God walks also among

the pots and pans
THEY lived in silence and observed strict enclosure. Visitors had to have good reason for calling, there were no purely social callers, and during visits the sisters kept their faces veiled.
The solid wood revolving door, the torno (still in use today), meant that any callers or tradesmen were invisible voices; the large, wooden, double grille in the church ensured that the sisters could
A new biography of Teresa of Avila, reformer of the Carmelites, appears this week. In this extract Shirley du Boulay describes life at the first reformed carmel of St Joseph's
hear mass without being seen. Should any outsider consider forcing an unwelcome entry or an insider think of leaving, there was a high wall round the garden to deter them.
Not that leaving the convent was a serious temptation, for they were very happy. Teresa had an intense dislike of "long-faced saints that make both virtue and themselves abhorrent" and there was a gaiety and laughter as well as silence and high seriousness.
Feast days and special events in their uneventful lives were celebrated. Flutes, drums and tambourines, still to be seen in the museum, bear witness to the many occasions when they would sing and dance, often to their own compositions.
Many were written by Teresa herself, and one of her least eloquent efforts marks a curious occasion.
One day after matins the nuns formed a short procession. Carrying a cross and singing psalms, they walked from their cells to the chapel. There they implored God to deliver them from the lice that were infesting their rough frieze habits.
Teresa then sprinkled holy water on the cells and pallets, singing a song with the refrain:
Do Thou keep all nasty creatures Out of this frieze One of the witnesses at Teresa's beatification declares that from that moment the plague ceased. The cross they carried is known as the Christ of the Lice.
Another event regarded as miraculous concerned a commodity essential even to the most austere community water. There was water in the grounds of the convent, but so deep as to be virtually inaccessible and, in any case, it was reported to be unpotable.
Against the advice of experts, who said she was throwing money away,Teresa had a well sunk. The water flowed clear and abundant. Over 400 years later, it still exists, now known as the Samaritan's Well, and continues to provide the convent with water.
Happiness is infectious and soon the numbers grew. Teresa had intended a maximum of 15, representing the 12 apostles, Christ, Our Lady and St Joseph, but it settled at 13.
New arrivals included Teresa's niece, Maria Cepeda y Ocampo, whose half-jesting remark had started it all and who took the name Maria Bautista after John the Baptist; and Dona Maria Davila, a beautiful girl from one of the noblest families in Avila, who took the name of Maria de Santo Jeronimo.
Soon all local opposition disappeared. Even those who had been most hostile found they approved of the new convent, were proud of it and prepared to give it alms.
At first Teresa lived as a simple nun. It was not until July 1563 that, at the insistence of bishop and the provincial, she became prioress.
There were to be no distinctions of background; the seductive temptations of honour and rank were left behind when the women took the habit. "Let the sister who is of the highest birth speak of her father least; we must all be equals."
Just as they gave up their worldly titles, so they all shared household tasks. Teresa's fastidiousness and domestic skills together with her willingness to share in the humblest chores were appreciated by the nuns, but they must have been rather alarmed when they found her one day beside the stove, holding a frying pan, in a rapture.
It was, none the less, in keeping with her conviction that God was in all things. One of her most famous sayings is that "God walks also among the pots and pans." Despite rejoicing in a life filled with what she referred to from the troubled times of 1573 as "the calm and quiet of which my soul often sorely misses", she was always busy in prayer, domestic tasks, administration or writing.
While she was at St Joseph's she finished the second version of her autobiography, amplified the rule under which they were living in The Constitutions, and started and completed the first version of The Way of Perfection.
An extract from "Teresa of Avila" by Shirley du Poulay, published this week by Hodder and Stoughton, price .E14.95. See crossword.