John of the Cross: biography

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John of the Cross, OCD, Priest Doctor (RM)Born in Fontiveros, Spain, June 24,

1542; died 1591; canonized 1726; named Doctor of the Church in 1926. Feast day

formerly on November 24. Born Juan de Yepes the son of a silk weaver in Toledo,

Spain, John was apprenticed to that trade in his youth. Soon he realized that

this was not his calling and took a position at the hospital in Medina del

Campo, where he worked for seven years as he studied at the University of

Salamanca. He became a Carmelite in 1563, was ordained in 1567, and had decided

to join the Carthusians when he met Saint Teresa of Avila, who persuaded him to

remain a Carmelite and reform the order from within, rather than running away.

In 1568, with two other Carmelites, he founded the first Carmelite reformed

monastery at Duruelo, the beginning of the Discalced (shoeless) Carmelites, and

took the name John of the Cross. At Teresa's request, he served as spiritual

director of her Convent of the Incarnation at Avila from 1572 to 1577. So

powerfully did St. John support the attempts made by St. Teresa of Avila to

reform the Carmelite monasteries of Spain that the general of the Carmelites

had him imprisoned in 1577 and again in 1578. The first time, he had refused

the order of the provincial of Seville to return to Medina, and was imprisoned

in Toledo. He spent nine months there are was subjected to great pressure to

repudiate the reform but he steadfastly refused and finally managed to escape.

While in prison, John experienced visions and began his writing. In intense

poems and his other mystical writings, John of the Cross set out the schema of

a Christian's mystical ascent to God. In his greatest work, The Dark Night of

the Soul, the saint describes how a mystic loses every early attachment,

passing through a personal experience of Jesus's crucifixion to a rhapsodic

union with God's glory. To pass through this darkness is, he says, 'a fortunate

adventure to union with the Beloved.' He also wrote Spiritual Canticle while in

prison. He, Teresa, and their fellow reformers were finally successful in their

efforts, and the Discalced Carmelites were formally recognized as a separate

province. The saint never hesitated if one of his monks needed some remedy.

While he was at Baeza a monk suffered from terrible attacks of nausea. John

asked the doctor if there was any remedy to cure the man. Though the doctor

said the expensive medicine would provide only relief and not a cure, John

bought it at once and served it to the sick man himself (manuscript in the

library of Madrid). At the beginning of his priorship at Baeza, the community

was in the grip of a malignant type of influenza. John's first act as prior was

to order the purchase of meat. He served it himself to the sick people and

reassured those whose consciences were upset at the thought of taking meat. He

lengthened their hours of recreation and entertained them with amusing stories

as well as with spiritual reflections, but excusing his levity by saying that

he wanted to relieve their suffering (manuscript in the National Library in

Madrid). After serving as head of the college at Baeza, John was prior at Los

Martires near Granada in 1581-84 and probably finished Living Flame of Love and

Ascent of Mount Carmel while there. In the fourth chapter of the first book of

The Ascent of Mount Carmel, St. John of the Cross wrote: "Every appetite for

the things of the world must be mortified, for in the eyes of God they are but

darkness;" and being darkness they are obstacles and "screens" that shut out

the divine light and prevent it from filling the Christian soul. Indeed, when

compared with the infinity of God, one's animal existence is nothing. The soul

that loves nothingness will itself become nothing, for love is the principle of

assimilation and resemblance. To love nothingness is to lower oneself to the

level of nothingness. It is self-destruction. The saintly and somewhat

terrifying doctor developed his thought without making us the slightest

concession--people who enjoy suffering will find plenty of opportunity in his

works! At the end of Chapter 13 he wrote: "If you wish to master all those

passions which bind you to worthless things, you must unceasingly dedicate your

soul not to that which is more enticing, but to that which is more insipid; not

to that which pleases, but to that which displeases; not to that which

consoles, but to that which gives sorrow; not to that which gives rest, but to

that which gives work; not to that which is more, but to that which is less;

not to that which is higher and more precious but to that which is lower and

less precious; not to want something, but to not want anything; not to seek

that which is better in things but that which is worse; and, for the love of

Christ, to want to assume an utter nakedness, an absolute poverty, and a

perfect indifference to everything that is in the world." Yes, it's terrifying,

even if it is exalting--terrifying for our poor little souls. Many say that St.

John is obviously writing only for great and noble souls; but, perhaps, they

are intended for all except those who abdicate greatness in advance. As prior

of Los Martires, St. John chose for himself the worst room in the oldest part

of the monastery. Apart from the boards on which he slept, the only things in

his cell were a wooden cross, a picture of Our Lord, a Bible, and a breviary.

But the cell also had a little window looking out onto the garden, and St. John

would often stand there for a long time in prayer. Father Louis de Saint-Ange

often found him there admiring the flowers in the garden by day and the stars

in the sky by night (manuscript in the Vatican). Brother Brocard of St. Peter's

relates that St. John enjoyed the beauties of nature and often took his monks

with him out into the open countryside, either to pray among the rocks and

woods or to relax by working in the fields, or simply just to go for a walk,

for John was very human. Everybody would set out together across the fields,

along with a few lay friends and benefactors. They usually stopped by a small

spring and had a light picnic on the grass. John generally took nothing, but he

liked to entertain his monks (manuscript at Ubeda). To a monk who asked him why

he sent them out so often, John replied: "I'm afraid that you might want to run

away if I left you shut up in the monastery for too long." But these outings

were contemplative. Both by word and example, St. John led his monks in prayer.

As soon as they arrived at a beautiful place John began to sing the praises of

the wonders of creation that were spread out before him. He went into raptures

over the beauties of nature, which were a reflection of divine beauty. He saw

God reflected in the flowers of the field (manuscript in the Vatican). And yet

he later wrote: "It is all ugliness." One day he took his monks to the bank of

a river, and while they enjoyed themselves in cheerful recreation, St. John sat

at the water's edge and watched the little fish flashing about in the clear

water. Suddenly he called to his companions: "Come and see these little

creatures of God. How well they worship the Almighty!" Seized with divine

enthusiasm, the saint gradually lost consciousness and went into ecstasy. The

monks withdrew in silence (manuscript in the Vatican). This austere

saint--"terrible, bleeding, his eyes cold and dry"-- nevertheless pampered his

brothers when they were sick. If one of them had no appetite, John would at

once buy the finest delicacies and try to tempt him with them. While prior at

Granada, he offered a convalescent all sorts of tidbits, and when the patient

refused them, he said: "Very well, my son. I'll prepare something special for

you myself and use one of my own recipes." He sent for a small fowl, which he

lovingly prepared himself and then served it to the sick man. "I'm sure you'll

find it good," he said. The patient devoured the dish with a good appetite

(History, Fr. Jerome of St. Joseph). For a time St. John was reconciled to the

general of his order. He became vicar provincial of Andalusia in 1585 and three

years later prior at Segovia, and established several new monasteries in the

next few years. St. John also loved the little people. The barber of Segovia,

an honest man who was deeply impressed by the poverty of the monks, refused any

payment for his services and was even reluctant to take a meal at the monastery,

fearing that his portion might belong to one of the monks. One day he tried to

leave before he could be invited to join them for a meal, but John caught up

with him, urged him to stay and eat, and added with a touch of mischief:

"Unless you are forbidden to eat fish." When he left Segovia John insisted on

paying a farewell visit to the devoted barber (manuscript in the library of

Madrid). John even looked after his saintly mother by entrusting her to the

care of the Carmelite nuns. Catalina Alvarez died and was buried at the Carmel

of Medina del Campo. With her son Francis, she had helped John from the very

first in his reform of the Carmel at Duruelo and assisted him in restoring the

ruins of the first monastery of the Discalced Carmelites. John was very fond of

his brother Francis. He kept him at his side and relied heavily on him. When he

went to preach and hear confessions in the poor and deserted parishes in the

neighborhood-- which he did quite often--he took Francis with him as his

travelling companion. He made Francis his confidant, and it is thanks to him

that we know of John's vision in which he asked Christ to "let us suffer, be

despised and held as nothing for your sake." A short while before his death,

Francis returned to Segovia. John had sent for him, for he knew that they would

not see each other again on this earth and so he wanted to spend a few days with

him. They spent long hours talking together, and when after two or three days

Francis decided to return to Medina, John said: "Don't be in such a hurry. Who

knows when we'll ever see each other again?" Disputes broke out once again

among the Spanish Carmelites, and St. John withdrew to complete solitude during

the last year of his life (1591). The Madrid chapter general deprived him of all

his offices and sent him as a simple monk to La Penuela because of his support

of the moderate faction in the Discalced Carmelites. John had been threatened

by expulsion from the new order he had so tenaciously fought to establish. Worn

out, John was sent to the monastery of Ubeda. On the way his travelling

companion, alarmed at seeing that the old man could not eat anything, said:

"But what would you like to eat, Father?Nothing," replied John, "or perhaps

some asparagus, if you have any." Think of it! Asparagus! It's a luxury in

Spain. John, the "Doctor of Nothing" was asking, almost challenging God to send

him his treat. And there, upon the parapet of a bridge, was a bunch of

asparagus. Someone must have left it there providentially or lost it. John, in

a gesture of supreme delicacy, told his companion to leave some money in

payment. And so what are we to conclude? What John wanted to say when he wrote

in the prologue to The Living Flame of Love: "O Lord, you love discretion,

light and love more than works. Therefore these pages will give discretion to

those who wish to advance, light to lighten the way, and above all, they will

give love." Discretion, common sense, balance. The uncomfortable but vital

balance of the man who, with God's help, detaches himself from the world but

without becoming attached to his own detachment. The balance of the man who,

with God's help, sees God in nature and loves Him through it. The balance of

John who found everything in God:

Mine are the heavens and the earth,Mine are the people,The just and the sinners

are mine;The angels are mineAnd the Mother of GodAnd all things are mineGod

himself is mineFor Christ is mine. (Bentley, Encyclopedia, McDonnell).

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