St. Therese of Liseux Visits Rome
The charm and beauty of the Catholic Faith shines forth in her stories. One of the Church’s most cherished storytellers is the Little Flower, St. Therese. Always worthwhile spiritual reading, The Story of a Soul is enthralling, and contains many lessons on the holiness that is within our grasp. Like St. Therese, we must pursue Jesus with great persistence. St. Therese is a reminder from God that holiness is for everyone. I present here Therese's charming account of her meeting the Holy Father, Leo XIII on her pilgrimage to Rome.
On Sunday morning, November 20, we went to the Vatican,
and were taken to the Pope's private chapel. At eight o'clock we assisted at
his Mass, during which his fervent piety, worthy of the Vicar of Christ, gave
evidence that he was in truth the "Holy Father."
The Gospel for that day contained these touching
words: "Fear not, little flock, for it hath pleased your Father to give
you a Kingdom."60 My heart was filled with perfect confidence. No, I would
not fear, I would trust that the Kingdom of the Carmel would soon be mine. I
did not think of those other words of Our Lord: "I dispose to you, as my
Father hath disposed to Me, a Kingdom."61 That is to say, I will give you
crosses and trials, and thus will you become worthy to possess My Kingdom. If
you desire to sit on His right hand you must drink the chalice which He has
drunk Himself.62 "Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and so
to enter into His glory?"63
A Mass of thanksgiving followed, and then the audience
began. Leo XIII, whose cassock and cape were of white, was seated on a raised
chair, and round him were grouped various dignitaries of the church. According
to custom each visitor knelt in turn and kissed, first the foot and next the
hand of the venerable Pontiff, and finally received his blessing; then two of
the Noble Guard signed to the pilgrim that he must rise and pass on to the
adjoining room to make way for those who followed.
No one uttered a word, but I was firmly determined to
speak, when suddenly the Vicar-General of Bayeux, Father Révérony, who was
standing at the Pope's right hand, told us in a loud voice that he absolutely
forbade anyone to address the Holy Father. My heart beat fast. I turned to
Céline, mutely inquiring what I should do. "Speak!" she said.
The next moment I found myself on my knees before the
Holy Father. I kissed his foot and he held out his hand; then raising my eyes,
which were filled with tears, I said entreatingly: "Holy Father, I have a
great favour to ask you." At once he bent towards me till his face almost
touched mine, and his piercing black eyes seemed to read my very soul.
"Holy Father," I repeated, "in honour of your jubilee, will you
allow me to enter the Carmel when I am fifteen?"
The Vicar-General, surprised and displeased, said
quickly: "Holy Father, this is a child who desires to become a Carmelite,
but the Superiors of the Carmel are looking into the matter." "Well,
my child," said His Holiness, "do whatever the Superiors
decide." Clasping my hands and resting them on his knee, I made a final
effort: "Holy Father, if only you say 'yes,' everyone else would
agree."
He looked at me fixedly and said clearly and
emphatically: "Well, well! You will enter if it is God's Will." I was
going to speak again, when the Noble Guards motioned to me. As I paid little
attention they came forward, the Vicar-General with them, for I was still
kneeling before the Pope with my hands resting on his knee. Just as I was
forced to rise, the dear Holy Father gently placed his hand on my lips, then
lifted it to bless me, letting his eyes follow me for quite a long time.
My Father was much distressed to find me coming from
the audience in tears; he had passed out before me, and so did not know
anything about my request. The Vicar-General had shown him unusual kindness,
presenting him to Leo XIII as the father of two Carmelites. The Sovereign Pontiff,
as a special sign of benevolence, had placed his hand on his head, thus
appearing in the name of Christ Himself to mark him with a mysterious seal. But
now that this father of four Carmelites is in Heaven, it is no longer the hand
of Christ's Vicar which rests on his brow, prophesying his martyrdom: it is the
hand of the Spouse of Virgins, of the King of Heaven; and this Divine Hand will
never be taken away from the head which it has blessed.
This trial was indeed a heavy one, but I must admit
that in spite of my tears I felt a deep inward peace, for I had made every
effort in my power to respond to the appeal of my Divine Master. This peace,
however, dwelt in the depths of my soul—on the surface all was bitterness; and
Jesus was silent—absent it would seem, for nothing revealed that He was there.
On that day, too, the sun dared not shine, and the
beautiful blue sky of Italy, hidden by dark clouds, mingled its tears with
mine. All was at an end. My journey had no further charm for me since it had
failed in its object. It is true the Holy Father's words: "You will enter
if it is God's Will," should have consoled me, they were indeed a
prophecy. In spite of all these obstacles, what God in His goodness willed, has
come to pass. He has not allowed His creatures to do what they will but only
what He wills.
Sometime before this took place I had offered myself to the
Child Jesus to be His little plaything. I told Him not to treat me like one of
those precious toys which children only look at and dare not touch, but to
treat me like a little ball of no value, that could be thrown on the ground,
kicked about, pierced, left in a corner, or pressed to His Heart just as it might
please Him. In a word I wished to amuse the Holy child and to let Him play with
me as He fancied. Here indeed He was answering my prayer. In Rome Jesus pierced
His little plaything. He wanted to see what was inside . . . and when
satisfied, He let it drop and went to sleep. What was He doing during His sweet
slumber, and what became of the ball thus cast on one side? He dreamed that He
was still at play, that He took it up or threw it down, that He rolled it far
away, but at last He pressed it to His Heart, nor did He allow it again to slip
from His tiny Hand. Dear Mother, you can imagine the sadness of the little ball
lying neglected on the ground! And yet it continued to hope against hope.
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