Sometimes everyday life may involve not just routine discomfort and distress, but physical or mental disaster. In Thérèse's case, her father developed a mental illness after she entered the convent. After having sent four daughters, including his favorite one, to the convent, it is no wonder he suffered a mental breakdown. Thérèse's sister Celine was at home taking care of him and he could come to the convent only rarely. It was an excruciating trial for Thérèse because she felt so close to him. She writes in her letters to Celine that together they are making giant steps in the love of God by accepting the situation, living with it, and praising God for the mysterious work he is doing.

We can be sure that even mental illness is part of God's plan. God may be using that illness for a person's sanctification, perhaps much more than we realize. Some people who suffer mental difficulties may be closer to God than others, because of the intensity of their pain. If you have ever known anybody who suffered from serious mental illness or schizophrenia, you will understand what I am talking about. One feels utterly powerless in the face of poignant human tragedies. And yet we are asked to believe that the Kingdom of God is right there in the midst of them.

God is present in physical illness as well. The Kingdom is especially active when someone has a physical disability. It is also very active, as Jesus suggests, in the marginalized people of a particular society God's identification with the outcasts of society is exemplified by the occasions when Jesus sat down to eat with public sinners.

In the Palestinian culture of the time, to eat with someone was to identify with his or her state of life or condition. To the horror of his disciples and certainly of the Pharisees, Jesus ate with sinners in public. Indeed, it would seem from the Gospels, that he ate with them more often than he did with "respectable" people.

While not approving of their behavior, Jesus was identifying with the emotional wounds they were suffering from the consequences of their sins or the compulsive drives within them. In this parable Jesus asks the question: "Who are you to judge anyone?" Certainly, we are not judges, because, to be qualified; a judge needs to have all the facts and to be appointed by some authority. We do not have all the facts and nobody has appointed us to judge anyone.

Thérèse worked very hard to practice the wisdom sayings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. She started by reaching out to others in little things because she saw God in them. Thérèse was always thinking of other people and doing little favors for them, though in a way that did not become annoying. As she put it, "But one thing is necessary--to work solely for God and to do nothing for self or for creatures."

When she was a novice, she served an aging sister who had to have help coming to choir from the infirmary. The older sister was a very grumpy old lady and nothing Thérèse did could please her. She would say: "Watch out you don't drop me! You're just a child; be careful!" No matter what Thérèse did, nothing could satisfy the old Sister. As Thérèse puts it in her autobiography, Story of a Soul:

I prayed earnestly for this Sister who had caused me so much struggle.... I tried to do everything I possibly could for her, and when tempted to answer her sharply, I hastened to give her a friendly smile and talk about something else.

Thérèse put up with her complaints day after day. After a year of leading the old nun to vespers every day and of being berated at almost every step, Thérèse heard these words from the old nun: "Whenever we meet, you give me such a gracious smile. What is it that you find so attractive in me?" Thérèse does not record what she said in response, but she does write about what she felt: "What attracted me? It was Jesus hidden in the depths of her soul, Jesus who makes attractive even what is most bitter."

At other times, far from reaching out to people, Thérèse withdrew, because, she knew that it if she reached out, she might have punched the other person in the nose! When we are annoyed with someone and want to say a harsh word to put them in their place, or share with them a bit of gossip that would hurt them, true reaching out might mean beating a hasty retreat! One time, Thérèse felt her emotions building up and she felt that she would say something that would hurt someone and that if she stayed another moment the words would come out. Claiming that she had something very important to do in the sacristy, she literally ran away and sat down on the stairs in the sacristy with her heart beating like mad:

I simply longed to defend myself, but happily I had a bright idea. I knew I would certainly lose my peace of mind if I tried to justify myself. I knew too that I was not virtuous enough to remain silent in the face of this accusation. There was only one way out--I must run away. No sooner thought than done; I fled!...but my heart was beating so violently that I could not go very far, and I sat down on the stairs to enjoy quietly the fruits of my victory.

In her autobiography, Thérèse adds that this modest triumph over her emotional compulsions was "a strange kind of bravery, but it was better than exposing myself to certain defeat!"

Sometimes our best way of dealing with emotions when they are out of hand is to beat a hasty retreat. This is not to give up the war. It is just a strategic move to re-gather our forces and to come back to the job of self-denial when we are in a better disposition. Notice the carefulness and the resoluteness with which Thérèse pursued all the manifestations of the false self within her, doing what she could to resist them.

To reach out against her natural inclination in order to help someone is what Thérèse meant by her Little Way She described it as "capturing Jesus by caresses." She made progress in dismantling the false self not by experiencing great spiritual consolations, but by the daily practice of letting go of selfish inclinations, or rather by welcoming them, because they showed her the depths of her own weakness and feebleness. That is why she could say: "Even if I had on my conscience every conceivable crime, I would lose nothing of my confidence." Why? Because she had firm faith that Jesus in his passion and death had taken every consequence of sin upon himself, and then rose from the dead, taking with him all who have accepted his invitation to follow him. To repeat Thérèse's conviction:

Even if I had on my conscience every conceivable sin, I would lose nothing of my confidence. My heart overflowing with love, I would throw myself into the arms of the Father, and I am certain that I would be warmly received.

This is one of the greatest insights of all time into the nature of God and of our relationship with him.

The truth is, as Thérèse affirmed, that God is all-powerful and all-merciful. Therefore, "we can never have too much confidence in him." On the contrary, our audacity in trusting God rather than our hesitations due to false humility is the path to divine union. Our interior misgivings make that leap of trust difficult unless we keep working at the Little Way. If we do, we begin to notice that our attitudes toward events and people are changing. We no longer project our human expectations on God or harbor preconceived ideas about how God should proceed.

You can be sure that whatever you think is the way to go to God, it is not. Even if you believe you are correct and can find spiritual authors to support you, just because you think you are on the right road, God will find another road that is just as good, so you won't cling to the self-satisfying certitude that you are right. Our preconceptions, biases, and false value systems are significant hindrances. In Thérèse's view, openness to God coming to us in daily life through events and people is a most important disposition to cultivate.

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Excerpted from St. Thérèse of Lisieux by Fr. Thomas Keating

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