On the trail of St. Theresa of Avila in Spain

“Let nothing disturb you… " Who could forget the familiar prayer of the 16th century Spanish mystical saint, St. Theresa of Ávila, she of the child Jesus, with the white roses? Here in her birthplace, Ávila, Spain, on everyone’s lips was the start of her “Nada te turbe…" (“Let nothing disturb you…") prayer: painted on walls, in posters, and framed photos. We were in Ávila – Alex my husband, and Al, a very good friend – to visit the place where she was born and her monastery, and to see for ourselves this walled city in the province of Castilla y León. Nearing the place we could already limn the golden stone ramparts of the walls, serpentine and smooth, topped by turrets, smoldering under the sun. Our guidebook said 2.5 km of walls, with its 88 towers and six gates, enclosed the old city completely. We were in Al’s emerald green Toyota Land Rover, which we took out from the basement that morning. Alex happily drove the almost-new car. The ride was smooth except for a few missed turns somewhere in the Majahonda area. We parked in a small side street for a minimal fee. The lady in charge of the parking lot looked kind, so we asked for directions to the convent of St. Theresa. In turn, she asked us, which convent? This perplexed us for a moment, until she explained that there were two convents of St. Theresa —one was constructed in the house where she was born, and the other one was where she stayed and lived for thirty years as a Carmelite nun. Armed with this information we followed the flow of visitors and found ourselves in front of one of the gates of the medieval walls, ushering us into the old city of Ávila.

The 11th-century walls were said to be one of the world’s wonders because it was well- preserved and kept intact even until modern times. It was finished in a century, hence the uniform architecture of the whole length of the wall. The structure protected the city during the medieval era, but efforts have also been done since then to preserve the city architecture and edifices: walking about, one seemed to have gone into a time warp because everything, from the buildings to the houses, but especially the imposing cathedral, looked medieval, untouched by modernity. We discovered that the sights in Ávila were categorized into “Inside the Walls" and “Outside the Walls." Inside the walls was the 17th century Convent of St. Theresa built by followers of the saint on the site of her birthplace and childhood home. Near this establishment was a place that housed some of her relics, among them the bones of her right ring finger. Inside the walls, too, was the 12th century cathedral, said to be an inspiration for the young Theresa in her decision to join the Carmelite order of the place. The imposing cathedral indeed looked like a medieval castle with its own turrets; its apse was integral to the west end of the murallas. It was quite dim within the cathedral after coming in from the bright noonday sun, but as our eyes got accustomed to the relative darkness, we were enticed to go forward and look at the altar mayor. The golden tabernacle behind the altar made us gasp, with its huge gilt-framed recesses for individual religious paintings from eye-level to the high ceiling. The marble pillars with its huge arches lining the central nave drew the eyes up into the cupola (dome), and heavenwards. It was a time to be hushed and be filled with awe; we spent some time just sitting quietly on the pews, listening to the silence. We walked out of the cathedral, then out of one of the city wall’s exit gates, and saw a large startling marble sculpture of St. Theresa: her eyes were turned towards the heavens, her body slanted in an acute angle, and her voluminous habit seemed to float about her. Unmistakably, she was caught in one of her mystical trances. Because of her deep religiosity, meditation, and communion with the Lord, she was able to discern that her Carmelite Order was too lax, the rules were too lenient, and the group had too much wealth to spend. So she started thinking about forming her own religious order, one that would be stricter, conforming to poverty and what her spiritual visions dictated. With the help of another Spanish mystic, counter-reformer and poet during her time, St. John of the Cross (yes, he of the “Dark night of the soul" fame) she began to organize the Carmelite Order of the Discalced (“discalced" or “descalzo" meant without shoes, or barefoot) to underscore the fact that they followed a more stringent path. She started traveling around Spain to found more convents in the country, spreading her message of reforms. This of course was followed by controversy and resistance, but St. Theresa strove on, ceaselessly writing the Pope, penning religious treatises for reformation in the church regarding the religious life. Finally the Discalced Order was given the green light, and the religious order spread around the world. “I am Jesus of Theresa" A quick lunch of pizza, gazos de patata (fried potatoes in barbeque sauce) and lemonade at a local Telepizza within the walls revived our spirits. Thus refreshed, we were off to see more of Ávila! We went out of the walls to look for the Monasterio de la Encarnación, the 16th century cloister where the saint lived almost all her life. Our guide was a young blond girl who accompanied us around the monastery museum. She pointed out St. Theresa’s monastic cell where she often had her trances (one story had it that she even levitated when the divine ecstasy was at its highest), and where she tirelessly wrote letters and treatises that dealt on reforms within the religious life. An interesting part of the museum was the wooden stairs where the saint purportedly saw the child Jesus, who asked her, “Who are you?" and she answered, “I am Theresa of the child Jesus. And you?" The little child answered, “I am Jesus of Theresa." Side trip to Segovia Filled with St. Theresa fervor we slowly wound our way to the car. Suddenly Al said that since Segovia was not too far away, why not have our dinner there, as the place was popular for its “horno de asar" or grilled meat? Indeed, when we finally reached Segovia we noted that the main road was lined with restaurants laying claim to the best grilled food. Al led us to Mesón Cándido, a restaurant where a good meal was enjoyed before, and true enough, their cochinillo asado (lechon de leche for us from the Philippines!) was superb —just the right crispy skin, with meltingly tender and smoky lean meat! It was perfect with the lightly tossed salad with vinaigrette and crusty Spanish bread, all these washed down with a robust red wine. We walked around Segovia and were immediately drawn to the aqueducts that the place was famous for —remarkable engineering feats during the Middle Ages where the stones were piled one on top of another without mortars, the upper portions in an arched form. Miles of these extant aqueducts were seen around Segovia, and the shape really boggled the mind. These waterways brought water to arid parts of town, and with an irrigation system like this, water became accessible, and life became abundant. As we slowly drove home I unpacked the framed photo of St. Therese that I got from the cathedral museum, and contemplated on her beautiful words: Nada te turbe,/ nada te espante,/ todo se pasa,/ Dios no se muda/ la paciencia todo lo alcanza,/ quien a Dios tiene nada le falta,/ sólo Dios basta. Let nothing disturb you,/ let nothing make you afraid, / all things are passing. / God alone never changes. /With patience, all things are possible. /If you have God, you will want for nothing. /God alone suffices. – YA, GMA News