St. Therese of Lisieux

I've finished re-reading "Story of a Soul," the autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux for my article for Kerygma July. (Free download of PDF file when you join Kerygma Family). After I read the book translated by John Beevers, I read another book on St. Therese. This one is by Kathryn Harrison and is titled "Saint Therese of Lisieux."

St. Therese if my most favorite saint—man or woman. I actually am partial to the Carmelites especially to St. Teresa and St. John. What I love about St. Therese most of all is that I find after reading her autobiography, I know that I can have a shot at becoming a saint through her Little Way. I do want to be a saint, something that the Church tells us we should aspire for. Not that at this time and age, it is that easy. I realize that when I read the book by Harrison. I'm not yet through with it yet but some passages left me feeling down. I understand where she is at actually because she is just taking into account today's points of view—psychology and all those modern stuff. But there's a part of me that dislikes it. Why? Because it's like tainting heaven with the mire and the muck of the world. I may seem idealistic but because I think of St. Therese as a holy young girl who tried her best to love God, to color her experiences with her need for a mother figure, her fascination with death with the influence of her mother, the sexual undertones of her words, etc, is to me to look at this reality from the wrong perspective. Therese' reality was a reality of the innocent, the pure and the chosen. Putting in the element of psychology and related view and understanding of her situation denigrates her and her testimony. She is such a powerful intercessor and witness precisely because she was singleminded about her pursuit of God. Precisely that's why she's a saint. I wouldn't be surprised if she had sexual desires (latent or otherwise) but they didn't drive her. The desires didn't shape her dreams and ambitions. She just really wanted to love God. And perhaps there lies the whole point in modern understanding of the saints. (I have read the reviews and articles by secular authors on the recent book taken from the diary of Mother Teresa of Calcutta). It seems we cannot seem to accept this particular drive per se—we could not accept that as a drive that for some people wholly consumes them, or at least, something that they wanted to be consumed about. Sex has to get into the subject. Or some other negative influence. Or family background. Where is grace? Where is faith? Where is calling? And there lies the sorrow. Because we modern people don't want to accept that the love of God, the pursuit of God could be a beautiful, wonderful all-consuming passion, we don't have it. And we have become so much poorer because of it.