St. Teresa of Avila's Dove Metaphor, Part 6: Images of Spiritual Growth

In Part 5 of this series of posts, I mentioned that St. Teresa of Avila's nestling metaphor and her silkworm/cocoon/butterfly metaphor are related metaphors of growth.  This post adds three more such metaphors and writes about what each of them tells us about spiritual growth.  Each image tells us something different about the spiritual journey.  Some are better at telling us about ourselves, and others are better at telling us about God.

The three new ones are: (1) St. John of the Cross's metaphor of the vessel filled from the spring of the Divinity; (2) St. Teresa's metaphor of the sponge soaking up the Trinity; and (3) St. Teresa's and St. John of the Cross's metaphor of the bride in the wine cellar.

I recommend the ICS Publications translations of the writings of St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross, including those quoted here.  I quote from older translations that are in the public domain, when I can find them, to avoid the need to ask busy friars for permission to use copyright protected materials in these lengthy posts.

The Growth of a Baby Bird and Spiritual Growth

The growth of a baby bird learning to fly is one of the metaphors used in Interior Castle to describe the process of a soul's growth in the spiritual life.  It is an image of transformation through the experience of God.  The baby bird's muscles grow through its own efforts and through the body's natural growth processes as it moves its wings, tries to fly and fails, and tries again.  It learns from watching more mature birds.  Eventually, through no effort of its own, its feathers and wing size are sufficient to support flight, and through its patient and determined efforts, its strength and knowledge are sufficient too.

The illustration of the fledgling is an excellent illustration of our own role in the growth process, but it is not a very good illustration of God's role.  We can imagine the Holy Spirit's presence as the wind carries the mature bird in flight, but flight does not provide a very good illustration of God's role in growth.  Other metaphors are better at that.

A Silkworm's Metamorphosis and Spiritual Growth

In the Fifth Mansion, St. Teresa switches her metaphor for a while to that of a silkworm and butterfly.  She describes the silkworm and its symbolism at Mansion V:2:

"You have heard how wonderfully silk is made—in a way such as God alone could plan—how it all comes from an egg resembling a tiny pepper-corn. Not having seen it myself, I only know of it by hearsay, so if the facts are inaccurate the fault will not be mine. When, in the warm weather, the mulberry trees come into leaf, the little egg which was lifeless before its food was ready, begins to live. The caterpillar nourishes itself upon the mulberry leaves until, when it has grown large, people place near it small twigs upon which, of its own accord, it spins silk from its tiny mouth until it has made a narrow little cocoon in which it buries itself. Then this large and ugly worm leaves the cocoon as a lovely little white butterfly. . . .

"The silkworm symbolizes the soul which begins to live when, kindled by the Holy Spirit, it commences using the ordinary aids given by God to all, and applies the remedies left by Him in His Church, such as regular confession, religious books, and sermons; these are the cure for a soul dead in its negligence and sins and liable to fall into temptation. Then it comes to life and continues nourishing itself on this food and on devout meditation until it has attained full vigour, which is the essential point, for I attach no importance to the rest. When the silkworm is full-grown as I told you in the first part of this chapter, it begins to spin silk and to build the house wherein it must die. By this house, when speaking of the soul, I mean Christ."

Before its metamorphosis, she explains, the silkworm must first grow to maturity.  Only when it is full-grown does it begin to spin its cocoon.  The transformation into a butterfly does not ordinarily happen until after the silkworm has matured.  Only in the Fifth Mansion does she speak of that.

At the beginning of the Fifth Mansion, she looks back on the growth process through the first four Mansions of Interior Castle, and says:

"[The soul] commences using the ordinary aids given by God to all, and applies the remedies left by Him in His Church, such as regular confession, religious books, and sermons; these are the cure for a soul dead in its negligence and sins and liable to fall into temptation. Then it comes to life and continues nourishing itself on this food and on devout meditation until it has attained full vigour. . . ."

Through that nourishment, the soul grows to full strength.  The silkworm's growth through nourishment illustrates the slow process of preparation for the spiritual metamorphosis.   While the silkworm can nourish itself and build its cocoon, preparing for that death to self that leads to metamorphosis, it is changed into a butterfly through an initiative other than its own.

We cannot come to God without an awareness of who He is and an awareness of our own sinfulness in His presence, and thus penance and sacrifice.  That is much of what St. Teresa meant by self-knowledge.

Butterfly imagery naturally makes people want to be a butterfly and not a silkworm, and thus gives meaning to the suffering and dryness of the cocoon.  The object of the imagery is to reassure us that in the process of death to self is a pathway of drawing closer to God that will end in a personal transformation that is pleasing to Him.

The Vessel Drawing Water from a Spring and Spiritual Growth

At the end of Chapter 2 of Père Marie-Eugene de l'Enfant Jesus' classic book on Interior Castle, I Want to See God, he wrote, "From the ocean of the divinity, says Saint John of the Cross, each one draws out with the vase that he brings to it.  It is the degree of unitive charity that determines the capacity of that vase, and hence the power for vision and the measure of beatific joy." 

St. John of the Cross's vase metaphor is from The Ascent of Mount Carmel, Book II, Chapter XXI, where John wrote about God's displeasure with the prayers of people who seek to know things by supernatural methods, and why God nonetheless sometimes answers such prayers founded upon the weakness of the soul that asks, sometimes also granting to them favors and consolations.  His language is only a little bit different from that used by P. Marie-Eugene:

"In a like manner, too, does He treat many weak and tender souls, granting them favours and sweetness in sensible converse with Himself, as has been said above; this is not because He desires or is pleased that they should commune with Him after that manner or by these methods; it is that He gives to each one, as we have said, after the manner best suited to him. For God is like a spring, whence everyone draws water according to the vessel which he carries. Sometimes a soul is allowed to draw it by these extraordinary channels; but it follows not from this that it is lawful to draw water by them, but only that God Himself can permit this, when, how and to whom He wills, and for what reason He wills, without the party concerned having any right in the matter. And thus, as we say, He sometimes deigns to satisfy the desire and the prayer of certain souls, whom, since they are good and sincere, He wills not to fail to succour, lest He should make them sad, but it is not because He is pleased with their methods that He wills it."

St. John of the Cross sees the soul as a vessel drawing water from the spring of the Divinity.  We might think of II Cor. 4:7, in which St. Paul says, "But we hold this treasure in earthen vessels, that the surpassing power may be of God and not from us."  The illustration of a spring, or of the ocean, tells us much about God's infinite presence.  God is unlimited.  It tells us much about the soul's ability to be filled with God in contemplation, the only limit being the limit of our own capacity.

When I first noticed P. Marie-Eugene's use of the metaphor of the vase in the ocean of the Divinity, at such an early point in his book as Chapter 2, I wondered why he used that metaphor from St. John of the Cross instead of one of St. Teresa's metaphors for growth.  There is no clear answer to that question, since P. Marie-Eugene does not tell us why he did so.  St. Teresa's metaphors for growth, such as the fledgling and the silkworm, seem to me to be better descriptions of the process of the soul's journey toward the higher stages of prayer.  After giving several months of thought to the matter, I think that P. Marie-Eugene might have chosen that metaphor for its better description of the soul's potential for drawing from God's infinite depths, but I am somewhat guessing at that point.

Our capacity for God can grow as we grow in love for God.  The image is a bit limited in that a vase or vessel cannot grow.  In that respect the illustration does not tell us much about the soul's ability to increase its capacity.  We know from St. John of the Cross's context that the soul can grow stronger.

However, his illustration is excellent in telling us about God's role in our growth.  The "spring" of the Divinity provides a better illustration of the infinite Deity we access in prayer, through the limited vessels of our individual souls.

This metaphor also illustrates how God deals with each soul individually, according to its capacity.  God sometimes gives extraordinary experiences to people who are weak and whose request for such experiences does not please God.  In asking for such things, he says, "although such a person may be assuming the faith, and believing it, nevertheless he is showing a curiosity which belongs to faithlessness." (Ascent Book II, Ch. XXII).  St. John says, "For it is tempting God to seek to commune with Him by extraordinary ways, such as those that are supernatural." (Ascent Book II, Ch. XXI).  But God sometimes grants such experiences to the weak because "He wills not to fail to succour, lest He should make them sad."

While supernatural experiences may be granted to the weak, St. John of the Cross encourages growth through the ordinary means of the Gospel of Christ, Church teaching, and guidance by the clergy in Ascent Book II, Chapter XXII:

"And so we must now be guided in all things by the law of Christ made man, and by that of His Church, and of His ministers, in a human and a visible manner, and by these means we must remedy our spiritual weaknesses and ignorances, since in these means we shall find abundant medicine for them all."

St. John of the Cross's counsel, in the ascent toward union with God, is the same as the means of growth that St. Teresa describes in Interior Castle: It is through the ordinary methods like the Sacraments, Church teaching, the homilies of good priests, meditation, and prayer.  "Wherefore, in all our needs, trials and difficulties, there remains to us no better and surer means than prayer and hope that God will provide for us, by such means as He wills. This is the advice given to us in the Scriptures. . . ." (Ascent, Book II, Chapter XXI).

The Sponge in Water and Spiritual Growth

Teresa's references to a sponge appear in Relations  III, Para 9, and in Relations IX, Para 10.

In Relations III, Para 9, she wrote:

"I retain to this day, which is the Commemoration of St. Paul, the presence of the Three Persons of which I spoke in the beginning; they are present almost continually in my soul.  I, being accustomed to the presence of Jesus Christ only, always thought that the vision of the Three Persons was in some degree a hindrance, though I know the Three Persons are but One God.  To-day, while thinking of this, our Lord said to me 'that I was wrong in imagining that those things which are peculiar to the soul can be represented by those of the body; I was to understand that they were very different, and that the soul had a capacity for great fruition.' It seemed to me as if this were shown to me thus: as water penetrates and is drunk in by the sponge, so, it seemed to me, did the Divinity fill my soul, which in a certain sense had the fruition and possession of the Three Persons. And I heard Him say also: 'Labour thou not to hold Me within thyself enclosed, but enclose thou thyself within Me.' It seemed to me that I saw the Three Persons within my soul, and communicating Themselves to all creatures abundantly without ceasing to be with me."

What she recounts there is somewhat similar to St. John of the Cross's vessel in the spring in that she imagines God as being like water.  She sees her soul as being like a sponge instead of a vessel.  She describes that sponge as the way in which she saw the Three Persons of the Trinity filling her soul.  Yet, God then told her not to just see Him as within herself, but rather to see herself as within God.  In that way, the sponge, in God and filled with God, is like the vessel in the spring and filled with water from the spring.

St. Teresa is not speaking of the sponge as varying from soul to soul because she is speaking specifically of herself.  That was St. John of the Cross's insight.  St. Teresa's insight is that the sponge of one's soul is filled with all three persons of the Trinity, and not only with Christ.  That point can be shown in Scripture, and it is not unique or new to St. Teresa.  God is love (I John 4:8), and there is love among the persons of the Trinity.  The entire Trinity within us enables an encounter with God's love, as described in Eph. 3:17-19, II Cor. 4:6-7, Phil. 4:7-9,  Gal. 5:22.  The growth in that encounter is fundamental to our growth in the love that P. Marie-Eugene says determines the capacity of our vessel.

St. Teresa returned to her sponge illustration in Relations IX, Para. 10:

"On one occasion, I understood how our Lord was in all things, and how He was in the soul; and the illustration of a sponge filled with water was suggested to me."

Again, the sponge illustrates both how God is in all things (We are in God), and in the soul (God is in us).  In visualizing herself within the infinite Divinity, she shows us how small, finite, and ordinary we are.  The sponge could think itself to be the center of attention, filled with so essential an element as water, if it could not see itself as little and immersed into a limitless flow of living water from the source.  Here, we might think of today's reading from Mass, in which St. Paul says, "I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me." (II Cor. 12:9).

St. Teresa's reference to growth here is her statement that the Lord told her not to "labour" to hold Him within herself, but rather to "enclose" herself within the Lord.  This involves meditation and growth in self-knowledge.

I include these texts because they add to St. John of the Cross's vessel illustration.  Both speak of God filling us.  It is not hard to go from what St. Teresa wrote to concluding that our capacity for being filled with God "in whom we live and move and have our being" (Acts 17:28) depends upon our soul's capacity to absorb the Trinity.  Meditation with an awareness of one's own littleness, enclosed in God's infinity, is essential to preparing ourselves for unity with God in contemplation.

The Bride in the Wine Cellar and Spiritual Growth

St. Teresa of Avila, in her Meditations on the Song of Songs, Chapter 6, wrote from Song of Songs 2:4, "The King brought me into the wine cellar and set charity in order within me." Seeing the Lord as King, and the soul as the King's bride, she wrote that a person can be given a larger or smaller amount of wine to drink, "a good or a better wine", which will make him more or less intoxicated.  She compares that to God's gifts which vary from one person to another. 

While God gives differing amounts to different people, St. Teresa observes, from the fact that the King brings the bride into the wine cellar, "It doesn't seem the King wants to keep anything from her."  God's will is to give Himself fully to each soul.  Yet, if she were to drink it all, she might lose her life from drinking in more than her natural weakness can stand.  "Let it die," she says, "in this paradise of delights."

The message of growth here is much the same as that of the silkworm that must endure a death in its cocoon to become a butterfly.  She is speaking of the death to the world that must come if we are to experience the fullness of all that God wishes to give us.  While different people receive different amounts from the wine cellar, it is God's will to give each soul everything He has to offer.  Some hold back from the fear of that death to self.  The process of growth in the first four Mansions of Interior Castle is that process of growth that prepares a soul to receive all that God wishes to offer, even at the cost of dying to the world and living for God.

St. John of the Cross also used seven mansions and the wine cellar as illustrations in The Ascent of Mount Carmel.   He writes, in Book II, Chapter XI, about the soul moving from step to step through seven mansions, in a reference similar to that of St. Teresa's seven mansions, although the word is "mansiones" and not "moradas".  He wrote:

"If, then, the soul conquer the devil upon the first step, it will pass to the second; and if upon the second likewise, it will pass to the third; and so onward, through all seven mansions which are the seven steps of love, until the Spouse shall bring it to the cellar of wine of His perfect charity."

In Ascent, the bride in the wine cellar represents the perfection of unitive love in the seventh mansion -- God's "perfect charity" or "unitive charity" in spiritual marriage.  And while such unitive charity is limited to the higher mansions, St. John of the Cross speaks of "seven steps of love" in all seven mansions, as the soul moves toward that perfect charity of the wine cellar.

So I thought it would be interesting to try to identify the levels of love in the first four Mansions of Interior Castle, and here is what I came up with:

    First Mansion: St. Teresa mentions mutual love among nuns, watching for Satan's divisive efforts.  The soul entering the castle turns toward the center, where the King is, with an awareness of to whom one is speaking.

    Second Mansion: The soul can hear the Lord when He calls.  From time to time, he draws us near through words spoken by others in homilies, books, illnesses, trials, and truth taught during brief moments spent in prayer.  God waits for us patiently.

    Third Mansion: The soul's love has not yet reached the point where love overwhelms reason.  But reason makes the soul dissatisfied with going step by step in serving God.  The soul begins to want a supernatural means of reaching the center where the King is.

    Fourth Mansion: Supernatural experiences begin, with the prayer of infused recollection and quiet, or spiritual delight.  This is a stage of transition when both consolations and spiritual delights are felt.  St. Teresa defines love as desiring to please God.  This is the introduction to the unitive love between God and the soul leading toward spiritual marriage.

St. Teresa then takes us into her description of the Fifth Dwelling Place, which she says most people who pray enter at some level.  Indeed, she says, all who wear the Carmelite habit are called to prayer and contemplation.  But there are various levels of the Fifth Dwelling Place, and some of them are experienced by only a few.  She cautions, "But, daughters, if you would purchase this treasure of which we are speaking, God would have you keep back nothing from Him, little or great."  "There is no more certain sign," she says, of "whether or not we have reached the prayer of union."  Those who are there have "died entirely to this world, to live more truly than ever in God."  This is the spiritual death of the cocoon, which only those who have already grown enough spiritually are likely to endure.