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Almost at the beginning of The Book of Her Life, Teresa talks of “la fuerza que hacían en mi corazón las palabras de Dios” (“the strength the words of God gave my heart”) (V 3,5). I will now consider this special strength.

Chapter 22 of The Life focuses on a key theme for Teresa: the humanity of Jesus as the absolute path of mediation for every encounter with God (cf. 1Timothy 2,5). From chapter 23, the narrative thread of her discourse centers on Teresa’s own interior space: the ‘within’. From there it moves through an entire process of discernment that opens up into a dyadic experience of dialogue and alterity with confessors and men of letters on the one hand and with God on the other, through voices and visions. It is thus that one of the most unique and powerful personae of the entire Teresian discourse emerges: the divine ‘I’, whereby God himself becomes the Saint’s greatest ally.

From chapter 24 of The Life we therefore find supernatural interventions: what role do such voices (cf. V 24,5) and visions (cf. V 27,2) play from a narrative-experiential perspective? They constitute the entrance of psychological experience at its most profound levels as an element in the unfolding of the lived experience. These are internal experiences1 that anchor Teresa (performative effects) in her foundational adventure and her mystic experience. God Himself, like the muses of classical literature, comes on the scene as a source of inspiration. Thus, God is her ally in a three-fold task: in the task as writer, as founder, and in the mystic adventure.

The divine auditions or speakings of the Lord, with the so characteristically Teresian “God told me”, constitute the most effective rhetorical strategy of our narrator. She claims true alliance with God, effectively giving authority to her mystical experience. It is God in person who inspires the right words to describe the state of the soul that has reached the fourth level of prayer (in relation with the allegory of the “orchard”):

Estaba yo pensando cuando quise escribir esto – acabando de comulgar y de estar en esta misma oración que escribo – qué hacía el alma en aquel tiempo. Díjome el Señor estas palabras: Deshácese toda, hija, para ponerse más en Mí; ya no es ella la que vive, sino Yo. Como no puede comprender lo que entiende, es no entender entendiendo.

After having received Communion and been in this very prayer I’m writing about, I was thinking when I wanted to write something on it of what the soul did during that time. The Lord spoke these words to me: ‘It detaches itself from everything, daughter, so as to abide more in me. It is no longer the soul that lives but I. Since it cannot comprehend what it understands, there is an understanding but no understanding’ (V 18,14)

There is a certain sense in which we could include God as co-author of the Saint’s writings or as source of inspiration (as we have said) and activating force of poetic furor. Thus, one gets the impression that a different narrator is present: “¿Qué es esto, Señor mío? […], que escribiendo esto estoy, y me parece que con vuestro favor y por vuestra misericordia […].” (“What is this, my Lord! […], For in writing this it seems to me that with Your favor and through Your mercy […].”) (V 6,9). Or, in another chapter of her Vida she writes: “Porque veo claro no soy yo quien lo dice, que ni lo ordeno con el entendimiento, ni sé después cómo lo acerté a decir.” (“Because I see clearly that it is not I who say what I write; for neither do I plan it with the intellect nor do I know afterward how I managed to say it.”) (V 14,8). Thus the complicity between the two narrators – God and Teresa – emerges.

The difficulties that Teresa encounters as a founder are overcome thanks to the encouragement and inspiration she receives from God Himself, as Teresa tells us on the occasion of opening her first monastery of Ávila. Once again, God appears as the best staunch supporter of her founding mission when difficulties crop up on every side:

Y así estuve muy penada dos días que hubo estas juntas que digo en el pueblo, y estando bien fatigada, me dijo el Señor: ¿No sabes que soy poderoso?, ¿de qué temes?; y me aseguró que no se desharía. Con esto quedé muy consolada.

So, I was very afflicted for the two days in which these meetings, I mentioned, among the people took place. And while I was feeling utterly desolate, the Lord said to me: Don’t you know that I am mighty? What do you fear? And He assured me the new monastery would not be suppressed. As a result I was greatly consoled. (V 36,16)

When doubts and misgivings arise before her own mystical experience, and the procession of men of letters and spiritual friends begins to ask whether what she is about is the Holy Spirit or perhaps that of the Devil,2 Teresa passionately defends the truth of her way, even if “[L]evántense contra mí todos los letrados” (“all learned men rise up against me”) (V 25,17).3 And if the words of the learned men do not attest to her experience, she will have no compunction in side-stepping them all and falling back on higher authorities (which can hardly be challenged), bringing into her discourse a new voice, purely as a tactic to boost her authority. In this way, when all are against her, the words of God appear to dismiss them and vindicate her:

Pues estando en esta gran fatiga, aún entonces no había comenzado a tener ninguna visión, solas estas palabras bastaban para quitármela y quietarme del todo: No hayas miedo, hija, que Yo soy y no te desampararé; no temas. Paréceme a mí según estaba, que era menester muchas horas para persuadirme a que me sosegase y que no bastara nadie. Heme aquí con solas estas palabras sosegada, con fortaleza, con ánimo, con seguridad, con una quietud y luz que en un punto vi mi alma hecha otra, y me parece que con todo el mundo disputara que era Dios.

While in this great affliction then (although at that time I had not begun to have any visions), these words alone were enough to take it away and bring me complete solace: ‘Do not fear, daughter; for I am here, and I will not abandon you; do not fear.’ It seems to me that from the way I felt many hours would have been necessary and no one would have been able to persuade me to be at peace. (V 25,18)

One of the most powerful, positive effects that Teresa highlights here is the release from fear, the fruit now of new words from God. The performative and liberating power acquired by the narrated experience derives from the plainness and moderation of her words (think of the gesture: ‘a fig for all demons’4), shades that are halfway between the comedic and existential relief:

Heme aquí con solas estas palabras sosegada, con fortaleza, con ánimo, con seguridad, con una quietud y luz que en un punto vi mi alma hecha otra, y me parece que con todo el mundo disputara que era Dios. […] [S]e me quitaron todos los miedos […], y una higa para todos los demonios, que ellos me temerán a mí. No entiendo estos miedos: ¡demonio!, ¡demonio!, adonde podemos decir: ¡Dios!, ¡Dios!, y hacerle temblar. Sí, que ya sabemos que no se puede menear si el Señor no lo permite. ¿Qué es esto? Es, sin duda, que tengo ya más miedo a los que tan grande le tienen al demonio que a él mismo;

And behold by these words alone I was given calm together with fortitude, courage, security, quietude, and light so that in one moment I saw my soul become another. It seems to me I would have disputed with the entire world that these words came from God. […] All the fears I usually felt left me […], and a fig for all the devils, because they shall fear me. I don't understand these fears. ‘The devil! The devil!’ when we can say, ‘God! God’, and make the devil tremble? Yes, for we already know that he cannot stir if the Lord does not permit him to. What is this? Without doubt, I fear those who have such great fear of the devil more than I do the devil himself] (V 25,18-22)

Indeed the words of God spoken to Teresa have the most and greatest impact on her life, the greatest power of transformation. The “hablas del Señor” (“sayings of God”) would progressively mold and lend coherence to her “desbaratada vida” (“dissipated life”) (V 40,24). These are words that do not slip from one’s memory and are not forgotten. They open up fissures in the brain:

Estando una noche en oración, comenzó el Señor a decirme algunas palabras […], hacen un sentimiento y pena que deshacen, y siéntese más aprovechamiento de conocernos con una palabra de éstas que en muchos días que nosotros consideremos nuestra miseria, porque trae consigo esculpida una verdad […]. Esto bien lo entendía yo, sino que queda esculpido en la imaginación […]. Queda imprimido un acatamiento […].

One night while I was in prayer, the Lord began to speak some words […], they caused consuming sorrow and pain. More improvement in self-knowledge is felt from one of these words than would be got from many days of reflection on our wretchedness, for it engraves on us an undeniable truth […]. […] the vision is so strongly engraved on the imagination […]. There is impressed upon one a reverence […]. (V 38,16-18)

The same positive effect can be seen in the visions of Saint Teresa. In Life 28,13 the Saint describes the effects of a vision of Christ, an experience of the presence that leads Teresa to exclaim, “todos los que me conocían veían claro estar otra mi alma” (“all who knew me saw clearly that my soul was changed”). It is precisely the experience of freedom that is the most fascinating and powerful effect of her mystical life. One of the recurring phrases for which Teresa shows particular fondness is “me parece traía el mundo debajo de los pies” (“it seems I trampled the world under foot”) (V 4,7). This spatial metaphor points in a highly graphic (and geographical) way to this new experience of freedom – a freedom that tends to be linked with an image of flight, when Teresa talks about the soul: “le nacen las alas para bien volar” (“wings sprout, enabling one to fly with ease”) (V 20,22) and: “queda el alma señora de todo y con libertad” (“the soul is left with such freedom and dominion over all things”) (V 20,23).

There are occasions when the effects are made manifest through the iteration in an almost incantationary style of the term ‘truth’: one of the magic words Teresa takes such pleasure in, “la verdad de cuando niña” (“the truth I knew in childhood”) (V 3,5). Truth, in all of its polysemy, is taken up over and over again throughout the thread of the discourse. It is worth reading this long quotation, where one can appreciate the plasticity of the narrated experience, an experience so powerful that it is sculpted and imprinted:

Quedóme una verdad de esta divina Verdad que se me representó, sin saber cómo ni qué, esculpida, que me hace tener un nuevo acatamiento a Dios, porque da noticia de su Majestad y poder de una manera que no se puede decir: sé entender que es una gran cosa. Quedóme muy gran gana de no hablar sino cosas muy verdaderas, que vayan adelante de lo que acá se trata en el mundo, y así comencé a tener pena de vivir en él. Dejóme con gran ternura y regalo y humildad; paréceme que, sin entender cómo, me dio el Señor aquí mucho; no me quedó ninguna sospecha de que era ilusión. No vi nada, mas entendí el gran bien que hay en no hacer caso de cosa que no sea para llegarnos más a Dios, y así entendí qué cosa es andar un alma en verdad delante de la misma Verdad. Esto que entendí es darme el Señor a entender que es la misma Verdad.

Todo lo que he dicho entendí hablándome algunas veces, y otras sin hablarme, con más claridad algunas cosas que las que por palabras se me decían. Entendí grandísimas verdades sobre esta Verdad, más que si muchos letrados me lo hubieran enseñado. Paréceme que en ninguna manera me pudieran imprimir así, ni tan claramente se me diera a entender la vanidad de este mundo. Esta Verdad que digo se me dio a entender es en sí misma Verdad, y es sin principio ni fin, y todas las demás verdades dependen de esta Verdad, como todos los demás amores de este amor, y todas las demás grandezas de esta grandeza; aunque esto va dicho oscuro para la claridad con que a mí el Señor quiso se me diese a entender. ¡Y cómo se parece el poder de esta Majestad, pues en tan breve tiempo deja tan gran ganancia y tales cosas imprimidas en el alma!

From this divine Truth, which showed itself to me, there was engraved upon me, without my knowing how or what, a truth that gives me a new reverence toward God; for it gives knowledge of His majesty and power in an indescribable way: I know that this majesty and power are something great. There was left in me a keen desire to speak only those things that are very true, that reach beyond what is dealt with here in the world; and so I began to experience the pain of living in the world. This experience left me feeling great tenderness, consolation, and humility. I think that, without my understanding how, the Lord gave me very much with this favor. I felt no suspicion that it was an illusion. I didn’t see anything, but I understood the great blessing there is in not paying attention to what doesn’t bring us closer to God. Thus I understood that the Lord gave me understanding of what Truth itself is.

All I have mentioned I have come to know sometimes through locutions, at other times without them. Some things I understood more clearly than I understand what is told to me in words. I understood extraordinary truths about this Truth, more than if many learned men had taught me. I don’t think they could ever have impressed truth upon me in this way or made me understand so clearly the vanity of this world. This truth, which I say was given to my understanding, is in itself truth, and it is without beginning or end; all other truths depend upon this truth, just as all other loves depend upon this love, and all other grandeurs upon this grandeur – although this statement is obscure if compared to the clear understanding the Lord wanted me to have. And what power this Majesty appears to have since in so short a time He leaves such an abundant increase and things so marvelous impressed upon the soul! (V 40,3-4)

Here one may ask: does Teresa hear anything in these divine words? Does she see anything in her visions? But these are irrelevant questions. Behind Teresa’s voices and visions is concealed the strategy of making God the greatest guarantor and ally of her writings and experience, as well as the most difficult authority for her adversaries to attack. This is what happens in the voices cited by Saint Teresa: what she calls “hablas de Dios” (6M 3,10) are words that are never heard with the physical sense of hearing, and what she calls “visiones de Dios” (V 39,24) are visions that are never seen with physical eyes. Both, however, become the best stratagem to lend authority to her writings and safeguard her on her spiritual or mystical path. These are true speech acts with a powerful performative force.5 If the divine auditions have such an extraordinary effect on Teresa it is because they are speech acts, with the specific power we call performative (in which ‘to say is to do’). Thereby we have, on the one hand, the “hablas del Señor” as an example of performative language and on the other hand we have Teresa’s text that gains a performative power because these hablas (as direct speech) are part of it.