With Luther, the believer could already establish a direct relationship with God without the need for intermediaries. That was a torpedo in the center of the waterline of Pedro's boat. Personal communication with God was to be carried out through a new prayer that emerged from the stale formula that repeated prayers in Latin, without the faithful knowing what he was saying. It was the prayer of emotion, of sigh and sob, of suffering in the presence of a savagely tortured Christ who made it impossible to embrace and kiss his suffering. The frontiers of masochism were then touched: to feel that the wood became flesh and the paint blood and the natural hair of the tortured images of the Baroque, hair of Christ. Where to place barriers to an emotion that arose as lava from magmatic depths in which the libido was present camouflaged as second prize?
These questions are formulated by Tomás de Becedas in his work in which he dissects mystical abductions until he finds in them the germ of a mystical epilepsy that, over the centuries, was known by the euphemism of "sacred evil." Tomás de Becedas follows Teresa's life in her pathetic tightrope between the persecution of the Inquisition and the protection of Felipe II, the mayor of God, who in the religious conjuncture of the 16th century understood that it was more diplomatic for Spain to show the Catholic world a Santa better than a witch and an altar better than a brazier.
Definitely, Tomás de Becedas stays with the domestic Teresa who was cured as best she could from her dysfunctions, with the help of a prayer pen. And the work of the most powerful writer, in Spanish, has survived to this day.