My favorite saint is Thérèse of Lisieux, also known as Thérèse of the Child Jesus. We know what she looked like because Céline, one of her sisters, painted her official portrait, and several statues were made from that portrayal. When Céline entered the monastery, she brought her camera along, so we also have 47 pictures of Thérèse that Céline took. However, if you look closely at the photos and at the official portrait, there’s a difference: In the photos, Thérèse has a round face, but in the official portrait, she has a thin face. Why?
Before I offer an answer, let me tell you another story. There’s a picture of Thérèse taken when she was 15 years old. She was trying to be admitted to the monastery, but she was too young, so she and her father met with the bishop to get his intercession. She wore a dress that would, in her young mind, make her seem more mature. The dress had a bustle, something that was very fashionable in Paris at that time. However, after Thérèse died, when the sisters at the monastery were reviewing her photos, they thought the bustle was too much for a young saint, so they whited it out.
This perhaps speaks to the difference in her face shape between Céline’s painting and her photographs. A thin face may have been meant to portray a holier countenance, a mindset focused on the things of God. Maybe Céline felt like a round face would show more youth and joy. The difference is startling.
In 1925, on the day of her canonization, my parish took on the name of Thérèse. But as a grade school student, I had no real interest in her. She was just a saccharine statue in the church and school lobby that piously looked over us with her cross and roses.
My personal relationship with Thérèse didn’t begin until my third year at college seminary. I had a dream where I followed a young woman with long reddish-golden hair. I knew she was beautiful, but I couldn’t get her to turn around. I forced myself to return to the dream the following night; I wanted to see her face. The next night I did the same, with no luck. I never forgot that dream.
Sometime after that, I read Thérèse’s Story of a Soul. I was struck by her faith in God, her willingness to completely trust God, and her desire for God. Later, as a priest, I visited the local Carmelite monastery to attend the Triduum before her feast day. I met a woman there who told me of Thérèse’s long reddish hair and her dog named Tom. I remembered my dream: I had been following Thérèse. I realized that Thérèse has helped me put complete trust in God and surrender each day to God.
Nowadays, when I visit a church, I look for her statue and offer a prayer. Once, I asked Thérèse for a sign that she heard me; I asked if she could send a rose my way. Later, while giving out school lunches, I noticed a fifth grader clutching a drawing while waiting in line. When she got to me, she handed me a crayon drawing of a rose and said, “Father Tom, I made this for you today.”
Thérèse promised to pray for priests. Toward the end of her life, she was asked to pray for Father Maurice Bellière, a missionary priest. I believe she continues to pray for me and other priests. I believe she prays for you, too.
How do you picture Thérèse? How do you prefer holiness to be depicted? Do you prefer the saccharine portrait Céline painted or the youthful face of the photos? In any case, Thérèse put complete trust in God. Can you do that? She’ll help you if you ask her. Will you allow Thérèse to touch your life as she has touched the lives of so many others?
This article also appears in the October 2026 issue of U.S. Catholic (Vol. 91, No. 10, page 9). Click here to subscribe to the magazine.
Image: Thérèse of Lisieux at 15 years old, 1888. Public domain.
