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A Homily for St John of the Cross
Today, we celebrate John of the Cross
who in his day suffered rejection
and persecution by his brothers.
I am thinking not of his time in the monastic prison in Toledo
but of the time leading up to his death.
What was it about him that was so threatening?
He was personally a kind and gentle person.
Why did he stir up such bitter resentment?
Probably because, as well as being mild and smiling,
he was a man of conscience and uncompromising moral integrity.
His defence of the friends and disciples of Teresa,
Jerome Gracian, Ann of Jesus and Maria of St Joseph
lead to his downfall.
When friends expressed their concern at his victimisation
he said:
Where there is no love, put love and you will find love.
It is a cause of pride to me that our friars in Nigeria
inspired by his example minister to those who rot and die,
often as a result of gross injustice, in the prisons there.
His disgrace was in fact a chance for him to enjoy once more,
free of religious administration and politics
the peace and beauty of God in his creation,
in the breathtaking scenery of La Peñuela.
He always loved nature and its beauty
and often prayed outdoors.
If novices were depressed he brought them to places
where natural beauty took them out of and beyond themselves
that they may be refreshed and able to pray once more.
This Easter I was privileged to visit El Calvario, near Beas,
where John regained his health and strength after Toledo.
As we climbed further and further up the mountain,
the air was fragrant with spring flowers
and vibrant with bird song.
When we finally reached the simple site of the former monastery
we enjoyed the breathtaking views of mountains and deep valleys
and John did not seem far away.
While John appreciated the beauty of nature
he was also a caring pastor responsive to people in need.
When he lived in towns and cities people of all stations in life
came to him for spiritual direction:
professors and paupers, clergy and laity, young and old.
So as to be pastorally available
he did not attend the evening mental prayer with the community
having made his prayer in the morning.
He was, then, no friend of rigidity in regard to observance.
As a pastor he adapted himself to the personal situation of different people to enflame their desire for God.
He had the custom of writing a few words
on slips of paper and giving it to his penitents
that they may reflect on this word addressed to them personally.
 It is quite
possible that St Teresa's famous bookmark,
found after her death in her breviary,
was in fact written for her by John:
Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you.
All things are passing.
Patience obtains all things.
God alone remains.
Who has God lacks nothing.
God alone suffices.
After his death his enemies were caught off guard
by the great love of the people for John
and the miracles that accompanied prayer to him.
They recast his biography
to make him the champion of their
narrow and closed monastic observance.
Yet the man himself had nothing narrow about him:
Like Teresa he was humane mystic and a mystical humanist,
open to friendship and the new discoveries of science:
Fifty years before Galileo was condemned in Rome
for teaching the heliocentric view of the universe,
that the earth orbited the sun not vice versa,
John used it in the Living Flame as a metaphor
for our relationship to Christ, the Sun around whom we orbit.
There are people for whom John of the Cross
is hard to take.
They do not take easily to his demand
that we be detached from our comforts,
including the comforts of sentimental religion.
If we are caught up in our own comfort zones
then it is only natural that we are threatened by
the call to an authentic and costly discipleship
in which our idols are painfully taken from us,
our faith, hope and love purified.
It is the radical evangelical invitation
to take up our cross and follow Jesus.
Of course, it is threatening.
It is quite disturbing to think of ourselves
as created for mystical union with God
and that nothing less will ever satisfy us.
John's horizon was simply vast:
Mine are the heavens and mine is the earth.
Mine are the nations, the just are mine and mine are the sinners.
The angels are mine and the Mother of God,
And all things are mine;
And God himself is mine and all for me
because Christ is mine and all for me.
Incidentally, these words are St Thérèse's sanjuanist favourites.
There are many others for whom John's words have been a
lifesaving light in the midst of darkness and turmoil.
This is because he owned his own experience of negativity.
He reflected, prayed on it and discovered it to be
a door to God's self gift in mystical communion.
He had the creative genius to express these experiences
first in symbols that are archetypal,
the dark night, the ever flowing fount, or the living flame,
then in lyric poems of passionate genius
and finally in commentaries which reveal his
pastoral concern, as well as his
psychological and theological insight.
His books are read today and not only by Catholics
and other Christians, he is a bridge for inter-religious dialogue.
Jessica Powers wrote a poem called
The Books of St John of the Cross:
Out of what door that came ajar in heaven
drifted this starry manna down to me,
to the dilated mouth both hunger given
and all satiety?
………
Mercy grows tall with the least heart enlightened
and I, so long a fosterling of night
here feast upon immeasurably sweetened
wafers of light.
Today we gather in gratitude to God for the blessing
that it is to know St John of the Cross
whose inspiring life, poetry and doctrine
speak to us of the fullness of life in Christ.
Greg Burke
Varroville, 14/12/02
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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