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

Were I to meet John Calvin today, I think he might be a surprisingly moderate but deeply spiritual Christian professor of warm wisdom and serious desire to see personal holiness take hold in the life of followers of Christ.  This might seem obvious, but note what I did not say. I doubt that I would find a man who is so vehemently driven by the later (derived1) sectarian doctrine of TULIP that he would not sit in community with me as we discussed our varying understandings of theology.  Where do I find such a wise and thoughtful Calvin? Where do I meet the great teacher who inscribed the systematic theology of the reformation that Martin Luther so profoundly burst forward with on the public of medieval Europe?

I meet this John Calvin in the heart of his writings of the Institute, at the sixth chapter, in book III, which was entitled by Calvin (after a number of revisions) as  “On The Christian Life”.  This section of his monumental treatise “Institutes of The Christian Religion” was also extracted and printed as a separate small volume called “The Golden Booklet”. In the pages of the “Golden Booklet of the True Christian Life“ (our later English title) we find the John Calvin who speaks with both fiery passion and tempered wisdom.

Calvin begins sharply enough, setting the terse tone of his writing and focused style which gets to the point almost surgically.

The goal of the new life is that God’s children exhibit melody and harmony in their conduct. What melody? The song of God’s justice. What harmony? The harmony between God’s righteousness and our obedience.2

No one can accuse Calvin of presenting an unrequited gospel. To the contrary, the Golden Book proceeds from point to point, blithely trampling on self-importance, false motives and hardness of heart to get the reader to see the reality of the gospel’s unmistakable call to the cross. He returns here repeatedly, helping us place our pride on the altar by examination of the cross :

Therefore, that we may not become haughty when we acquire wealth; that we may not become proud when we receive honors ; that we may not become insolent when we are blessed with prosperity and health, the Lord himself, as he deems fit, uses the cross to oppose, restrain, and subdue the arrogance of our flesh...This is the reason why we see different persons disciplined with different crosses. The heavenly Physician takes care of the well-being of all his patients; he gives some a milder medicine and purifies others by more shocking treatments, but he omits no one; for the whole world, without exception, is ill (Deut. 32:15).3

But John Calvin is more than just a naval gazing mystic. His profound grasp of the breadth of the Scriptural landscape helps him juxtapose his Imago Dei/creational theology (found in statements such as “The law of God contains in itself the dynamic of the new life by which his image is fully restored in us;”4 and “But Scripture here helps us out with an excellent argument when it teaches us that we must not think of man’s real value, but only of his creation in the image of God to which we owe all possible honor and love”5) with a theology of suffering, God’s will and predestination (“For adversity will always wound us with its stings. When we are afflicted with disease we shall, therefore, groan and complain and pray for recovery. When we are oppressed with poverty we shall feel lonely and sorry. When we are defamed, despised, and offended, likewise we shall feel restless. When we have to attend the funeral of our friends we shall shed tears. But we must always come back to this consolation: The Lord planned our sorrow, so let us submit to his will. Even in the throes of grief, groans, and tears, we must encourage ourselves with this reflection, so that our hearts may cheerfully bear up while the storms pass over our heads (John 21:18)”6).

Calvin’s writing here reminds us instantly of Thomas a Kempis’ “The Imitation of Christ”.  Calvin’s Golden Book unearths the heart motivations, factors, deceptions and is always looking to bring the reader forward into a picture of our bleakness such that we will abandon hope of having anything useful within ourselves, save that which surrenders to Christ’s suffering discipline in our lives. Calvin whittles at our motivations of conscience and hearkens the glories of persecution.  At one point, one might think he goes too far, even calling on God’s persecution so that the righteous may be more clearly vindicated:

Let the impious flourish in their riches and honors, and enjoy their so-called peace of mind. Let them boast of their splendor and luxury, and abound in every joy. Let them harass the children of light with their wickedness, let them insult them with their pride, let them rob them by their greed, let them provoke them with their utter lawlessness...For, according to Paul, it is a righteous thing with God to award punishment to them that trouble the saints, and to give rest to those who are troubled, when the Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven. This is our only consolation.7

While I admire Calvin’s pursuit of holiness, this declaration reads like a prayer asking for evil to come upon Christians so that they might be “accounted as sheep for the slaughter,” as he says earlier in the text. It seems doubly bad that he then says that our comfort should come on this point- the hope that others will get punished for having caused us trouble.  Calvin misreads Paul, or at the least, adds his own vestige of a 16th century bloodless martyr teaching into Paul’s original text.

But Calvin is far too great a theologian and writer to leave us with a blighted aftertaste. His transcendent understandings of God’s grace and especially his mandates to a vocational calling on human beings (again rooted in his belief in the Imago Dei) lift up the highest of Calvin’s brilliance:

Finally we should note that the Lord commands every one of us in all the actions of our life to be faithful in our calling. For he knows that the human mind burns with restlessness, that it is swept easily hither and thither, and that its ambition to embrace many things at once is insatiable. Therefore, to prevent that general confusion being produced by our folly and boldness, he has appointed to everyone his particular duties in the different spheres of life. And, that no one might rashly go beyond his limits, he has called such spheres of life vocations, or callings. Every individual’s sphere of life, therefore, is a post assigned him by the Lord that he may not wander about in uncertainty all the days of his life....And everyone in his respective sphere of life will show more patience, and will overcome the difficulties, cares, miseries, and anxieties in his path, when he will be convinced that every individual has his task laid upon his shoulders by God. If we follow our divine calling, we shall receive this unique consolation that there is no work so mean and so sordid that does not look truly respectable and highly important in the sight of God (Coram Deo!) (Gen. 1:28; Col. 1:1 ff)!8

Not only is this profound wisdom but it rings of Calvin’s glorious assignment of God’s goodness into our humanity. This is very interesting, since later proponents of strong “Calvinist” doctrine would nearly eviscerate this high valuing of humanity using the hyper TULIP conflagration of the doctrine of total depravity.

Reading the Golden Book is an eye-opening and encouraging look into a more personal, pastoral Calvin, whose wisdom never leaves him, and his sense of care for the soul is always on fire.

Product Link on Amazon: Golden Booklet of the True Christian Life

Review by
Kim Gentes

[1]Calvin didn’t create the 5 point doctrine of Calvinism himself. It was assembled later (50 years beyond his death) by adherents of Calvin’s teachings at the Synod of Dort in 1619 as a mechanism to combat the divergent understandings of Jacob Arminias (from whose namesake and teachings was derived the doctrines of Arminianism)

[2]John Calvin,  “Golden Booklet of the True Christian Life”, translated Henry J. Van Andel (Grand Rapids, MI:Baker Books, 1952), Pg 15

[3]Ibid., Pg 55

[4]Ibid., Pg 15

[5]Ibid., Pg 37

[6]Ibid., Pg 64

[7]Ibid., Pg 79

[8]Ibid., Pg 92-93

Luther: Letters of Spiritual Counsel  is a collection of Martin Luther’s pastoral letters sent to a variety of people, reflecting on as wide a variety of topics as life has to offer. What one notes most poignantly about the letters is their constant pastoral voice, intense compassion for grief-stricken people, and his wisdom and wit in any situation.

The book is arranged in categorized chapters based on the  main theme of the letter. A reader from the present day will be immediately affronted by the dim nature of the topics, which range from comfort, consolation, counsel and instruction for the sick, dying, bereaved, anxious, despondent, doubting, needy, troubled and more. This is not light reading. The weight of the pastoral office of the 16th century European church is pressed into the pages of these letters. This provides us not only with wise counsel for our current churches, but a harrowing picture of the people and time in which Martin Luther’s reforms were birthed.

I must admit, I approached this book initially ready for a barrage of theological treatise, each one restated in particular application for a life situation. I expected the theologian that demarcated the single biggest change in the history of the Christian church to be heady, angry and oozing with profundity. To my surprise, I came away realizing that Martin Luther was a man who cared first for the flock to which had entrusted him to care.  He wasn’t applying theology to an ugly, rude world, in which his meanderings meant nothing to the real people.  He was caring deeply, loving deeply, and hurting deeply with the literal scores of people around him which were broken, dying or in unfathomable pangs of grief.

Yes, he writes letters to princes and elites, administrators and bureaucrats. He tackles government, policies and the profound failures of a power rotted church structure. But at his core, he is a pastor, and these letters don’t let you stop seeing that, over and over again.  All around Luther, family, students, friends, children are all dying or becoming sick of a myriad of diseases from deadly tuberculosis to the dreaded black plague. There is not just sickness and death, there is a permeating sense of fear and a gnawing hopelessness that he seems to be trying to combat with each letter.

 
On of Luther’s prime methods of facing such daunting pain and weakened humanity is to speak boldly of the pain, sickness and death.

When, therefor, I learned most illustrious prince, that Your Lordship has been afflicted with a grave illness...I cannot pretend that I do not hear the voice of Christ crying out to me from Your Lordship’s body and flesh saying, “Behold,  I am sick.” This is so because such evils as illness and the like are not borne by us who are Christians but by Christ himself...1

Luther didn’t see ministry to people as doing something for the ill, poor or broken. He saw it as ministry to the Lord directly, and he used this as his foundation for a theology of suffering. In such a society filled with pain, Luther saw Christ’s suffering as the necessary fellowship to which we are engaged in while on earth.  But Luther brought with his stark vision of pain a transcendent enraptured vision of Christ, when he said, “God is immeasurably better than all his gifts.”2 Such a picture of God is not only beautiful, but necessary, when “his gifts” seemed to come few and far between for the beleaguered parishioners Luther was guiding.

The letters of Luther are not just wise rebukes to a dismal world. His fiery spirit and even humor rise to the top occasionally, giving us a glimpse of wisdom that is embedded in reality. He says of a friend whom he was counselling against being drawn into the falseness of spiritual pride:

Whenever the devil pesters you with these thoughts, at once seek out the company of men, drink more, joke and jest, or engage in some other form of merriment. Sometimes it is necessary to drink a little more, play, jest, and even commit some sin in defiance and contempt of the devil in order not to give him an opportunity to make us scrupulous about trifles. We shall be overcome if we worry too much about falling into some sin.3

As you can see, Martin Luther had an unquenchable belief in the power of the community. This so guided him, it is doubtless that one of the driving currents of his reformation doctrine.

The papists and Anabaptists teach that if you wish to know Christ, you must seek solitude, avoid association with men...This is manifestly diabolical advice...[rather] God wishes that His name be proclaimed and praised before men and spoken of among men rather than that one should flee into a corner... [and] teaches us to do good to our neighbors, and hence we must not be segregated from them. This advice [papists and Anabaptists] is also destructive to the family, economic life, and the state, and it is at odds with the life of Christ, who did not like to be alone and whose career was one of constant turmoil because people were always crowding around him. He was never alone, except when he prayed. Have nothing to do, therefor, with those who say, “Seek solitude and your heart will become pure.”4

Martin Luther had such a strong value of community and companionship that he prescribed it for almost every condition of the body and soul. He was constantly reminding husbands and wives to encourage one another, for people to not be alone when struggling with temptation, depression or illness. Above, he even recognizes that not only is it a teaching against Christ and his body to avoid the community, but it actually destroys families, harms economic viability of individuals and communities and even threatens the state stability. What a brilliant understanding of the power of community.

Product Link on Amazon: Luther: Letters of Spiritual Counsel

Review by
Kim Gentes

[1]Martin Luther, “Luther: Letters of Spiritual Counsel”, translated Theodore G. Tappert (Louisville, KY:Westminster John Knox Press, 1955), Pg 22

[2]Ibid., Pg 54

[3]Ibid., Pg 86

[4]Ibid., Pg 120

REVIEW: “I was shocked! When Kim Gentes asked if I’d take a look at his new book, I agreed, although not enthusiastically. 2011 Ultimate Worship Resources Guide: Songs and Media Edition, really didn’t sound like something that was going to be exciting, compelling reading. I was wrong.

Beginning with a brief history of modern worship music, and then offering practical sources to find songs and song-related media, this book really lives up to its title.

I know a lot about worship music. As one who teaches on worship for a living, I try to keep up on what’s going on in worship music. But I’ll be honest, there are great sources in this book that had somehow totally eluded my attention. After all, who has time to research everything out there?Well, apparently Kim Gentes does and he put it all together in this book.

The day I finished reading the book I told the worship leader at our church that he needed to get a copy. I don’t recommend things to him very often. This one, though, is definitely worth it. You probably ought to get one, too… Don’t miss out. This book will save you tons of time and effort!“

Tom Kraeuter, Training Resources, Hillsboro MO

The book is now available in BOTH regular paperback and eBook (Kindle formats), links below.

FREE: a full chapter sample from the book is available for download here.

"Forgiving means abandoning your right to pay back the perpetrator in his own coin, but it is a loss that liberates the victim."1

This lithe statement makes clear what equation is required for solving the problem of reconciliation. It was this solution that was the heart and soul of the transformation that took place in South Africa in the last 20 years. As a prominent member of the ecclesiastical and moral movements within the South African nation, Desmond Tutu became an icon of leadership for the black people who had suffered  for decades under the crushing blows of apartheid. Tutu's book "No Future Without Forgiveness" is a personal memoir of his process and involvement with the, now famous, Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) which he chaired during its lifetime.

The commission's broad mission, mandated by the South African President Nelson Mandela, was two-fold. First, it was to engage a process which would discover the truth of the apartheid operation in South Africa, expose it, allow for confession of its terrible acts by the people responsible (under the auspices of a later process to amnesty), and look for verbal contrition related to those confessions. Secondly, it was to engage victims as well, and call for their testimony and courage to reveal the stories of their abuse and suffering. A later process of both amnesty and reparations was to follow the revelations brought out by the TRC's findings.

What is most surprising about the commission is not, however, the stories of horror brought forth by the victims, or even the admissions of guilt submitted by many of the perpetrators. What is most surprising is the consistent, real, verbal, physical, on-the-spot, heart-rending examples of forgiveness. In profound case after case, magnaminity flowed like the waters of healing through so much of the proceedings of the commission that the TRC, South Africa and Tutu himself became examples of the power of forgiveness for the entire world. Though the stated title of the commission included reconciliation, there was no true step in the process of its actions that guaranteed or even offered such a wild promise. Yet it encountered it time and again.

Tutu is quick to point out the failings, weaknesses, hurdles and sufferings of their efforts, as well as their successes and is all the bigger a human being for doing so. "No Future Without Forgiveness" is a definitive example of the gospel of Jesus becoming the good news for the 20th (and 21st) century human race. Without casting any religious encumbances on either the procedings or his book readers, Tutu guides both through a process of healing the begins with confession, leads to admission, responds with forgiveness and goes forth with reconnection and the beginnings of possible relationship.

While topic and content are ultimately the pinnacle of concerns for the human race, as a writer, Tutu runs slightly aground on a few points, but never endangers the work with irreprable harm. First, the book has several sections that repeat examples and recite cases. This would not seem odd, as the importance of the work demands repetition, but this happens so often and with such detail one believes a broader editorial presence might have scaled back some of the recitings as thinner references, with restating much detail. Second, there are several times when grammatical sense and structure were not attended to. Slight deference is given for the uniqueness of South African english which may fall askew from American english (or vise versa), but I found a few examples of clauses without whole sentences, which seemed odd. Both of these relatively minor authorship roadbumps seem like they could have been avoided by good editorial management.

That said, the book is engaging, unique and profoundly needed. So far beyond being a great book with no practical application, "No Future Without Forgiveness" is a success not because it is a literary juggernaut, but because it is an archive of amazing action that literally changed a nation.  Saying more about the content is not necessary, as the story is a compelling and inviting read for anyone who wishes to take it up.

An unstoppable book with an unstoppable message.

Product Link on Amazon: No Future Without Forgiveness

Review by
Kim Gentes

[1]Desmond Tutu, "No Future Without Forgiveness", (New York, NY: Random House 1999), Pg 272