St. Therese's laundry mark, the reed, on her Carmelite work apron

On Saturday, December 6, 2014, Pope Francis sent a special video message to the Christian refugees of Mosul, in Erbil.  Tens of thousands of Christians driven from their homes in Mosul have taken refuge in Erbil.  They are among almost two million people displaced by the offensive of the Islamic State in northern Iraq.  The Pope compared these suffering refugees to the image St. Therese used of herself, the reed that is not broken by the storm. 

Today I would like to draw near to you who are enduring this suffering, to be close to you …. And I think of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus, who said that she and the Church felt like a reed: when the wind and the storm comes, the reed bends, but it does not break! You are now this reed, you bend in suffering, but you have the strength to carry on your faith, which for us is a witness. You are the reeds of God today. The reeds that are bowed down by this fierce wind, but that will then arise!

See the text of the Pope's message, sent through Cardinal Barbarin.

The context of St. Therese's use of the symbol of the reed

Therese had many nicknames and symbols for herself.  She used "the little reed" in her early religious life, usually to describe her extreme fragility.  In May 1888, about a month after she entered Carmel, she wrote to her sister Marie, who was preparing to make her vows: 

You, who are an eagle called to soar in the heights and to fix your gaze on the sun, pray for the very feeble little reed that is at the bottom of the valley, the least breeze makes it bend. Oh, pray for it on the day of your Profession.

See this letter (LT 49) at the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux.

On July 4, 1888, she wrote her sister Pauline, Sister Agnes of Jesus:  

Jesus alone! Nothing but Him. The grain of sand is so little that, if it wanted to place someone other than Him in its heart, there would be no room for Jesus....

and signed the letter

"The little Reed of Jesus"

See this letter (LT 51) at the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux.

That same week (July 5-9, 1888), the 15-year-old postulant wrote to Sister Agnes of Jesus, and it is this letter to which Pope Francis refers: 

Thanks to the dear lamb for having made the little lamb hear once again the music from heaven. The gentle breeze made the little reed sway softly....

It was after nine o'clock when the reed noticed the dear little paper; there was no earthly light, but its heart more than its eyes knew how to decipher St. Cecilia's music. It did not miss one single word!. . .

Yes, I desire them, these agonies of the heart, these pinpricks about which the lamb speaks. What does it matter to the little reed if it bends? It is not afraid of breaking, for it has been planted at the edge of the waters, and, instead of touching the ground when it bends, it encounters only a beneficent wave which strengthens it and makes it want another storm to come and pass over its frail head. Its weakness gives rise to all its confidence. It cannot break since, no matter what happens to it, it wants only to see the gentle hand of its Jesus.... Sometimes the little gusts of wind are more unbearable for the reed than the great tempests, for in these latter it will be refreshed in its dear brook, but the little gusts of wind don't make it bend low enough; these are the pinpricks....

But nothing is too much to suffer to gain the palm. . . ."

By "the great tempests" Therese could be referring to the suffering the Martin sisters experienced because of the illness of their father, who disappeared for several days at the end of June.  The "pinpricks" and 'the little gusts of wind" probably refer to the little trials of community life. See this letter (LT 55) at the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux.

In January 1889, when Therese received the habit, the symbol of the reed found a concrete expression in her everyday life.  The Carmel used symbols, not numbers, to mark each nun's laundry and shoes so that the nuns could recognize them, and Therese's laundry mark was the reed.  You can see it on the photo of her work apron above. Click and scroll down to view also Therese's wooden sandals and clogs with the mark of the reed.

Therese's use of this symbol could have been suggested by her novice mistress, Sister Marie of the Angels, who loved to call herself "the little reed of Jesus."  On November 21, 1889, as Therese reached the end of her prolonged novitiate and after her father had been interned in a psychiatric hospital, Sister Marie of the Angels wrote to Therese: 

Little reed, infinitely loved by Jesus and profoundly dear to my heart!. . . . Tomor­row, the feast of St. Cecilia, 1 will offer my Holy Communion for my beloved little reed, and I will ask Jesus that she may love Him just as the virgin martyr did! Time seems long for me without my Benjamin; if she were not suffering, I would feel it less, but courage, little reed of Jesus! The storm will not break the reed; it will make it bend, but afterward it will quickly stand up straight and its head will again look up to heaven. Remember that Jesus carried it in His hand on the day of His Passion! Be, then, the privileged reed of your heavenly Fiancé.

Pray, too, for your little mistress, who loves and cherishes her Benjamin.

Sister Marie of the Angels

 Read this letter at the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux.

In January 1895, when Therese finished the first manuscript of what would become Story of a Soul, she illustrated it with a "coat of arms of Jesus and Therese."  In Therese's explanation of the symbolism of her coat of arms, she writes of her desire for martyrdom and adds:  

In order to respond to all the love of Jesus she would desire to do for Him what He did for her ... but Thérèse is aware that she is only a weak reed, thus she has put one on her blazon

Later in her religious life Therese seems to have moved on to other symbols for herself.  But in her play The Flight into Egypt (performed on January 21, 1896), when Joseph has just told Mary that he received word in a dream that they must flee to Egypt, she puts into the mouth of the Blessed Virgin about the Child Jesus and reed, words about the refugee Savior which are curiously appropriate for the refugees to whom the Pope was speaking; 

I know that if He willed it, a word from His infant lips would suffice to wipe out all enemies; however, He chooses to flee from a weak mortal, He is the Prince of peace.... The Word made Child will not crush the half-broken reed, He will not extinguish a wick that is still burning. If He is rejected by those of His own heritage, that will not stop Him from giving His life for poor sinners who fail to recognize the time of His visit. Let us leave without fear, let us go sanctify an infidel shore with the presence of the Savior.

The Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux has posted a collection of 18 old postcards of Lisieux, showing, among other things, the house of Isidore Guerin, Therese's uncle, in rue Paul-Banaston in Lisieux, and, just across the back alley from it, the house at 7 rue Labbey where Louis Martin lived from shortly after he was released from the Bon Sauveur mental ohspital until he died in1894.  

An icon by Lewis Williams, SFO

This icon, "The Four Churchwomen of El Salvador," available at Trinity Stores, represents Maryknoll missioners Ita Ford and Maura Clarke, lay missioner Jean Donovan, and Ursuline Sister Dorothy Kazel, who were martyred in El Salvador thirty-four years ago today.  How they lived in the spirit of St. Therese, who loved the "little ones" of the world and who longed to be both a missionary and a martyr!  

In reflecting on their lives and witness in the light of the life of St. Therese, patron of missions, I was reminded of Therese's letter of May 9, 1897 to Fr. Adolphe Roulland, the newly ordained French priest who had just gone out on mission to China, where the French were so much hated that their lives were at risk.  Therese had just learned of the death of Fr. Mazel, a 26-year-old French priest in China who had been killed by looters because he was a European.

On this earth, where all changes, one single thing remains, and this is the conduct of the King of heaven regarding His friends. Ever since He has lifted up the stan­dard of the Cross, it is under its shadow that all must fight and carry off the victory. Théophane Vénard said: "The whole of a mis­sionary's life is fruitful in the Cross"; and again: "To be truly happy we must suffer, and to live we must die."

Brother, the beginnings of your apostolate are marked with the seal of the Cross; the Lord is treating you as a privileged one. It is more by persecution and suffering than by brilliant preaching that He wills to make His kingdom firm in souls. You say: "I am still a child who cannot speak." Père Mazel, who was ordained the same day as you, did not know how to speak either; however, he has already taken up the palm. ... Oh! how the divine thoughts are above ours! ... When learning about the death of this young mis­sionary whom I heard named for the first time, I felt drawn to in­voke him; I seemed to see him in heaven in the glorious choir of Martyrs. I know that in the eyes of men his martyrdom does not bear this name, but in the eyes of God this sacrifice without any glory is not less fruitful than the sacrifices of the first Christians, who confessed their faith before tribunals. Persecution has changed in form, the apostles of Christ have not changed in sentiment, so the divine Master would not be able to change His rewards unless it were to increase them in proportion to the glory which was refused them here below.

. . . . how can we doubt that God will open the doors of His kingdom to His children who loved Him even to sacrificing all for Him, who have not only left their family and their country to make Him known and loved, but even desire to give their life for Him whom they love.... 

(Letters of Saint Therese of Lisieux, Volume II,  tr. John Clarke, O.C.D.  Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1988, pp. 1092-1093).

These words remind me so much of the women, especially of Ita, who arrived in El Salvador in April 1980, and Maura, who came to El Salvador in the autumn of 1980.  In a few short months, they suffered much with the eople they loved so well.  Therese's words "This sacrifice without any glory" reminded me vividly of the heart-rending film of the shallow grave by which the other nuns were kneeling--film which was all over our television screens.  At that time it was only a year since I had completed my year with the Jesuit Volunteer Corps.  We felt very close to these women, who were our contemporaries.  To many young people today, they are historical figures, but, if you get to know them, they will inspire you no less.  To learn more about them, view the 2:32 film below.

 book "Salvador Witness: The Life and Calling of Jean Donovan" by Ana Carrigan  Also see Ana Carigan's book "Salvador Witness: The Life and Calling of Jean Donovan," which focuses on the lay missioner and former young executive, but tells very movingly the story of all four women.  Well-researched and well-written.  

May Therese, Ita, Maura, Dorothy, and Jean draw us to witness in the shadow of the Cross to the special love of Christ for the poor, and may we share in the Resurrection they enjoy now.  

St. Therese of Lisieux. Copyright Br. Robert Lentz, OFM, Courtesy of Trinity Stores

 icons are windows of the holy.  As St. Therese herself is a window of the holy, this icon has a double significance.  Gaze on her and, through her, gaze on Christ this Advent. To see this icon with the artist's meditation, to send it as a free e-card, or to see other icons at Trinity Store, click on the image.

On the First Sunday of Advent, November 30, 1895, St. Therese confided to her close friend, the novice Marie of the Trinity, that she had offered herself to Merciful Love on June 9, 1895.  Marie of the Trinity at once expressed a desire to do the same, and the two agreed that Marie would offer herself the next day.  Thinking it over, Marie told Therese that, because she was so unworthy, she needed a longer time to prepare for such an important act.  Saint Therese's face "immediately lit up with joy," and she replied:

Yes, this Act is important, more important than we can imagine, but do you know—the only preparation which the good God asks of us? Well, it is that we recognize humbly our unworthiness! And since He has given you this grace, abandon yourself to Him without fear. Tomorrow morning, after thanksgiv­ing, I will kneel near you in the oratory where the Blessed Sacrament will be exposed. And while you pronounce your act, I will offer you to Jesus as a little victim which I prepared for Him.

Circular of Sister Marie of the Trinity on the Web site of the Archives of the Carmel of Lisieux.  Chapter IV.

So Marie of the Trinity offered herself to Merciful Love on December 1, 1895.  She was the second disciple of St. Therese to follow Therese in making the offering; Therese's eldest sister, Marie of the Sacred Heart, had offered herself in the summer.  About her experience on December 1, Marie of the Trinity wrote:

I was so flooded with graces on that beautiful day, the most beautiful day of my life, that all day long I experienced in a very tangible way the presence of the Eucharistic Jesus in my heart.  I confided this to Sr. Therese of the Child Jesus, who was not at all surprised and answered me simply:

"Is not God omnipotent?  If we so desire, it would not be difficult for him to make his sacramental presence in our souls remain from one communion to the next.  [Therese had, in fact, asked this favor in her offering:  "Remain in me as in a tabernacle . . ."]  Through this extraordinary feeling that you experienced today, he wishes to give you the pledge that all the requests you have made of him in the Act of Oblation will be granted.  You will not always enjoy these feelings, but their effects will be no less real.  One receives from God as much as one hopes for."

Therese of Lisieux and Marie of the Trinity, by Pierre Descouvement.  Staten Island, New York: Society of St. Paul/Alba House, 1997, pp. 68-69.  I recommend this book to everyone who wants to konw Therese as she was in her intimate relationships.  

May we, like Marie, let Therese encourage us, in this Advent, to forget our ideas of our own unworthiness and to abandon ourselves to God without fear.