Community leader, religious reformer, mystic, Doctor of the Church, 16th century Spanish Carmelite St. Teresa of Avila was a powerhouse for all ages. Known as Sister Teresa of Jesus, she was a rich and memorable blend of vision and passion, humor and wisdom, earthiness and spiritual depth, suffering and strength. She was an exigete of the soul, a theologian of substance who wrote from her intimate experience of God. For centuries, spiritual seekers and connoisseurs alike have read her writings for guidance and understanding in the contemplative life and prayer. Icons and artistic depictions often portray her with a book and quill. Sometimes they show her with castanets or tambourine, dancer of delight that she was, a woman of joy who moved with the Spirit. She is quoted as saying, “May God protect me from gloomy-faced saints.”

Whenever I teach about the sacrament of the present moment, on being fully, actively, and consciously present, I like to tell this story about Teresa of Jesus, the Abbess from Avila. Some make a mountain out of a molehill. I make a story out of a line I once heard. Whether it happened or not, it’s true. 

It happened late one night that the Abbess of the convent, Mother Teresa of Jesus, was hungry and so she made her way quietly to the kitchen to get something to eat. It also happened that one of the young sisters was unable to sleep. Walking the hall, she saw light coming from the kitchen. Curious, she made her way toward the strip of light. Peering in through the door that was slightly ajar, she was surprised to see that it was the Abbess having a midnight snack. With a small knife, Teresa was cutting off and eating slices of pear, humming, and singing aloud to herself. Being caught off guard and amused by this, the sister went quickly but quietly to wake and tell some of the other novices what she had seen and urged them to come see for themselves.

Down the stairs and down the hall five novices roused from sleep made their way hurriedly toward the kitchen with muffled squeals, shushing each other as they went. As they approached the ribbon of light coming from the kitchen they slowed to a tiptoe. Crouching, bending, stretching, they huddled at the door their five faces stacked like children up late on Christmas eve each hoping to catch St. Nicholas with one peeking eye.

In all their excitement the five sisters were not as quiet as they supposed and so, of course, the Abbess knew she was not alone. Among other fare, what she found on her hunt in the kitchen was some leftover partridge. So, aware of her audience, she rolled up her sleeves, threw etiquette and caution to the wind, and attacked the partridge with gusto, smacking her lips, licking her fingers, wiping her face with her forearm, patting her stomach, and smiling with vocalized pleasure. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, the sisters were horrified. They could barely contain themselves.

Then suddenly, without looking up, Mother Teresa of Jesus said in a loud, matter of fact voice, “Sisters, when it’s time to pray – PRAY. When it’s time to partridge – PARTRIDGE.” And the startled five fell through the doorway and spilled into the kitchen.