Avila
A poem for Teresa of Avila and all the fiery women in the church
My husband and I on the walls of Avila, Spain.
I always fit - on the outside. I could smile, nod, play along. The act felt like the price of acceptance, The mask a necessary shield. But a fire kindled slowly, A spirit born of questions. For when the Bible is used to keep you in line, the ones brandishing the book should be cast into suspicion. And when I walked away from youth group, Tears of frustration lining my eyes, Hands shaking with rage at the jokes made from the pulpit, Swearing I’d never return if that was how they talked about those with disabilities, I felt her with me. I didn’t know her yet, But a steady presence stood beside me. A hand placed on my shoulder, A voice that whispered “push back, don’t settle, the church can be better than this.” When I sat still as a statue, Listening to the angry pastor decry all medication for mental health as sinful, His voice as harsh as jagged rocks, His word as good as law in that church. Her wisdom soothed me, Assured me that one man’s opinion, Need not shake my faith nor health, That my convictions held weight too. I did not know her yet, But I felt the strength of centuries of women, Standing strong behind me, Shaking their heads, clenching their fists, gently opposing the patriarchal status quo. I met her while researching “joyful saints,” An epitaph that would surely make her laugh, A laugh I imagine as musical and deep, The kind that shakes the whole body. I drank in her story, her charisma, her trials, her strength, The tales of her reform of the church, The dangerous line she walked, The interior castle and inner strength she discovered. I laughed at her honesty, mirroring my own sassier moments of faith, Her prayer of “if this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few!” She loved the church, Enough to want it to be better. She trusted herself, Enough to push back when told to stand down. So when I wrestle with aspects of the church, When the patriarchal shushing and posturing still grates on me, I look back to Teresa. I close my eyes and remember that I always felt her with me, Standing alongside me - strong and resolute. Hand on my shoulder - gentle and comforting. Reminding me of the beautiful mystery of my faith, Of the gifts of insight and wisdom God grants each of us, Of the interior castle in which we find Him. She coaxes me to seek reform, To improve that which I love. To serve God with a fierce passion, To fuel the fire kindled by a spirit of wanting more for my church.
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Teresa of Avila is dear to my heart for many reasons, one of them being that she is who I chose as my confirmation saint when I came into the Catholic Church as a senior in college. My husband, Jack, and I were fortunate to visit her hometown of Avila, Spain on my 25th birthday and we wandered the walls and small town learning more about her incredible legacy of mysticism, faith, and reform. Additionally, with the Synod on Synodality going on in Rome, Teresa’s example of fierce love for and reform of the Church feels particularly pertinent this year.
If you’d like to learn more about her I recommend reading this article online for a taste of what we love about her. Another great resource is her written work (found here), the most famous of which is The Interior Castle. There are so many wonderful resources, this list could go on and on. I’ll conclude with two final books: The Modern Saints compiled by Gracie Morbitzer has a phenomenal reflection on Teresa of Avila written by my friend Madison Chastain. And Shannon Evans dedicated two beautiful chapters of her newest book The Mystics Would Like a Word to Teresa of Avila.