A White Rose from Saint Therese 

 Mary and Joseph, but also the Carmelite of Lisieux: the Pope is very tied to the master/teacher of child-like spirituality:  “Whenever I have a problem—he explained—I put confide it to her. I don’t ask that she solve it for me, only that she take it into her hands and help me.”

The devotion and spiritual bond of Bergoglio for the “Little Flower of Jesus.”  “This is what I call her when I ask for her help.”

By Stefania Falasca

Whoever has had the opportunity to get to know and be friends with Cardinal Jorge Maria Bergoglio knows that it was his custom to include, even in a short note, an ancient image of Mary venerated in Bavaria, at Augsburg, in the Church of St. Peter, called “She who unties knots.”  To this he always added a little holy card of Saint Joseph and another of the Carmelite saint and Doctor of the Church, Therese of Lisieux—almost to emphasize, by his deeply meaningful personal choice, the spiritual bond that unites him to them.

Christina Kirchner, president of Argentina, with Pope Francis and St. Therese's white roses

In recent days we have seen Pope Francis refer, by his gestures and teaching, to Mary and Saint Joseph, in profound and discreet ways. Neither has the gift to Argentine President Christine Kirchner of the Aparecida Statement (the concluding text of the fifth conference of all the Bishops of Latin America), along with a white rose, gone without notice. A sensitive gesture—the gift of a rose—that the President herself did not fail to call “intimate,” like “a greeting from Saint Therese, to whom Pope Francis directs his prayers.”

But why and from where does this preference of Pope Francis for Therese come? I asked myself this even at Aparecida in 2007. I had briefly met Cardinal Bergoglio in the portico of the Brazilian Marian shrine between one meeting or another of the preparatory commission for the final statement.

He had told me that wherever the bishops gathered to work together, they were so aware of the prayers and singing of the faithful and that this gave them a lively sense of belonging and closeness to the people, to a Church that walks with its people . . . I have to admit that what came across to me in that moment in his “spiritual” tone was patronizing and vague, rather than a strong and challenging statement to be noticed.

But the Cardinal had continued: “We shouldn’t be afraid to rely solely on the tenderness of God, as Therese of Lisieux did, who is precisely for this a favored daughter of Our Lady and a great missionary saint.”

It was an understanding of the Church and her mission along the lines of the “little way” opened by the teacher of spiritual child-like spirituality, which we see today woven all through the first acts of the pontificate of Pope Francis.

I later learned that when he came to Rome to deal with this or that ministerial obligation, the cardinal always went to pray at a statue of Therese of the Child Jesus in a little Franciscan church in the Borgo near the Tiber. And also how much his devotion to the Patron of the Missions was known by his priests in Buenos Aires, especially in the poor areas of the Argentine capital. Cardinal Bergoglio

But let’s now get back to the roses. Cardinal Bergoglio had returned to Rome at the end of 2007 for the Consistory. And with him he brought back St. Theresa: “When I have a problem—he told us—I confide it to her. I don’t ask that she solve it for me, only that she take it in her hands and help me; as a sign, I almost always receive a rose.” He then related how one time, when he had to make an important decision about a complex matter, he left it in her hands. Sometime later, an unknown woman placed three white roses at the doorstep of the sacristy.

“It was a Jesuit—he explained—Fr. Putigan, who in 1925 began to spread this personal prayer of intercession,” and he repeated a section of the “Prayer to ask for a rose”: “Little Flower of Jesus, ask God today that he will grant the petition that I now place with confidence into your hands.”

One perceives in his way of speaking a shyness combined with simplicity, a sincere confidence, so much so that I was moved to imitate him. In a particular situation, taking him as an example, I prayed like him to St. Therese, but to my great regret I received no rose. At my first opportunity I briefly told him about it over the telephone. I told him, “Father, remember that prayer about roses . . . look, nothing…no roses for me.  But listen, I’m not surprised; I can understand it; these things work with holy people like you, who have their lives in order, and I am certainly not what one might call a virtuous flower.”

First silence on the other end, then his calm voice replied, blowing me away another time: “This means that she will answer you with a greater grace than the one you asked for.”  It really turned out that way.

translated from "Una rosa bianca da Santa Teresa" by Stefania Falasca in the March 24, 2013 issue of l'Avvenire.  English translation copyright Maureen O'Riordan 2013. 

On September 26, 2013,  the Vatican Insider reported that on Sunday, September 8, 2013, the day after the prayer vigil for peace in the world, Pope Francis received a rose from St. Therese of Lisieux.  The Pope authorized the Archbishop of Ancona and Osimo, Edoardo Menichelli, to disclose this news at a press conference in Pedaso, in the region of Marche, Italy, at which Archbishop Menichelli presented  a book by theologian and writer Gianni Gennari entitled Teresa di Lisieux. Il fascino della santità. I segreti di una dottrina ritrovata (Thérèse of Lisieux. The fascination of sainthood. Secrets of a rediscovered doctrine) and published by Lindau. We now know that this was the book Pope Francis took with him when he flew to Brazil last July.

As the Pope was walking through the Vatican gardens, a worker presented him with a white rose.  Archbishop Menichelli said: 

“The Pope told me he received the freshly-picked white rose out of the blue from a gardener as he was taking a stroll in the Vatican Gardens on Sunday 8 September.  The Pope sees this flower as a “sign”, a “message” from Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, whom he had turned to in a moment of worry the day before.”

At the prayer vigil for peace the evening before, the joyful mysteries of the rosary were recited, and, after each decade, a stanza of Therese's poem "Why I Love You, O Mary" (related to the joyful mystery that had just been prayed) was read.  In Vatican Insider Andrea Tornielli notes  that the Pope did not tell the Archbishop that the white rose had any connection to the prayer vigil for peace in Syria, but, of course, the international situation must have been a great anxiety on the day of the prayer vigil.

The white rose was linked to Pope Francis while he was still Cardinal Bergoglio.  In the book, Pope Francis: Conversations with Jorge Bergoglio: His Life in His Own Words by Sergio Rubin and Francesca Ambrogetti (originally published in 2010 under the title "El Jesuita" ("The Jesuit") and now available in English),  then-Cardinal Bergoglio revealed that St. Therese of Lisieux was his favorite saint and that he turns to her in time of need.  He kept a photo of her on his library shelf with a vase of white roses in front of it. "When I have a problem I ask the saint, not to solve it, but to take it in her hands and help me accept it; almost always, I receive a rose as sign."  See more about Pope Francis, St. Therese, and the rose.

Although the famous line "After my death I will let fall a shower of roses" has been widely publicized in connection with St. Therese, so that most people see the rose as a sign of the favors she has obtained for humanity from God, in Therese's lifetime she identified herself with the rose and longed to be "unpetalled" to give glory to God.  See more about this symbolism, read Therese's  poem "The unpetalled rose," and listen to a recording of her cousin, Jeanne Guerin, singing the poem in French.

Why did St. Therese send this rose to Pope Francis on September 8?

Of course, St. Therese wanted to console the Pope as he and the world were praying for peace. On September 8, 1890, she wrote in her "Profession letter," which she carried over her heart as she made her vows:

"May the things of earth never be able to trouble my soul, and may nothing disturb my peace.  Jesus, I ask You for nothing but peace, and also love, infinite love without any limits other than Yourself, love which is no longer I but You, my Jesus." 

(The Prayers of Saint Therese of Lisieux, tr. Aletheia Kane, O.C.D.  Washington, D.C.: Washington Province of Discalced Carmelites, 1996, p. 38).

But the choice of the date September 8, which was a day of unique graces for Therese, may have a deeper personal significance for St. Therese's relationship with Pope Francis himself.  First, September 8 is the feast of the Birth of Mary and the date of Therese's profession of vows in 1890.  (See a story with photos here).

Fr. Adolphe Roulland, MEP. Photo: Paris Foreign Missions Society

Second, in 1896 Therese learned for the first time of a great grace she received on that date.  On November 1, 1896 she wrote to her spiritual brother, the newly ordained priest Father Adolphe Roulland of the Foreign Missions Society in Paris, then serving as a missionary in China:

Allow me to confide a secret to you that was just revealed to me by the sheet of paper on which are written the memorable dates of your life.

On September 8, 1890, your missionary vocation was saved by Mary, Queen of Apostles and Martyrs; on that same day, a little Carmelite became the spouse of the King of heaven. Bidding an everlasting adieu to the world, she had one goal, to save souls, especially the souls of apostles. From Jesus, her divine Spouse, she asked particularly for an apostolic soul; unable to be a priest, she wanted that in her place a priest may receive the graces of the Lord, that he have the same aspirations, the same desires as herself . . . .

Brother, you know the unworthy Carmelite who offered this prayer. Do you not think, as I do, that our union confirmed on the day of your priestly ordination began on September 8? . . . I believed I would meet only in heaven the apostle, the brother whom I had asked from Jesus; but this Beloved Saviour, raising a little the mysterious veil that hides the secrets of eternity, has seen fit to give me in this exile the consolation of knowing the brother of my soul, of working with him for the salvation of poor infidels.

Oh! how great is my gratitude when I consider the kind attention of Jesus!. . . What is He reserving for us in heaven if here below His love dispenses surprises so delightful?

More than ever, I understand that the smallest events of our life are conducted by God; He is the One who makes us desire and who grants our desires . . . .

 Letters of St. Therese of Lisieux, Volume II, 1890-1897, tr. John Clarke, O.C.D.  (Washington, D.C.: Washington Province of Discalced Carmelites, 1988), pp. 1014-1015.

Therese writes of Mary's having "saved" the missionary vocation of Adolphe Roulland.  She is referring to a pilgrimage he made to the shrine of Notre Dame de la Delivrande (in English, "Our Lady of Ransom" or "Our Lady of Perpetual Help") in Douvres la Delivrande, Normandy (about an hour's drive from Lisieux) on September 8, 1890.  At the Apostolic Process Father Roulland testified:

"On September 8, 1890, I was having some hesitancy concerning my vocation and entrance into the Major Seminary.  While I was praying in the chapel of Our Lady of Ransom, I suddenly and definitively came to a decision.  I learned later that on the same September 8, 1890, the day of the Servant of God’s Profession, she had asked Our Lord to give her the soul of a priest, and she pointed out the link between these two events.” 

Apostolic Process, p. 2903, cited in Letters of St. Therese of Lisieux, Volume II, p. 1019, footnote 3.  

 Therese was always attuned to dates as a sign of grace.  She had sent Father Roulland the "days of grace" in her life and had asked him to send her the memorable dates of his life, that she might be particularly united to him in prayer and thanksgiving on those anniversaries.  With his letter of September 25-26, 1896, he sent the list, including "Vocation saved by Our Lady of Perpetual Help: September 8, 1890."  It's in response to this list of dates that Therese, on November 1, 1896, wrote the letter quoted above. 

Father Roulland died in 1934, nine years after his "little sister" was canonized.  Now that his mission on earth is complete, might St. Therese have asked God to choose Pope Francis as the priest who now "in her place may receive the graces of the Lord, that he have the same aspirations, the same desires as herself . . . .?"  Does she now call Pope Francis "the brother of my soul?"

The Vatican has published in Italian a worship aid for the Vigil of Prayer for Peace that is going to be conducted in Rome on September 7, 2013.  The vigil will include the five joyful mysteries of the rosary, and, after each decade, the stanza of St. Therese's poem "Why I Love You, O Mary" that corresponds to that mystery will be read.  See Deborah Thurston's English translation of the vigil worship aid at her blog, Karmalight.   You may download the Italian booklet here.  Be aware the download may be slow.

Therese wrote "Why I Love You, O Mary," her last poem, in May 1897.  It is a long meditation on Mary in the gospels: Mary's humble, hidden, ordinary life; Mary's union with Jesus; Mary, our mother.  It is impossible to exhaust the poem's riches here.  Please read the twenty-five verses and see the handwritten manuscript of "Why I Love You, O Mary" here.

To explore the riches of all Therese's poetry, please see The Poetry of Saint Therese of Lisieux, translated by Donald Kinney, O.C.D.  Washington, D.C.: Washington Province of Discalced Carmelite Fathers, 1995.  The introductions and notes to each poem are invaluable in setting each poem in the context of Therese's life and community. 

One of Therese's most extraordinary assertions is "Mary, you love us as Jesus loves us."  May we place our prayer for peace in the hands of St. Therese and in the hands of Mary, and may they obtain for us the gift of peace in the world. 

  When Pope Francis boarded the plane in Rome on Monday, July 22 to travel to Rio de Janeiro for World Youth Day, he was carrying a black leather bag. Since no recent Popes have carried their own bags, the story was widely reported (see the Catholic News Agency story).

 [photo credit: ANSA/Telenews]

A week later, on Monday, July 29, when Pope Francis held a press conference on the plane that was returning to Rome, the black bag was still of such interest that journalist Andrea Tornielli asked him:

 Holy Father, I have a question that is, perhaps, somewhat indiscreet: the photograph has gone around the world of you, when we left, going up the steps of the plane carrying a black bag, and there were articles throughout the world that commented on this novelty: yes, of the Pope going up ... it never happened, we said, that the Pope went up with his baggage in hand. So, there were even theories about what the black bag contained. Now, my questions are: one, why did you carry the black bag and why was it not carried by a collaborator, and two, can you tell us what was inside? Thank you.

Pope Francis:

It didn’t have the key of the atomic bomb! Alas! I carried it because I’ve always done so: when I travel, I carry it. What is inside? There is my razor, there is the Breviary, there is the agenda, there is a book to read – I took one on Saint Teresina to whom I am devoted. I have always carried the bag when I travel: it’s normal. But we must be normal … I don’t know .. what you are saying is a bit strange to me, that that photo has gone around the world. But we must get used to being normal, the normality of life.

[Courtesy of www.zenit.org]. 

 How inspiring that Pope Francis took a book about St. Therese with him to World Youth Day, of which she is patron.  Interestingly, in 1887, when Therese herself arrived in Rome on Sunday, November 13, 1887 for an audience with the Pope, and when she left Rome on  Thursday, November 24, she was carrying a black bag, a traveling-bag which belonged to her father.  She used it as hand luggage during the pilgrimage to Rome.  See the image below.  I wonder what it contained?

Louis Martin's traveling-bag; St. Therese used as hand luggage in Rome

On July 2, at the daily Mass he offered at Martha House in the Vatican City, Pope Francis urged Christians to be courageous in their weakness and to have the courage to flee temptation. 

“We are weak, but we must be courageous in our weakness. And often our courage must be expressed in escaping without looking back, so as not to fall into the trap of wicked nostalgia.  “Do not be afraid, and always look to the Lord,” he added.

Pope Francis recalled St. Therese of Lisieux, who said that “in some temptations, the only solution is to escape, to not be ashamed to escape, to recognize that we are weak and we have to escape.” 

Pope Francis remarked on the wisdom of the epigram that the one "who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.”

Escape, he said, “to go forward along the path of Jesus.”  (See the whole story at Catholic News Agency).  . . . But what temptation did Therese find she had to escape?

 St. Therese and Sister Marthe in a small dispute at the door of the prioress's cell

  Sister Marthe of JesusAmong other texts, Pope Francis could have been recalling St. Therese's account of a squabble with Sister Marthe of Jesus over who was going to return to the prioress the keys of the little communion grille after Mass.  The Communion grille

Mother Gonzague, then prioress, was too sick to attend Mass, and Therese, as sacristan, had the duty of returning the keys to the little grille that had to be opened so that the priest could give Communion to the sisters, who knelt there in turn.

The two young women ran into each other at the door to the prioress's cell, and Marthe was afraid Therese would waken the prioress.  She wanted to take the keys from Therese, who didn't want to give them up.The door on the right opened into the cell where the prioress slept. The left-hand door opened into a little anteroom where she received the nuns.

 Marthe was pushing the door of the prioress's cell to prevent Therese's entering, and, when Mother Gonzague awakened, Marthe blamed Therese for making the noise.  Therese writes:

 "I, who felt just the contrary, had a great desire to defend myself. Happily, there came a bright idea into my mind, and I told myself that if I began to justify myself I would not be able to retain my peace of soul. I felt, too, that I did not have enough virtue to permit myself to be accused without saying a word. My last plank of salvation was in flight. No sooner thought than done. I left without fuss, allowing the Sister to continue her discourse which resembled the imprecations of Camillus against the city of Rome. My heart was beating so rapidly that it was impossible for me to go far, and I sat down on the stairs in order to savor the fruits of my victory. There was no bravery there, Mother; however, I believe it was much better for me not to expose myself to combat when there was certain defeat facing me.

Story of a Soul, tr. John Clarke, O.C.D.  Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 2005, pp. 347-348.

The stairs where Therese sought refuge

This funny little incident, which happened when Therese was between 18 and 20, is an example of Therese's spiritual realism, which often helped her to resist the temptations of the enemy and to align herself with God.  She did not have the light to yield to Sister Marthe: "I understand now that it would have been more perfect to cede to this Sister, young, it is true, but still older than I.  I did not understand it then . . ." Therese knew it would be a mistake "to justify herself," but also knew that, if she stayed there, she would not be able to help defending herself.  She accepted her limitations as the boundaries drawn to her being by her gracious God, and cooperated with grace as best she could.  Do you often find yourself in situations where it is better to leave than to expose yourself to "certain defeat?"