Sister Teresa by Barbara Mujica

Author:Barbara Mujica [MUJICA, BARBARA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC000000, FIC041000, FIC019000, FIC014000
ISBN: 9781468306132
Publisher: The Overlook Press
Published: 2012-08-20T00:00:00+00:00

Mentes tuorum visita,

From thy bright heavenly throne!

Imple superna gratia,

Come, take possession of our souls,

Quae tu creasti, pectora.

And make them all Thine Own!

Qui diceris Paraclitus,

Thou who art called the Paraclete,

Altissimi donum Dei,

Best gift of God above,

Fons vivus, ignis, caritas,

The Living Spring, The Living Fire,

Et spiritalis unctio.

Sweet Unction, and True Love!

In the middle of “Fons vivus, ignis, caritas” a collective gasp undulated through the sea of nuns. I looked around, strangely conscious of a floral scent that seemed to come, not from the flowers that adorned the altar, but somewhere else. The place was bathed in a soft, rose-colored light that made me think of Eden before the fall. The air was charged with that pregnant stillness that precedes a storm.

Teresa, who had been sitting a few rows in front of me, had slumped down on the ground and was gently writhing as though—oh God, forgive me for writing this!—as though she were making love to an invisible lover to whom she had completely surrendered. Some of the nuns had gathered around her. They stared, horrified or mesmerized, unable to grasp what was happening. Teresa’s breath was shallow and uneven. Her face was turned upward, her trembling lips slightly parted as if awaiting a kiss. Her long eyelashes fluttered softly. Her shoulders twitched and her breasts heaved. She moaned. Her face was flush. A tiny bead of sweat had formed on her forehead, just where her wimple met her skin. Then, suddenly, for no apparent reason she began to weep violently, wailing and flailing as tears gushed from her eyes. She was panting heavily now, as if trying to catch her breath. Finally, her body went limp, and she was silent. What was happening? Was she having some sort of seizure? Was she dreaming? Or was she in a trance?

One of the sisters approached her—I think it was Radegunda—and held out her arms as if to clutch Teresa’s shoulders. “Teresa!” she called softly. “Teresa, wake up!” But Mother Josefa gently pulled her away. “No,” she whispered. “Don’t touch her. Don’t call her. Leave her alone.”

Teresa quivered and sighed and hiccoughed a few times. Slowly her sobbing subsided. Her limbs stiffened, then relaxed. She opened her eyes gradually, but seemed unaware of her surroundings. She looked extraordinarily serene, as though she had awakened from a refreshing sleep. Her lips moved, almost imperceptibly at first. Then a few words became decipherable. Something about Jesus. Something about intense darkness and blinding light. Something about seeing and not seeing.

At last the words flowed intelligibly. “I was with Jesus. I saw … I didn’t exactly see, but I felt Christ beside me. I didn’t really see Him, not with the eyes of my body, but I know He was there. How can I explain it? I didn’t really see the way you see a chair or a table or a tree or the sky. What I mean is, I didn’t see any form, and still, don’t ask me how I know, but I do know I saw Him, clearer than sunlight, with that knowledge that burns within.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.