Loving Those We Don’t Like

Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 1 Corinthians 13:4 – 7

Loving Those We Do Not Like

I must confess I am far from living up to my ideal, and yet the very desire to do so gives me a feeling of peace. If I fall into some fault, I arise again at once— and for some months now I have not even had to struggle. I have been able to say with our holy Father, St. John of the Cross: ​“My house is entirely at peace,” and I attribute this interior peace to a victory I gained over myself. Since that victory, the hosts of Heaven have hastened to my aid, for they will not allow me to be wounded, now that I have fought so valiantly.

A holy nun of our community annoyed me in all that she did; the devil must have had something to do with it, and it was undoubtedly he who made me see in her so many disagreeable points. I did not want to yield to my natural antipathy, for I remembered that charity ought to betray itself in deeds, and not exist merely in the feelings, so I set myself to do for this sister all I should do for the one I loved most. 

Every time I met her I prayed for her, and offered to God her virtues and merits. I felt that this was very pleasing to Our Lord, for there is no artist who is not gratified when his works are praised, and the Divine Artist of souls is pleased when we do not stop at the exterior, but, penetrating to the inner sanctuary He has chosen, admire its beauty. 

I did not rest satisfied with praying for this Sister, who gave me such occasions for self-mastery, I tried to render her as many services as I could, and when tempted to answer her sharply, I made haste to smile and change the subject, for the Imitation says: ​“It is more profitable to leave everyone to his way of thinking than to give way to contentious discourses.” And sometimes when the temptation was very severe, I would run like a deserter from the battlefield if I could do so without letting the Sister guess my inward struggle. 

One day she said to me with a beaming face: ​“My dear Soeur Thérèse, tell me what attraction you find in me, for whenever we meet, you greet me with such a sweet smile.” Ah! What attracted me was Jesus hidden in the depths of her soul — Jesus who makes sweet even that which is most bitter.

When You Cannot Yield, Flee 

I spoke just now of the flight that is my last resource to escape defeat. It is not honorable, I confess, but during my novitiate, whenever I had recourse to this means, it invariably succeeded. I will give you a striking example, which will, I am sure, amuse you. 

You had been ill with bronchitis for several days, and we were all uneasy about you. One morning, in my duty as sacristan, I came to put back the keys of the Communion-grating. This was my work, and I was very pleased to have an opportunity of seeing you, though I took good care not to show it. 

One of the Sisters, full of solicitude, feared I should awake you, and tried to take the keys from me. I told her as politely as I could, that I was quite as anxious as she was that there should be no noise, and added that it was my right to return them. I see now that it would have been more perfect simply to yield, but I did not see it then, and so I followed her into the room. 

Very soon what she feared came to pass: the noise did awaken you. All the blame fell upon me; the Sister I had argued with began a long discourse, of which the point was: Soeur Thérèse made all the noise. I was burning to defend myself, but a happy inspiration of grace came to me. I thought that if I began to justify myself I should certainly lose my peace of mind, and as I had too little virtue to let myself be unjustly accused without answering, my last chance of safety lay in flight. 

No sooner thought than done. I hurried away, but my heart beat so violently, I could not go far, and I was obliged to sit down on the stairs to enjoy in quiet the fruit of my victory. This is an odd kind of courage, undoubtedly, but I think it is best not to expose oneself in the face of certain defeat.

The memory of certain things makes me laugh. How good God has been, to have trained my soul and given it wings. All the snares of the hunter can no longer frighten me, for ​“A net is spread in vain before the eyes of them that have wings” (Prov. 1:27).

Questions for Group Discussion

1. Thérèse chose a more intense form of Christian community than most of us will experience: the convent. In what way might cloistered life be like a laboratory and the inhabitants like scientists whose research into loving well offers wisdom to Christians in other settings?
2. Bring to mind someone you find particularly annoying. How might you pray for them with some regularity? How might you serve them in a practical way?
3. Thérèse suggests an unusual spiritual discipline — when tempted to argue or speak unkindly, simply run away. What sort of exit might help you to keep peace with the people God has called you to belong to? … Leaving social media? Taking a walk around the block when discussions get heated? A nap or a coffee break when your patience feels worn down? 
4. While Thérèse describes little breaks to regain self-control, she didn’t leave the community. Cooling off helped her to stay and engage with the ones who were hardest to love. What might a helpful respite from the grind of Christian community look like? What would re-engagement look like?