St. Thérèse of Lisieux is perhaps one of the most well-known modern saints in the Catholic Church; countless faithful seek her intercession, begging her for “roses” of grace to shower down upon their needs. Most devout Christians are familiar with her writings famously captured in her book, The Story of a Soul. St. Thérèse’s “Little Way”—that of doing small things with great love—pioneered a groundbreaking movement that has captivated hearts across the globe.
The thing is, there is another connected, but distinct, detail about St. Thérèse’s life that doesn’t get as much attention as the lesson of her “Little Way.” As a young child, St. Thérèse was a spoiled little girl (at least by nineteenth century standards in France). Then, one Christmas Eve, shortly before her fourteenth birthday, Thérèse received a mystical experience of the Child Jesus, and her previous “spoiled” behavior ceased immediately. Just like that.
It is not the mystical encounter itself that deserves so much of our attention; after all, there is nothing we can do to recreate such an experience for ourselves. What is worth examining, however, is how Thérèse changed after her experience, because a change in behavior is something we can recreate for ourselves (or, at least, strive to imitate). No doubt, her mystical encounter with Jesus was certainly the precipitating factor that led to Thérèse’s opening her eyes to her own shameful behavior. But she still had to choose, by her own volition, to make a change in her life. She still had to put forth the effort to act in a way that did not come naturally to her (because her “nature” was to act like a spoiled child).
What Thérèse accomplished in her brief life was hard for her to do. So hard, in fact, that it would have been impossible without God’s grace. This is the true miracle of her encounter with the Child Jesus.
Let’s understand what is meant by labeling the young child Thérèse as “spoiled.” By our twenty-first century American standards, Thérèse might have been considered ready for canonization at the age of six! Thérèse would not have spoken disrespectfully to her parents, spewed hateful words at her sisters, or consistently disobeyed as a result of her stubborn self-will. But, in a sense, the suffering she caused her family was worse than that—or at least, just as shameful. Thérèse’s continual self-focus on her own personal feelings caused her family to worry about her, even at the expense of themselves.
Of course, the worry we experience over our loved ones who suffer is not their “fault.” Parents are naturally going to worry when their children get seriously ill (as Thérèse later would). It is human nature to worry when someone we love is suffering. It’s just that in Thérèse’s case, the suffering she was made to endure was compounded by her excessive self-pity, such that it became an additional cause of suffering for those around her.
It all began with the death of her mother when the four-year-old Thérèse transformed in personality from cheery and delightful to touchy and withdrawn. Understandably so. Thérèse was grieving in the way her little mind and heart knew how. However, Thérèse had become so sensitive and withdrawn that it continued for the next ten years, scarcely allowing her sisters the space to grieve the loss of their mother themselves! Instead, so concerned were they for their baby sister that they themselves became mothers to Thérèse.
But then came the mystical experience. At fourteen years of age, Thérèse’s eyes were opened to the childish behavior she had been imposing upon everyone around her. It would have been an illumination of conscience of sorts, and for the first time in her life, Thérèse would have been able to see that all the legitimate grief and mourning she had experienced those many years ago at the death of her mother had lapsed into self-pity. She had been accustomed to getting so much attention from her withdrawn behavior that the previous mourning for which she had been “blessed” (Mt. 5:4) had degenerated into a disordered habit—one which negatively impacted her whole family. Thérèse would have felt ashamed at this realization.
From that day forth, Thérèse would have been determined to leave her childish ways behind. She would decide to become a mature saint—just like her namesake, St. Teresa of Avila. Oh, how her heart burned now to do great things for love of God—perhaps even become a missionary! But…how? Thérèse indeed was maturing, but by no means was she great. She was weak, she was little, and she had neither the means nor the strength to do anything “big.” On top of all this, she was falling ill—stricken with a disease that would soon claim her life.
It is here that Thérèse was inspired with one of the greatest revelations of modern Church history: Thérèse would indeed leave her childish ways behind, but not so that she could finally “grow up.” She would leave them behind so that she could truly stay little! St. Thérèse would leave behind her childish ways so that she could finally become childlike.
And the rest is history. Thérèse continued to suffer greatly—Jesus did not have her go back to the cheerful and delightful existence she had enjoyed long ago, before the death of her mother. But this time, Thérèse’s suffering was unaccompanied by the self-pity and reclusive behavior that had marked the suffering of her earlier years—behavior that had caused her family to worry about her greatly.
This time, nobody “worried” about Thérèse’s suffering because nobody even knew she suffered so. St. Thérèse burdened no one with her pain: instead of acting visibly moody and withdrawn, Thérèse was determined to make an act of the will to remain joyful, keeping her tremendous physical and spiritual suffering in the silence of her heart, offering it all to Jesus alone, for the salvation of souls. Her pain had now become her mission; offering small acts of kindness and self-denial would be her way to serve as a missionary on behalf of the whole world.
Like Thérèse, may we too recognize the behavior in ourselves that places excessive burden on others by our self-pity or self-focus. It is not that Jesus expects us to suffer through our problems all alone; everyone needs help, and to deny such a reality would be the result of our pride. It is just that our cry for help must be child-like—one that recognizes our utter weakness and dependence in humility—and not child-ish, a behavior which seeks attention at the expense of others who have their own needs too.
May we learn from St. Thérèse the unimaginable grace that comes from uniting the suffering which Jesus allows in our lives to His Cross, for it is then that it becomes His offering too. For today, let us ask St. Thérèse for the roses we need! But let us also make sure that we open our eyes to the needs of those around us—and perhaps distribute a rose or two ourselves.
Author’s Note: This article was adapted from a chapter in 26 Steps with the Saints: Examining the Lives of the Holy Ones.
Image from Wikimedia Commons
