The Spiritual
Theology of St. John of the Cross
by John Drury
St. John of the Cross describes the spiritual life as a loving courtship between God and the soul, wherein the soul must embark on a purgative ascent toward union with God. This loving activity is the key to unlocking the riches of his spiritual theology. John is oft famed for his image of the “dark night of the soul.” To understand the dark night it must be placed in the context of this loving courtship. The dark night is not an end, but a means. Its purpose is to purify the soul so it can be united with God in love. The goal of loving union shapes John’s conception of the path, motivation, hindrances, aids, measurement, and fruit of the spiritual life.
Just
as John’s popular ideas ought to be put in conceptual context, so too ought his
life be put in historical context. John
of the Cross (1542-1591) grew up in a Spanish town not far from Avila. His father was disenfranchised for marrying a
poor woman (8).[i] His intellectual gifts were discovered early
in his life. John entered a Carmelite
order in Medina, where he soon came under the influence of Teresa of Avila
(10). John became a major player in the
spiritual reform movement of 16th Century Spain. He was a theologian, poet, and an excellent
spiritual director (15). Unfortunately,
the ethos of inquisition spelled imprisonment for John. Although he escaped, this dark time increased
his awareness of the dark purgation that leads to union.
John’s
audience was predominately monastic. A
considerable level of commitment is presupposed of his readers. His works are aimed for those who already
have a desire to be like Christ and currently avoid shameful sensory
satisfaction (77). He does not limit,
however, his call to embark on the path.
He declares his guidance to be “necessary to so many souls” (57). Few ever reach the ultimate goal of perfect
union. Nevertheless, many can become
proficient and therefore ought to seek it (179).
In
keeping with his profession, John’s works are highly didactic. He seeks to instruct persons on the path to
loving union. However, there is a
significant poetic component to his writing, which uniquely shapes his
theology. The Ascent of Mount Carmel
and The Dark Night are commentaries on his poem “The Dark Night.” The Spiritual Canticle and The
Living Flame of Love are also commentaries on his poetry. This format is indicative of his method: he
places high regard on experience yet does not let it stand alone. He explains the poems by means of doctrine
and scripture. He explicitly submits his
teachings for review by the Church (221).
His experience may be crucial, but it is never the criterion of
judgment.
Before
proceeding to the loci of John’s spiritual theology, a note regarding
divine agency is in order. Because of
his focus on spiritual direction, John attends primarily to human action in the
purgative path to loving union. Nevertheless,
God is in sovereign control of the process.
The dark night comes by God’s “sheer grace” (230) and its timing is
ordained by God’s providential choice (292).
John typically presents Christ’s death as an example, but it is much
more to him. Christ’s death made
reconciliation possible by opening the door between creatures and the creator
(97). Only by God’s work can the dark
night be initiated and divine union effected.
Yet since “people should insofar as possible strive to do their part in
purifying and perfecting themselves” (169), John offers his experience and
learning as a guide for this human component.
I.
Loving Union
As
with many spiritual theologians, the ultimate goal of the spiritual life for
John is union of the soul with God. How
does John describe this union? For sake
of clarity, he distinguishes between three kinds of union. There is union by essence, union by grace,
and union by affection. As the sustainer
of life, God necessarily dwells substantially and essentially in all creatures
(89). By grace God dwells particularly
in those souls who are being saved (231).
However, God is displeased even at this level, for he lives as a
stranger in the house. God desires a
more pleasing presence. He desires to be
the sole dweller in the soul by means of spiritual affection (314). This is the experience of “transformational
union” (89) -- the ultimate goal of the spiritual life.
This
loving union actually transforms the soul, for “love effects a likeness between
the lover and the loved” (65). When one
reaches perfect love the soul is “transfigured” so that it and God are “so
alike” (235). Love controls the
appetites completely so that all action is love toward God (268). A person shifts from her own operation to
God’s operation (200). The two wills
become one divine will (74). God
“communicates supernatural being” to the soul (91).
This
unity of likeness is possible because the soul lovingly participates in God’s
Trinitarian being (244). God is all
things to the soul (247) because it has become “deiform” (281). There is an “interior communion with God” (250). We can join in the love shared between the
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (296).
John
expresses this “total transformation” by means of bridal imagery (257). The soul’s ascent to God is complete when the
two become one. Inspired by the Song of
Songs, John writes his own poem about the final stages of this courtship. The Spiritual Canticle recites the
poem with his commentary. Drawn by the
sickness of love, the bride searches for her bridegroom, who appears only to be
lost again. The two are finally
gloriously united (225).
As
with an earthly marriage, in union there nevertheless remains a distinction.
The window has been cleaned perfectly and the rays of light shine through it
fully. Yet no matter how conformed the
window is to the rays, it is still a window (91; 264). John insists that perfect union of likeness
does not deify the creature. The soul
becomes divine in the manner of Adam before the fall (263). Therefore, union is a restoration of the
image of God within the creature.
This
marriage is a concealed experience. The
bride anticipates it, saying, “And then we will go on / To the high caverns in
the rock / Which are so well concealed” (227).
It is a revelation of God’s “hidden presence” (232). The secret communication between God and the
soul is therefore “beyond words” (137).
John cites this ineffability as the cause of his use of metaphors and
poetic language, which he finds weak (304).
He only tells of his experience so that others will be drawn to union
with God.
Not
only is perfect union ineffable, it is impossible. John repeatedly qualifies his description of
union with the phrase “insofar as is possible in this life” (257). It is impossible in this life for the soul to
experience perfect loving union with permanence; however, one can have a “habit
of union” (89). John uses the analogy of
burning wood to clarify this distinction.
When embers burst with flame, they share fully in the likeness of the
fire. This is actual union. When the embers are merely glowing, they have
a tame likeness and union with the fire.
This is habitual union. Permanent
actual union is impossible in this life.
It will always be transitory. Yet
permanent habitual union is possible (299).
The different degrees of union reveal the worthiness John ascribes to the proximate goals of the spiritual life. Although one must always pursue greater union, God is pleased with the process. The purgation of the soul along the way is an act of worship. We can “become an altar for the offering of a sacrifice of pure love and praise and reverence” (71). Successful passage through the stages of purgation is a proximate goal along the way to ultimate union. What are these stages? How do they lead to goal? What is the path? To these questions we now turn.
II.
Two Dark Nights and the Threefold Path
John
perpetuates the traditional threefold path of Christian spiritual
theology. He speaks of beginners, proficients, and the perfect (58; 163). Beginners practice the active life. They struggle against their appetites. Their spiritual exercises are dominated by
their faculties: intellect, memory, and will.
Beginners are to progress into the passive life of proficients. Proficients
contemplate simply without images or active means. The imperfections are purged. The senses are united to the spirit. From this state of illumination, proficients are ready to journey toward ultimate goal of
union with God.
John
contributes to this traditional path by explaining the passage between stages
as dark nights. The dark night of
sense turns a beginner into a proficient.
The dark night of spirit takes the proficient on to perfection. They are dark nights because of the purgation
involved. Through the dark night of
sense, the beginner abandons discursive meditation. The faculties are lost. It is by this detachment from distractions
that God can become present. It is
therefore a path of darkness. The night
of spirit is also dark, yet far more terrible and painful.
Why
must the path be a dark one? Why does it
cause so great an affliction? Because of
God’s greatness and our weakness, God’s touch feels as a hard weight
(203). It is like a blinding light
(201). The imperfect soul cannot see
God. The flesh, the world and the devil
distract it. Even spiritual exercises
distract. So, God must blind the soul so
that it may see.
John
affirms that God is light. However, the
light by which beginners see is tainted.
God is hidden from view. We think
we are seeing God when we are only seeing the dust in the air reflecting the
rays of his light (115). When the dust
of imperfection settles, the light becomes harder to see. Yet the light shining through is pure. So there must be a loss of vision in order
for true vision to be found. John’s path
is therefore both the via negativa and the via
positiva.
How
does one pursue the dark night? As we
said before, God is the primary mover in the soul. He ordains the timing of the night by his own
sheer grace (184). However, in The
Ascent of Mount Carmel John offers a specific method for humans to prepare
their soul to be united to God. Since
purity causes oblivion (116), the key is renunciation. The path of the night is to darken the three
faculties by means of the three theological virtues. The intellect is darkened by faith
(101). The memory is darkened by hope
(149). The will is darkened by love
(151).
John
gives a step-by-step account of the renunciation of the intellect. Knowledge is divided into division and
subdivisions. The way to proficient
contemplation is to darken each of the divisions and subdivisions one by
one. The active life is already
darkening natural knowledge as it focuses on the created rather than the
creator. Supernatural knowledge can be
divided into corporal and spiritual knowledge.
Although its object is supernatural, corporal knowledge is
distracting. So the beginner must darken
the five senses and even interior imagination.
In time, the beginner uses only spiritual knowledge. She is becoming a proficient. The imperfection of sensual knowledge will no
longer distract the soul from God.
However,
the proficient must press on to the dark night of spirit. One must darken clear, particular knowledge
of God, such as visions, revelations, locutions, and feelings. These forms of meditation are still
discursive, and therefore block complete union with God (118). The goal of the night of spirit is to rely
only on general knowledge, which is vague, dark, and contemplated by faith
alone.
A
similar course is charted for the memory and will. The faculty of memory is harmful for it
reflects on worldly evils and reminds the soul of emotions and appetites
(144-146). The theological virtue of
hope leads to “unpossession” of these creaturely
distractions (149). The memory is to be
fixed empty on God in hope that he will fill it. The same goes for the will, which must be
purified of inordinate appetites by love.
John mentions the four passions of joy, hope, sorrow, and fear. These passions must be renounced in favor of
passionate love for God (151).
John’s
methodical, step-by-step instructions do not necessarily imply a rapid ascent
to union with God. He continually
reminds his readers of God’s ordained timing (184). The nothingness of the dark night may give us
the feeling that we have gone astray.
This worry will only prolong the wait.
Once we have done all that is instructed of us, we are to persevere with
patience (185). The soul must patiently
attend to God, and he will attend to it according to his timing.
III.
Loving Motivation
Why
might one embark on this difficult journey?
We know God desires higher love in his children (179). However, what inclines the human toward God? The ultimate motivation for the path of the
dark night is love for God. The soul
desires union with God like a bride desires her bridegroom (219). Love is the greatest motive.
However,
love is a gift from God that does not reach perfection until the goal is
reached. Therefore, lesser desires
stimulate the soul’s journey to God.
John chides the beginner whose “motive is personal peace rather than
God” (166). The beginner wants the gift,
not the giver. This impure incentive
must be purged by the dark night of sense.
Nevertheless, it motivates the first steps along the path. It is legitimate to long for purity, freedom
from evil, and creaturely distraction.
One must have a “habitual desire to imitate Christ” in order to begin
the journey (77).
The
more effective motivation is dryness, wherein the soul develops distaste for
spiritual exercises it once enjoyed (180).
The beginner wants to be directly united to God in love and not through
feeble spiritual activities. The night
of sense purges the remaining desire for the active life. As a proficient, the motive of dryness is
replaced by the sickness of love (270).
The soul painfully longs for God.
Such a love draws the soul into the dark night of spirit toward perfect union.
IV.
Hindrance to the Ascent
The
power of intense longing is in grave competition with the snares along the
way. What are these hindrances? What is their source? One of the basic problems is that “some
spiritual directors are likely to be a hindrance and harm rather than a help to
these souls that journey on this road” (58).
How will they get there if they do not know the way? John’s proper instruction is intended to fix
this problem.
There
is more to worry about, however, than unenlightened spiritual directors. The primary hindrance to spiritual progress
comes from the appetites. These
imperfect cravings blemish the soul.
They are like mud on the window, making it impossible for the rays to
shine through. Even when these cravings
are directed away from earthly objects, their danger persists. The problem is not just the object of desire,
but the appetite itself. In the Dark
Night, John insightfully shows how each of the seven temptations hinders
spiritual progress.
The
beginner suffers from spiritual pride.
The beginner is full of complacency and vanity, condemning others and
praising himself (164). He wants only
compliments from his instructors (165).
The beginner also behaves with spiritual avarice. He is discontent with his spiritual
practices. He always wants more and
more. He is possessive and attached to spiritual
things (168).
Furthermore,
the beginner is tempted with spiritual lust. The devil twists the pleasure of spiritual
exercises (170). The beginner dwells on
her fear of impure thoughts so much that she will not be able to resist (171). Also, she may experience affection for
spiritual friends that does not increase love for God but rather distracts
(172). The beginner struggles with
spiritual anger toward the let down that follows spiritual
exercises. She is also angry with
herself in “unhumble impatience” (173).
The
beginner is a spiritual glutton.
He delights in the spiritual savor of exercises and not in purity and
discretion. He values penance over
submission (174). He serves his own
will, not God’s (175). The beginner has
spiritual envy, too. He is
annoyed at other’s spiritual good (177).
Finally, the beginner treads in spiritual sloth. He grows weary and bored from spiritual
exercises. “Many of these beginners want
God to desire what they want, and they become sad if they have to desire God’s
will” (177).
A
beginner who is cleansed of these imperfections becomes a proficient. Yet a continual hindrance at each stage of
the journey is fear. So many souls want
to be purified from imperfection and united to God, but are afraid of the
path. They do not want the dark night
(57). Just as the dawn comes, one
becomes afraid of the next night to come (207).
Even as the soul is beginning to be filled with love and enters union
with God, it is withdrawn in fear of the pain (241). Fear is hindrance at every stage on the way
to union.
V.
Aids to the Ascent
How
can these hindrances be overcome? How
can these temptations be resisted?
John’s answer is the dark night.
God’s purgation is the solution.
There is no creaturely way to God (89). Only God can help us. So the discipline necessary is
passivity. The soul must learn to bear
God’s purging fire, for it is the very flame of love (301). This discipline is first cultivated by
actively choosing the hard way in all things (77).
The
three theological virtues are necessary aids to way of the dark night. John offers a thorough treatment of faith as
the “proximate means of ascent to union with God” (81). Faith is the “secret ladder” of
doctrine. The rungs are the articles of
belief -- hidden from the senses and intellect (81). The soul ascends by secret knowledge of the
God in his triunity and his works as revealed in the
Church’s doctrine (140). Faith protects
the soul from the devil. Intellectual
and sensual knowledge are available to the devil (120). Yet by faith -- “the secret ladder,
disguised” -- the soul hides from the devil’s temptation (56).
Love
and hope also aid the ascent to God. The
longing of love provides not only motivation but also the means of
communication between God and the soul.
Hope establishes the patience and fortitude needed to wait on God
(198). Perseverance is necessary because
the path is so painful. John says,
“until a soul is placed by God in the passive purgation of that dark night ...
it cannot purify itself completely of these imperfections” (169). The temptations must be borne until the dark
night comes (173). Those who grow in
patience will progress along the path to union.
VI.
Measuring the Ascent
How
might one assess progress? When is a soul
ready for the dark night? How does one
discern genuine ascent? John suggests
three signs that a person is ready for the dark night of sense: dryness,
wandering, and desire for general knowledge.
If all three are present, a soul is ready to terminate discursive
meditation for the dark night has begun.
Over time the
beginner will experience dryness. The
soul has exhausted the use of the active life (111). It has become such a habit that it no longer
works (112). Creatures no longer satisfy
the longing for God (181). Genuine
dryness can be distinguished from that which is lukewarm. One who is lukewarm is dissatisfied because
of the loss of pleasure. Genuine dryness
desires God alone and finds current means ineffective.
This distinction
also helps to discern the legitimacy of the second sign: wandering (110). Meditation that wanders to and fro without
focus is merely lukewarm. Such a soul is
not ready for the dark night. Yet if the
soul begins to wander away from spiritual things in search of God himself, it
is ready for the dark night. It is a
painful distaste, for the soul wishes its exercises were effective (181).
The
third sign is a burning desire for general knowledge of God (110). Particular, imaginative meditation is
rendered powerless (183). Beginners can
discern this sign if “it is at the time they are going about their spiritual
exercises with delight and satisfaction, when ... God darkens all this light
and closes the door and spring of the sweet spiritual water they were tasting as
often and as long as they desired” (179).
God initiates this genuine night by creating the need for simple
contemplation.
These
three signs reveal the beginning of the dark night of sense. What about the dark night of spirit? How is true union distinguished from
proximate union? How is the legitimate
discerned from the fraudulent? The
surest sign one has reached perfect union is that the soul is no longer
afflicted (300). The sickness of love is
exchanged for pleasurable consummation.
Although the relationship remains dynamic, the motion is no longer
painful (282). In these last stages of
union, the wounds of love may show outwardly (306). This is not, however, a necessity. What is necessary is a life change. Although transitory in this life, perfect
union transforms the soul. It is not an
ecstatic experience that merely forsakes the body (242), for the whole person
is changed.
VII.
Proximate and Ultimate Fruits
What
is the result of the spiritual life?
What are the fruits of purgation and union?
The two dark nights each offer unique
sets of blessings. The dark night of
sense effects a purgation of many imperfections. Those nagging appetites are finally
controlled (188).
The soul overcomes avarice, lust, and
gluttony (193). Patience replaces
anger. Love replaces envy. Satisfaction replaces sloth (195). Since the soul is rendered incognito by the
secret ladder of faith, it is liberated from three enemies: the flesh, the
world, and the devil (196).
The
dark night of sense not only overcomes evil but also infuses good into the
soul. It gives knowledge of self and
one’s misery (189). This makes it
possible for the proficient to have courteous communication with God
(190). The gift of knowledge extends
beyond oneself to God’s grandeur and majesty (191). Knowledge of human lowliness and divine
greatness produces genuine spiritual humility, from which stems love of
neighbor (192).
The
proficient is submissive and obedient (193).
She has peace and tranquility (194).
With distractions out of the way, the soul can have a habitual
remembrance of God (194). The proficient
no longer has to work on one virtue at a time, but rather passively “exercise
all the virtues together” (194). He also
is given the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit (195). The interior senses are in harmony with one
another, as John’s poem declares, “My house being now all stilled” (196).
These
wonderful blessings of the night of sense are only proximate fruits to the
ultimate fruits of the night of spirit.
In loving union the spirit is enflamed with love for God (208). The goal is also the fruit. Every action of the soul is love toward God
(268).
Since the bridegroom gives
understanding to the bride (219), the united soul has the deepest knowledge of
God’s grandeur (240). The intellect is
given wisdom and the will is infused with goodness (311). The united soul will have a “vision of God”
(248). When one who has reached perfect
union dies, she will have a “gentle and sweet” death (301). These are the fruits of love.
VIII.
Evaluation and Conclusions
In
the face of these promises, who could raise an objection? In light of John’s experience and wisdom, why
offer a critique? One would be hard
pressed to stand over him in judgment.
Yet John put himself under the scrutiny of scripture, doctrine, and the
church. His experience may have been
ineffable, but that does not make it infallible. As his greatness demands respect, so his
humility requires a critical response.
Although
he speaks of outward fruits and the importance of community (132), John
primarily identifies spirituality with the inner life. There is little mention of the mundane work
of life. He ascribes no value to outward
diligence, seemingly regarding it as a distraction. This inward focus explains why he makes
limited use of the book of nature. His
commentaries are replete with anthropology, and humanity is certainly a part of
the natural world. Yet he never turns to
the rest of creation as a source for illumination. He presses so quickly and narrowly on to the
inner contemplative life that this classical source is overlooked. This is just one danger of so narrowly
defining spirituality with the inner life.
John’s
limited definition is coupled with a limited path. His exactitude seems to preclude divine
detours. His methodical instructions use
a “one size fits all” approach. Despite his calls for patience, John's explicit
purpose is to explain “how to reach divine union quickly” (55). If the goal, the agent, and the means are so
hidden, why is the path so clear? One
ought to be thankful for John’s concrete guidance. Yet God’s providential plan for purification
need not follow one single road. John’s
may be a good road, but there can be no guarantee that a different set of steps
would not be more effective. Is it not
possible for God to work in mysteriously diverse ways?
One more reservation is
worthy of note: John hints that those at the highest levels of union are to
desist exterior good works because they are distracting (270). He may have been limiting this renunciation
of good works to the time of actual union.
However, he dances on the edge of quietism with these remarks. While it is necessary for the spiritual life
to renounce even good things, it is dangerous to abandon the work of the
kingdom.
Despite
these reservations, John of the Cross is an instructive and cohesive spiritual
theologian. His work offers particular
insights to each facet of the discipline.
We can see the goal as a dynamic, loving union with God. John reminds us that the path takes us
through the dark night. Loving God is
the ultimate motivation. He shows us
that even spiritual cravings can hinder our journey. Faith is the secret ladder of doctrine that
aids our ascent. He insightful
recognizes that dryness, wandering and desire for general knowledge are the
true measure that one is entering the dark night. The fruits of this journey are humility,
knowledge, virtue, and love for God and others.
These contributions allow us to confess with John of the Cross that the
spiritual life is a loving courtship between God and the soul, wherein the soul
must embark on a purgative ascent toward union with God.
Spring
2002