The ninth poem in the generally acknowledged collection of St. Teresa's poetry is her brief meditation 'On Patience' called 'Nada Te Turbe'. We present two English translations and a commentary by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D.
What could the wise Teresa have been thinking to set these bounds on even my little love? This walling, barring, minimizing, shrinking— how could her great Castilian heart approve?
Then why should I take fright when foes or demons assail me with their treacheries or wrath, when I have knowledge that the Queen's archangel is keeper of my path?
For the blinder love is the more it gives such life, holding the soul surrendered, living without light in darkness.
We recall the birth of Blessed Teresa of St. Augustine on this date in 1752 with an excerpt from a Christmas carol that she wrote in 1792 or 1793
I cannot stand this life any longer; my weakened soul cannot stand it any longer!... Farewell blessed earth; it is to you that I owe my life!...
Life which comes as a virgin to us all, most safely came to her. Time, when she passed, remained inviolate.
This year, we present a compilation of our blog posts concerning the passion and death of St. Edith Stein, from Echt to Auschwitz
Grant us grace to climb Mount Carmel and to learn that love is loss. Guide us still our ways outdistance all earth’s treasures save the cross.
The Virgin Mary cannot enter into my soul for an indwelling. God alone has sealed this land as secretly His own
She must render an account of everything — of the beginning of her life as well as the later part — unto the last penny