On a side-note: I haven't read much about addiction, but I've always thought that its treatment requires an awareness of man's supernatural vocation. I'd be tempted to say that we are all addicts, so to speak, that we all try to fill the void in ourselves (which St. Augustine captured so well in saying that our hearts are restless until they rest in God); Pascal delineates with great psychological finesse the ways in which we throw ourselves into pleasures, the pursuit of glory, the bustle of work in order to fill that void. This, it seems to me (not being a professional pscyhologist, I don't know the medical definition of addiction), is addictive behavior; for some it gets out of hand and becomes more apparent to the world, especially when linked to drugs or alcohol which are addictive on a physiological level and destroy the person in a very visible way. Hence battling those addictions or idols means for all of us accepting the emptiness in oneself; the experience of the desert or of a dark night therefore seems essential in the spiritual life and necessary for God's descent, to use S. Weil's terminology (who was very influenced by Pascal).

May. 20 at 3:12am | See in context

Well...I think it must have been somebody else.  It sounds like a different style than my mother's.  Also, my mother read the piece and thanked me for "making up all those nice virtues" for her.  It is true that my father would make pizza every Sunday night, so she didn't actually make a home-cooked meal every single day for fifty years, but the pizza had starch, vegetables and meat on it, so I figure that falls under poetic license.  

She did respect us all as persons in a way I gradually realized was very unusual.  I had friends whose parents let them express their freedom any way they wanted, because (in some ways) that was simpler for the grownups. I had other friends whose parents believed in objective right and wrong but micromanaged their lives and tastes down to the last detail.  I'm sure my mother would disagree, but I think she managed a good balancing act.

May. 15 at 7:22pm | See in context

What a beautiful tribute!

I read an article many years ago by your mother, I think. (I mean I think it was by her.) It has stayed with me.  She described sitting at a restaurant table with two worldly-minded women (was it her mother and sister?), and feeling a little frumpy and awkward and out of place.  The other women were admiring each other's jewelry.  The author blurted out, "I too have many precious gems. My children."

May. 13 at 5:31pm | See in context

even if we have greater or lesser degrees of "space" that we've created for God through love on Earth. There will be no sense of incompleteness, no lack, no frustration; there will only be complete union. God will be giving Himself completely to everyone of us (as I've also explained in my interpretation of the late-hour workers) - there will be no difference in this way. I agree with your (and St Therese's) understanding of sanctity, of completely depending on God, on complete trust; hence Our Lady is our model, she is full of grace - no sin is there to prevent God's grace from fully inhabiting her. We don't tend to have this complete dependence; some of us - like St Therese manage to have it to an extraordinary degree - and there are probably a lot more than we know, and yes sanctity is accessible to everyone of us. But that there are differences in how much we let God inhabit us and that this will be reflected in Heaven seems to make a lot of sense and is in line with the tradition of the Church. I hope this sheds some light on this discussion.

May. 11 at 2:49pm | See in context

I completely agree with many of the points you make, Patrick, which are very good. But I think you are working with the wrong notion of hierarchy, or rather are assuming that this notion of hierarchy is underyling what I'm trying to get at. I'd say that there is no contradiction between the hierarchy in Heaven I'm trying to capture here and St. Therese's little way, her understanding of sanctity etc. Perhaps you have in mind some of the paintings we know so well with the different layers of saints, closer or further away from God, and thus are using as a metaphor a ladder, or something of the kind. A metaphor only works in some respects and in others it is wrong. To think that we will be kept at a distance by God or that we achieve sanctity by climbing up the mountain would indeed be wrong. Perhaps the metaphor of pots works better (if I remember correctly, it was also used by St Therese): pots of different sizes are still completely full even if the quantity of water in them is of a different amount. Similarly our union with God will be complete;  

May. 11 at 2:43pm | See in context

Richard, I'm very sorry, and have added an attribution within the post.  I've checked out more of your photos at the address you link to--here--and was very struck by the beauty and variety of your work.  

May. 11 at 11:19am | See in context

The hierarchy notion, I believe, is all too human and more evident of our own way of thinking and seeing than God's.  If we do appeal to it, it should be modified, as expressed above, to take into account what new insights Therese taught us.

May. 11 at 7:16am | See in context

...

While some saints may be capable of that ascent ("big souls"), Therese believed that God would 'compensate' for her (and other "little souls'") 'lack of ascent', if you will, if only they keep striving (Therese compared herself to a little bird flapping its wings trying to fly while eagles - great saints - soared above her) and, if only - and this is what is most important - they put all of their trust in God and allow Him to lift them up. 

Therese loved the good thief's story.  She also thought Mary was more mother than queen, and what mother would lord her 'goods' over children she loves so dearly (all of us)?  The hiearchy notion, where everything is measured according to our own 'record' of virtue gets capsized in a sense, as in the Gospels, no?  God's 'favorites' are the little ones there, the lowly.  The standard by which He measures us is our confidence and trust in Him.  That is what allows for our ascent because, paradoxically, we could never ascent on our own - everything is grace - and so the secret is to allow God to lift us up entirely.

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May. 11 at 7:14am | See in context

Thank you for replying, Samwise and Marie.

When you talk about growing in holiness, or a hierarchy of practicing virtue / reaching different heights of holiness, what is the standard by which we can 'measure' - so as then to know how we're doing? 

See, this is where I think St. Therese is profound.  Living among 'super nuns' set on doing great works almost in a spiritual / ascetical Olympics type of context, not to mention a long line of saints who seemed to view holiness similarly, Therese believed in a new way. 

Rather than climbing the mountain of virtue - though of course she strove to be virtuous - Therese realized she would always be frustrated by her own weakness.  If there was a hierarchy and the standard was justice, she would never end up where she desired to be.  So, her new way is trust unto folly in God's goodness and mercy.  God would never want to hold us at some distance because of our not having climbed the mountain to the full.

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May. 11 at 7:03am | See in context

Hi, if wish to use my foto without licence, please can you give attribution to myself. 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/richardwest/1155120782/

A simple thankyou link to rbwestphoto.co.uk is plenty and helps and artist like myself get credit for my work.

Thanks,

Richard

May. 11 at 2:44am | See in context