Summary
Lacking the formal theological study that routinely was denied women in sixteenth century Spain, Saint Teresa of Ávila was an unlikely candidate to lead a thoroughgoing reform of the Carmelite order and write masterpieces of mystical literature. After twenty years of spiritual vacillation as a nun, a stunning conversion was the beginning of a journey in prayer and religious reform. The Catholic Church canonized her in 1622, and in the twentieth century she, with Catherine of Siena, was declared the first woman doctor of the Church.
Experiential rather than theological in tone and written in a style that is lively, anecdotal, and rich in imagery, the Interior Castle has appealed to countless pilgrims on the inner way. That Teresa was not trained in the Scholasticism of her day is to the reader’s benefit, for her experiences are not cast in the theological jargon that obscures many treatises written in her time.
The image of the soul as a castle came, Teresa says, in answer to prayer when, in obedience to her confessor, she sought to begin an explanation of the soul’s journey to God. She holds firm to the image throughout the work, returning to it again and again when she strays from the subject to comment on a matter that has just occurred to her.
Teresa perceives the interior journey in terms of prayer. One cannot even begin the journey unless one practices mental prayer, which requires concentrating on the meaning of words said aloud or to oneself. In affirming the necessity of mental prayer, Teresa was bold, for mental prayer was associated with the heretical alumbrados, many of whom were women. In the eyes of the Inquisition, the practice and teaching of mental prayer by a woman was sufficient grounds to call her before the church officials. Yet Teresa insisted that no true inner journey could take place without thinking about the words one said; thus she urged her nuns—for whom she wrote—to use their minds.
In the first three mansions (the purgative way), mental prayer, devotional reading, edifying conversation, and good works are means of actively purging imperfections and building virtues. Progress is discernible by the degree to which the soul is humble and charitable and the senses and faculties are quieted in prayer. In charting the soul’s journey, Teresa referred to the lower part of the soul with its five exterior senses and interior senses of imagination and fancy and the higher part with its faculties of memory, understanding, and will. In the beginning stages, the soul enjoys spiritual sweetness, which consists of the good feelings that come during devotion, prayer, reading, conversation, and doing good works. Toward the end of the third mansion, however, spiritual sweetness dries up, with the result that the soul cannot understand what is happening and fears that it is not progressing. Teresa assures us that times of aridity indicate progress in that God is speaking to the soul in ways that are too subtle to register on the senses and emotions.
The Prayer of Recollection, which Teresa treats in the third chapter of the fourth mansion, marks the transition from the purgative way of beginners to the illuminative way of proficients. The major difference in consciousness between the purgative and illuminative ways is that in the former the soul is primarily aware of striving to please God whereas in the second, the subject of mansions four and five, it is aware of being made pleasing to God. Note that Teresa treats the Prayer of Recollection out of order, placing it in the third chapter rather than the first; the...
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error is not unexpected given the fact that she wrote hurriedly and often late at night or in the midst of other business.
Recollection, like mental prayer, is a term that appears harmless, but in Teresa’s day it was fraught with polemic. Earlier in the century arguments between advocates of the prayer of recollection (recogimiento) on one hand and abandon (dejamiento) on the other caused bitter division among Christians who in general favored the interiorized Christianity that had been inspired by Erasmus. In the case of the Franciscan order the dispute turned brother against brother. Ultimately the Inquisition declared the prayer of abandon a heretical practice because its advocates abandoned themselves or surrendered themselves to God’s grace in the belief that nothing they did could bring them into divine favor. Recollection was made famous by Francisco do Osuna, who used the term for prayer in general as well as a specific manifestation of prayer. Osuna’s treatise on prayer was the first that Teresa read; thus it is not surprising to find her conversant with the term and the passive nature of prayer that it evokes. Recollection is supernatural in that, without willing it, the soul closes its eyes and feels a temple of solitude being built up about it. Teresa compares the recollected soul to a hedgehog (one of several Teresian images also found in Osuna’s text), the senses and faculties gathered together so as not to disturb it. Teresa stresses, however, that the soul cannot recollect itself at will as does the hedgehog. It is passive; recollection is a gift; loving is infused.
The remaining chapters in the fourth mansion describe a deepening recollection that is called the Prayer of Quiet. Now the soul is watered abundantly without effort on its part; it feels peace, quiet, and humility, and its faculties are absorbed and amazed at what is happening to it. Teresa cautions toward the end of the discussion that the soul not strive for the spiritual consolation of passive prayer, for God, who alone can bestow the Prayer of Quiet, knows what is best for each soul. The soul’s desire should be simply to imitate the Lord.
The Sleep of the Faculties is the term for prayer in the fifth mansion as the soul becomes so deeply recollected that God enters its center without using the door of the senses or faculties. In this mansion Teresa compares the soul to the silkworm that is transformed into a butterfly. The soul is so changed by the intense experience of being quieted in prayer that it longs to suffer and even die for God. It realizes, however, that its will is not yet conformed to God’s will, and lest it become overconfident, it is reminded to improve in charity. Teresa is commonsensical in that she knew only too well both from her own experience and from those of others the dangers of self-delusion, pride, and zealousness. Thus in mansions four and five, when the soul receives gifts of infused prayer and love, it warns repeatedly not to trust in oneself but in God and to grow in love for one’s neighbor.
The transition from the illuminative way to the unitive way is expressed in the Spiritual Betrothal that is described in the sixth mansion. This mansion is the most perilous of the inner journey. Teresa describes in startling detail the extraordinary phenomena of wounds of love, rapture, flights of the spirit, and jubilation of the soul that she herself experienced for several years. The danger is to assume that the experiences are necessary to perfection. The reader is reminded that in the matter of these phenomena Teresa’s writing is descriptive rather than prescriptive. Her friend and director, Saint John of the Cross, was adamant in his belief that relying on extraordinary phenomena hinders the soul rather than helps it.
Teresa also describes and explains understandings that come to the soul during a rapture, for example, or a flight of the spirit. She employs the categories of corporeal, imaginary, and intellectual/spiritual to define the kinds of visions and locutions that she experienced. She also provides valuable criteria for determining if the understandings are genuine, that is, if their source is God rather than the soul’s weakness or selfish expectations. If the vision occurs unexpectedly and if its effects are positive—the soul is at peace, joyous, and humble as opposed to restless and prideful—its source is God.
Teresa sounds another cautionary note in the middle chapter of the sixth mansion as she stresses the continuing need to meditate on the Sacred Humanity. Her advice originates in a debate that circulated in her day as to whether the contemplative had further need of meditation once she was graced with infused love. Teresa clearly did not agree that the gift of infused prayer or contemplation lessened the need to make active use of the mind by meditating on the life and example of Jesus Christ.
Another theme that recurs throughout the sixth mansion is suffering. Reflective of the suffering that she herself endured—when others either derided her or acclaimed her a saint because of her visions, when inept confessors misled her, physical infirmities beset her, when earthly consolations lost their appeal, or spiritual consolations dried up—Teresa sees the soul in the sixth mansion suspended between two worlds. Ultimately her advice is the same as in previous mansions: Do charitable works and trust in God.
A spiritual vision of the Trinity is Teresa’s entry into the Spiritual Marriage of the seventh mansion. Anguish, restlessness, and longing are transformed into the tranquil certitude of resting habitually in God’s presence. The previous highs of rapture and lows of aridity vanish as the active Martha and contemplative Mary live harmoniously. The mystical state is realized wherein the soul is transformed, its will brought into conformity with the will of God. Prayer, which Teresa elsewhere says is simply talking with God, has been transformed from such events as a moment of recollection or an hour of rapture into an uninterrupted conversation with her Beloved Companion.
