(This article courtesy of Canticle Magazine, the Voice of Today's Catholic Woman.)
When I need encouragement to try to understand some of the more complicated truths of the Catholic faith, I think of Saint Thomas Aquinas. He tells me that God’s truth is a mountain worth climbing. When I need help remembering that my everyday life is an opportunity for God’s grace even in seemingly insignificant events, I think of Saint Therese of Lisieux and her “little way.” But whenever I need to remind myself to bear my suffering like a true follower of Christ, I think of Saint John of the Cross.
Too many of the signposts around us say that poverty is a curse. Lotteries, game shows, magazines, and movies glorify the blessings of having it all. Even in the Old Testament, Job’s friends tell him (wrongly) that his sudden distress is a sign of divine judgment. Saint John of the Cross (1542-1591), however, points us away from this pleasant-looking but dangerous path.
“All the wealth and glory of creation compared with the wealth that is God is utter poverty,” he wrote in The Ascent of Mount Carmel. Since he had learned to recognize the magnificence of our almighty Lord, growing up in financial poverty did not make him greedy or bitter. Rather, lacking material possessions taught him to rely more on the Lord and less on his own skill and strength. John renounced even what little he had when he became a Carmelite priest.
Not all of us are called to this sort of poverty. However, we can all learn from his example, not just by giving away our money to worthy causes, but by giving ourselves more completely to the Lord every day. Just as a mother may give some or all of her lunch to her child (happy that the child is eating something for once!), so we can learn to give joyfully of ourselves to the Lord in little ways. Giving away unnecessary things that give us pleasure can help us realize how little we need them and how many blessings the Lord has already given us.
Our culture encourages us to push ourselves and make sacrifices for many causes, for example physical health and beauty, a college degree, or the admiration of others. John, however, suffered greatly at the hands of fellow priests for causes that the secular world would not understand. To try to understand his suffering as modern-day Catholics, it’s important to first consider the specific calling of religious orders like the Carmelites.
Each of the religious orders offers a different central calling to the Lord. For example, Dominicans are called to preach the Gospel, and Missionaries of Charity are called to serve the poor. Carmelites are called to pray. While this sounds marvelously simple in theory, it becomes more complicated when put it into practice. How much time should Carmelites spend praying each day? Should they be permitted to talk among themselves, or should they observe silence as much as possible? Should Carmelites talk to those outside their communities — to encourage them and help them with problems — or maintain a more strict enclosure?
The rules guiding the lives of many Carmelites had been relaxed or “mitigated” over the centuries prior to John’s day, allowing them freedom to talk among themselves, receive visitors, travel, preach, and perform other seemingly reasonable activities. However, these activities were undermining the central goal of constant, God-focused prayer. According to Saint Teresa of Avila’s judgment of her own conduct before her deep conversion, these rules made it too easy for her to gossip, enjoy frequent visitors, and spend little time praying.
To complicate matters, many people joining the Carmelites were doing so because they had no other options — for example people who could not find a spouse, or young women whose parents could not provide a dowry. These nuns and priests, while certainly good people, weren’t suited to a quiet, contemplative life of deep prayer and self-sacrifice, and their tepid adherence to even the mitigated rule distracted those around them.
Saint Teresa began a reform of the Carmelite nuns in the late 1500’s to bring them back to their original calling. Her nuns lived in greater poverty and hardship—but many women of her generation were attracted to a life of complete commitment to the Lord.
As a young priest, John met Saint Teresa. He readily agreed to lead the reformation of the Carmelite friars, and he founded friaries and was joined by other men who hungered for a life of quiet contemplation. However, some of his fellow Carmelites felt these changes were too radical and difficult. They also believed he was breaking his vow of obedience to his superiors by pursuing these changes, although he had been careful to receive the proper permission. As a result, he was arrested by a group of Carmelites, imprisoned in a tiny cell for eight months, and beaten daily for his refusal to give up the reform.
Though our vocation may not entail imprisonment, we have all been called, like John, to serve the Lord. Both married and single women can serve Him within the context of family and other relationships. Like John, we can keep that calling firmly fixed in our minds, or we can go searching for other objectively good things to occupy our time.
For example, a wife may be tempted to volunteer for every needy cause (or at least the ones she likes) at the expense of her husband and family. Helping others sounds like such a good, Christian thing to do, but often we are simply seeking people to help because they’re easier than the ones we live with! In seeking to secape the trials of our particular calling, we’ve made the same mistake as John’s accusers, although probably not as seriously. The key is to remember our own calling, whatever that may be.
We can also learn to imitate John by accepting our daily sufferings, however large or small, with love. We can forgive those who treat us badly because we are Catholics, because we are mothers, because we are single, or because we do not follow (or try not to follow) the fashions of the world. Perhaps some of our persecutors, like John’s, are simply frightened by our example. If so, they need our prayers desperately.
First, last, and always, the secular world does not like us to pray. The ever-present visual and audible media noise surrounding us today is certainly an effective means of discouraging prayer. Another complication of our attempts to pray is that any person who tries to make a serious commitment to prayer will experience both the joys of God’s presence and the bitterness of His seeming absence. How can a modern woman be sure she’s making progress in something without any exams, degrees, or performance appraisals?
John’s writings on prayer are drawn from his experiences of imprisonment, his more successful times after his miraculous escape, and the trials he suffered from false accusations and political intrigues near the end of his life. These writings on mystical theology, while sometimes difficult to understand, are powerful.
When our prayer lives have lost their fire, when we feel God is absent in our overwhelming sufferings, or when we feel we are wandering and making no real progress in prayer, we can turn to John (not to mention the Bible, the Catechism, and other saints) for guidance. John will not offer us easy answers or simple tests, but he will give us courage to continue the fight.
Like all the saints, John of the Cross points us in the best possible direction of all — straight toward the arms of our Crucified and Risen Lord. There is no better place to be.
