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Much has been written throughout the ages about the idea of abandonment in the spiritual life. Our conception of what abandonment means can be fairly well described in this quote from a book mueh read and much loved by St Thérèse of Lisieux, The Imitation of Christ: "It is My will, therefore, that you learn to have a perfect abandonment of yourself and a full resignation of yourself into My hands, without contradietion or complaining, and follow Me, for I am the Way, I am the Truth, and I am the Life."
No one would deny that a certain amount of surrender and resignation is necessary in the spiritual life. Still it seems that most of us view spiritual abandonment as something that will elicit "contradiction and complaining" on our part -- certainly nothing that can be done easily, much less happily. It might he well, then, to examine what Thérèse herself thought about abandonment. It should be noted that the French word Thérèse used, l'abandon, can convey the idea of surrender or resignation, but it can also mean something quite different.
In 1887, at the age of fourteen, the "Little Flower" was writing to
her sister Pauline about abandonment, about being the "little ball" of
Jesus, willing to "roll
where he wills" (Letter 34). Between May 29, 1887, and January 1, 1888,
a little over seven months, Thérèse was engaging in her battle
to enter the Lisieux Carmel: when she encountered opposition from the ecclesiastical
superior, she went to the bishop; when the bishop
hesitated, she appealed directly to the Pope; when the Pope failed
to come to her aid, she again turned to the bishop. bier idea of abandonment
clearly could not have been one of surrendering at the first obstacle and
deciding that her goal was not "God's will."
Attitude of assurance and trust
What then did Thérèse mean by abandonment? In 1896,
in a letter to Céline, and in Story of a Soul (Manuscript B), she
praised "the abandonment of the little child who sleeps in his Father's
arms," perhaps better translated as "the abandon of the little child" (Letter
LT 196; text from General Correspondence, Volume II [Institute of Carmelite
Studies, 1988]. Rather than being
a sign of resignation or surrender, abandon is more an attitude of
assurance and trust.
In fact, it seems that Thérèse may have been playing
with us a little here. If she wrote of the abandonment of a child, she
had to turn upside-down our notions of what that abandonment means. It
cannot mean something that must be surrendered or given up: a little
child has nothing to give up. Everything a child has, is given by the father
and really belongs to the
father.
The abandon that Thérèse meant when she pointed to the little child is that of a child secure in the protection of a father who loves it. This assurance is liable to make a child brave, bold-like some fearless toddlers we have all known who go charging into parts unknown with parents howling in their wakes and trying to catch hold of flying shirt tails.
In fact, it is this kind of image that Thérèse
conveyed in a letter written just two months before her death to her spiritual
brother, Père Maurice Barthélemy-Bellière Trying to
describe the attitude that she wanted him to have toward God, she decided
to tell him a story: "1 picture a father who has two children, mischievous
and disobedient, and when he comes to punish
them, he sees one of them who trembles and gets away from him in terror,
having, however, in the bottom of his heart the feeling that he deserves
to he punished; and his brother, on the contrary, throws himself into his
father's arms, saying that he is sorry for having caused him any trouble,
that he loves him, and to prove it he will be good from now on, and if
this child asks his father to punish him with a kiss, I do not believe
that the heart of the happy father could resist the filial confidence of
his child, whose sincerity and love he knows. He realizes, however, that
more than once his son will fall into the same faults, but he is prepared
to
pardon him always, if his son always takes him by his heart ... I say
nothing to you about the first child, dear little Brother, you must know
whether his father can love him as much and treat him with the same indulgence
as the other (Letter LT 258).
So abandonment is not so much a matter of something negative,
hut a positive impulse that arises out of confidence in the love of God.
In fact, Thérèse told her spiritual brother that when she
got to heaven, she would teach him "how you must sail the stormy sea of
the world with the ahandon [[text has `abandonment'] and the love of
a child who knows his Father loves him" (ibid). That love of God is, in
fact, extravagant, or à la folie, as Thérèse
liked to put it. How much good this should do for us in an age when the
word `abandonment' is likely to have connotations of parental neglect and
indifference.
It seems that Père Maurice, like most of us, was a bit
slow to catch on to his lessons from Thérèse, who had become
somewhat of a spiritual advisor for him. In his next letter to Thérèse
he wrote: "You are happy, dear Sister, to see me enter into Love by means
of confidence. I believe, with you, that this is the only way that can
lead me to the Port. In my relationship with men, I have done nothing through
fear. I have never been able to submit to violenee, the punishments of
my professors left me cold, while reproaches given with affection and gentleness
drew tears from me, brought out apologies and promises that I usually kept.
It is almost
the same with God. If I was shown an angered God, His hand always armed
to strike, I became discouraged, I did nothing. But if I see Jesus waiting
patiently my return to Him, granting me a new grace after I have asked
pardon for a new sin, I am conquered, and I climb again into the saddle.
Now, what holds me back at times is not Jesus but myself. I am ashamed
of
myself, and, instead of throwing myself into the arms of this Friend,
I hardly dare drag myself to His feet. Often a first inspiration
draws me into His arms, but I stop suddenly at the sight of my wretchedness,
and I do not dare. Am I wrong? Tell me, little Sister. 1 believe the divine
Heart is much more saddened by the thousand little acts of cowardice, indelicacies,
that His
friends commit than by the grave sins that stem from our nature" (Letter
LC 191).
Indiscretions of friends
When Thérèse replied to Père Maurice, something interesting occurred. She wrote him: "I am in total agreement with your opinion: `The divine Heart is more saddened by the thousand little indelicacies of His fricnds than by even the grave sins that persons of the world commit' (Letter LT 261). Had Thérèse misunderstood what Père Maurice had meant? Probably not. It's more likely she was applying the same techniques of persuasion with her spiritual brother that she used with her novices.
In Story of a Soul (Ms C) Thérèse described
her mission of caring for the novices: "I told you, dear Mother, that in
instructing the others I had learned a great deal. I saw first of
all that all souls have pretty much the same battles, hut that souls are
so different on the other
hand that I had little difficulty understanding what Père Piehon
used to say: `There are more differences between souls than there are between
faces.' Thus it is impossible to act with all in the same way.
She apparently applied the same wisdom with her spiritual brother.
Père Maurice, as she did with the novices: "I feel I must make myself
little, not fearing to humble myself." With him she took the role of a
"little sister." but a little sister who in actuality possessed a
great deal of insight into him and who had definite ideas about what
God wanted of him.
Knowing full well that Père Maurice was too good a "friend" of Jesus, too eager to have an intimate relationship with Christ, and probably too scrupulous to commit grave offenses, Thérèse ignored what he actually said and "agreed" with what she wanted him to understand, that the friends of Jesus love him too much to commit anything more than "indiscretions."
Thérèse always made a clear distinction between
those who belonged to Christ and those in "the world." There is no mistaking
that she was drawing a line between the two. For her, "graver offenses"
belonged to those of the world, not those who were truly intimates of Jesus.
In fact, as she wrote to Père Maurice about those indiscretions,
she went on to turn them to advantage, saying: "... but, dear little Brother,
it seems to me that it is only when His own, unaware of their continual
indelicacies, make a habit of them and do not ask His pardon, that Jesus
can say these touching words which are placed for us in His mouth by the
Church during Holy Week: 'These wounds you see in my hands are the ones
I received in the house of those who loved me!' Regarding those who love
Him and who come after each indelicacy to ask His pardon by throwing themselves
into His arms, Jesus is thrilled with joy. He says to His angels what the
father of the prodigal son said to his servants: 'Clothe him in his best
robe, and place a ring on his finger, and let us rejoice.' Ah! how little
known are the goodness, the merciful love of Jesus, Brother "(Letter LT
261).
Echoing her image of the little child who asks to be "punished
with a kiss," Thérèse encouraged her spiritual brother to
throw himself into the arms of Jesus with the same confident love and freedom.
Thérèse idea of abandon. then, is related to themes of
liberation and freedom. Like the charging
toddler mentioned earlier, the assurance of the extravagant love of
God should give us a carefree abandon, a security that liberates us to
live life unshackled by fear or cowardice. That liberation should give
rise to the courage to move out and take action rather than letting
life act on us. And isn't that just what Thérèse did
at the age of fourteen, when she refused to take no for an answer again
and again, when she wanted to enter the Lisicux Carmel?
For Thérèse then abandonment meant an ability to
continue pursuing her desire to enter the Lisieux Carmel despite the obstacles
put in her path. This is a very active form of
abandonment -- a real abandon that is liberating. This abandon is one
of the key elements of
her spirituality. It is meant to liberate everyone -- to provide the
confidence to cope with the multitude of littie obstacles and problems
that arc a part of everyone's day-to-day life.
Foundation is love
There is another aspect to Thérèse's idea of abandon. At the foundation of that abandon is love: God's love for us, à la folie, but also our love in response. In Story of a Soul (Ms B), Thérèse wrote that God "has no need of our works. hut only of our love...." We are meant to have confidence in that love of God our Father who cherishes us, and as a result we can be free to live without care and worry. But more than that, we should be free to love God in return.
In 1896, Thérèse's designed a coat of arms with the motto "Love is repaid by love alone" from the commentary on the Spiritual Canticle of St John of the Cross. The explanation that John gave for this statement is that the "soul, then, enkindled with love of God, yearns for the fulfillment and perfection of love in order to have therein complete refreshment" (The Collected Works o[ St. John o[ the Cross [ICS, 1979], p. 445).
But Thérèse, ever the innovator, had a different idea about our love and God's love. We should love Jesus not just because he deserves our love, but because he yearns for it. She wrote to Père Maurice: "Regarding those who love Him and who come after each indelicacy to ask His pardon by throwing themselves into His arms, Jesus is thrilled with joy" (Letter LT 261).
In fact, Thérèse often ascribed such emotions to Christ. In 1896 she wrote a poem titled "The Song of Sister Marie of the Trinity and of the Holy Face" for her beloved but very difficult novice. In one stanza addressed to Christ, Thérèsewrote:
You the Great God whom all heaven adores
You live in me, Prisoner night and day
Your sweet voice at every hour begs me
Repeating to me: "I thirst... I thirst for Love!. . .
(PN 31).
In July of 1893 Thérèse wrote to Céline:
"Oh, Céline, how easy it is to please Jesus, to delight His Heart,
one only has to love Him..." (Letter LT 142). The next month she wrote
that it is Jesus "who wants our love, who begs for it .... He places Himself,
so to speak, at our mercy, He does not want to take anything unless we
give it to Him, and the smallest thing is precious in His divine eyes (Letter
LT 145).
To some eyes, Thérèse's spirituality seems deceptively
simple. With her images of toys and flowers, there is a tendency to view
her ideas as superficial and out of touch with the realities of life. But
make no mistake, our "Little Flower" is a taskmaster. If her "Little Way"
is for everyone, it is because she intended to let no one off the hook.
And in no area is this more clear than in her attitude about abandontment.
Everyone is called to love God without reserve or fear, because He loves us with no reserve. She believed that it is within the realm of everyone to love God first and with abandon and confidence, as a child loves an adoring father. Just as a child naturally returns love to a loving parent, for those committed to God it should be as natural to respond with love to the supreme Love. In Thérèse's view, our love is the only, and yet the most important, thing we can offer in return for God's love. Everything else, including our life, comes from him. He has given us the freedom to return love for Love, and longs for our response.
