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Celebrate the feast of St Thérèse of Lisieux!


“When I was six or seven years old I saw the sea for the first time. The sight made a deep impression on me, I could not take my eyes off it. Its majesty, and the roar of the waves, all spoke to my soul of the greatness and power of God. That evening at the hour when the sun seems to sink into the vast ocean, leaving behind it a trail of glory… I pictured my soul as a tiny ship, with a graceful white sail, in the midst of the gold furrow, and I resolved never to let it withdraw from the sight of Jesus, so that it might sail peacefully and quickly towards the shores of Heaven.” +St Thérèse of Lisieux

Happy, happy Feast of St Thérèse of Lisieux, Doctor of the Church! 


From 1873 to 1897, Marie Françoise-Thérèse Martin lived a brief, hidden life in a small town about two hours from Paris. Her story is not one of grand drama or epic adventure. She left behind no wide wake of mission work; she traveled nowhere; she founded nothing. She died at age 24, a tiny drop in the ocean of history.


How did this young Carmelite with the sparkling blue eyes and gentle smile become one of the most beloved saints in the Church? 

She was born in Alençon, France, as the youngest of five daughters, the self-described sensitive and stubborn baby of a happy and devout family. Her parents, Louis and Zélie Martin, saints in their own rights, poured love and intimacy into their children. 


Their family life rings familiar even 150 years later: two working parents running a busy household and two successful small businesses; celebrating birthdays and anniversaries and holidays in a charming home; a full calendar of school and meetings and gatherings with relatives.


Among it all, the Martins’ only true priority was holiness. They raised their daughters to be in the world, joyfully grateful for God’s many gifts, yet not of it: to set Heaven as the only thing that really matters. 


But then—as it has for so many families—cancer tore a deep gash across their lives. Zélie Martin began experiencing pain in her breast. Doctors found metastatic breast cancer tumors they could do little to treat. Zélie died when Thérèse was not quite five years old. 

“When Mummy died, my happy disposition changed,” Thérèse wrote. “I had been so lively and open; now I became diffident and oversensitive, crying if anyone looked at me. I was only happy if no one took notice of me. [I]t was only in the intimacy of my own family, where everyone was wonderfully kind, that I could be more myself.”


Louis moved his daughters from Alençon to Lisieux to be nearer to the family of Zélie’s brother, with whom the Martins were very close. Thérèse’s Uncle Isidore and Aunt Céline helped fill the endless  empty spaces of a mother’s absence (Isidore would later be responsible for the widespread publication of his niece’s spiritual memoir, The Story of a Soul).

Thérèse described her childhood as simultaneous experience of deep security and happiness in her family’s love and profound insecurity in everything else—school, social encounters, even her own inner life. She suffered the trauma of losing her mother, a scrupulous and sensitive temperament, and mysterious life-threatening illnesses. While she possessed piety and natural virtue from the beginning, her “complete conversion” came on Christmas Eve, 1886. She finished school quickly, bright and at the top of her class (although she was often bullied for this). Then she sought to follow her older sisters into the Carmel at Lisieux. 

Thérèse had harbored a dream to be a great saint for God, but found both her circumstances and her own abilities quite small. Yet she chose confidence in God’s love and promise: there must be a way to Heaven through the ordinary and little. She resolved to be not a splashy rose or lily, but God’s littlest flower, making use of every tiny sacrifice to express her love for God. Just to herself, she called this “the little way.”

Sister Thérèse of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face lived only a few short years of religious life before tuberculosis began its slow, grueling agony. The prioress, who happened to be Thérèse’s own older sister, Pauline, directed her to write her spiritual memoirs. Under obedience, Thérèse began jotting bits and pieces into a cheap notebook.

When Thérèse died September 30, 1897, her sisters began reading her notebooks. They quickly understood that she had discovered by grace something that would change the Church. Thérèse’s little way offered a radical hope to every ordinary person. 


Pope Pius XI canonized her in 1925, and for her Mass of canonization, he ordered the reinstitution of an old tradition of covering St Peter’s basilica with lighted torches and lamps. Her little way set aflame the heart of the Church.

In 1997, Pope St John Paul II declared Thérèse the youngest ever Doctor of the Church. He said, “Before the emptiness of so many words, Thérèse offers another solution, the one Word of salvation which, understood and lived in silence, becomes a source of renewed life. She counters a rational culture, so often overcome by practical materialism, with the disarming simplicity of the ‘little way’ which, by returning to the essentials, leads to the secret of all life: the divine Love that surrounds and penetrates every human venture. In a time like ours, so frequently marked by an ephemeral and hedonistic culture, this new doctor of the Church proves to be remarkably effective in enlightening the mind and heart of those who hunger and thirst for truth and love.”

If St Thérèse of Lisieux is not a reason to feast, nothing is! Here are some ideas for entering the joy of her eternal victory.



Tomorrow, we'll begin sharing some personal stories about how St Thérèse of Lisieux has impacted our family. Happy feast day!


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