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Saint Teresa of Ávila / Las Moradas

Seventh Dwelling.
Chapter 2.

About this chapter

Teresa describes spiritual marriage as a union with God that sustains peace at the soul’s centre, even amid suffering and daily concerns. This closeness does not mean the soul cannot fall: it calls the soul to care for its relationship with God, acknowledge what it has received, and desire to serve Him more wholeheartedly.

Editorial summary from the website; it is not part of Saint Teresa’s text.
YouTube · Seventh Dwelling · Chapter 2Open on YouTube ↗

Adapted: an editorial English translation of the website’s Spanish adaptation. Original: Saint Teresa’s Spanish text (1577), preserved without translation.

Adapted text

Seventh Dwelling

Chapter 2 | Adapted text

Let us now turn to the divine and spiritual marriage, although this great favour may not reach its fullness while we live, for if we were to turn away from God, we would lose this very great good.

The first time God grants this favour, His Majesty wishes to reveal His most holy Humanity to the soul through an imaginative vision, so that it understands clearly and knows that it is receiving so great a gift.

He may reveal Himself differently to other people. To the person we are speaking of, the Lord appeared just after she had received Communion, with great radiance, beauty and majesty, as after His resurrection. He told her that it was time for her to take His concerns as her own, and that He would care for hers, and spoke other words that are more to be felt than expressed.

It may seem that this was nothing new, since the Lord had revealed Himself to this soul in this way before. But this vision was so different that it left her deeply bewildered and astonished. First, because of the great power of the vision; second, because of the words He spoke to her; and also because, in the interior of her soul, where He appeared to her, she had had no other visions except the preceding one.

Understand that there is an immense difference between all the earlier visions and those of this dwelling. And the difference between spiritual betrothal and spiritual marriage is as great as that between two people engaged to be married and those who can no longer be separated.

I have already said that we use these comparisons because there are no more suitable ones. But understand that here the soul takes no thought of the body, as though it were not within it, for everything is spirit. And in spiritual marriage this is even more so, because this secret union takes place in the soul’s innermost centre, which must be where God Himself dwells. And, it seems to me, He needs no door through which to enter.

I say that no door is needed because, in everything described up to this point, it seems that all takes place through the senses and the soul’s faculties. And this appearance of the Lord’s Humanity must have been like that too. But what happens in the union of spiritual marriage is very different: the Lord appears in this centre of the soul through a vision that is not imaginative but intellectual, though more subtle than the earlier ones. In this way He appeared to the Apostles without entering through the door, when He said to them: ‘Peace be with you.’

So great is the secret and so exalted the favour that God communicates to the soul there in an instant, and so immense is the delight it feels, that I do not know what to compare it with. I can only say that at that moment the Lord wishes to reveal to it the glory of heaven in a way more sublime than through any vision or spiritual delight.

All that can be said is that, as far as one can understand, the soul, or rather the spirit of this soul, becomes one with God. Since God is also spirit, His Majesty has wished to show the love He has for us, allowing some people to understand how far that love reaches, so that we may praise His greatness. For He has wished to unite Himself so closely with His creature that, like those who can no longer be separated, He does not wish to be separated from it.

Spiritual betrothal is different, because the soul and God are often separated. Union is also different, because, although uniting means bringing two things together as one, in the end they can be separated and each remain on its own. As we commonly see, this favour of the Lord passes quickly, and afterwards the soul is left without that companionship, or rather, without perceiving it.

This does not happen with this other favour of the Lord, because the soul always remains with its God in that centre.

Let us say that union is as though two wax candles were brought so close together that all their light became one, or that the wick, the light and the wax became a single thing. But afterwards one candle can be separated from the other and they remain two separate candles, or the wick can be separated from the wax.

Here it is like rain falling from heaven into a river or a spring: the water mingles so completely that we can no longer distinguish or separate the river’s water from what fell from heaven. Or like a small stream flowing into the sea, with no way to separate their waters. Or as though a room had two windows through which a great deal of light entered: although it enters separately, it becomes a single light.

Perhaps this is what Saint Paul means when he says: ‘Whoever draws near and unites with God becomes one spirit with Him,’ speaking of this sublime marriage, which presupposes that His Majesty has already united Himself with the soul.

And he also says: ‘For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.’ It seems to me that the soul can say the same here, for this is where the butterfly we have spoken of dies, and with the greatest joy, because its life is now Christ.

This is understood better over time, through its effects. Through secret inspirations, one clearly understands that it is God who gives life to our soul. They are often so vivid that there can be no doubt, because the soul feels them with complete clarity, even though it cannot express them. But this feeling is so intense that it sometimes brings forth words full of love, which seem impossible to keep from saying: ‘O life of my life and sustenance that sustains me!’ and other such things.

For from those divine breasts, where God seems always to be nourishing the soul, flow streams of milk that strengthen all the inhabitants of the castle. It seems that the Lord wishes them to share in some way in the soul’s great joy. And that from that mighty river, into which this little spring was absorbed, streams of water should flow from time to time to sustain those who must serve these two spouses in bodily matters.

And just as a distracted person could not fail to feel the water if suddenly drenched with it, so, and with even greater certainty, these workings I speak of are perceived.

For just as a great stream of water could not reach us without having a source, as I have said, so one clearly understands that there is someone within who sends forth these arrows and gives life to this life. And that there is a sun from which a great light comes, reaching the soul’s faculties from its interior.

The soul, as I have said, does not move from that centre or lose its peace, because the same One who gave peace to the Apostles when they were gathered together can give it to the soul.

I have remembered that this greeting of the Lord must have meant much more than it seems when we hear it, as must His words to the glorious Magdalene, telling her to go in peace. For the Lord’s words accomplish in us what they say. They must have worked in those souls, which were already prepared, in such a way as to set aside everything bodily and leave them in pure spirit, so that they could unite, in this heavenly union, with the uncreated Spirit. For it is very certain that, when we empty the soul of everything created and detach ourselves from it for love of God, the Lord Himself will fill it with Himself.

And so, once, while Jesus Christ our Lord was praying for His Apostles, I do not know where it is written, He said that they should be one with the Father and with Him, just as Jesus Christ our Lord is in the Father and the Father in Him.

I do not know what love could be greater than this! And we are all included here, for His Majesty said: ‘I pray not only for them, but also for all who are to believe in me.’ And He says: ‘I am in them.’

O God help me, what true words these are! And how well the soul understands them, seeing them for itself in this prayer! And how well we would all understand them if it were not for our own fault, for the words of Jesus Christ, our King and Lord, cannot fail to be fulfilled! But we fail to prepare ourselves and to turn away from everything that could obstruct this light. That is why we do not see ourselves in this mirror we contemplate, where our image is engraved.

Returning, then, to what we were saying, when the Lord brings the soul into this dwelling of His, which is the centre of the soul itself, it seems that the movements that usually occur in its faculties and imagination no longer harm it or take away its peace. It is like what they say of the highest heaven, where our Lord dwells: that it does not move as the other heavens do.

It seems as though I mean that, when God grants the soul this favour, its salvation is assured and it can never fall again.

I say no such thing. And whenever I speak in a way that seems to suggest the soul is secure, understand that this security lasts while the divine Majesty holds it by the hand in this way and it does not offend Him.

At least I know for certain that, although the soul finds itself in this state and has remained in it for years, it does not consider itself secure. On the contrary, it is much more fearful than before, taking care to avoid the slightest offence against God. It has an immense desire to serve Him, as will be said later, and lives with the pain and shame of seeing how little it can do and how much it owes.

This is no small cross, but a very great penance, because the greater the penance this soul undertakes, the greater the delight it feels.

The true penance comes when God takes away the health and strength needed to perform it. Although elsewhere I have spoken of the great pain this causes, here it is much greater. And all this must come from the root in which the soul is planted. Just as the tree beside running waters is fresher and bears more fruit, why be astonished at this soul’s desires, if its true spirit has become one with the heavenly water we have spoken of?

Returning, then, to what I was saying, do not think that the faculties, senses and passions are always in this peace. The soul is, but in these other dwellings there are still times of war, suffering and weariness. Yet these difficulties do not cause the soul to lose its peace or move from its place. This is what usually happens.

This centre of our soul, or this spirit, is so difficult to explain and even to believe that I think, sisters, my difficulty in making myself understood might tempt you not to believe what I say. For it is hard to understand how there can be suffering and pain while the soul is at peace at the same time.

I want to give you a comparison or two. May God grant that they help to explain something. But if they do not, I know that what I have said is true.

The King is in his palace, and there are many wars in his kingdom and many distressing things, but he does not abandon his place because of them. The same happens here: although there is much commotion and there are poisonous beasts in these other dwellings, and the noise can be heard, no one enters that dwelling to make the soul leave it. The things it hears, though they cause it some pain, do not disturb it or take away its peace, because the passions have already been overcome. They are even afraid to enter there, because they come out more subdued.

Our whole body aches, but if the head is healthy, it will not ache simply because the body does.

I am laughing at these comparisons, which do not satisfy me, but I cannot think of any others. Think what you will; what I have said is true.