“O Holy Night,” we sing around the manger, a holy night for all the world. More than that, for God could have limited His coming with a sort of blanket appeal around the globe, century after century.

Not enough. He would come to each individual down those centuries. Accepted or not, He would be there. And that’s, in some ways, a kind of mystery greater than His coming in the first place – to be there for people who do not and never would recognize Him, not because of grace withheld, but grace rejected.

It’s one thing to worship the lovely Infant in the crib, adored by Mary, Joseph and the ignorant, but learned shepherds, awed by the angelic choir. It is another to enter into the grown Christ’s presence, and watch Him touch the lives of the littlest people, yet welcoming the searching wealthy and powerful, as well. No one is turned away.

If Jesus is the President of Bethlehem University, the saints are its faculty, trained personally by Him to be compassionate teachers to those who come thirsting for the living waters. It matters not from what time or from what nation they teach, the message is the same, lived by the Lord, to be imitated by His followers.

Of late, every now and then, Teresa of Avila has visited this site, teaching us about courage and unwavering devotion to Christ, as she traveled to establish new convents of Carmelites across Spain, to follow the reformed rule, and helped John of the Cross to do the same for the Carmelite men.

Despite the respect shown her by kings, bishops, and theologians, she was threatened by visitors from the Inquisition, and we see in her writing complaints that we find in many women writers of today, as she speaks to the Lord:

When you walked on this earth, Lord, you did not despise women;
rather you always helped them and showed great compassion toward
them. And you found as much love and more faith in them than you
did in men. ... Is it not enough, Lord, that the world has
intimidated us, so that we may not do anything worthwhile for you in public, or dare to speak some truths that we lament
over in secret, without your also failing to hear our just
petition? I do not believe, Lord, that this could be true of
goodness and justice, for you are a just judge and not like
those of the world. Since the world’s judges are sons of
Adam and all of them men, there is no virtue in women that
they do not hold suspect...when I see what the times are like,
I feel it is not right to repel spirits which are virtuous and
brave, even though they be the spirits of women.

We can’t help but wonder what straw broke Teresa’s back and drove her to speak out for women’s lib in the 16th century.

There are countless episodes in the saint’s life that give one pause, but nothing has touched and hurt me more than when, shortly before her death, she stopped at Medina del Campo, before going on to Avila, where the acting provincial, Antonio de Jesus, gave her a cool reception, and told her she was not to go to Avila, but to make a detour to Alba de Tomes, where she was to attend the election of a new prioress and support the duchess of Alba during the last days of her daughter-in-law’s confinement.

Teresa told her friends it was the most difficult task she had ever received, and she wasn’t sure her health was up to it. They begged her not to go, but she would obey, no matter the cost.

Her short stay in Median ended on a bitter note. The prioress retired to her cell without offering Teresa so much as a bowl of soup for supper. She passed the night in pain and hunger and loneliness.

The next day, with a group of nuns, she started out in a coach on a treacherous road, where there was nothing to eat. A nun recorded: “I had nothing but some dry figs, and she was suffering from a fever. I gave the servants four reals to get some eggs for her, whatever they might cost. When they saw that nothing could be had for the money, which they gave back to me, I could not look at the saint without weeping, for her face seemed half dead. ...I saw her dying and I could do nothing to help her, but she comforted me and told me not to be grieved – the figs were extremely good and there were many poor people who would have less.”

On September 20th, the coach stopped outside the Alba convent doors. Teresa was too weak even to speak with the nuns. Yet, the next morning, she insisted on rising for Mass and Holy Communion. The newly elected prioress also treated Teresa cooly, who longed to go to Avila, where she would be loved and welcomed, and cared for.

But on the 29th, she retired to what would become her death bed, where she was surrounded by loving nuns, especially Anna de San Barftolome, When Ana was asked to get something, it was noticed that Teresa became anxious, and motioned that she wanted her to return. Ana said, “ As soon as she saw me, she smiled, showed me gratitude and love, touched my hands, laid her head between my arms, and thus I held her until she died.”

The indignities to which Teresa’s body was subjected after death would never have been allowed today. Stones were piled high on her grave, lest anyone should come and steal away her body. Nine months after her death, her friend, Father Gracian, opened the tomb, and found her body to be incorrupt. The nuns undressed the body, washed it, and clothed her in a new habit. Gracian cut off an arm and took it with him to Avila as a sacred relic. Two years later, a group from Avila came to steal away her body, and, again it was seen to be incorrupt, as it would be seen in 1588 and 1594.

In 1614, she was beatified, and canonized eight years later. In 1970, she, who had gone to bed without supper or words of compassion so close to her death, was declared a Doctor of the Church. Women’s lib from the 16th century.

Teresa from Christ’s university continues to teach us that Christmas is only the beginning of our journey, as it was for Christ. May her example give us wisdom and courage and love to be faithful to the end, and may happy, grace-filled final days of Advent be yours, Good People. Amen.

(Source: Teresa of Avila by Shirley du Boulay)

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