Kim Gentes

Thérèse de Lisieux - Mystic, Suffering or Neurotic Saint?

Through her own autobiography Thérèse de Lisieux appears to us as a childish and effusing figure, bent on achieving the goal of grand spiritualism and union with God. Her story is uniquely fit within the tradition of Catholic mystics, and was venerated to even higher status by the declaration of the title of Doctor which was given to her about a century after her death.

Therese wrote in a way which was predominantly introspective, especially with her early life. In fact, the maturity of her character is evidently one of the lessons she is trying to carry forward in the narrative- that her own writing and personal growth correspond to the readers journey into understanding the mystical truths she was conveying. However, since the entire autobiography was not written as a single volume, it would be too much to say that she envisioned this entire book as a single entity in the same way we now read it.

The reason that the content is important to this discussion is that it is so emotive and effusive that one can hardly read it without wondering whether it is real revelation or simply childish ranting. After reviewing the book, however, I have come to believe that  Thérèse de Lisieux was both a physically and mentally pained person who overcame her suffering and eventually expressed her maturity in the writings of her autobiography.  I believe that much of her early life and writing was, in fact, the strained emotional expressions of a suffering young woman. That said, she arrives eventually (in both age and wisdom) at such profound depth and fruitfulness of character that one must conclude that she did not retain her immature core.

The first several pages of the autobiography explain how Therese was compelled to write about her life from a request by her “mother” (who was actually her sister, a spiritual leader at her convent). The text explores her early years and recites what is little more than childish thoughts and actions. Crying, fits, dressing,playing with dolls and other childish musings. Her focus on God is clear from a young age, but frivolous and fanciful, as one would expect. Arduous as the first chapter is, the writing thereafter takes on a much more serious tone. This is primarily due to the constant trials, death and struggles that begin to broach the text. The death of Therese’s mother, difficulties with living with relatives, her fathers absence, physical illness and pain, the induction of all of her living sisters into a life of service in convents and the eventual death of her father are highlights of the seriousness of not only Therese’s life but the condition of the times in which her family lived.  These difficulties galvanized the giddy school-girl into an intense (and perhaps morose) pre-teen/teen.

Physical Suffering

One difficulty that seems to almost be missed in the discussions of Therese is the gravity of her physical illnesses, which eventually take her life. While a completely different condition eventually kills her (tuberculosis), her earlier life has hints of possibility serious physical/emotional/neurological conditions which may have much to do with her formation, possibly her earliest visions and perhaps her ascent to the mystical life she was later venerated for. It is my belief that Therese’s early life was riddled with physical ailments that caused not only pain, but perhaps illusory understandings of God, even taking some of these experiences as the mystical revelations of the Holy Spirit.

The first evidence of this is directly found in Therese’s writing about herself:

Nobody could even say about me that “I was good when I was asleep,” because at night I was even more wiggly than during the day. I would send the covers flying, and then (asleep all the while) I would crash against the wood of my little bed. The pain would wake me up, and I would say, “Mama, I’ve been bumped.” My poor dear mother had to get up and establish that I did in fact have knots on my forehead, and that I had been bumped. She would cover me up securely and go back to bed. But after a short time I started being bumped again, so that they had to tie me in my bed. Every night, little Céline would come and tie the several cords that were intended to keep the little imp from getting bumped and waking up her mama. This method finally worked, so from then on I was good while I was asleep….[1]

This type of description is very consistent with a seizure, possibly an epileptic episode. The fact that she allowed herself to be tied down, tells us that she knew something was happening but she was unable or aware enough at the time to stop it. Having close relatives that suffer from epilepsy, this immediately came to mind when I read this account.

Other examples of pain that would at least effect mental faculties for Thérèse de Lisieux’s seem plentiful enough in the first section of the book--

Toward the end of the year I was taken with a headache that, though continual, almost didn’t make me suffer.[2]

and

As I was getting undressed I was taken with a strange trembling.[3]

as well as:

The next day he went to find Dr. Notta, who concluded, like my uncle, that I had a very serious illness that had never struck such a young child.[4]

and

And in fact He was, through the admirable resignation of my poor dear father, who thought “his little girl was going to go mad or that she was going to die.”[5]

and finally

It isn’t surprising that I was afraid that I looked sick without in fact being sick, because I would say and do things that I wasn’t thinking. I almost always seemed to be delirious, saying words that had no meaning, and nevertheless I’m sure that I wasn’t deprived for a single instant of the use of my reason…. Often I appeared to have fainted, not making the slightest movement. At that time I would have let be done to me anything anyone might have wanted, even kill me. Nonetheless I was hearing everything that was being said around me, and I still remember everything. It happened to me once that I stayed for a long time without being able to open my eyes, and yet I opened them for an instant while I was alone.[6]

Headaches, seizures, madness, fainting, unable to open/close eyes, being in your body but not in control of it- many of these symptoms are compatible with possible neurological/physical conditions that could certainly have induced the hysteria like symptoms that produce visions or other phenomena. I am not saying that none of her early experiences where genuine, but that this predominance of this kind of suffering can produce delusional episodes. Her familiarity with engaging in these could very well have been a “primer” of sorts to her later experiences and revelations.

But while Therese may have indeed suffered some illness the predisposed here neurological system to sensational experiences, her maturity as a thoughtful and dedicated follower of Christ becomes the long term proof of her character and her legacy.

Maturity through Suffering and Perseverance

Beginning with her desire to enter the convent, family confession, her first communion, her journey to enter the convent, and even her encounter with the Pope, Therese begins to expound on the internal condition of her heart as she moves through challenge after challenge.  She reveals a ruthless tenacity to unearth any wrong motive, conjecture or misunderstanding about the nature of God, the humility of the servant or the nature of the work intended for her. For example:

One day during prayers I understood that my keen desire to make my profession was tinged with great self-love.[7]

Therese finds a mode where she is often stripping back what seems like a good desire and revealing an errant inner motive, such as above.  Unlike what may be expected, she never stops her introspection with self loathing- it always leads to clear revelation of the reality of the situation and a certain action to be taken for its correction.  She begins to put more and more importance on serving others, and even explains instances of her learning humility by serving older, cranky nuns.  This kind of pure obedience to the process of maturity eventually turns Therese into a deeply pragmatic counselor, who eventually discounts the importance of dreams to a large degree:

I don’t attach any importance to my dreams, and besides, I rarely have any symbolic ones. And I even wonder how it is that, thinking all day long about God, I’m not more concerned with Him during my sleep…. Usually I dream about the woods, flowers, streams, and the sea, and almost always, I see pretty little children, and I catch butterflies and birds like ones I’ve never seen. You see, Mother, that if my dreams have a poetic appearance, they are far from being mystical….[8]

Therese evolves into a beautiful expositor of mystical and practical understanding, not coupling them together simply by Solomon-like wisdom, but by connecting them through the primary chord of her pursuit- the understanding of love as her primary vocation.  This is what proves to me that Therese was not a romantic/dramatic narcissist- the truth and fruit of her ideas lead her to two things: a life of action that served others in humility; and a foundational belief in love as the primacy of the entire mystical and practical agenda of God and his encounters with all people.

This is seen in brilliant color in one of her most poignant quotes:

Just as Solomon, surveying all that his hands had done and what he had toiled to achieve, saw that everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind [Eccl. 2:11], in the same way I recognized through EXPERIENCE that happiness consists only in staying hidden, in remaining in ignorance of created things. I understood that without love, all works are only nothingness, even the most dazzling, such as raising the dead or converting entire peoples [1 Cor. 13:1–3]…. Instead of doing me harm, leading me to meaninglessness, the gifts that God poured out on me (without my asking Him for them) led me to Him. I see that He alone is unchanging, that He alone can fulfill my immense desires….[9]

Jesus said that good trees bear good fruit, and that a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Therese’s life produced an example of character and action that is a beautiful testimony to her centered understanding of the love of God. The further impact of her life and writings as an example and inspiration to millions are additional testimony to her integrity. I believe that Therese’s impact can be validated by the good tree / good fruit indicators that Jesus warned us to consider. 

Jesus also told us that the central two commandments of the Christian life are hinged upon love (love God, and love your neighbor). As a follower of Jesus, it is no coincidence that Therese comes to this same conclusion about love.

Thérèse may indeed have been a romantic and dramatic neurotic in her earlier years, perhaps even a neurologically effected young girl. But her ultimate spirituality, though definitely introspective, proved to be anything but narcissistic. Her focused self-abasement and intractable desire to see Christ’s answer to every situation, drove her to understand and practice a life of sincerity and simplicity. Those qualities were left in her writing and her story and have definitely made a genuine spiritual advance for those who would avail themselves of her example.

Product Link on Amazon: The Complete Therese of Lisieux

Review by Kim Gentes

[1]Therese of Lisieux,  “The Complete Therese of Lisieux”,translated Robert Edmonson (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2009),Kindle Edition, Location 615

[2]Ibid., Location 1160

[3]Ibid., Location 1165

[4]Ibid., Location 1169

[5]Ibid., Location 1173

[6]Ibid., Location 1194

[7]Ibid., Location 2646

[8]Ibid., Location 2810

[9]Ibid., Location 2887