Pots and pans, laptops and laundry

By now, if you're on social media, you've probably seen several lovely quotes - and maybe a few practical, wryly humorous ones - attributed to St Teresa of Avila, whose feast we celebrate today. And it's quite likely that one of them will be her utterly down-to-earth reminder that the Lord walks among the pots and pans.

Pots and pans... these were the words I heard Teresa murmuring to me the other day, no doubt in response to the whirl of busyness I find myself in right now, in contrast to my recent relaxed, unhurried holiday. She kept on murmuring, insistently nudging me to discover and read the words in their context (which I managed to do thanks to a Carmelite friend who pointed me to the relevant part of St Teresa's Book of her Foundations, which I had never read). The full quote, rarely seen in its entirety on Twitter, is Well, come now, my daughters, don't be sad when obedience draws you to exterior matters. Know that if it is in the kitchen, the Lord walks among the pots and pans, helping you both interiorly and exteriorly. 

This divinely blessed kitchenware appears in a chapter called Counsels on Prayer. Given that the author was a great mystic, famous for her visions and ecstasies, one could easily assume that this chapter would in fact be deeply spiritual and mystical, filled with good advice about prayer. But that would be to forget Teresa's humanity and her wisdom, simultaneously spiritual and sensible. Thus, it is full of advice about prayer, but in unexpected ways, and by stating quite robustly what prayer and sanctity are not: not thinking lovely thoughts about God, plus the highest perfection does not consist in interior delights or in great raptures or visions... She's also quite forthright about some absorptions, however delightful they may be, that have been given the name "union"... Throughout, instead, it is very firmly addressed to busy people who might resent their busyness and mundane tasks, longing instead - as I too often do! - for silence and tranquility and long, empty hours which they can fill with the prayer and contemplation which will surely lead to greater union and holiness... 

And time and again Teresa speaks to them - to us; to me - not of prayer and mysticism but of obedience and charity: the obedience which makes someone joyfully, freely accept and transform their busyness, and the love which is the only true hallmark of prayer, because the soul's progress does not lie in thinking much but in loving much. Thus, the advice about prayer is really advice about growing in holiness and in union with God, and about constantly being taken beyond ourselves and into service, rendered with joy and deepening love. 

And it is about ordinariness, and a holiness which is so grounded that pots and pans, laundry, spreadsheets, emails and to-do lists, tidying, sorting and a whole lot more can become the places where we encounter Jesus and receive his help. That same Jesus we seek and meet in our prayer; in our reading and reflective walks, in natural beauty and solitude, also stands by the kitchen sink and sits by our laptops. He wants to be part of our daily lives and routine chores, because it is here, as much as in any special place, that we discover, as Teresa did, that prayer is nothing else than an intimate sharing between friends... And of course I know all this, but can easily live as though I've forgotten it... which is why Teresa needed to remind me.

So, why not share the laundry with Jesus, and let him help with the washing up...?