Sabbatical 2022: In the Footsteps of Teresa & John

Ávila is in the hills, about 70 miles northwest of Madrid. The city walls were built between the 11th and 14th centuries and are one of the most complete in all of Spain. The first day I went, my timing was off and I was only able to visit the Cathedral and the St. Teresa Museum and site of her home. When things closed for lunch, I walked around the walls and drove through the mountains to reach Madrid. Erwin was a good sport to join me early for a second day, when we could spend time in the major sites.
From the top of the walls, one can see the Monastery of the Incarnation, where Teresa of Ávila entered the Carmelite Order of nuns in 1535.
Teresa wrestled with the way the Carmelite religious life was then practiced, and increasingly felt called to interior prayer and a more intimate experience of Christ. She also felt that monastic communities should be smaller and more like a family— radical ideas that challenged the existing power structure.
At the monastery, we were led by a wonderful volunteer through some of the holiest spaces in the convent and chapel (where no photos were allowed.) When we got to the small museum attached, a very nice American seminarian explained things to us in English. We saw where Teresa lived and prayed, and some of the architectural features that appear in some of her writings.
After years of prayer and searching, Teresa gained permission to begin her plans for reform within the order. She founded the Convent of Saint Joseph nearby, the first of seventeen convents all over Spain.
Three White Stork nests on the belfry of the convent.
The room that was used by Teresa when she was at St. Joseph’s.
Teresa is often portrayed dramatically in art, but I think this obscures her simple words, playfulness, and humor. One of Teresa’s most famous prayers is: “Let nothing disturb you. Let nothing frighten you. Everything passes away except God. God alone is sufficient.”
As Teresa was trying to reform the Carmelites, she met a young priest, Juan de Yepes, later known as John of the Cross. They would become spiritual coworkers and siblings, complementing each other’s abilities and encouraging each other in faith. (Along with trying to improve my Spanish for overall ministry, one of the motivating factors for my ongoing study was seeing an exhibition of original writings by John and Teresa at NYC’s Cathedral of St. John the Divine in 2002.)
As John also worked for reform, he was met with hard resistance by his monastic brothers. In fact, John was kidnapped from Ávila and kept in a monastic prison cell in Toledo, just uphill from the river for some eight months. Hearing the river below, he imagined healing power of the Eucharist in the combination of water, wine, and bread: “This eternal fountain hides and splashes Within this living bread that is life to us Although it is the night.”
Though photography was not allowed in the museum at Encarnación, this is an image of a vision John had while he was serving as priest for the nuns. He sketched the vision, which inspired Salvador Dalí’s painting of a similar perspective.
Though I loved visiting some of the spaces where Teresa and John lived and prayed, a part of me felt closer to their search for God as I drove through the mountains around Ávila. These were the hills through which they went by horse and cart, founding convents, doing ministry, and seeking to follow Christ more closely.
I left Ávila grateful for the opportunity of visiting and with a renewed feeling of kinship with Teresa and John— especially in their focus on renewing faith through simplicity, personal prayer, and humor; and the challenges and blessings of smaller communities.