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Almost at the end of her autobiography, Teresa speaks of “la fuerza que tienen las palabras” (“the power of words”) (V 38, 23), which we have been able to perceive, very vividly, in the divine auditions cited above. And it is in the performative dimension of language that mystics seek to manifest that power, a power that can transform one’s own life and those of others: the mystical word has the contagious power to transform lives: “engolosinar” (“to attract”) (V 18,8) the reader, as Teresa says. The same experience of God, if it is written down and described, recounted and conveyed, is by means of experiential accounts what commits listeners and readers, as can be seen in the autobiography of St. Teresa.1

Performativity takes us back to the speech acts, those utterances in which to say is to do. Teresa was a woman who wrote nothing without a purpose, always eager (perhaps without realizing it) to “do things with words.”2 This is without a doubt one of the key features of the language of St. Teresa. Teresa wants to affect, infect and evoke. And human beings are hardwired to be emotionally affected. Laughter, like yawning, is contagious, but so too are love, trust, audacity, and sadly also their opposites. Teresa knew this centuries before Giacomo Rizzolatti was to discover “mirror neurons”3. Consider, as a small example, the subtle critique Teresa aims at the preachers of her time, in which she pinpoints from where they derive the said power (or weakness, as the case may be):

Hasta los predicadores van ordenando sus sermones para no descontentar [the typical ‘dispositio’]. Buena intención tendrán y la obra lo será; mas así se enmiendan pocos. Mas ¿cómo no son muchos los que por los sermones dejan los vicios públicos? ¿Sabe qué me parece? Porque tienen mucho ‘seso’ [= ‘juicio’, ‘cordura’, following to Sebastián de Covarrubias Orozco, autor of Tesoro de la lengua castellana, the expression refers to an excess of precaution, a lack of defiance of death, or ‘locura santa’] los que los predican. No están sin él [seso], [no están] con el gran fuego de amor de Dios, como lo estaban los Apóstoles, y así calienta poco esta llama.

Even preachers are composing their sermons so as not to displease. They may have good intentions, and the good deeds may follow; but the result is that few try to amend! But why don't sermons influence many to give up public vice? Do you know my opinion? Those who preach are very cautious; they don't have the great fire of love of God that the Apostles did, and so the flame has little power to enkindle. (V 16,7)4

Here we find Teresa’s complaint and cause of concern. She does possess that “great fire of love” and hence her writing is imbued with this infection power. A performative power frequently present in subtle insinuations indirectly aimed at her readers is that of:

Esta casa es un cielo, si le puede haber en la tierra, para quien se contenta solo de contentar a Dios y no hace caso de contento suyo [ ].

This house is a heaven, if one can be had on this earth. Here we have a very happy life if one is pleased only with pleasing God and pays no attention to his own satisfaction […]. (CV 13,7)

The performative force can be seen in certain rhetorical questions, i.e. those false questions that equate to statements of the opposite sign. It is by virtue of this inverse polarity that a negative interrogative can become an emphatic statement, as is the case in the following example:

¿No es linda cosa una pobre monjita de San José que pueda llegar a señorear toda la tierra y elementos?

Isn’t it wonderful that a poor nun of St. Joseph’s can attain dominion over all the earth and the elements? (CV 19,4)

In addition to the force and power of words, we witness the struggle with words to such an extent that one could say that “the attraction [of Teresa’s works] is not in the ‘ease’, but rather in the obvious difficulty with which the Saint strives to reflect sentiments that overwhelm her writing.”5 And so, as one penetrates the fourth level of prayer (the allegory of the orchard), the expressive difficulties reach an unprecedented pitch. One only has to read closely in the first paragraphs of chapter 18 of her Life to see this, where we can find many expressions in this sense. It all begins with the invocation of the divine imploring assistance and inspiration:

El Señor me enseñe palabras cómo se pueda decir algo de la cuarta agua. […] Acá no hay sentir, sino gozar sin entender lo que se goza. Entiéndese que se goza un bien, adonde junto se encierran todos los bienes; mas no se comprende este bien […]. Acá el alma goza más sin comparación, y puédese dar a entender muy menos […]. El cómo es esta que llaman unión y lo que es, yo no lo sé dar a entender. […] Esto vuestras mercedes lo entenderán (que yo no lo sé más decir) con sus letras. […] Cierto, a mí me acaba el entendimiento, y cuando llego a pensar en esto, no puedo ir adelante. […] Con decir disparates me remedio algunas veces.

May the Lord teach me the words necessary for explaining something about the fourth water […]. In this fourth water […] it rejoices without understanding what it is rejoicing in. It understands that it is enjoying a good in which are gathered together all goods, but this good is incomprehensible […]. Here in this fourth water the soul rejoices incomparably more; but it can show much less […]. How this prayer they call union comes about and what it is, I don’t know how to explain […]. Your Reverence with your learning will understand this, for I don’t know what else to say […]. Certainly brings my intellect to a halt […]. Sometimes I find it a remedy to speak absurdities. (V 18,1-3)

As the Saint proceeds with her description of this fourth stage, the struggle with words intensifies. Note how in the quotation below these unforgettable expressions on the obliteration of the understanding so characteristic of Teresa are inherent in this babbling that comes close to echolalia:

La voluntad debe estar bien ocupada en amar, mas no entiende cómo ama. El entendimiento, si entiende, no se entiende cómo entiende; al menos no puede comprender nada de lo que entiende. A mí no me parece que entiende; porque, como digo, no se entiende. Yo no acabo de entender esto.

The will is fully occupied in loving, but it doesn’t understand how it loves. The intellect, if it understands, doesn’t understand how it understands; at least it can’t comprehend anything of what it understands. It doesn’t seem to me that it understands, because, as I say, it doesn’t understand – I really can’t understand this! (V 18,14)

This is Teresa’s real literary achievement: the carefree willingness with which she shows us her creative process, her clumsy moves and expressive difficulties, and her lack of language. Her reflections on the unpredictable processes of articulation, the ups and downs of which she makes us participants, constitute “an incalculably rich and unprecedented feature in the history of Spanish literature.”6 Additionally, this dimension comprises an important element of what has been identified as the performative quality of her language. And the very failure in literary terms adds additional enjoyment and admiration in reading her works, as her continual reflections on the discourse itself at times acquire truly playful connotations, making her failures in writing a cause for (her) laughter:

Riéndome estoy de estas comparaciones, que no me cuadran, mas no sé otras; pensad lo que quisiereis; ello es verdad lo que he dicho.

I am laughing to myself over these comparisons for they do not satisfy me, but I don’t know any others. You may think what you want; what I have said is true. (7M 2,11)7

And finally, we highlight in St. Teresa a truly titanic effort to make herself understood. She displays a desire to communicate and a quest for new words that, in the midst of fiascos, allow us to glimpse her goal; why it is unreachable; and how, in the end, it impacts every part of her being: “Deshaciéndome estoy, hermanas, por daros a entender esta operación de amor, y no sé cómo […].” (“I am struggling, Sisters, to explain for you this action of love, and I don’t know how […].”) (6M 2,3).

In her exclamations directed to God in person, Teresa shows us her expressive tribulations, her self-confessed yearnings to transpose to the written word what she feels or understands passing through her heart: “Oh Dios mío, quién tuviera entendimiento y letras y nuevas palabras para encarecer vuestras obras como lo entiende mi alma!” (“Oh my God, who has the understanding, the learning, and the new words with which to extol Your works as my soul understands them!”) (V 25,17).8 Yet in spite of everything, it is in this rhetorical appeal to personal shortcomings (“entendimiento” /“understanding”, or intelligence and “letras” / “letters”, or culture) and above all “nuevas palabras” (“new words”) where we find the true goal of the mystic: to find new words to convey experiences that are always new. To a large extent, the mystic’s mission is the impassioned quest for words that are nowhere to be found.

When words fail and conceptual powerlessness stays before us – “Deshaciéndome estoy” (“I am struggling”) –, Teresa turns her gaze to images, metaphors, and symbols (such as the orchard or garden, palace or castle). And if images fail, the verse or poem will be at hand to express both disillusionment (“valle de la tristura” [“valley of sadness”]) and trust (“nada te turbe” [“nothing disturbs you”]).9 And into that place where not even poetry can be found (if that were possible), the lived silence, both apophatic and mystical, is welcomed. That is, the language of love is allowed to speak:

[Y] voyme a donde solía a solas tener oración, y comienzo a tratar con el Señor, estando muy recogida, con un estilo abobado que muchas veces, sin saber lo que digo, trato; que el amor es el que habla […].

I went to the place where I usually prayed alone and being deeply recollected, began to talk to the Lord in a foolish way, which I often do without knowing what I’m saying. It is love that is then speaking […]. (V 34,8)10

The poem Vuestra soy makes this dimension salient, wherein love in its metaphorical sense appears characterized as possession and submission of the entire person. The totalizing enumeration of Teresa’s verses makes this clear with “heart”, “body”, “life”, “soul”, “deep feelings”, and “affections”. The whole person of Teresa is here self-involved and transformed:

Vuestra soy, para vos nací: ¿qué mandáis hacer de mí? […] Veis aquí mi corazón, yo le pongo en vuestra palma; mi cuerpo, mi vida y alma, mis entrañas y afición.11

I am Yours and born for you What do you want of me? […] In Your hand I place my heart, Body, life and soul, Deep feelings and affections mine.12