1 October 1980
Tollcross, Scotland

My dear Sisters,

The beauty of Autumn is the beauty of the trees and the beauty of the tree in Autumn is the beauty of her leaves. The beauty of the single tree in Autumn is the beauty and the variety of the colors that were once green and are now shading into brown and gold; leaves of the same tree, bearing the same shade, yet different in color, for one short week or two, before they fall to the ground; different in color, yet all belonging to the same tree.

The saint of the day bears the same spiritual shape as a Daughter of Charity, for St. Thérèse, as any Daughter of Charity, belongs to a branch of the same vine as Christ. But the spiritual coloration of the saint of the day, is slightly different from the coloration which St. Vincent and St. Louise consider as the spirit God has given to your Community. I say that the saint of the day bears the same spiritual shape, for ask any lay person about the Little Flower and, if they know anything at all about St. Thérèse of Lisieux, they would say, "Well, she was simple, humble and charitable." Taking the last quality first, her charity is very significant in the passage from her autobiography which the Church presents today in the Office of Readings. It is a very simple passage in which she made this spiritual discovery that while the Body of Christ had many members, it was all important that the Body of Christ should have a heart and that that heart should be love. So she saw herself, in her simple way, as being love at the heart of the Church, supporting all the other members of the Body of Christ, which is His Church. Love she saw as the center of her vocation. Love is at the center of your vocation. The coloration is different. Her love was asked to be expressed in the confines of a Carmelite Monastery. Your love is to find expression in your service and your constant seeking out of the poor of Christ. So I just offer you this thought about St. Thérèse's being "love at the center of the Church."

As the years take their toll of us, and we find the sphere of activity more and more restricted for us in Community through advancing years and the cross of diminished activity which falls on our shoulders, it would be very important for us to be able to see our vocation as being one of love at the heart of our Community. We will find that others come along, younger in years and greater in strength and energy, and we will be asked to lay down tasks that we held very dear to us in the service of the poor. It will be very important for us and I hope the grace will be given to us to see that, in those autumn years of our life, we will be like the center of our Communities. As for simplicity, which St. Vincent recommended as a characteristic quality to both our communities, St. Thérèse saw herself very much as a simple person. The Church looks on her as a very simple saint, but she made this discovery again through the grace of God that following Him was everything. At times in her autobiography she tends to be almost childish in her expressions, particularly those she uses about the Fatherhood of God, but she lived the Fatherhood of God more and more. She penetrated the heart of that little phrase, which made such a deep impression on the early Christians and the early writers, which we find in St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans, "Abba, Father," (Rom 8:15) the word that Jesus used in the Garden of Olives. St. Paul reminds us that it is really the Spirit of God in our hearts which helps us to cry out `Abba,' using the very Aramaic word that Jesus used, even though he was writing in Greek.

Some years ago a very renowned English scholar, C.H. Dodd, wrote a book on The Central Message of the New Testament which was widely acclaimed, a small but very significant work. After years devoted to the study of the Scriptures, C.H. Dodd came to the conclusion that the Central Message of the New Testament was "The Fatherhood of God." St. Thérèse of Lisieux lived this message, so much so that she remarks in her autobiography that even if God condemned her to hell, she would go on thinking of Him as a Father. How simply she tells us, too, of the occasions when in Community she had to bite her lips to prevent herself from crying out some word of rebellion. We who live in Communities know how difficult it can be at times not to give way to expressions of rebellion and anger in our pride and discouragement.

Reflecting on these two virtues of St. Thérèse of Lisieux and of your Community, I thought of two words, which, as somebody said on one occasion, could sum up the entire New Testament: "Abba, Father" and "Amen." The whole of the New Testament, you might say the whole of Christ's life, is in those two words. All our spirituality is in them, too. If, by the grace of God, I am able to say "Abba, Father," I will also be able to say "Amen," let it be so, I accept it. A lot lies behind that little word we say so often, "Amen."

I remember visiting an old priest who was dying and I noticed that every so often there would be a silence in our conversation, and he  would say "Amen." On one of my last visits to him in the hospital, he was having his lunch and as he pushed his lunch tray away from him, he said, "Amen." I said to him (very rashly!), "That's a great prayer." He paused for a moment and said, "Yes, if you could mean it." So I said no more.