December 14, the Church celebrates the memory of St. John of the Cross: a man of prayer who, by living a life of recollection and self-sacrifice, changed the course of events.
Newsroom (19/02/2023 15:05, Gaudium Press) When the Lutheran pseudo-reformation rose up against the Laws of God and the Church, a cry of fidelity from her best children rose up in the ranks of the Mystical Bride of Christ. Among these, two Spanish contemplatives played a major role, whose names are still remembered by the faithful with special veneration December 11th: St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross.
Lent is an ideal time to reflect upon one of these two, St. John of the Cross as his life is a testament to a life of penance, love of neighbour, and above all, an unwavering devotion to Christ and his Passion.
Supported and chosen by Our Lady
John of Yepes was born in 1542 in the small village of Fontiveros, nestled in the wide plains of Castile. His father, Gonzalo de Yepes, was a member of the Toledo nobility who renounced the prerogatives of his origin to marry Catarina Álvarez, a humble weaver. Three children were born of this union, the last of whom was John.
The cross – which the boy would one day charmingly choose as his name – would be present with him from his earliest years. The successive failures in the paternal business led the household to a situation of extreme poverty, which was only partially remedied by the couple’s weaving work.
However, the greatest misfortune came when the Saint was two years old, when his father died of a painful illness.
The widow, with no other recourse than the protection of Providence, launched into a superhuman struggle to support the family. Questioned by her children’s innocent looks about the future, she left for other towns and, finally, for Medina del Campo, in an attempt to be better paid for her services.
One precious memory remained from these trying years: Mary’s great care for those who were destitute.
One day, playing with his friends around a muddy pond, John lost his balance and fell, sinking into the muddy water. He soon resurfaced, but was submerged again and, as he struggled to get up, he noticed that a Lady of heavenly beauty was smiling at him and offering her arm to rescue him. But seeing how dirty he was, he didn’t want to tarnish the Lady’s whiteness and refused to lean on her. In the end, a local farmer held out a branch, to which he clung and was able to be pulled to shore.
This episode inaugurated a deep bond between the Virgin and the boy, which lasted throughout his life and would lead him, years later, to join a Marian Order as a token of gratitude.
The Emergence of his Vocation
In a charitable institution in Medina del Campo, John learned the rudiments of Catholic doctrine, how to say Mass and take care of the sacristy, among other trades.
The benefactors, realizing the unblemished purity of that soul and, at the same time, his aptitude for study, encouraged the young man to enter the Jesuit college. There he spent several years working hard on his subjects, while seriously pondering his vocation. When his vocation became clear, he didn’t hesitate: he knocked on the doors of the Carmel Convent asking for the habit of Our Lady.
A providential meeting
In the Carmel of Medina del Campo he received the tonsure, embracing the rule of the Order under the name of Friar John of St. Matthias. He used to spend long hours in front of the tabernacle and assisted at Mass with pleasure and joy, until he was sent by his superiors to the novitiate in Salamanca.
In the city’s old cathedral, Friar John of St. Matthias received his priestly anointing at the age of 25, with truly angelic dispositions. However, his yearnings for contemplation cried out for a much closer encounter with God. On his return to Medina del Campo, he was thinking of leaving Carmel for the Charterhouse, where, he thought, he would be able to make a greater oblation of himself.
In these circumstances, he met St. Teresa of Avila for the first time. The great reformer had come to Medina in 1567 to found a convent for barefoot women, and he saw the opportunity to extend the reform to the male branch, since he had already been authorized by the general of the Order to take this step.
In a decisive interview with Friar Juan, also attended by Friar Antonio de Heredia, Mother Teresa invited him to take part in the holy adventure, as her discernment indicated that he was “one of the purest and holiest souls that God has raised up in his Church”.
Curiously, Friar Antonio was a man of imposing stature and contrasted with Friar Joao, who had a slight build. The meeting left the mother enthusiastic, as she said to her nuns: “Help me, daughters, to give thanks to God our Lord, because we already have a friar and a half to begin the reform of the religious.”
The reformation of the Carmel
From then on, Teresa of Jesus had the invaluable collaboration of Friar John and “under the joint action of these two fiery souls, the reform movement spread like a slick of oil”.
In the convents and monasteries where they worked, concessions to the spirit of the world were banished, the rule returned and the cloister was lived in all its rigor. They lived with the intention of making reparation for the infidelities committed against the Church at the time, and this heroic purpose brought together strong vocations.
John of the Cross – as he came to be called – was the protagonist of the exciting pages of the founding years recorded in the annals of the Discalced Carmel, moving among a thousand miraculous fioretti.
Once, while talking to St. Teresa, they were both given the double gift of ecstasy and levitation, and one of the sisters was only able to find them after passing through the locutorium several times, looking up.
However, Friar John also suffered the wrath of hell. For nine months he was imprisoned for his shoelessness, and at the end of his life he was stripped of all his positions and abandoned in a monastery where the superior mistreated him with extreme harshness. Someone less experienced in the love of God would have succumbed to the weight of such physical and moral suffering, but he bore it all with courage, even composing in prison some of the poems that later gave rise to his literary work.
Eminent spiritual director
Anyone who goes through the Mystical Doctor’s life realizes that he held a wide variety of positions: he was master of novices, prior, university rector and a member of the Chapter in directive positions. He was always a docile instrument in the hands of his superiors, serving on all fronts and in all places.
But his wisdom seems to have been revealed above all in the direction of souls. Through the work of grace, St. John of the Cross was led to the heights of the unitive way, being called to instruct his children in the secrets of friendship with God.
He devoted all the time he needed to penitents, both religious and secular; his presence was discreet, of great modesty and gentleness, but his penetrating analyses reached the depths of their consciences, as if they were a clear mirror. Listening to the accusations, he soon spotted the source of the souls’ ills and had the right word for each one, inspired by the Holy Spirit. All his penitents would leave the confessional with redoubled courage to face the struggle against sin and make great strides on the road to salvation, because for St. John of the Cross, on the road to perfection, “not to advance is to fall back; and not to win is to lose.
Doctor and Mystic of the Church
The reformer’s main legacy to the Carmelite family and to the Church is undoubtedly his mystical life. God, who did not spare this son the most atrocious sufferings, already gave him a great reward on this earth: as he purified his soul, he invited the faithful servant to enjoy his intimacy, as he usually does with his best friends.
The fruit of St. John of the Cross’ excellent correspondence to the favors he received is his very rich and fruitful spiritual path, which proves to be a safe school where souls are instructed, both inside and outside the convents. The ascent to the top of Mount Carmel, an image of the state of perfection achieved through purification and the dark night, has become one of Catholic piety’s best-known symbols of holiness.
This treasure is enshrined in his written work, especially in the main treatises and poems: Ascent to Mount Carmel, followed by Dark Night, Spiritual Canticle and Living Flame of Love. The last two, difficult for beginners to understand, are verses comparable to an exquisite liqueur, which requires a refined palate.
Matins before God!
In the year of his death, St. John of the Cross confided to his brother Francisco de Yepes that he had asked Our Lord for the grace to suffer more for Him and to be despised. His wish was granted, because from then on the few months of life he had left were marked by terrible trials.
A lucid piece of advice given by the saint at the Chapter of the Order in June 1591 provoked the indignation of Friar Nicholas Doria, the superior general. He stripped him of all his offices and sent him as a simple friar to a distant convent, as he would have done to a wicked son.
At the age of 49, Friar John no longer expected anything from this world; he just wanted to be consumed like a living flame of love. A virulent inflammation in his right leg took on worrying proportions in September of that year, and in just over three months it took him over completely.
In Úbeda, Andalusia, he edified the community with his acceptance of all the pain and received the revelation of the moment of his death: midnight on December 14th. A few minutes before the appointed time, he exclaimed to the friar nurse: “At that hour, I will be in front of God Our Lord praying Matins”! And at the turn of the day, he expired in complete peace.
The insignificant Doctor of the Church left behind him a privileged path to Heaven, followed by legions of souls who love sacrifice and suffering as a means of atonement for the faults of sinful humanity.
In fact, this is the maxim of the illustrious St. John of the Cross, an exponent of Catholic asceticism and mysticism: it really is better to suffer for God than to work miracles.
Text taken, with adaptations, from the magazine Heralds of the Gospel no. 156 December 2014. By Sr. Carmela Werner Ferreira, EP.
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