her prayers and sufferings could bring people to
Christ, she boldly asked Jesus to give her some sign that she was right. He did.
In the early summer of 1887, a criminal, Henri Pranzini, was convicted of the murder of two women and a child. He was sentenced to the guillotine. The convicted man,
according to police reports, showed no inclination to repent. Therese immediately stormed heaven for Pranzini's conversion. She prayed for weeks and had Mass offered
for him. There was still no change in the attitude of the condemned man. The newspaper La Croix, in describing Pranzini's execution, noted the man had refused to go
to confession. Then on September 1, 1887, as the executioner was about to put his head onto the guillotine block, the unfortunate criminal seized the crucifix a priest
offered him and, the newspaper noted, "kissed the Sacred Wounds three times." Therese wept for joy, her "first child" had obtained God's mercy. Therese hoped that
many others would follow once she was in the Carmel.
Thereses' DETERMINATION
Read More
Her Early Years
Her School Years
Marie Martin, the oldest daughter of the family, joined her sister Pauline at the Lisieux Carmel in 1886. Leonie Martin entered the Visitation Convent at Caen the
following year. Therese then sought permission from her father to join Marie and Pauline at the Lisieux Convent. Louis was
probably expecting the request, but it saddened him nevertheless. Three of his girls had already entered religious life. But, characteristically generous, he not only
granted Therese's request, but worked zealously to help her realize it.
She was not yet fifteen when she approached the Carmelite authorities again for permission to enter. Again she was refused. The priest-director advised her to return
when she was twenty-one. "Of course," he added, "you can always see the bishop. I am only his delegate." The priest did not realize what kind of girl he was dealing
with.
To his dying day, Bishop Hugonin of Bayeux never forgot her. She came to his office with her father one rainy day and put her surprising request before him. "You are
not yet fifteen and you wish this?" the bishop questioned. "I wished it since the dawn of reason," young Therese declared. Louis' support of her request amazed the
bishop. His Excellency had never seen this type of support before. "A father as eager to give his child to God," he remarked, "as this child was eager to offer herself to
him." Just before the interview, Therese had put up her hair, thinking this would make her look older. This amused the bishop, and he never spoke about Therese in
later years without recounting her ploy. Although charmed by her, Bishop Hugonin did not immediately grant Therese's request. He wanted time to consider it, and
advised Therese and her father that he would write them regarding his decision.
Therese had planned that, should the Bayeux trip fail, she would go to the Pope himself. Thus in November, 1887, Louis took his daughters, Therese and Celine, to
Italy with a group of French pilgrims. Catholics from all over the world were journeying to the Eternal City, to celebrate Leo XIII's Golden Jubilee as a priest. In her
autobiography, Therese sketched a charming picture of her travels through Southern Europe. In Rome she was enamored of the Coliseum. Itshistory of
Christian martyrdom stirred the very roots of her being. Once inside the Coliseum, the two sisters ignored regulations prohibiting visitors from descending through the
ruined structure to the arena floor, sneaked away from the tour group, climbed across barriers and down the ruins to kneel and pray on the Coliseum floor. Gathering
up a few stones as relics, they slipped back to the tour. No one, except their father, noted their absence.
The great day of the audience with Pope Leo XIII came at the end of their week in Rome. On Sunday, November 20, 1887, "they told us on the Pope's behalf that it
was forbidden to speak as this would prolong the audience too much. I turned toward my dear Celine for advice: 'Speak!' she said. A moment later I was at the Holy
Father's feet....Lifting tear-filled eyes to his face I cried out: 'Most Holy Father, I have a great favor to ask you!....Holy Father, in honor of your jubilee, permit me to
enter Carmel at the age of fifteen.'"
Father Reverony, the leader of the French pilgrimage, stared stonily at this bold little girl, in surprise and displeasure. "Most Holy Father," the priest said coldly, "this is
a child who wants to enter Carmel at the age of fifteen. The superiors are considering the matter at the moment." "Well, my child," the Holy Father replied, "do what
the superiors tell you." "Resting my hands on his knees," Therese continued, "I made a final effort, saying, 'Oh, Holy Father, if you say yes, everybody will agree!' He
gazed at me speaking these words and stressing each syllable: 'Go - go - you will enter if God wills it.'"
Therese did not want to leave the Holy Father's presence, so the papal guards had to lift her up and carry the tearful young girl to the door. There they gave her a
medal of Leo XIII. Her old nurse, Victoire, probably could have told the Pope he should not have been surprised. Victoire had seen Therese in some rare displays of
determination.
CARMEL
On New Year's day, 1888, the prioress of the Lisieux Carmel advised Therese she would be
received into the monastery, but that she had to be patient and wait a little bit longer. On April 9, 1888, an emotional and tearful, but determined Therese Martin said
good-bye to her home and her family. She was going to live "for ever and ever" in the desert with Jesus and twenty-four enclosed companions: she was fifteen years
and three months old. The only cloud on her horizon was the worsening condition of her father, Louis, who had developed cerebral arteriosclerosis. Celine remained at
home to care for their father during his long and final illness. The good father was growing senile. Once in June of 1888, he wandered from his home at Lisieux and was
lost for three days, eventually turning up at Le Havre. In August, after a series of strokes, Louis became paralyzed.
Many years earlier, when Therese was a little girl, she would peer out of an attic window. Therese loved reveling in the glory of the day. One day however, while her
father was in Alencon on business, she suddenly saw in the garden below the stooped and twisted figure of a man. She froze in terror. "Papa, Papa" she cried out. Her
sister, Marie, who was nearby, heard the unmistakable note of panic in Therese's cry and ran to her. The figure in the garden disappeared. Marie assured her it was
nothing and told her to forget everything that had happened. But the vision continued to cling like a sad portent in the corner of Therese's mind for the next fourteen
years. Now, with her father paralyzed, the meaning of Therese's vision in the garden so long ago had became apparent at last.
Louis however, rallied his strength, and managed to attend the ceremonies of Therese's clothing in the Carmelite habit on January 10, 1889. Shortly thereafter, on
February 12th, Louis was taken to the hospital after an attack of dementia. Seeing her father's humiliation hurt Therese deeply. "Oh, I do not think I could have
suffered more than I did on that Day!!!" With that, Therese began to understand the sufferings of the mocked Christ, the Suffering Servant foretold by Isaiah. Therese's
father made one last visit to the Carmel in May, 1892. He died peacefully two years later, in 1894, with Celine at his side. Celine then joined her three sisters at Carmel
in September of 1894.

Pictured above standing: Therese' sisters Celine and Pauline; seated are Mother Marie de Gonzague, Marie, and Therese. Photograph taken in the Courtyard at Carmel
Lisieux, early 1895.
Therese spent the last nine years of her life at the Lisieux Carmel. Her fellow Sisters recognized her as a good nun, nothing more. She was conscientious and capable.
Sister Therese worked in the sacristy, cleaned the dining room, painted pictures, composed short pious plays for the Sisters, wrote poems, and lived the intense
community prayer life of the cloister. Superiors appointed her to instruct the novices of the community. Externally, there was nothing remarkable about this Carmelite
nun.
Therese was affected by the spiritual atmosphere in the community, which was still tainted by Jansenism and
the vision of an avenging God. Some of the sisters feared divine justice and suffered badly from scruples.
Even after her general confession in May 1888 to Father Pichon, her Jesuit spiritual director, Therese was still
uneasy. But a great peace came over her when she made her profession on September 8, 1890. It was the
reading of St. John of the Cross, an unusual choice at the time, which brought her relief. In the "Spiritual
Canticle" and the "Living Flame of Love," she discovered "the true Saint of Love." This, she felt, was the path
she was meant to follow. During a community retreat in October, 1891, a Franciscan, Father Alexis Prou,
launched her on those "waves of confidence and love," on which she had previously been afraid to venture.
The harsh winter of 1890-1891 and a severe influenza epidemic
killed three of the sisters, as well as Mother Geneviere, the Lisieux Carmel's founder and "Saint". Therese was spared, and her true energy strength began to show
themselves. Therese was delighted when her sister, Agnes of Jesus (Pauline) was elected prioress in succession to Mother Marie de Gonzague in February of 1893.
Pauline asked Therese to write verses and theatrical entertainment for liturgical and community festivals. Included were two plays about Saint Joan of Arc, "her beloved
sister", which she performed herself with great feeling and conviction. When Celine joined Therese at Lisieux Carmel in September of 1894, she brought her camera.
Through this, they were able to enliven their recreation periods, and leave Therese's picture to posterity.
THERESE DEVELOPS HER "LITTLE WAY"

Therese was aware of her littleness. "It is impossible for me to grow up, so I must bear with myself such as I am with all my imperfections. But I want to seek out a
means of going to heaven by a little way, a way that is very straight, very short and totally new." Therese went on to describe the elevator in the home of a rich
person. And she continued: "I wanted to find an elevator which would raise me to Jesus, for I am too small to climb the rough stairway of perfection. I searched then in
the Scriptures for some sign of this elevator, the object of my desires and I read these words coming from the mouth of Eternal Wisdom: 'Whoever is a little one let
him come to me.' The elevator which must raise me to heaven is your arms, O Jesus, and for this I have no need to grow up, but rather I have to remain little and
become this more and more," And so she abandoned herself to Jesus and her life became a continual acceptance of the will of the Lord.
The Lord, it seems, did not demand great things of her. But Therese felt incapable of the tiniest charity, the smallest expression of concern and patience and
understanding. So she surrendered her life to Christ with the hope that he would act through her. She again mirrored perfectly the words of St. Paul, "I can do all
things in him who strengthens me." "All things" consisted of almost everything she was called upon to do in the daily grind of life.
Life in the Carmel had its problems too: the clashes of communal life, the cold, the
new diet and the difficulties of prayer (two hours' prayer and four and a half hours of liturgy). One day, she leaned over the wash pool with a group of Sisters,
laundering handkerchiefs. One of the Sisters splashed the hot, dirty water into Therese's face, not once, not twice, but continually. Remember the terrible temper that
Therese had? She was near to throwing one of her best tantrums, but said nothing! Christ helped her to accept this lack of consideration on the part of her fellow
Sister, and she found a certain peace.
Again, in the daily grind of convent life, she was moved by her youthful idealism to help Sister St. Pierre, a crotchety, older nun who refused to let old age keep her
from convent activities. Therese tried to help her along the corridors. "You move too fast," the old nun complained. Therese slowed down. "Well, come on," Sister
urged. "I don't feel your hand. You have let go of me and I am going to fall." And as a final judgment, old Sister St. Pierre declared: "I was right when I said you were
too young to help me." Therese took it all and managed to smile. This was her "little way."
Another nun made strange, clacking noises in chapel. Therese did not say, but the good lady was probably either toying with her rosary or was afflicted by ill-fitting
dentures. The clacking sound really got to Therese. It ground into her brain. Terrible-tempered Therese was pouring sweat in frustration. She tried to shut her ears, but
was unsuccessful. Then, as an example of her 'little ways', she made a concert out of the clacking and offered it as a prayer to Jesus. "I assure you," she dryly
remarked, "that was no prayer of Quiet."
Therese, the great mystic, fell asleep frequently at prayer. She was embarrassed by her inability to remain awake during her hours in chapel with the religious
community. Finally, in perhaps her most charming and accurate characterization of the "little way," she noted that, just as parents love their children as much while
asleep as awake, so God loved her even though she often slept during the time for prayers.
About St. Therese, "thelittle flower":
Her Early Years
Her School Years
Birthday
Baptism
Death of her Mother, Zelie Guerin
Pauline, her sister, enters Carmel
Our Lady's Smile; Therese Healing
First Communion
Confirmation
January 2, 1873
January 4, 1873
August 28, 1877
October 2, 1882
May 13, 1883
May 8, 1884
June 14, 1884
Christmas Conversion
Audience with Pope Leo XIII
Entry into Carmel
Profession of Vows
Death of her Father, Louis Martin
Her Death, Entry into Heaven
Her autobiography "Story of a Soul" is published
Cause of Beatification Introduced at Rome
Beatification
Canonization
Declared Doctor of the Church
December 25, 1886
November 20, 1887
April 9, 1888
September 8, 1890
July 29, 1894
September 30, 1897
September 30, 1898
June 10, 1914
April 29, 1923
May 17, 1925
October 19, 1997

Love of God
Words of St. Therese:
Love of God
Love for Others
Prayer
Faith
Hope
Her Thoughts and Words about...Love of God
There is one ONLY THING to do here below: to love Jesus, to win souls for Him so that He may be loved. Let us seize with
jealous care every least opportunity of self sacrifice. Let us refuse Him nothing - He does so want our love!
VI letter to her sister Celine
Love!...that is what I ask...I know but one thing now - to love Thee, O Jesus! Glorious deeds are not for me, I cannot
preach the Gospel, shed my blood...what does it matter? My brothers toil instead of me, and I, the little child, I keep quite
close to the royal throne, I love for those who fight.
Story of A Soul, Chapter XI
How shall I show my love is proved by deeds? Well - the little child will strew flowers...she will embalm the Divine Throne
with their fragrance, will sing with silvery voice the canticle of love.
Yes, my Beloved, it is thus that my life's brief day shall be spent before Thee. No other means have I of proving my love
than to strew flowers; that is, to let no little sacrifice escape me, not a look, not a word, to avail of the very least actions
and do them for Love. I wish to suffer for Love's sake and for Love's sake even to rejoice; thus shall I strew flowers. Not one shall I find without shedding its petals for
Thee...and then I will sing, I will always sing, even if I must gather my roses in the very midst of thorns - and the longer and sharper the thorns the sweeter shall be
my song.

The good God does not need years to accomplish His work of love in a soul; one ray from His Heart can, in an instant, make His flower bloom for eternity...
VI letter to her sister Celine
Seeing the eternal recompense so disproportionate to the trifling sacrifices of this life, I longed to love Jesus, to love Him ardently, to give him a thousand proofs of
tenderness while yet I could do so...
Story of A Soul, Chapter V
In times of aridity when I am incapable of praying, of practicing virtue, I seek little opportunities, mere trifles, to give pleasure to Jesus; for instance a smile,
a pleasant wordwhen inclined to be silent and to show weariness. If I find no opportunities, I at least tell Him again and again that I love Him; that is not difficult and it
keeps alive the fire in my heart. Even though this fire of love might seem extinct I would still throw little straws upon the embers and I am certain it would rekindle.
XVI letter to her sister Celine
I know of one means only by which to attain to perfection: LOVE. Let us love, since our heart is made for nothing else. Sometimes I seek
another word to express Love, but in this land of exile the word which begins and ends (St. Augustine) is quite incapable of rendering
the vibrations of the soul; we must then adhere to this simple and only word: TO LOVE.
But on whom shall our poor heart lavish its love? Who shall be found that is great enough to be the recipient of its treasures? Will a
human being know how to comprehend them, and above all will he be able to repay? There exists but one Being capable of
comprehending love; it is Jesus; He alone can give us back infinitely more than we shall ever give to him.
Letter to her cousin, Marie Guerin
Love can supply for length of years. Jesus, because He is Eternal, regards not the time but only the love.
V letter to Mother Agnes of Jesus
O Jesus, I ask of Thee only Peace! ...Peace, and above all LOVE - love without bound or limit. Jesus, let me for Thy sake die a martyr;
give me martyrdom of soul or body. Ah! rather give me both the one and the other!
Story of A Soul, Chapter VIII
I desire no sensible consolation in loving; provided Jesus feel my love that is enough for me. Oh! to love Him and to make Him
loved...how sweet it is...
V letter to Mother Agnes of Jesus
How sweet is the way of Love! True, one may fall, one may not be always faithful, but Love, knowing how to draw profit from all, very quickly consumes whatsoever
may displease Jesus, leaving naught but humble and profound peace in the innermost soul.
Ah! since that day love penetrates me and surrounds me; this Merciful Love each moment renews and purifies me, leaving in my heart no trace of sin. No, I cannot fear
Purgatory; I know that I do not merit even to enter with the Holy Souls into that place of expiation, but I know too that the fire of Love is more sanctifying than the fire
of Purgatory, I know that Jesus cannot will needless suffering for us, and that He would not inspire me with the desires I feel if He were unwilling to fulfill them.
To offer oneself as a victim to Divine Love is not to offer oneself to sweetness - to consolation; but to every anguish, every bitterness, for Love lives only by sacrifice;
and the more a soul wills to be surrendered to Love, the more must she be surrendered to suffering.
Story of A Soul, Chapter XII
O my God, Thou knowest I have never desired but to love Thee alone. I seek no other glory. Thy Love has gone before me from my childhood, it has grown with my
growth, and now it is an abyss the depths of which I cannot fathom.
Love attracts love, mine rushes forth unto Thee, it would fain fill up the abyss which attracts it; but alas! it is not even as one drop of dew lost in the Ocean. To love
Thee as Thou lovest me I must borrow Thy very Love - then only, can I find rest.
Just as a torrent sweeps along with it unto the depths of the sea whatsoever it encounters on its course,
even so, my Jesus, does the soul which plunges into the boundless ocean of Thy Love draw after her all her
treasures. Lord, Thou knowest that for me these treasures are the souls it has pleased Thee to unite to
mine.
Charity gave me the key to my vocation. I understood that the Church being a body composed of different
members, the most essential, the most noble of all the organs would not be wanting to her; I understood
that the Church has a heart and that this heart is burning with love; that it is love alone which makes the
members work, that if love were to die away apostles would no longer preach the Gospel, martyrs would
refuse to shed their blood. I understood that love comprises all vocations, that love is everything, that it
embraces all times and all places because it is eternal!
This little prayer which includes all my desires I ask you to say for me each day:
"Merciful Father, in the name of Thy sweet Jesus, of the Blessed Virgin and of the Saints, I pray Thee that
my sister be fired with Thy spirit of love, and that Thou wilt grant her the grace to make Thee greatly
loved."
If God should take me soon to Himself, I ask you to continue each day this same prayer, for in Heaven my
desire will be the same as upon earth; to love Jesus and to make Him loved.
III Letter to her Missionary "Brothers"
Until two days before her death Therese wished to be alone at night; however,
notwithstanding her entreaties, the infirmarian used to rise several times to visit her. On one
occasion she found our little invalid with hands clasped and eyes raised to Heaven.
"But what are you doing?" she asked; "you should try to sleep."
"I cannot, dear Sister, I suffer too much! then I pray..."
"And what do you say to Jesus?"
"I say nothing, I love Him!"
A Sister was speaking to her of the happiness of Heaven: Therese interrupted, saying:
"It is not that which attracts me..."
"What is it then?"
"Oh! it is LOVE! To love, to be loved, and to come back to earth to make LOVE loved."
Love alone have I ever given to the good God; with love He will repay me.
Her last words - looking at her crucifix: "OH!...I LOVE HIM!...MY GOD, I...LOVE...THEE!!!"
O my God, Most Blessed Trinity, I desire to love Thee and to make Thee loved, to labor for the glory of holy Church by saving
souls still on earth and by delivering those who suffer in Purgatory. I desire to accomplish Thy Will perfectly, and to attain to
the degree of glory which Thou hast prepared for me in Thy Kingdom; in one word, I desire to be a saint, but I know that I
am powerless, and I implore Thee, O my God, to be Thyself my sanctity.
Since Thou hast so loved me as to give me Thine only Son to be my Saviour and my Spouse, the infinite treasures of His
merits are mine; to Thee I offer them with joy, beseeching Thee to see me only as in the Face of Jesus and in His Heart
burning with Love.
Again, I offer Thee all the merits of the Saints - in Heaven and on earth - their acts of love and those of the holy Angels; and
finally I offer Thee, O Blessed Trinity, the love and the merits of the Holy Virgin, my most dear Mother; it is to her I entrust
my oblation, begging her to present it to Thee.
Her Divine Son, my well-beloved Spouse, during His life on earth, told us: "If you ask the Father anything in my name he will
give it to you." (John 16:23). I am then certain that Thou wilt hearken to my desires...My God, I know it, the more Thou
willest to give, the more dost Thou make us desire. Immense are the desires that I feel within my heart, and it is with
confidence that I call upon Thee to come and take possession of my soul. I cannot receive Thee in Holy Communion as often
as I would; but, Lord, art Thou not Almighty?...Remain in me as in the Tabernacle - never leave Thy little Victim.
I long to console Thee for the ingratitude of the wicked and I pray Thee take from me the liberty to displease Thee! If
through frailty I fall sometimes, may Thy Divine glance purify my soul immediately, consuming every imperfection - like to
fire which transforms all things into itself.
I thank Thee, O my God, for all the graces Thou hast bestowed on me, and particularly for making me pass through the crucible of suffering. It is with joy I shall behold
Thee on the Last Day bearing Thy scepter - the Cross; since Thou hast deigned to give me for my portion this most precious Cross, I have hope of resembling Thee in
Heaven and seeing the sacred stigmata of Thy Passion shine in my glorified body.
After exile on earth I hope to enjoy the possession of Thee in our eternal Fatherland, but I have to wish to amass merits for
Heaven; I will work for Thy Love alone, my sole aim being to give Thee pleasure, to console Thy Sacred Heart, and to save souls
who will love Thee forever.
At the close of life's evening I shall appear before Thee with empty hands, for I ask not, Lord, that Thou wouldst count my
works...All our justice is tarnished in Thy sight. It is therefore my desire to be clothed with Thine own Justice and to receive from
Thy Love the eternal possession of Thyself. I crave no other Throne nor other Crown but Thee, O my Beloved!...
In Thy sight time is nothing, one day is as a thousand years (Cf. Psalms 89:4). Thou canst in an instant prepare me to appear
before Thee.
That I may live in one Act of perfect Love, I OFFER MYSELF AS A VICTIM OF HOLOCAUST TO THY MERCIFUL LOVE, imploring
Thee to consume me without ceasing, and to let the tide of infinite tenderness pent up in Thee, overflow into my soul, that so I
may become a very martyr of Thy Love, O my God!
May this martyrdom, having first prepared me to appear before Thee, break life's thread at last, and may my soul take its flight, unretarded, into the eternal embrace
of Thy Merciful Love.
I desire, O Well-Beloved, at every heartbeat to renew this Oblation an infinite number of times, till the shadows retire (Cant. 4:6) and I can tell Thee my love eternally
face to face!
[Signed]
MARIE-FRANCOISE-THERESE
DE L'ENFANT JESUS ET DE LA SAINTE FACE
Love for Others
Love of God
Love for Others
Prayer
Faith
Hope
Her Thoughts and Words about Love...for Others
Without love, deeds, even the most brilliant, count as nothing.
Story of a Soul, Chapter VIII
On the day of my conversion Charity entered into my heart and with it a
yearning to forget self always; thenceforward I was happy.
Story of A Soul, Chapter V
Jesus wills that we give alms to Him as to one poor and needy. He puts
Himself as it were at our mercy; He will take nothing but what we give Him
from our heart, and the very least trifle is precious in His sight. He stretches
forth His Hand, this sweet Saviour, to receive of us a little love, so that in
the radiant Day of Judgment He may be able to address to us those ineffable
words: "Come, ye blessed of my Father; for I was hungry, and you gave me
to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me to drink; I was a stranger, and you
took me in; sick and you visited me; I was in prison, and you came to me."
(Matthew 25:34-36).
XV Letter to Her Sister Celine
I applied myself above all to practice quite hidden little acts of virtue; thus I
liked to fold the mantles forgotten by the Sisters, and sought a thousand
opportunities of rendering them service.
Story of A Soul, Chapter VII
I feel that when I am charitable it is Jesus alone who acts in me; the more I
am united to Him the more do I love all my Sisters. If, when I desire to
increase this love in my heart, the demon tries to set before my eyes the
faults of one or other of the Sisters, I hasten to call to mind her virtues, her
good desires; I say to myself that if I had seen her fall once, she may well
have gained many victories which she conceals through humility; and that
even what appears to me a fault may in truth be an act of virtue by reason
of the intention. Story of A Soul, Chapter IX
True Charity consists in bearing with all
the defects of our neighbor, in not being surprised
at his failings, and in being edified by his least
virtues; Charity must not remain shut up in the
depths of the heart, for no man lighteth a candle
and putteth it under a bushel, but upon a
candlestick, that it may shine to all that are in the
house. (Cf. Matthew 5:15). It seems to me that this
candle represents the Charity which ought to
enlighten and make joyful, not only those who are
dearest to me, but all who are in the house.
Story of A Soul, Chapter IX
There is no artist who does not like his work
praised, and the Divine Artist of souls is pleased when we do not stop at the
exterior, but penetrating even to the inmost sanctuary which He has chosen
for His dwelling, we admire its beauty.
I ought to seek the company of those Sisters who according to nature please
me least. I ought to fulfill in their regard the office of the Good Samaritan. A
word, a kindly smile, will often suffice to gladden a wounded and sorrowful
heart.
Story of A Soul, Chapter X
If it is hard to give to whoever asks, it is still harder to let what belongs to
us to be taken, without asking it back, or rather, I ought to say it seems
hard; for the yoke of the Lord is sweet and light (Cf. Matthew 11:30): when
we accept it we feel its sweetness immediately.
When Charity is deeply rooted in the soul it shows itself exteriorly: there is
so gracious a way of refusing what we cannot give, that the refusal pleases
as much as the gift.
Remembering that Charity covereth a multitude of sins (Proverbs 10:12), I
draw from this fruitful mine opened to us by Our Lord in His sacred Gospels.
I search the depths of His adorable words and cry out with David: "I have
run in the way of thy commandments when thou didst enlarge my heart."
(Psalms 118:32). And charity alone can enlarge my heart...
O Jesus! since this sweet flame consumes it I run with delight in the way of
Thy new Commandment, and therein will I run until the blessed day when
with Thy Virgin train I shall follow Thee through Thy boundless Realm
singing Thy New Canticle which must surely be the Canticle of LOVE.

Prayer
Love of God
Love for Others
Prayer
Faith
Hope
Her Thoughts and Words about...Prayer
My whole strength lies in prayer and sacrifice, these are my invincible arms;
they can move hearts far better than words, I know it by experience.
I have not the courage to force myself to seek beautiful prayers in books;
not knowing which to choose I act as children do who cannot read; I say
quite simply to the good God what I want to tell Him, and He always
understands me.

Prayer is, for me, an outburst from the heart; it is a simple glance darted
upwards to Heaven; it is a cry of gratitude and of love in the midst of trial as
in the midst of joy! In a word, it is something exalted, supernatural, which
dilates the soul and unites it to God. Sometimes when I find myself,
spiritually, in dryness so great that I cannot produce a single good thought, I
recite very slowly a Pater or an Ave Maria; these prayers alone console me,
they suffice, they nourish my soul.
As I grew older I loved the good God more and more, and very frequently
did I offer Him my heart, using the words my mother had taught me. I
strove in all my actions to please Jesus and was most watchful never to
offend Him.
Story of A Soul, Chapter II
Great is the power of prayer - a queen, as one might
say, having free access always to the King, and able to
obtain whatever she asks. In order to be heard, it is not
necessary to read from a book a beautiful form of prayer
adapted to the circumstances; if it were so, how greatly
to be pitied should I be!
"Draw me, we will run..."
To ask to be drawn is to will intimate union with the
object which holds the heartcaptive. If fire and iron
were gifted with reason, and that the latter said to the
fire: "Draw me," would not this prove that it desired to
become identified with the fire even so far as to share
its substance? Well, that is exactly my prayer. I beg of
Jesus to draw me into the flames of His Love, to unite
me so closely to Himself that He may live and act in me.
I feel that the more the fire of love inflames my heart, the more I shall say:
"Draw me," the more also will the souls who draw near to mine run swiftly in
the fragrant odors of the Well-Beloved.
Souls thus on fire cannot rest inactive. They may sit at
the feet of Jesus, like Saint Mary Magdalene, listening to
His sweet and ardent words; but, while seeming to give
nothing, they do give far more than Martha who troubles
herself with many things (Luke 10:41). It is not however
of Martha's labors that Jesus disapproves, but only her
too great anxiety; to this very same work His Blessed
Mother humbly submitted herself, when she had to
prepare the repasts for the Holy Family.
All the Saints have understood this, and more especially
perhaps those who have enlightened the world with the
luminous teaching of the Gospel. Was it not from prayer
that Saint Paul, Saint Augustine, Saint Thomas Aquinas,
Saint John of the Cross, Saint Teresa and so many other friends of God drew
that wondrous science which enraptures the greatest intellects?
Archimedes said: "Give me a lever and a fulcrum, and I will raise the world."
What he was unable to obtain because his request had but a material end
and was not addressed to God, the Saints have obtained in full measure. For
fulcrum, the Almighty has given them Himself, Himself alone! for lever,
prayer, which enkindles the fire of love; and thus it is that they have uplifted
the world, thus it is that saints still militant uplift it, and will uplift it till the
end of time.
How beautiful is our vocation! It is for us, it is for us, it is for Carmel to
preserve "the salt of the earth" (Matthew 5:13). We offer our prayers and
sacrifices for the apostles of the Lord; we ought ourselves to be their
apostles while by word and example they preach the Gospel to our brethren.
Story of A Soul, Chapter VI
Her prayer was continual though she was habitually plunged in aridity. One
day a novice entered her cell paused, struck by the celestial expression of
her countenance. She was sewing with alacrity yet seemed lost in profound
contemplation.
"Of what are you thinking?" asked the young Sister. "I am meditating on the
Pater," she replied. "It is so sweet to call the good God our Father." And
tears shone in her eyes.
I do not well see what more I shall have in Heaven than now, she once said.
I shall see the good God, it is true; but as to being with Him, I am wholly
with Him already upon earth.
Faith
Love of God
Love for Others
Prayer
Faith
Hope
Her Thoughts and Words about...Faith
During her temptations against faith she wrote: "I strive to work by faith though bereft of its consolations. I have made more acts of Faith in this last year than during
all the rest of my life.
"On each fresh occasion of combat, when the enemy desires to challenge me, I conduct myself valiantly: knowing that to fight a duel is an unworthy act, I turn my
back upon the adversary without ever looking him in the face; then I run to my Jesus and tell Him I am ready to shed every drop of blood in testimony of my belief that
there is a Heaven, I tell Him I am glad to be unable to contemplate, while on earth, with the eyes of the soul, the beautiful Heaven that awaits me so He will deign to
open it for eternity to poor unbelievers."
He whose Heart ever watcheth, taught me, that while for a soul whose faith equals but a tiny grain of mustard seed,
He works miracles, in order that this faith which is so weak may be fortified; yet for His intimate friends, for His
Mother, He did not work miracles until He had put their faith to test. Did He not let Lazarus die through Martha and
Mary had sent to tell Him that he was sick? At the marriage at Cana, the Blessed Virgin having asked Him to come
to the assistance of the master of the house, did He not reply that His hour was not yet come? But after the trial,
what a recompense! Water changed to wine, Lazarus restored to life...
Story of A Soul, Chapter VI

A Woman Born to Love
Reflections on St. Therese:
St. Therese and Her Little Way
St. Therese and Love
St. Therese and Family Life
St. Therese and Prayer
St. Therese On Suffering
St. Therese and Spiritual Childhood
St. Therese of Lisieux: Quotations
In 1997 Carmelites and many others marked the centenary of the death of St. Therese of Lisieux, called by many the Little Flower ( September 30, 1997 ). What draws
people to this woman, this saint of the Church? Her story as told in her autobiography, THE STORY OF A SOUL, is engaging. She reveals so honestly her struggles in life
and how she forged a meaning, a commitment that made a difference. She lost her mother when she was only four and a half. Her older sister Pauline took over the
role of mother but she departed from the family home to join the Carmel of Lisieux when Therese was only nine and a half. She missed her terribly and suffered a
period of extreme anxiety and depression.
Therese had a hard time fitting into elementary school because some kids picked on her and she found it hard to relate to many of them. But she was bright and
capable and had a great love for history and religion. She recognized that her early life experiences made her very self-centered and overly sensitive. She believed that
Jesus Christ alone helped her to overcome this selfishness. When she received communion at the Christmas midnight mass of 1886 in her parish church in Lisieux, she
experienced a mysterious renewal. I felt charity enter my soul. No longer would she walk around with a
weepy and self-pitying disposition. The fact is that she did change her behavior and quickly developed a
new sense of direction, one centered on love. She wanted to become a Carmelite in the Carmel of Lisieux.
Already she had two sisters living in the Lisieux monastery. One might think that she was just following
her sisters, but St. Therese makes it quite clear in her autobiography that she desired to enter Carmel on
her own terms: to give her love to Jesus Christ and to those with whom she would live in the Carmelite
community and also to pray for sinners and for priests. She had no illusions about the monastic life being
demanding. She sought the permission of Pope Leo XIII to enter the Carmel at age fifteen while on a
diocesan pilgrimage to Rome. The Pope told her to listen to the leadership of the local church of Bayeux-
Lisieux. After some hesitation, the local Bishop granted her wish but not with a great deal of conviction
about her maturity. The truth is that no one really knew her outside her own family and her cousins, the
Guerins. Few were aware of the deep religious faith conviction that motivated her desire to give her life
totally to God.
Her sense of commitment led her to a profound experience of the love of god and of neighbor. She never
had an easy life, but she did live with a great sense of peace and joy. What made such joy possible?
Fundamentally, she found that love could only be captivating when a person trusts completely in a loving
God. That trust has to be stated every day in the way we pray and live out the responsibilities and
demands of our lives. She found the power of love in her relationship to Jesus Christ.
Fr. John F. Russell, O.Carm.
Seton Hall University

St. Therese discovered early on that love gave people a reason for living and a sense of hope. As a child she says that she was surrounded by love and she also had a
loving nature. Yet the experience of love began to unravel somewhat when she lost her own mother at age four and a half and then again when her sister Pauline, her
second mother, went off to the convent of Lisieux. Is there a permanent love? What does love mean when there is suffering? Where does fulfillment exist? Everyone
asks questionsabout love. What is love really, how am I to understand its ways?
St. Therese believed that Jesus was with her and loved her from her childhood. She learned of Jesus
Christ from the stories read to her and from her own familiarity with scripture as she grew up. She also felt love palpable in her reading of the Imitation of Christ by
Thomas a Kempis. Furthermore, at age seventeen she read St. John of the Cross and saw how much Gods love energized his life. She wanted that kind of fulfillment.
St. John of the Cross had written: In the evening of life we will be judged by our love St. Therese believed that love was everything. She recognized the centrality of
love when she read I Corinthians 13; she wanted to embrace that call.
She translated this desire for love by developing her relationship to Jesus Christ. She gave each day to him as a way of manifesting her love for him. When she
discovered that life was not easy in the convent of Lisieux, that some of the nuns were coarse and difficult to live with, she came to the conclusion that the condition
would be chronic. It was not going to go away. Therefore she had to decide how she would live within this environment. She discovered her little way: to accept that
each one came ultimately from the divine artist and thus each one is loved forever by God. Therefore she would love them as best she could, a kind word, a smile, an
assist when she was able. In fact, she learned in the process that there is deep down a union between love of God and love of neighbor. She wrote that the more my
life is focused in Jesus Christ, the more I am able to love my Sisters.
Toward the end of her life St. Therese discovered that love could be tested in extraordinary ways. She had to go through an eighteen month period of feeling nothing
but temptation against all that she believed. Perhaps there is no heaven and her life had been a foolish gesture of commitment. She had little consolation and also had
to suffer from tuberculosis, which had no cure in the late nineteenth century. But St. Therese refused to abandon her life of faith, hope and love. She would accept any
difficulty and any test in order to give herself to love. In the end she left this world in great peace and in love. Her story continues to attract the restless heart seeking
a way of being worthwhile in our world.
Rev. John F. Russell, O.Carm.

Obviously St. Therese was a prayerful woman. After all she gave herself to a life of prayer and self-
emptying love in the Carmel of Lisieux in Normandy. The interesting question centers on how she
prayed. She had learned the importance of prayer as a child from the example of her own parents and
used to spend some time in the quiet of her room reflecting on the life of Jesus and on Gods love for her.
When she joined the Carmel in Lisieux she had appointed times for community prayer throughout the day. Recitation of the breviary, a daily Eucharist and vocal prayer
were part of a nuns identity in Carmel. But there was also time for personal or private prayer. Each day the nuns spent about an hour in quiet meditation on Gods
word. St. Therese reports in her Story of a Soul that she was faithful to community prayer but often experienced a certain dryness in prayer. She was more faithful to
prayer than moved to good feelings.
One way of prayer was especially attractive to St. Therese. She loved to draw close to Scripture and to learn aboutJesus Christ from the gospels. In fact, St. Therese
wrote that when she was having a particularly arid period in prayer, the gospels always nurtured her. She found that the world of God was a lamp for her feet as
Scripture says. She would love to retain favorite passages or lines from scripture so that they came back to her during the day and energized her own commitment to
Jesus Christ. In fact, St. Therese wrote that often enough a word from God, an insight, a sense of direction, a response to a situation came to her not during the hour
of prayer but when she was about her daily work.
St. Therese had devotion to Mary and turned to her in prayer as her mother. In fact, it was during a devastating illnesswhen she was but ten years of age that she
experienced a cure through Marys intercession. St. Therese saw that the statue of Mary in her bedroom smiled at her. From that moment she no longer experienced
the troubles caused by anxiety and perhaps depression.
Prayer, for St. Therese, was a way of walking with God. Whether it was a period of meditative prayer, communal prayer in the chapel with the other nuns in the
community or the aspirative prayer of lifting her heart to God in short prayers of intercession or praise, she realized that God was with her. Her deep trust in God and
in Gods love for her paved a way of joy and happiness. Cannot each one of us learn something of life's purpose by observing the faith-filled direction of St. Therese's
life?

In an age that savours insights related to growth, maturity accountability and responsibility, it
might appear jejune to suggest 'spiritual childhood' as an appropriate image for the spiritual journey. The 'little way' associated with St Therese of Lisieux can readily
be misunderstood. In her writings, focus on the child does not promote childishness, passivity, immaturity, nor a romantic sphere of eternal play. Rather, it points
toward a theocentric view of grace.
God initiates relationship, enables, nourishes; we recognize, discover, respond, grow within the ambience of God's merciful love. A child develops best in an
environment of trust, love, forgiveness, generosity. St. Therese's personal experience led her to recognize that God was at the centre of her existence as Love. In view
of the immensity of the world and the complexities of life she saw herself as 'a child,' 'a grain of sand,' 'little' but energized by a God who directed her journey in faith.
Concept of Spiritual Childhood
Bishop Guy Gaucher, O.C.D., has written that the notion of spiritual childhood as applied to St Therese is a limited expression and can readily distort her spirituality.
The words "spiritual childhood" never came from Therese's pen. Mother Agnes (Pauline) willingly admitted that she had inserted the expression into the long synthesis
presented to the Apostolic Process. A similar observation in more theological language has been made by Hans Urs von Balthasar:
"Her teaching is not a theological system . . . ; it is an immediate, total vision, and on that account requires many forms for its exposition." The vision suggests a
'primitive Christian power' rooted in the paschal mystery of death and resurrection, 'of dying and rebirth.' Thus no one image can capture the depth and breadth of
Therese's spiritual journey.
The image of the child or childhood does find a place in the religious experience of Therese in two fundamental ways: (1) she cultivated a personal relationship to the
child Jesus; and (2) as mentioned above, she employed the image of childhood or littleness as one construct in communicating her own spiritual journey.
Relationship to the child Jesus emphasizes the humanity of Christ and suggests a sense of dependence, poverty, trust, and wonder. The child Jesus theme is found in
the sermons of St. Bernard of Clairvaux and in writings of the Franciscan tradition.
Devotion to the child Jesus was rather common in France in the nineteenth century. Therese's own relationship to the child Jesus came from initiatives taken by
Pauline, her second mother. For example, when Therese was nine or ten she received a letter from Sister Agnes encouraging Therese to be 'very good during this Lent.
Each day, you will have to offer to the child Jesus a pretty bouquet made up of acts of virtue.' Pauline was aware that Therese was suffering severe emotional strain
from the loss of her mother, and also of her sister Pauline to Carmel. Apparently, Pauline believed that the image of the child Jesus would be beneficial for her young
sister; Therese would be able to relate to the child in the crib. She wrote in December 1882 or January 1883:
'I still think that for little girls, very good, very sweet . . . the Holy Child in the crib reserves all kinds of divine caresses.' In a series of letters written by Pauline to
Therese as she prepared for her first communion, the child Jesus or 'little Jesus' is frequently mentioned. Therese's sacrifices and acts of virtue would be the flowers
offered to little Jesus at her first communion.
While the language Pauline employs is rather sentimental and simplistic, the God image is gentle and comfortable for a child. In due time Therese would reject the
'meritorious acts' approach to spirituality (her act of oblation to God's merciful love stated:
'In the evening of this life, I shall appear before You with empty hands, for I do not ask You, Lord, to count my works'). Therese's spirituality would focus on love alone,
accepting the push and pull of the ordinary and the everyday in forging a meaning for authentic sanctity. While never rejecting the image of the child Jesus (she wrote
two Christmas plays focusing on divine infancy), the mature Therese holds together the full humanity of Christ who suffered in love for the salvation of all. Thus, her
name in religious life became 'Soeur Therese de l'Enfant Jesus et de la Sainte Face' (Sister Therese of the Child Jesus and of the Holy Face) on 10th January 1889. It
was the day that Therese received the habit of Carmel.
It is important to recognize that St. Therese's literary style can obscure at times the depth of religious experience and commitment that marks her journey.
She was prone to use diminutives in a way that can distract from the demands of the so-called 'little way.' She views herself as 'a little ball,' 'a little hermit,' 'a little
boat.' In a letter written to her sister Celine in 1893 she refers to her as 'a little drop of dew.' Other aspects can slow down our desire to read further. She sought an
image of the spiritual that would be more simple and direct, like an elevator that ascends directly and swiftly. That construct seems mechanical, to say the least. That is
why a number of readers find meaning in the writings of St Therese only by returning to them numerous times. The process leads to insight, to understanding, to a
deeper appreciation of her total self-gift to Jesus Christ, to her community, to the mission of the church.
Therese's Convictions
I believe that the image of 'spiritual childhood' (more accurately 'the child') or 'the little way' arises from Therese's own experience of the Scriptures, family life, and
religious life. The concept of childhood allows Therese to express at least three convictions about the journey of faith that run counter to the prevailing ethos of her
time. These convictions arise from her image of God, her image of self, and her understanding of authentic discipleship.
(1) Her Image of God: Therese grew up in nineteenth-century France which was still caught up to some extent in the rigors of Jansenism. Furthermore, France still
reeled from its loss in the Franco-Prussian war. Consequently, God appeared more as a just Judge who was punishing France for its sins. The spiritual climate called for
reparation, mortifications, prayers offered in atonement. Therese, of course, was also influenced by this climate. Yet the God of Judgement did not obscure what she
learned from the Scriptures and from her own religious experience: God is above all a God of merciful love who has come to us unsurpassably in Jesus Christ. In
Manuscript A of the Story of a Soul, Therese makes it clear that as a child she experienced God as love: 'God was pleased all through my life to surround me with love,
and the first memories I have are stamped with smiles and the most tender caresses. But although He placed so much love near me, He also sent much love into my
little heart, making it warm and affectionate.'
St. Therese does record the tension she experienced relating to the God of justice:
I was thinking about the souls who offer themselves as victims of God's Justice in order to turn away the punishments reserved to sinners, drawing them upon
themselves. This offering seemed great and very generous to me, but I was far from feeling attracted to making it. From the depths of my heart, I cried out: '0 my
God! Will your Justice alone find souls willing to immolate themselves as victims? Does Your Merciful Love need them too?' How sweet is the way of Love! How I want
to apply myself to doing the will of God always with the greatest self-surrender!
(2) Her Image of Self: An initial reading of the Story of a Soul could lead one to conclude that Therese suffered from poor self-esteem. She frequently refers to
weakness, being little, imperfect, limited. Yet a second level of consideration would reveal that Therese had strong character: she trusted her own experience in
relationship to the Scriptures ('Jesus will be my director'); she spoke the truth as she understood it, whether popular or not; she handled suffering without carping and
with a sense of ultimate purpose.
What she did encounter in her own culture was the preoccupation with perfection, merit, degrees of sanctity. The situation of the child enables her to accept weakness
and limitation and to trust in God's love and mercy. God as father is a warm and inviting image for her. While perhaps not the ipsissima verba of Therese, the sense of
'spiritual childhood' is recorded in the Last Conversations:
It is to recognize our nothingness, to expect everything from God as a little child expects everything from its father; it is to be disquieted about nothing, and not to be
set on gaming our living. ... To be little is not attributing to oneself the virtues that one practices. ... It is not to become discouraged over one's faults, for children fall
often, but they are too little to hurt themselves very much.
St. Therese is providing an alternative view of relationship to God: not a formal, stiff, perfectionist, scrupulous, fearful model, but a relaxed, loving, open and
meaningful one. Her popularity among Catholics, particularly from the 1920s through the 1950s, perhaps stems most of all from her picture of a merciful God and her
ability to articulate relationship to God in clear, simple language.
(3) Her Understanding of Discipleship: Because Therese was unable to attain perfect love by herself, she centered herself in God's loving mercy. Because she put little
stock in an act-centered approach to sanctity (it was too self-focused), she was able to centre upon the heart of the gospellove. What Therese reveals is the paradoxical
character of Christian discipleship. While God seeks covenant fidelity, people are weak and sinful. Therese therefore sees the ground for hope in God's mercy.
Furthermore, Once the virtue of hope finds a place in one's heart, there is every reason to get on with the mission of Christ: to love unto folly.
Conrad De Meester, O.C.D., has expressed the pulse beat of St. Therese's spirit of discipleship:
Love demands a fidelity that is centered round the countless mundane 'little' things of each day, things that are within everyone's power. We see that Therese is not
advocating an easy solution. Heroism is not eliminated, rather it is brought within reach of the poor [person]. The torrent of love is channeled into ordinary everyday
life. We are struck by the place held by 'all the smallest things' in Therese's program through which she wished to realize her dream to be love in the heart of the
Church, these 'worthless petals' ... these 'nothings': a little sacrifice, a look, a word, a smile! . . . Sometimes the action is nothing more than faithful effort, the fact of
having tried, the good will that is untiringly put into the journey: true bearers of love, but witnesses of imperfection and appeal to God's mercy.
In an essay entitled 'Ideas for a Theology of Childhood', Karl Rahner notes that childhood suggests openness. 'The mature childhood of the adult' signifies an openness
in discipleship of Jesus Christ even though circumstances and experiences tempt us to close up, to withdraw. It is because of God's grace, God's 'self-bestowal' that
remaining open to existence is possible. It seems to me that St Therese had made this point about childhood and discipleship through her own life and writing. 'Tout est
grace' she had said, 'All is grace'. All of her experiences found their centre in a fundamental union of love of God and neighbour. She lived out this commitment in the
midst of 'a dark tunnel' during the last year of her life and through her affliction and suffering. The child of her beginning had moved into the adult child of mature
discipleship. Both phases were identified in the heart of love.
John F. Russell
(John F. Russell, O.Carm., S.T.D., has a special interest in the writings of St Therese of Lisieux and has previously published in Irish Theological Quarterly, Church,
Downside Review, Review for Religious, Spiritual Life and other journals.)

What is the meaning of "the little way" of St. Therese? It is an image that tries to capture her understanding of being a disciple of Jesus Christ, of seeking holiness of
life in the ordinary and the everyday. St. Therese based her little way on two fundamental convictions: 1. God shows love by mercy and forgiveness and 2. She could
not be perfect in following the Lord. St. Therese believed that the people of her time lived in too great fear of Gods judgment. The fear was stifling and did not allow
people to experience the freedom of the children of God. St. Therese knew from her life that God is merciful love; many scripture passages in the Old and New
Testaments bore out that truth. She loved the maternal images for God in the Old Testament and the love of God for us in Jesus Christ. In fact, St. Therese once wrote
that she could not understand how anyone could be afraid of a God who became a child. She also knew that she would never be perfect. Therefore, she went to God as
a child approaches a parentwith open arms and a profound trust.
St. Therese translated "the little way" in terms of a commitment to the tasks and to the people we meet in our everyday lives. She took her assignments in the convent
of Lisieux as ways of manifesting her love for God and for others. She worked as a sacristan by taking care of the altar and the chapel; she served in the refectory and
in the laundry room; she wrote plays for the entertainment of the community. Above all, she tried to show a love for all the nuns in the community. She played no
favorites; she gave of herself even to the difficult members. Her life sounds so routine and ordinary, but it was steeped in a loving commitment that knew no
breakdown. It is called a little way precisely by being simple, direct, yet calling for amazing fortitude and commitment.
In living out her life of faith she sensed that everything that she was able to accomplish came from a generous love of God in her life. She was convinced that at the
end of her life she would go to God with empty hands. Why? Because all was accomplished in union with God.
Catholics and other Christians have been attracted to St. Thereses style. Her little way seems to put holiness of life within the reach of ordinary people. Live out your
days with confidence in Gods love for you. Recognize that each day is a gift in which your life can make a difference by the way you choose to live it. Put hope in a
future in which god will be all and love will consume your spirit. Choose life, not the darkness of pettiness and greed. St. Therese knew the difference love makes by
allowing love to be the statement she made each day of her life.

How do families negotiate life these days when so many demands seem to absorb each ones time? What is important and what can be let go? Decisions are being made
all the time even though often enough it means following conventional standards without any real discernment or question. Thus, people work long hours to meet the
standard of success, buy the brand names in clothing that even the children covet, run off in a thousand directions each day to make sure that activities mark ones
identity. Where does it all end?

Nineteenth century France is not an answer to today's issues. Yet the Martin familydoes provide a scenario of life-giving relationships that suggests some alternative
living. St. Therese inherited a family environment marked by an identity, a sense of direction, and a way of life. Zelie and Louis Martin, the parents, manifested a faith
commitment that took on concrete shape. Both attended daily mass at the parish church, they supported each other in their work and they shared their faith with their
children.
Zelie organized and owned a lace business in Alencon and Louis was a jeweler. Their work commitments did not disturb their primary focus: raising their children in
ways that showed respect for God and a love for each other. Zelie taught her five daughters how to love God through prayer, self-discipline and a generous love. The
daughters learned about life especially by observing their parents love for each other and their commitment to family life. Zelie was probably more the disciplinarian
than Louis but they were not afraid to set limits to behavior, to demand excellence from the children. The family structure gave way to a good deal of entertainment,
story-telling, games and feast day celebrations. Louis would read to his daughters from Dom Guerangers Liturgical Year. In the Martin family a child could express
herself without fear of judgment. Correction might come but a sense of freedom prevailed.
While each of the five daughters did enter religious life, the story of the family clearly indicates that all decisions were made freely and personally. Leonie was one
daughter who had difficulty in coming to terms with her own inner anxiety. She did succeed in finding her place and purpose in the Visitation Order. St. Therese grew
up knowing that her own life was given freely and fully to Jesus Christ. She had received strong support from her father throughout her life. His love enabled her to
take risks and to make decisions that only an affirming relationship could engender.
Family life needs to have a concrete way of expressing faith in Jesus Christ; the example of parents needs to be consistent and authentic; the family relationships born
of love require affirmation, challenge, correction and a generous spirit.

F. Scott Peck is the author of the national best seller, THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED. The book begins with the line Life is difficult! In fact, it seems that a hefty amount of
our time is given to solving problems. Suffering bites deeply into our comfort level, our sense of well-being and purpose.
St. Therese knew the world of suffering. She lost her mother when she was only four and a half; she had terrible experience at grammar school because she was picked
on by the other students. Some of the older students were jealous of her abilities. She lost her second mother, her older sister Pauline, when Pauline entered Carmel.
So, Therese went through a period of depression and then several years of extreme sensitivity. Therese lived in a day when Freud was just getting started and the
supportive environment that counseling can provide did not exist. Therese did believe in Gods love for her and reports in her autobiography that on Christmas Eve,
1886, she was cured of her hypersensitivity. After receiving communion and during her thanksgiving she felt charity enter my soul. The simple fact is that her life did
change. She was able to move away from excessive self-preoccupation and begin to accept others into her life and to become interested in the lives of other people. In
fact, she understood that humility was a virtue whereby a person could center on other people and recognize the gift that other people are in ones life.

St. Therese suffered in particular from tuberculosis. In fact, it was the very illness that claimed her life. She spent over a year in the gradual erosion of her bodily life.
In the very process she was also assailed by severe temptations to doubt her faith, especially the existence of heaven. She described a sense of separation from God in
terms of a total lack of consolation. She fought the temptation to despair and made frequent acts of faith in Jesus Christ and Gods love for her. St. Therese wrote:
while I do not have the joy of faith, I am trying to carry out its works at least. I believe that I have made more acts of faith in this past year than all through my whole
life.
In suffering Therese always united her heart to Jesus Christ. She believed that even suffering, however difficult, had a place in Gods redemptive love for us. She was
convinced that our suffering, in union with the suffering and death of Jesus Christ, could help to transform the world. What is the greatest truth of all may not be the
most obvious. There is a hiddenness to the wisdom of God that catches fire in hearts and events and places and over time ever so gradually consumes the earth in
love!
ON LOVE
"What a comfort it is, this way of love! You may stumble on it, you may fail to correspond with grace
given, but always love knows how to make the best of everything; whatever offends our Lord is burnt up in its fire, and nothing is left but a humble, absorbing peace
deep down in the heart." (Story of a Soul, Ms. A., Knox translation).
"Our Lord's love makes itself seen quite as much in the simplest of souls as in the most highly gifted, as long as there is no resistance offered to his grace." (Story of a
Soul, Ms. A., Knox translation).
"The science of loving, yes, that's the only kind of science I want. I'd barter away everything I possess to win it." (Story of a Soul, Ms B, Knox translation.)
"When I act as charity bids, I have this feeling that it is Jesus who is acting in me; the closer my union with him, the greater my love for all the sisters without
distinction." (SS, Ms. C., Knox translation).
SCRIPTURE AND PRAYER
"Above all it's the gospels that occupy my mind when I'm at prayer. I'm always finding fresh lights there." (SS, Ms. A., Knox translation).
TRIAL OF FAITH
"I get tired of the darkness all around me. The darkness itself seems to borrow, from the sinners who live in it, the gift of speech. I hear its mocking accents: It's all a
dream, this talk of a heavenly country, of a God who made it all, who is to be your possession in eternity! All right, go on longing for death! But death will make
nonsense of your hopes; it will only mean a night darker than ever, the night of mere non-existence!" (SS, Ms. C., Knox translation)
GRAMMAR SCHOOL
"I did well at my lessons, and nearly always came out on top; history and composition were my best subjects." (SS, Ms. A., Knox translation).

St. Therese

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St. Therese

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Generations of Catholics have admired this young saint, called her the "Little Flower", and found in her

r short life moreinspiration for own lives than in volumes by

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