Mental prayer in my opinion is nothing else than an intimate

"Mental prayer in my opinion is nothing else than an intimate sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with Him who we know loves us. The important thing is not to think much but to love much and so do that which best stirs you to love. Love is not great delight but desire to please God in everything." These profound words by Saint Teresa of Avila carry a deep and timeless wisdom. In the simplicity of this teaching, she reveals the essence of prayer—not as a ritual of words or thoughts, but as a relationship, an intimate connection with the Divine, where the heart is moved not by mere contemplation, but by a burning desire to love and please. Prayer, according to Saint Teresa, is not about quantity or complexity; it is about quality and depth. It is a matter of the heart, not the mind, for true love requires not much thought, but a deep longing to please the one we love.

In the ancient world, the idea of prayer was deeply intertwined with communion. Socrates, the great philosopher, often spoke of the importance of inner dialogue with the divine, though his focus was on the search for wisdom and truth. Yet even in his pursuit of knowledge, he recognized that reflection—a type of silent communion—was essential to understanding one's place in the universe. The ancient mystics and saints, too, knew the power of solitude. In the deserts of Egypt, for example, the early Christian hermits would retreat to the wilderness, not for mere silence, but to cultivate a deeper relationship with God through prayer and self-reflection. For them, like for Saint Teresa, prayer was an intimate sharing, an act of love rather than an intellectual exercise.

Saint Teresa herself is a beacon of this idea. She, a mystic and reformer, spent much of her life in solitude, seeking union with God through mental prayer. Her insights on prayer came not from theory but from her own experiences of the soul's union with the divine. Her words suggest that prayer does not need to be filled with many words or intricate thoughts; what matters is the love that flows through it. The desire to please God becomes the guiding principle, and this desire is not based on seeking emotional delight but on a profound sense of duty and devotion. True love, she teaches, does not look for rewards, but finds joy in the simple act of serving and pleasing the one whom we love.

In our own world, we can look to Mother Teresa as an example of this kind of prayer. Though her life was filled with great trials, her service to the poor was rooted in a profound sense of mental prayer—a continual sharing between her soul and God. Her work, though physical in nature, was an expression of deep love and devotion. It was not the act of caring for the destitute that was her prayer, but the love with which she did it. She, like Saint Teresa, knew that true prayer was not about seeking delight, but about desiring to please God in every moment, in every action, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed to the world.

We are also reminded of St. Francis of Assisi, who found his greatest joy not in high-minded thought or scholarly achievement, but in living in complete humility and service. His prayers were not long meditations but acts of pure love, reflected in the way he lived and served those around him. In every act, from tending to the sick to caring for animals, he expressed his love for God, and in this, he was closer to the divine than many who spent hours in prayerful solitude. Love was his prayer, and through it, he found a profound connection with God.

The message Saint Teresa imparts is one of simplicity and depth. Mental prayer, she teaches, is not about how much we think, but how deeply we love. It is not the complexity of our thoughts that matters in prayer, but the intensity of our desire to please God. This form of prayer calls for humility, presence, and a deep surrender of the self to the will of the divine. Love is the greatest prayer, and it is through loving in action that we draw closer to the sacred.

In our daily lives, we can practice mental prayer by pausing often to commune with God—not in grand gestures, but in quiet moments of love and devotion. Whether through the simple act of kindness to a stranger, a moment of gratitude before a meal, or an inward conversation with God during our busiest times, we can make our lives an ongoing prayer. Love, not for the sake of reward, but for the sake of the divine, is the noblest form of prayer. Let us then, as Saint Teresa urges, be alone with Him who loves us, and let our hearts pour forth in silent desire to please God in all that we do. In this, we will find the nobility of prayer, the deepest connection with the divine, and the fulfillment of our true purpose.