My Carmelite journey began in my childhood, growing with my awareness of the Carmelite saints – Therese of Lisieux, Teresa of Avila, Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection, Edith Stein (Teresa Benedicta of the Cross) – and the resonance I felt with how they each experienced their faith. It never occurred to me that I could commit myself to following in their footsteps as a layperson – and as an autistic person at that – until a pivotal moment in my young adulthood, in an astonishingly direct answer to prayer. It happened like this: I was kneeling before the Tabernacle after a parish mission had just ended, asking God how to keep that missionary fervor alive in my heart going forward. In the middle of my prayer, someone I barely knew stooped down to interrupt me, whispering that I should go right now and meet the woman across the church whom she was pointing out to me. It was such an odd interruption that I was caught off guard and followed her around rows of pews before I had time to think about what I was doing. When we got there, she introduced me to the woman, who grasped my hand, looked me in the eye, and said: "If you are looking for a way to keep this mission alive in your heart, then you need to become a Third Order Carmelite." It turns out this person was the vocations coordinator of the local chapter of Lay Carmelites! After my surprise wore off and the incredible reality of the moment sank in, I said I would be very interested, and so I began the discernment process.
That was twenty years ago. I have since completed the course of formation, reception and profession, and have continued to deepen my realization of what it means to live a Carmelite life. "Third Order" distinguishes me as a layperson and not a vowed religious, and so my obedience to the rule is done within the realm of whatever state in life I have (which, for me, is wife and mother). The missionary zeal I felt that day is one of the core aspects of this charism, but I have come to see that Carmelite mission has a different character. Most of us picture missionaries as influencers who go out day after day and do visible work which can be measured by people served, books published, schools and clinics opened, even social media followers. A Carmelite’s mission work is not like this. In many cases, it is completely invisible. St. Therese of Lisieux summarized it as: "My vocation is love!" Our mission begins as a flame of zeal which is fanned by our love of God, and kindled brighter and brighter by our welcoming God’s grace and love in return. The mission work of a Carmelite is that flame. The tangible benefit to others consists of the light and warmth surrounding that flame, however they might experience it in their circumstances… oftentimes, individually, one person at a time. As an autistic person, it has been a marvelous consolation knowing that I can be a missionary even as I am, by simply offering myself in love to God. I fully admit that my support needs are not very compatible with traditional, public missionary work. I do not do well in large gatherings; I am easily sensory overloaded by light and sound, and I have difficulty processing auditory information. I do not speak well, and too many activities on the schedule overwhelm me. But I have no difficulty loving God and loving neighbor. I can do that even when I cannot speak or think clearly, and I can do that even when my body is worn out from navigating sensory demands! My work as an advocate for autistic people is inextricably united to that same love, fueling the flame that is my Carmelite vocation, and very often takes place in very small and hidden ways, one person at a time.
Was St. Thorlak a Carmelite?
No, St. Thorlak lived before the Carmelites were established as an order. He adopted the Augustinian Rule as a Canon Regular following his time at the Abbey of St. Victor in Paris from 1153-1157. (For reference, the earliest traces of the Carmelite Order go back to 1155 in the Holy Land, and the Carmelite Rule itself was not formally set forth until 1214.) We might say that St. Thorlak’s formation and career ran parallel to the dawn of the Carmelites, and that his spiritual formation in the Victorine tradition included several of the same elements (e.g., contemplation, unitive prayer, and meditation on Divine Love). St. Thorlak’s pastoral and missionary approaches certainly fit well with the Carmelite charism. He was known far and wide for his gift in imparting the faith one-on-one, though he was easily overwhelmed by large groups and had a lifelong speech impairment which made preaching difficult. His quiet demonstrations of holiness left such an impression on people that they carried his teachings and example to others, and the faith spread and took root wherever he went. He often retreated to dine with the marginalized because he felt a kinship with them, drawing great strength from the candor and sincerity of their friendship. St. Thorlak was not inclined to hide or suppress his differences. As a result, he endured much criticism from his family and people of power. He quietly offered to God all the ways he didn’t fit in, entrusting his differences to God to use however He might. Could St. Thorlak have imagined that God might use his offering eight hundred-plus years later, to guide people like him and give them a way to discover their own spiritual mission in the Church?
