The Way of Perfection, authored by Teresa of Ávila, offers a structured path for deepening one's faith and relationship with God through prayer and contemplation. While Teresa’s intentions were rooted in a desire to strengthen the Carmelite order, her work also includes harsh criticisms of Protestant beliefs and reformers. Her intense opposition to the Protestant Reformation, alongside her fierce loyalty to the Catholic Church’s practices, including indulgences, illustrates a perspective that seems at odds with the values of humility and compassion she otherwise promotes. This analysis will explore Teresa’s stance in light of the Reformation’s critique of indulgences and whether her mystical experiences align with the teachings of Christ.
The Protestant Reformation, which began with Martin Luther’s criticisms of the Catholic Church in the early 16th century, aimed to address significant abuses within the Church, particularly the practice of selling indulgences. Indulgences were marketed as a means of reducing time in purgatory for oneself or a loved one, effectively offering “salvation for sale.” This system not only exploited believers financially but also detracted from the gospel’s central message of salvation by faith alone, substituting it with a transaction-based model of forgiveness.
Scripture directly challenges the notion of transferring spiritual merit, as seen in
Ezekiel 18:20: “The soul that sinneth, it shall die. The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the son: the righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him.”
This passage affirms individual accountability before God, undermining the concept of purchasing absolution on behalf of another. The Reformation sought to restore biblical principles over institutional practices, advocating a return to the scriptural understanding that forgiveness and salvation come through faith and repentance, not financial offerings.
In The Way of Perfection, Teresa uses particularly harsh language to describe Protestants and the Reformation, whom she saw as a direct threat to the Catholic faith. She refers to Protestants as a “pestilential infection” and as being “of the devil,” painting them not as fellow Christians with differing beliefs but as spiritually corrupt and dangerous. Furthermore, Teresa condemns Protestant reformers, saying, “their pleasures have richly earned them eternal fire,” indicating her belief that they are destined for hell due to their rejection of Catholic practices. Her words suggest that she viewed them as having earned eternal punishment simply for challenging the Church’s doctrines and exposing the financial exploitation associated with indulgences.
Such language raises questions about the nature of Teresa’s spiritual insights. Although Teresa described intense experiences of ecstasy, visions, and voices in what she believed to be union with God, her harsh condemnation of Protestants lacks the compassion Christ exemplified, raising the question of whether these voices were truly divine or possibly even satanic in origin.
How could such vehement anger toward those who sought to reform corruption in the Church be seen as Christlike? Jesus taught His followers to “turn the other cheek,” to respond to opposition with love, and to seek understanding. Yet Teresa, who called herself "Teresa of Jesus," did not display the mercy or patience Jesus demonstrated. Rather than showing grace, she judged those who were trying to address financial abuses and doctrinal issues in the Church, using harsh condemnation rather than empathy or self-reflection.
Her fierce words reflect more of an institutional defense than the spirit of love and humility central to Christ’s teachings. While Teresa’s mysticism sought union with God, her intense opposition to the Reformation suggests a loyalty to the institution over the gospel’s message. This alignment with institutional values over compassion and understanding raises questions about the source of her visions and voices. If they were truly from God, one might expect them to lead her toward peace, love, and understanding, not judgment and condemnation for those standing against corruption.
Teresa herself expressed doubt about the effectiveness of her prayers for others, writing, "I do not even believe myself that God ever hears me when I pray for such things," referring to requests others made for her intercessory prayer. This raises questions about the authenticity of her actions, as she continued to pray for others despite her own disbelief in the outcome. Rather than being transparent with those who asked for her prayers, she performed the motions without faith in their efficacy. This behavior seems disingenuous, as she chose not to openly share her doubts but instead pretended to fulfill their requests, knowing she didn’t believe God would respond. Such a contradiction between her inner beliefs and her outward actions calls into question her integrity and the sincerity of her spiritual guidance, highlighting an inconsistency between her professed faith and her private doubts.
In calling herself "Teresa of Jesus," Teresa of Ávila implies a close and profound association with Christ, but this title is difficult to reconcile with some of her attitudes and statements, particularly her fierce hostility toward those who differ from her religious views. For someone who claims to be so deeply united with Jesus, her approach often lacks the humility, grace, and compassion that Christ exemplified. Christ taught forgiveness and love, even for those who opposed Him, famously instructing His followers to “turn the other cheek” and to avoid judgmental attitudes.
Teresa of Ávila is highly esteemed by the Roman Catholic Church (RCC) as one of its most influential mystics, reformers, and saints. Known for her profound spiritual insights, intense prayer life, and efforts to reform the Carmelite order, Teresa was canonized as a saint in 1622 and later declared a Doctor of the Church in 1970—a title given to only a select few whose writings and teachings have made significant contributions to Catholic theology and spirituality.
The RCC honors Teresa for her deep commitment to contemplative prayer, which she developed into a structured spiritual journey, famously outlined in her writings like The Interior Castle and The Way of Perfection. These works are believed to emphasize an inner relationship with God and provide a roadmap for developing closeness to Him through stages of spiritual growth. Yet, her intense hatred and bigotry toward those who challenged Catholic doctrines reveal a stark contrast to the love and humility Christ taught. Despite this, her teachings have become central to Catholic spirituality, especially among contemplative religious orders, and she is celebrated within the Church for her devotion, supposed wisdom, and guidance on prayer.
Additionally, Teresa is revered as a reformer. In a period when the Carmelite order had become lax, she sought to return it to a simpler, more disciplined life focused on prayer and humility (so long as she isn't interceding for others of course). Her reforms led to the founding of the Discalced Carmelites, a branch of the order emphasizing poverty and seclusion. This movement had a lasting impact on monastic life, and her dedication to the reform effort, despite facing opposition, is often seen as an act of courage and unwavering faith.
In her mystical experiences—her ecstasies, visions, and what she described as a “spiritual marriage” with God—Teresa is viewed by the RCC as having attained an extraordinary closeness to God. These experiences are considered by the Church to be genuine, divinely inspired encounters that reflect a special grace granted to her. The Church sees her mystical life as a testament to the possibility of profound union with God, an example that has inspired countless followers in their own spiritual journeys.
I have to disagree; having experienced visions myself, I’ve learned to discern those that come from the devil. God wouldn’t lead anyone into “ecstasy” in such a way.
Despite the intense language she used against Protestantism, which can seem harsh or judgmental by today’s standards, the Roman Catholic Church interprets her words within the context of her time, when the Reformation was seen as a serious threat to the unity of the Church. Teresa’s unwavering loyalty to Catholic teachings is regarded as devotion to the faith, even though her language may strike modern readers as severe.
Overall, Teresa of Ávila is celebrated within the Catholic Church as a model of deep prayer, reform, and faith, and her works continue to be studied and revered for their insights into the spiritual life. Her designation as “Teresa of Jesus” is seen as a mark of her dedication to Christ, and she is venerated not only as a saint but as one of the most important spiritual writers in the Catholic tradition.
In The Way of Perfection, Teresa of Ávila makes the curious statement that “money and honor always go together,” a sentiment that runs directly counter to the gospel’s teachings. Christ Himself warned against the dangers of wealth, saying, "Ye cannot serve God and mammon" (Matthew 6:24). Yet Teresa, despite her claims of devotion to “holy poverty” and humility, upholds an attitude that seems to celebrate wealth and status as intertwined—a perspective far removed from Jesus’ message of simplicity and detachment from worldly riches.
While Teresa professes an ideal of “holy poverty,” her lack of support for the Protestant Reformation, which sought to expose and correct the Catholic Church’s financial exploitation through indulgences, suggests a double standard. She was fervently devoted to the institution, but where was that same fervor for addressing its corruption? Why didn’t her commitment to "holy poverty" lead her to advocate for reforms that would prevent the Church from exploiting its followers financially?
Teresa’s harsh condemnation of Protestants, combined with her assertion that “money and honor” go hand in hand, calls into question the source of her mystical insights. These attitudes seem to reflect institutional loyalty more than divine inspiration. Jesus would turn over the tables of the money changers; Teresa, however, chose to defend the institution even as it financially preyed on its followers through indulgences.
One can’t help but observe the intense devotion some Catholics have toward the organization, a bond seemingly unshakable even in the face of scandals, pedophilia and corruption within the Church. This loyalty often leads to a willingness to overlook or rationalize issues like financial exploitation and, more disturbingly, cases of abuse and misconduct. But where do personal morals come in when there’s a choice between defending a political religious organization and advocating for what is right? True faith, one would think, would prioritize truth, justice, and compassion over blind allegiance to a global political religious organization—even one with a history as long and complex as the Roman Catholic Church.
On a personal note,I’ve faced some harsh responses just for quoting Scripture. Recently, I mentioned that true believers, as those filled with the Holy Spirit, form a holy priesthood and, rather than a man-made institution, are the true Church of Christ. This is backed by Scripture: 1 Peter 2:5 states, “Ye also, as lively stones, are built up a spiritual house, an holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ.” And in
1 Corinthians 3:16, it says, “Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?”
These passages emphasize that the Church is made up of believers themselves, not a constructed institution. A young Catholic gentleman replied, saying, "Well, the Holy Spirit mustn't be very good at its job given the number of Christian denominations."
I tried to explain that Christ didn’t come to establish denominations but rather to foster a personal relationship and faith in Him alone. Unfortunately, he didn’t appreciate what he saw as my "attitude," even though I was calm and respectful, and ultimately blocked me from joining the discussion. I’ve come to realize that if you don’t support Roman Catholic authority, you risk being blocked—that’s the level of indoctrination at play. Yet, Scripture holds ultimate authority, far above any man, including the pope.
Adding to that, it’s often the same set of arguments I encounter: that the Catholic Church "made" the Bible, that the Bible itself is supposedly a Catholic tradition, or that the RCC is the "bride of Christ." I have to disagree on these points. Christ’s true Church isn’t a political, religious, and commercialized organization riddled with scandals of corruption and abuse. The Catholic Church didn’t write the Bible—they compiled it from texts that were already considered sacred by early Christians and grounded in apostolic teachings. The Church, as Christ envisioned, is a community of believers united in faith, not a hierarchical institution focused on maintaining power or control.
Back to Teresa.
In The Way of Perfection, Teresa of Ávila refers to Lutherans as the "enemy," showing her intense opposition to the Protestant Reformation. Yet, the Lutherans were actually exposing the financial and moral corruption within the Church—actions that align with what God would abhor, such as the exploitation of believers through the sale of indulgences. Despite their intention to reform, Teresa claims they “can die but cannot be conquerors,” a statement that suggests a fierce dedication to maintaining power and control over addressing real issues. This resistance to reform seems less about faith and more about protecting an institution, even though the Church's corruption jeopardized the souls of those involved.
Teresa also makes the curious remark that, at times, believers should help those "better than themselves," which goes against the gospel’s call to humility, compassion, and service to all, regardless of social status. In the Gospels, Jesus calls His followers to serve “the least of these” rather than selectively helping those who may be deemed "better."
Furthermore, Teresa writes that preachers and theologians are expected to "live among men and associate with men" and even stay in palaces, sometimes behaving as the nobility does “in outward matters.” This comment suggests an acceptance of a lifestyle that mirrors worldly power and status, which seems inconsistent with Christ's teachings on humility and simplicity. Such a life contrasts sharply with Jesus’ own, as He lived and preached among the common people, embracing a humble, servant-like existence. The “reasonable observance of the commandments” she mentions seems to excuse behavior that aligns more with institutional prestige than with genuine, sacrificial service to God and others. Her remarks here appear to reflect the clerical elite who enjoyed privileges and wealth, raising questions about whether her loyalty was more to the Church’s hierarchy than to the gospel message.
When Teresa attempts to comfort her readers about concerns regarding purgatory, she says, “You may be worried because you think it will do nothing to lessen your pains in purgatory,” a clear indication of how deeply entrenched the doctrine of purgatory was in her beliefs. This idea reflects the influence by the very institution she loyally defends. She had been indoctrinated by the Church's teaching on purgatory, viewing it as a place of purification after death. However, Scripture provides a different perspective. 1 Peter 1:7 speaks of “the trial of your faith” by fire, referring to the testing of one’s works and faith, not a place where souls are purified after death. Additionally, 2 Maccabees 12:43-46, which is sometimes cited to support purgatory, actually mentions raising money for soldiers who had died with pagan amulets, not endorsing a place of purification for the faithful.
Teresa’s acceptance of these doctrines and her willingness to defend the institution that propagated them suggest that her beliefs were shaped by the establishment she so fervently defended. Her teachings reveal someone deeply committed to the Church as she knew it, but perhaps without fully questioning whether these doctrines aligned with the broader scriptural message or Christ’s teachings on humility, love, and integrity.
(To add I'm also not Protestant nor do I follow any denomination except the Gospel).
To address Teresa of Ávila's beliefs on purgatory and intercessory prayers, it’s worth noting that Scripture does not support the idea that prayers can free someone from an invented place of purification after death. For instance, Ezekiel 18:20 states, “The soul that sinneth, it shall die. The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the son: the righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him.”
This verse makes it clear that each person is individually accountable before God, with no transference of merit or righteousness from one person to another. Psalm 49:7 reinforces this, stating, “None of them can by any means redeem his brother, nor give to God a ransom for him.”
Together, these verses refute the notion that one person’s prayers or merit could influence another's judgment after death.
Despite these clear teachings, Teresa goes on to say, “Thy most sacred Mother, from whose merit we derive merit and whose habit we wear, through our sins make us unworthy to do so.” Her words imply that Mary’s merits can be transferred to believers, an idea entirely absent from the gospel message. If she had carefully studied passages like Ezekiel 18:20, she might see that each soul is judged solely on its own deeds, and that merit cannot be inherited or passed on from another.
Furthermore, Teresa acknowledges the “whole world aware of her wickedness,” referring to her own shortcomings even as a nun. If a holy nun like Teresa openly considers herself a sinner, then why not also recognize the sinful nature of priests and clergy? This leads to a fundamental question: How can sinners absolve the sins of others? According to Scripture, they cannot. True forgiveness comes from God alone, as seen in 1 Timothy 2:5, “For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.” The gospel makes clear that only Christ, who is without sin, is able to mediate for us, as opposed to flawed human beings, regardless of their position in the Church.
In Mark 2:7, the scribes and high priests question Jesus, saying, "Why doth this man thus speak blasphemies? who can forgive sins but God only?"
This statement, coming from the religious leaders of Jesus' time, acknowledges that only God has the authority to forgive sins. If even the high priests and scribes of that time recognized this divine truth, then surely the Pope and clergy today should understand it as well. Claiming the power to forgive sins on behalf of God, as is practiced in some institutional settings, contradicts this scriptural principle and risks overstepping a divine boundary that Scripture clearly reserves for God alone.
Teresa’s views reflect the doctrines of the institution she was part of rather than the direct teachings of Scripture, which emphasize personal accountability and direct access to God through Christ alone. Her statements reveal a strong influence from Catholic tradition, yet they stand at odds with biblical passages that deny the possibility of transferring righteousness and insist that each person’s soul bears its own weight before God.
In The Way of Perfection, Teresa of Ávila speaks reverently of Catholic saints and martyrs who died for God, holding them up as models of faith and sacrifice. However, during the time of the Reformation, countless individuals from other Christian groups—who held different beliefs and challenged the teachings of the Catholic Church—were persecuted and even executed under orders supported by the papacy. Protestants, Anabaptists, and other reformers who questioned the Church’s authority were often labeled heretics, and many were martyred for refusing to renounce their faith.
This tragic history reveals that martyrdom was not exclusive to the Catholic faith; people from multiple denominations also made the ultimate sacrifice for their beliefs, often at the hands of the same Church Teresa defended. Teresa’s unwavering praise of Catholic martyrs, while disregarding the suffering and faith of those persecuted by the Church, underscores a one-sided perspective. Her words reflect a bigotry that is difficult to deny, showing loyalty to her institution rather than a broader compassion for all who sought to serve God sincerely.
Continuing the assessment of The Way of Perfection, Teresa urges her readers to “not permit more harm to be wrought to Christendom.” Ironically, however, she seems blind to the corruption within her own institution—the very harm that many reformers were courageously exposing. The practice of selling indulgences, essentially “charging” people for the forgiveness of sins, was a clear abuse that the Reformers condemned. According to
1 John 1:9
“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
Teresa’s support of a system that exploited believers by claiming the power to absolve sin is not only contradictory to the gospel but also verges on blasphemy.
She even speaks of being “over bold in the eyes of God and of the world” regarding the Church’s authority, but she misses a crucial point: 2 Corinthians 4:4 describes Satan as “the god of this world.” Teresa’s alignment with worldly power, instead of questioning it, suggests a deep confusion or perhaps an indoctrination that keeps her from seeing the spiritual dangers of the system she defends. Rather than questioning how the Church’s practices line up with Christ’s teachings, she seems to accept them uncritically, even at the expense of those who are harmed or misled by these practices.
It’s heartbreaking to read her words and see such conviction entwined with apparent confusion. Whether due to delusion, indoctrination, or simply a desire to defend her faith as she knew it, Teresa appears to have been blind to the very corruption that true reformers sought to expose. For someone so devoted to God, it is tragic to see her so unaware of the ways in which the institution she defends was leading people astray.
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