← [[f2-c-14|Bibliography]] | [[formation-II-c-handbook-toc|Table of Contents]] | [[f2-c-apx-b|Homily at the Canonization of Saint Thérèse]] → # Thérèse and Maturity Sam Anthony Morello, OCD Prophetess of the Shift from the Perfection Model to the Integration Model Where did St. Thérèse of Lisieux get her insight into the close relation between emotional and spiritual maturity? Of that she had no doubt. She probably would have used different terms from our own; her paradigms would not have matched ours, I suppose. But how did she know about the substance of what we are talking about? She did not live in a “psychological age” as we do. Thérèse did not have Adrian van Kaam of the last quarter of the twentieth century feeding her the best of the insights of Freud and Jung, measured up against the experiential wisdom of the monastic ages and of classical spirituality. Thérèse had no input from the modem dialogue between psychology and spirituality. Remarkably self-aware since her mother died when she was but four and a half, Thérèse simply had her consciousness and conscience, her sensibilities, honesty, family relations, family-faith culture, and her inner Spirit of direction to help discern progress in grace. The beauty of it all is that Thérèse, the serious teenager, did not think like a dualist. Spontaneously, naturally, somehow, she perceived the unity of the complex condition of the human being; and she knew that Christic redemption addressed the whole “ball of wax” in a hopeful way. Deep down Thérèse was an optimist, a synthesist, and an integrationist. In all this she was a prophetess. The question posed at the opening of this article has often crossed my mind. But now a growing issue in Catholic-Christian spirituality is the “shift from the perfection model to the integration model.” One of the main-recovered and truly workable perceptions of Vatican II was that the God of Salvation is one and the same as the God of Creation! Grace builds on nature. Nature is at its best when graced. Grace has no field of operation without nature. The human being can only be sanctified by faith as a human being. Grace stabilizes nature, and nature comes into its full potential under grace. And again, grace without nature to work on has no agenda. Grace is for the personal integration of nature with the theological and moral virtues so that the human being, “fully alive,” might become the “glory of God” (St. Irenaeus). Jesus Christ, God and man, is the ultimate model of all integration. He is the model of the perfect convergence of the natural and the supernatural. Who has any problem with the genuineness of the humanity of Christ? It fascinated the big Teresa of Avila and the little Thérèse of Lisieux as well. And with supremely good reason! As John Paul II has tried to demonstrate, the best basis of a workable anthropology is an authentic Christology. Whenever I happen upon a discussion on contemporary theological anthropology I immediately think of Thérèse. I think of her with the wonder already expressed. For a number of reasons she anticipated this subject. Her Little Way is definitely a spirituality of integration, among other things. This is truly an additional credit to the Little Doctor. Again, she was ahead of her time. The one episode that clinches the argument in favor of her prophetic anticipation of the spirituality of integration is her account of what she calls her “conversion.” You already know what I am referring to. It is the story of the “Grace of Christmas” (1886), found in Chapter V of the Story of 57 a Soul (See Translation by John Clark, OCD [ICS/1996/pp 97ff.]). There you remember she rehearses her “extreme touchiness.” She confesses that she was given to habitual crying. She would even cry because she cried. She considered herself “unable to correct this terrible fault.” Reasoning with her hypersensitivity was “useless.” She was so aware of the immaturity of her condition that she knew it was a hindrance to “entering Carmel,” her one great project in life. As she put it, she “was still in the swaddling clothes of a child,” so, how could she enter the cloister? And she knew she needed nothing less than a “little miracle” of deliverance. That little miracle (not really so little) would be given her by the Lord of Christmas, but not without flexing new muscle and crossing a new finish line at great cost to herself! She would have to measure up to a big surprise provided by her weary father one Christmas Eve. But since that night she was made “strong and courageous.” Since that unexpected challenge she “walked from victory to victory,” running “like a giant.” The “source of her tears was dried up” and was to reopen “rarely and with great difficulty.” And this eventful experience she named her “conversion.” So significant was that Christmas grace that Thérèse calls it the “night of light [that] began the third period of my life, the most beautiful and the most filled with graces from heaven.” It directed her outside herself and ushered in an infusion of “charity” for others, especially for the “conversion of sinners.” Her successful prayers for a hardened criminal followed shortly upon her Christmas conversion. And the Lord was to lead her into the garden of Carmel to mother many other children into eternal life, after having received her “first child” just alluded to, the convict Pranzini. I dutifully want to conclude this brief reflection by copying Thérèse’s own story of her “conversion.” It was a grace for you and me as well. She is the “little doctor” reassuring us that the cost of emotional maturity pays off in supernatural advancement. As a matter of fact, to remain infantile and unreasonable while aspiring to transcendent rapport with God and his Kingdom is unrealistic. It is an aspiration perhaps, but not a real desire, more of an illusion. Sure, God can do anything; nothing is impossible for him. But grace is never cheap. And God does not save us without us (Augustine). So off to the evangelical gymnasium of maturity we must go, that is, to the Beatitudes of the Sermon on the Mount. There we become genuine; we become little children of the kingdom. "Working out” there is arduous effort in humility and generosity. We will need to stretch and strain to redirect and evangelize our emotional energies and childish attachments. And as well as “bite the bullet” with strength of soul, we will have to call out to God, for our help is in the Name of the Lord. And yes, the selfish ego will give us a fight to remember! St. Thérèse, thank you for being the little warrior that you became. Your grace is our grace. Your insights are now ours. Your flight of charity to God and neighbor is now more clearly our own possibility in Christ Jesus. Bless us with your prayers as we buckle down with seriousness and reread once more your story of personal emergence. “It was December 25, 1886, that I received the grace of leaving my childhood, in a word, the grace of my complete conversion. We had come back from Midnight Mass where I had the happiness 58 01.24 1-24-2024Appendix A of receiving the strong and powerful God. Upon arriving at Les Buissonnets, I used to take my shoes from the chimney corner and examine the presents in them; this old custom had given me so much joy in our youth that Celine wanted to continue treating me as a baby since I was the youngest in the family. Papa had always loved to see my happiness and listen to my cries of delight as I drew each surprise from the magic shoes, and my dear King’s gaiety increased my own happiness very much. However, Jesus desired to show me that I was to give up the defects of my childhood and so he withdrew its innocent pleasures. He permitted Papa, tired out after the Midnight Mass, to experience annoyance when seeing my shoes at the fireplace, and that he speak those words which pierced my heart: “Well, fortunately, this will be the last year!” “I was going upstairs at the time to remove my hat, and Celine, knowing how sensitive I was and seeing the tears already glistening in my eyes, wanted to cry too, for she loved me very much and understood my grief. She said, ‘Oh, Thérèse, don’t go downstairs; it would cause you too much grief to look at your slippers right now!’ But Thérèse was no longer the same; Jesus had changed her heart! Forcing back my tears, I descended the stairs rapidly; controlling the poundings of my heart, I took my slippers and placed them in front of Papa, and withdrew all the objects joyfully. I had the happy appearance of a Queen. Having regained his own cheerfulness, Papa was laughing; Celine believed it was all a dream! Fortunately, it was a sweet reality; Thérèse had discovered once again the strength of soul which she had lost at the age of four and a half, and she was to preserve it forever!” 59 --- **Source:** Secular Order of Discalced Carmelites, *Formation II Year C: Story of a Soul (The Autobiography of St. Thérèse of Lisieux)* (US National Formation Program, 2024).