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St John of the Cross - a general introduction
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A Portrait of the Saint
These main events in the short life
of St. John of the Cross do not leave us with the full picture of his character
and personal spirituality. His early first-hand acquaintance with deprivation,
the later misunderstandings and imprisonment, the final persecution that
he suffered, all might more easily have brought forth a bitter cynic; instead,
the result was a man purified and enlightened. Events outwardly sad but
inwardly transforming bore fruits in charity toward others and deep compassion
for the sufferer. Together with these came a rare, clear vision of the
beauty of God's creation and an intimacy with the Blessed Trinity that
John found somewhat describable only through comparisons to the life of
glory. But first, regarding the physical appearance of Fray John of the
Cross, he was a small man, measuring four feet, eleven inches. Whenever
St. Teresa referred to him she seemed almost obliged to use the diminutive.
In describing his imprisonment, she writes: "For the whole nine
months he was in a small prison where, little as he is, there was not enough
room for him to move. " He was also thin, but his lean, oval face
and his broad forehead, receding into baldness, gave him a venerable appearance.
His nose was slightly aquiline, his eyes dark and large. Rounding off this
figure of Fray John was his old, rough, brown habit and a white cloak so
coarse it seemed made of goat hair.
Marked by the poverty he suffered as a child and even as a friar, he
found it hard to ignore others in the distress of material need. With his
penitents he did not limit himself to seeking their spiritual good, but
he looked for ways to help them when they were in want. Sometimes he gave
them alms from the meagre funds of the monastery, or sometimes he begged
alms for them from other devout people. Noticing once that a priest who
came to him for confession was wearing a worn-out cassock, he asked some
benefactors for money to buy the priest a new one. He grieved over the
poverty of many of the nuns at the Incarnation who didn't have the material
resources enjoyed by those from well-to-do families. One day, entering
the convent for his ministry, he saw a nun sweeping the floor barefooted,
and doing so not out of penance but because she had no shoes. Immediately
he trudged up to the city and asked some charitable persons for money,
which he in turn gave to the nun so she could buy shoes for herself. Then
there was the year 1584, a year of barrenness and hunger in Andalusia.
As prior in Granada John did everything he could to help with either food
or money all the needy who came to the monastery gate. Those of higher
lineage he helped secretly because, even though in want, they were ashamed
to beg openly. Finding the poor wherever he journeyed, he also found the
sick. He began to understand intimately the affliction of the latter during
his hospital work as a youth in Medina. Taking pains to show the most delicate
sympathy for the sick, he knew how to care for them, comfort them, and
give them hope. He would not allow the question of money to interfere with
his desire to give his sick friars the best possible care. He once asked
a doctor if there were any remedy for a lay brother who was undergoing
extraordinary suffering. The doctor answered that the only medicine he
knew was very expensive and would do no more than relieve the suffering
somewhat. Despite the penury of the community John sent for the medicine
and administered it to the sick brother himself, and did so happily. On
arriving at a monastery he always made it a point first to greet the sick
after his visit to the Blessed Sacrament.
Quick to perceive sadness or depression in another and eager to comfort
the downcast, he could appreciate humour. Surprisingly, witnesses have
told of his gift for humour and the enjoyment he got from making others
laugh. They looked forward to having him present. As prior he accepted
the responsibility of having to call others to account, but he was intent
on not discouraging anyone. His opinion was that people "become
pusillanimous in undertaking works of great virtue when they are treated
harshly by superiors. " Nor did he think he had the answers to
all problems. His practice was to consult others in the community, a method
of government that helped to create an atmosphere of serenity. Being a
saint does not free one from the capacity for making mistakes, nor does
being a superior, and John once remarked of himself at the end of his life:
"When I recall the foolish mistakes I made as superior, I blush."
Human needs are not only material and psychological; there are distinctive
spiritual needs as well. In his oral teaching John used to point out that
the more you love God the more you desire that all people love and honour
him and as the desire grows you work harder toward that end, both in prayer
and in all other possible works. His preferred work was spiritual direction,
whereby he could help to free individuals from their moral and spiritual
illnesses. In this endeavour he did not spare himself, so special was his
awareness of our exalted destiny. From university professor to humble,
unlettered shepherds' wives, people of all classes felt the allure of his
confessional. The ease the humble lay sister, Catalina de la Cruz, experienced
in his presence is evident in the kind of question she once asked him:
"Why when I go to the garden do the frogs jump in the water? "
Quickly seizing an opportunity to draw out a spiritual lesson, John replied
that it was because they felt safe in the depth of the pool and "that
is what you must do, flee from creatures and hide yourself in God. "
Sinners also found their way to him without fear. "The holier a
confessor, " he used to say, "the less fear one should
have of him. In his spiritual direction of others John focused on communion
with God in faith, hope, and love, called by some the "theological
life. " This life is both active and passive and encompasses everything,
from the first steps in Christian living to the highest reaches of the
mystical journey. In an age that found severe austerities a fascinating
and necessary part of spiritual pursuit, his ascetical teaching pointed
to faith, hope, and love as the way to sanctity in the following of Christ.
But his deepest concern was for those who were suffering in their spiritual
life. The needs of souls struggling with inner trials stirred him to write
The Ascent of Mount Carmel and The Dark Night. If his intense portrayal
of the afflictions of the dark night can prove frightening to some, his
desire in so presenting them was to include everyone by describing these
sufferings in their extreme form. He wanted everyone to find comfort in
the thought that however severe it may be, purification is still the work
of God's gentle hand, clearing away the debris of attachment and making
room for the divine light. Pain for him was not a misfortune but a value
when suffered with and for Christ. Nothing about John's life indicates
that he thought he should have a specialist's priorities in the use of
his time. He participated in all the different tasks necessary to keep
a community running. We find him in the choir, the confessional, the kitchen,
weeding the garden, decorating the altars, making architectural plans,
joining in construction work, visiting the sick and, of course, writing.
Hard physical labour, small and delicate though he was, seemed to attract
him. Was it his way of protesting the thought of the Illuminists who held
that the servants of God should not undertake manual labour? At both Granada
and Segovia, when these monasteries were being built, he joined the workmen
in quarrying stone for the construction. At Beas, when free from counselling
the nuns he would do chores for them, setting up partitions, laying bricks,
and scrubbing floors.
He observed how creatures can enslave and darken and torment. But the
deceptive delights of those who are attached to creatures cannot compare
with the joy of people who are detached from them. Beholding in creation
a trace of the divine beauty, power, and loving wisdom, John could not
easily resist the enchantment of nature. Because he missed the lyric country
solitude of El Calvario after founding the student college in Baeza, he
acquired some property in the country, making it possible for him and the
young Carmelites to escape from the bustling city. He would take the friars
out to the mountains, sometimes for the sake of relaxation, "to
prevent their wanting to leave the monastery from spending too much time
in it, " as he once remarked; sometimes, so that each might pass
the day alone there "in solitary prayer. " At Segovia
he had his favourite grotto, hollowed out by nature, high up on the back
bluff overlooking a marvellous stretch of sky, river, and landscape. He
grew to love this silent grotto and spent all the time he could spare there.
John's letters exhibit the warmth with which he usually communed with others.
But his brother Francisco seems to have given him special happiness. He
used to introduce Francisco by saying, "May I introduce you to
my brother, who is the treasure I value most in the world. " St.
Teresa, also, it should go without saying, awakened in him particular admiration,
so much so that he carried her portrait about with him. Accompanying the
outward, evangelical simplicity of his manner was a soul on fire, like
Teresa's. Of his intimacy with God he once admitted in Granada: "God
communicates the mystery of the Trinity to this sinner in such a way that
if His Majesty did not strengthen my weakness by a special help, it would
be impossible for me to live. " Overwhelmed with awareness of
God's goodness, he was frequently heard to exclaim, "Oh, what a
good God we have! " Requiring little sleep, he spent much of the
night in prayer, sometimes kneeling at the altar steps before the Blessed
Sacrament; at other times he knelt beneath the trees in the garden, and
sometimes at the window of his cell, from which he could look out at the
heavens and all the countryside. In the latter years of his brief life,
his absorption in God could become so profound that he experienced difficulty
in attending to ordinary affairs, secretly having to hit his knuckles against
the wall so as not to lose the trend of conversation.
His experience of God was always rooted in the life of the Church, nourished
by the sacraments and the liturgy. Witnesses of his life spoke of the devotion
with which he celebrated Mass. A centre of his contemplation, Mass often
proved to be an occasion for special graces. During the celebration he
could become so lost in God that he had no consciousness of his surroundings.
His greatest suffering during the imprisonment in Toledo was being deprived
of the Eucharist. The Blessed Sacrament was "all his glory, all
his happiness, and for him far surpassed all the things of the earth. "
The one privilege he accepted when major superior in Segovia was the cell
closest to the Blessed Sacrament.
The liturgical feasts and seasons meant more than an external commemoration;
they were the occasion of an interior transformation in the spirit of the
mystery being celebrated. On the day before Christmas he used to organize
with the friars a kind of para-liturgical procession to recall how Mary
and Joseph went in search of lodging for the divine Infant. At Christmas
time above all he felt his heart pulsate with love for the Child Jesus.
One Christmas, seeing a statue of the Infant lying on a cushion, he cried
out, "Lord, if love is to slay me, the hour has now come. "
Another Christmas, taken with love, he took the statue of the Infant in
his arms and began to dance with enraptured joy. His countenance, in fact,
corresponded with the Church's liturgy. Once during Holy Week he suffered
so intensely from the Passion of Christ that he found it impossible to
leave the monastery to hear the nuns' confessions. Among his favourite
feasts, besides those of the Blessed Trinity and Corpus Christi, were the
feasts of the Blessed Virgin. In his prison cell, on the Vigil of the Assumption,
after nine months of severe privation, he was asked what he was thinking
of. He replied, "I was thinking that tomorrow is the feast of our
Lady and that it would give me great joy to say Mass. " The sight
of an image of the Mother of God brought love and brightness to his soul.
Once, on seeing an image of our Lady while he was preaching to the nuns
in Caravaca, he could not conceal his love for her and exclaimed: "How
happy I would be to live alone in a desert with that image. The Bible,
the book he cherished most of all, helped him to enter into intimacy with
the three Persons of the Trinity. He loved to withdraw to hidden parts
of the monastery with his Bible. While he was in Lisbon, the other friars
urged him to come with them to visit a famed stigmatic of that city, but
he refused; drawn by the ocean, he remained on the shore reading his Bible
while the others went off to observe the curious phenomenon. From his Bible
and his nearness to God, John knew that loving confidence in Providence
was the appropriate response to life's worries and anxieties. He observed
that when God, like a loving mother, wants to carry us, we kick and cry
and insist on walking by ourselves, and get nowhere. Some thought that
since he was prior of a poor monastery he should show more concern about
material needs. They would have liked him to worry. But his habit of seeing
the hand of God in all things contributed, in fact, to an air of peace
and calm. This was his way, too, in persecution. He saw the hand of God
there and urged others not to speak uncharitably of his persecutors, but
to think "only that God ordains all. " He wrote that trust
in God should be so great that even if the whole world were to collapse
one should not become disturbed. Enduring things with equanimity reaps
many blessings, he said, and helps a person in the middle of adversity
to make an appropriate judgment and find the right option. This total trust
in God gave him peace in his final illness. Being reminded of all he had
suffered, he replied with these remarkable words: "Padre, this
is not the time to be thinking of that; it is by the merits of the blood
of our Lord Jesus Christ that I hope to be saved.
Purchase the official
English translation of the Collected Works of St John of the Cross, at ICS Publications,
Washington DC.
 Now
also on CD-Rom - Digital Library
The following information has been provided courtesy of ICS Publications. The
copyright of all materials is held by the Washington Provinceof the Discalced
Carmelites. Permission is hereby granted solely for private use of these texts
on which ICS Publications hold the copyright.
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