Chaldea and Egypt no doubt held it also ; for it was from them that Pythagoras borrowed, and infused into the philosophy of Greece and Italy precisely the same doctrine ; for while his foolish theory, also Oriental, of transmigration put off to ah indefinite period the fruition of the Divine essence, he taught that the soul, thoroughly purified and detached from every inferior affec tion, could, through contemplation, attain a union with God. Although this sublime philosophy became ob scured in the ages which succeeded him, it shone forth again in the Neoplatonic school in Plotinus, Porphyrius and their followers.
Whether they merely revived a faded, or published an occult, tradition of their heathen philosophy, or whether they were disfigured doctrines and practices from the still young and fresh Christianity of their times, it matters but little. In the second hypothesis, we must admit that already Christianity had sufficiently developed the germs of its mystical system to be known to aliens, and even enemies.
Indeed, we cannot doubt that the religion of Christ, following the early manifestations of God in the Old Testament, laid deep those seeds of highest contemplation which were at once matured in His apostles. Paul, who was taken to the third heaven, to hear words unutterable to man and to require a severe counterpoise to the greatness of his revelations 2 Cor.
As to the existence, in the seers and holy sages of the Old Law, of a state of unitive contempla tion, as in Abraham, Job, Moses, and Elias, we are not called aside to speak or consider. This point may be safely left in the hands of St. John of the Cross ; for though he does not anywhere expressly treat of this point, he has so filled his pages with quotations from every part of Scripture in illustration of his teaching, and the texts alleged by him are so apt and naturally applied, as to force conviction upon us that the mystical and spiritual communion with God was carried to the highest degree.
And does the frequent boldness of the Psalmist s familiarity with God, still more the domestic intimacy with Him so tenderly shadowed forth in the Canticle of Can ticles, allow of any alternative except the highest and purest admission of a perishable and frail creature into the very sanctuary of the Divine glory? Surely on Sinai and in the cave of Horeb such loving intercourse of almost friendship was held.
At the very time when martyrs are shedding their blood and re ceiving the highest homage and praise, the Church, which so loves and honours them, reveres scarcely less the hundreds who fled from the very persecu tions which the martyrs encountered and over came. And the reason was, that the anchorets and cenobites, who retired to the desert and did not again return to the world after peace was restored to the Church, but swelled their numbers to thousands, were considered by her no less conquerors of the world and triumphers over the weakness of nature.
And hours of the dark night had no other occupation. It was this power of fixed and unflagging contemplation which sustained them through eighty, often, and a hundred years of seclusion. Many were men of refined minds and high educa tion, who, in their thoughtful meditative lives, must be supposed to have attained the highest refinement of devout application to spiritual things which can be enjoyed on earth.
And what pious solitaries thus gained in the desert of the Thebais, our own hermits, like Guthlake, and monks, like Cuthbert, as surely possessed. With out the peaceful enjoyment of such a sweet interior reward, their lives would have been intolerable. Jacob Bohme and Swedenborg have found plenty of admirers: We refer to them only as evidence that every form of Christianity feels the want of some transcendental piety, which bears the soul beyond the.
When, however, perusing the writings of St. John, the reader will find no symptom of fanati cism, no arrogation of superior; privileges, of inspirations, Divine guidance, or angelic ministra tions, as are to be found in pretended mystics. There is scarcely an allusion to himself, except occasionally to apologise for being so unequal to the sublime doctrines which he is unfolding, or for the rudeness of his style. Never, for a mo ment, does he let us know that he is communica ting to us the treasures of his own experience, or describing his own sensations.
One sees and knows it. A man who writes a handbook of travel need not tell us whether or no he has passed over the route himself. We feel if he has, by the minuteness of his details, by the freshness of his descriptions, by the exactness of his ac quaintance with men and things. Nor need the reader imagine that he will hear from this humble and holy man accounts of visions, or ecstasies, or marvellous occurrences to himself or others ; or rules or means for at taining supernatural illuminations or miraculous gifts. It is now time to lay before the reader an outline, though imperfect, of what he will find in the volumes before him.
The [two first] con tain two treatises, embodying what may be called the portion of mystical instruction, most fully and excellently imparted by St. It may be considered a rule in this highest spiritual life, that before it is attained there must be a period of severe probation, lasting often many years, and separating it from the previous state, which may have been one of most exalted virtue.
- Baby Doll Knit Pattern!
- Poet Seers » The Living Flame Of Love?
- Heres That Rainy Day;
- God Questions?
Probably many whom the Catholic Church honours as saints have never received this singular gift. But in reading the biography of such as have been favoured with it, we shall invariably find that the possession of it has been BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XXXVll preceded, not only by a voluntary course of mortification of sense, fervent devotion, constant meditation, and separation from the world, but also by a trying course of dryness, weariness of spirit, insipidity of devotional duties, and, what is infinitely worse, dejection, despondency, tempta tion to give all up in disgust, and almost despair.
Assuming, as we do, that this trial comes upon the soul from God, its purpose is clear. That sublime condition to which it aspires, and is called, of spiritual union with infinite holiness, and of the nearest approach allowable to the closer gazing of blessed spirits into the unfathom able glory, requires a purity like gold in the crucible, and a spiritualising unclothing of what ever can be cast off, of our earthly and almost of our corporeal existence. Who will give me wings like a dove, and I will fly and be at rest? Detachment and purity are the reasons for this intermediate state of desolation ; detach ment not merely from outward objects and from visible bonds, but from our own wills and desires, however virtuous ; detachment from our own ways of even seeking God, and still more from our sensible enjoyment of devotion, and the very sweetness of His service.
There must be no trust in one s own intellect, where faith alone can guide through the deep darkness ; no reliance upon the ordinary aids to contemplation, for the very impulses and first thrilling touches of love must come from God s delicate hand ; no im patience for release, no desire to return back. It is an earthly purgatory, in which all dross is painfully drained out, all straw and stubble burnt up.
And what is the result? The soul has indeed been brought into a state little below that of angels ; but it has given proof of a love than which theirs cannot be higher. That dark period of hard probation has completely inured her to fidelity to God, not for the sake of His rewards, not for the happiness of His service even here below, but for His own dear and good sake, be cause He is her God. It is after this often long, but always severe, trial of faithful love, that what one may call the mystical espousals of God with the soul take place ; when its spiritual existence may be said to have been raised into a heavenly sphere ; when the exercise of that sublime privilege of contemplation has become so habitual, that scarce do the knees touch the ground in prayer than the affections flash upwards from the heart, and are embosomed and absorbed at once in almost blissful fruition in God s mighty love.
And when the body is busy with the affairs of life, these no more hinder the familiar colloquies and the burning glances of affection directed to the one exclusive Ruler of the soul, than did the slim and light palm-leaves woven by the desert anchoret distract his thoughts. This happy consummation of both trials and desires forms the subject of mystical treatises by many who have enjoyed it. John does not, except incidentally, dwell upon it. He does not systematically deal with those who bask on the summit of that spiritual Thabor ; he only guides the pilgrim to it.
Each of these worksl may be said to go over the same ground, though without repetitions, or even tiresome similarities. To each is prefixed a poem of eight stanzas, which form not merely an introduction, but an argument rather, to a full dissertation on mystical science. But our author does not go beyond the two or three first strophes in his commentary, which often expands to many chapters: Mount Carmel is his natural type of the spiritual mount ; for there dwelt his Father Elias Ascent, bk. Up, up, slowly but warily, he guides his scholar along the steep and perilous ascent.
He may be compared to the Alpine guide who, himself familiar with the craggy path and sure of his steps, is all solicitude for his inexperienced charge, and watches and directs every movement. He does not allow him to look down into the valley below, beautiful though it be, lest his head turn giddy, and he topple over the bluff precipice; nor to gaze upwards, in immature hope, towards the bright pinnacles which reflect and refract the sun s rays, lest he become weary at their distance, and blinded by their brilliancy, and unable to pick his steps.
Now the faithful guide takes his hand and leads him; now he bids him rely on his trusty pole, throwing his weight upon it ; now he encourages him to gather all his strength, and bound over the yawning crevasse. And so in the end he lands his charge safe upon the high and dizzy summit, whence he may look around, and above, and downwards, in safety, and enjoy a sweet repose and a refreshing banquet.
So careful, so minute, so tender, and so resolute is the guidance of St. John in The Ascent of Mount Carmel. And through The Obscure Night, no less safe by its prudence and encouraging by its firmness, is his leadership to the soul. The twofold night, that of sense and that of the spirit, may be securely traversed under his direction, and the soul return to a daylight sevenfold brighter than that of the ordinary sun.
After thus attempting, however imperfectly, to give an outline of St. We are mistaken if many readers, who have not courage or dis position to master the abstruser and sublimer doctrines and precepts of the [two first], will not peruse with delight the more practical and cheer ful maxims of the [two last], and even find ex quisite satisfaction in those lessons of Divine love, and in those aphorisms of a holy life which are adapted for every devout soul.
Before closing this Preface, it is a mere act of justice to say, that the translation of these difficult works has been made with a care seldom bestowed upon such books, when rendered from a foreign language. So simple, so clear, and so thoroughly idiomatic is this version, that the reader will never have to read a sentence twice from any obscurity of language, however abstruse the subject may be. Indeed, he will almost find a difficulty in believing that the work is a transla tion, and has not been written originally as he reads it, in his own tongue.
John of the Cross contains the last of his treatises on mystical theology, the explanation of The Living Flame of Love, which by many is con sidered the most sublime of the four ; and also some smaller writings, namely a series of Spiritual Instructions and Precautions, a collection of Letters, Maxims selected from his various works, and Poems. The Living Flame of Love is a piece of poetry composed during or immediately after his im prisonment at Toledo. Condemned to involuntary rest and complete seclusion, deprived of every earthly comfort, even to a change of linen, during nine months, with only so much light as was indispensable for reading his breviary, and nothing but foul air to breathe, St.
In later years, when prior of Granada , he was requested by his penitent, Dona Ana de Mercado y Penalosa, widow, since , of Don Juan de Guevara, to write an explanation of this canticle. He yielded to her request, says Mr. John of the Cross, by David Lewis, p. In his first trea tises the author accompanied the soul on the long and arduous journey, typically de scribed as the Ascent of Mount Carmel and the Dark Night, which may last many years.
Emerging from the terrifying darkness it finds itself in that blissful state, technically called Espousals of the soul, of which the Spiritual Canticle gives a glowing picture. Now the question arises: Can this state be permanent? We shall endeavour to answer these questions to the best of our knowledge, which, however, is strictly limited.
In the first place we must repeat what we have said in the Introduction to the Dark Night, namely that St. Likewise, hundreds or thousands come forth from the trial victori ously, while perhaps only one among so many reaches the heights described in the Spiritual Canticle. It goes almost without saying that this is the one that has been tried most severely.
For the vast majority there may be many climaxes, but only relative ones, as there may have been many purgations, none of them so very search ing. The reason is that but few have the courage to undergo the active and passive pur gation to the extent required by St. No one respects the free will of man more than God does; He forces no one to become a saint, though He calls and allures many. Few are generous enough to mortify every desire, every pleasure, every gratification of sense or spirit so completely as to absolutely empty the soul of everything created.
Now it is certain that the subsequent exaltation is proportionate to the antecedent humiliation. For the many, there fore, there may be many partial purgations, succeeded by partial exaltations, while for the few there is but one purgation, thorough in extent and intensity, and this is followed by what St. From what the present writer has gathered from lives of saints and biographies of saintly persons it would appear that this transformation is not as a rule post poned until the end of life, but occurs earlier.
For man is created to labour in the vineyard of the Lord, and it would be strange if the Lord called away the workman just at the moment he becomes supremely fit for his work. What, then, happens to him during his subsequent career upon earth? It would seem that the overflowing sweetness, happiness, and bliss des cribed in the Spiritual Canticle are taken away, or rather absorbed, while the vigour, the merit, the aptitude for frequent transient acts of union with God remain, or rather increase. Thus, further progress is possible; not, indeed, in the sense that a further and higher state could be reached, for there remains only one more state, namely that of perpetual union, reserved for the f next life ; but there may be an indefinite progress in the same state of transformation, for the soul is called to become like unto God, Who, being Himself infinite, must ever be infinitely above it, though it may go on for ever drawing nearer and nearer to Him.
It would be a mistake to think that the point reached in the Spiritual Canticle marks the limit of the soul s potentialities, and that, having reached this, nothing remains to be done but to rest and enjoy the gain. Not only has the soul now a wider scope for exterior work, being a perfect instrument in the hand of a perfect artist, but even its interior work or its co-opera tion with God must not cease for one moment.
There must be no relaxation in self-denial. Though it be true that the preservation of a habit is easier than the acquiring thereof, there is great danger that slight neglect might lead to the loss of habitual self-renunciation. To this end the grace of perseverance is indispensable. Not as though I had already- attained, or were already perfect, but I follow after, if I may by any means apprehend, wherein I am also apprehended by Christ Jesus Phil, iii.
Nor are the trials peculiar to this stage lighter than those proper for the time of pur gation, although they differ in kind. For there they served for the purpose of penance and mortification, while here they are a participation in the Passion of our Lord. Peter, rejoice that when His glory shall be revealed, you may also be glad with exceeding joy i St.
Hence the hunger and thirst for crosses and trials and ignominy for which many saints were remarkable. Teresa had reached the state described in the Seventh Mansion of the Interior Castle which corresponds to that pictured in the Living Flame of Love in ; and soon after wards she told one of her companions that she did not consider it possible to advance farther in this life in the way of prayer, nor even to wish to do so. Yet the remaining five years of life brought her trials compared with which those of her earlier years were but as child s play.
John of the Cross is another instance. When writing the explanation of the Living Flame of Love he certainly recorded his own experience. Yet the keenest sufferings, particularly that of being despised, especially by those to whose respect he was entitled in the highest degree, were reserved for the last years of his life. So far from striking an insensible, stoic soul, these tribulations are the lot of most refined, and there fore most sensitive, hearts, which revel in sufferings for the sake of the sponsus sanguinum Exod.
There the absence of heavenly visitations is an integral part of the trial. Here, there may be occasional seasons of desolation, but they alternate with prolonged periods of intimate companionship, more efficacious if less violent than during the time of spiritual exaltation. The Bridegroom may indeed hide his face, but His presence is nearly always felt. Like an ardent lover who bears the thought and remembrance of his beloved uppermost in his mind, the soul in this stage dwells continually on the thought of the Bridegroom.
Such a state may continue for some years, but not for many ; because this world being essentially imperfect, a soul that has reached the highest possible degree of per fection is out of place in it ; and, besides, the Bridegroom will not leave it long in this exile, but hastens to unite it to Himself for evermore. What a fearful thought that there should be many who were called to fill the highest ranks of the heavenly hierarchy but who lacked the required generosity and courage in the initial stages, and forfeited thereby an everlasting crown.
Neither of the originals seems to be extant, but there are copies of each version: A third one, of less importance, belongs to the Carmelite Fathers at Burgos ; this was copied in the eighteenth century from a manuscript belonging to the nuns of Palencia, but now lost. The second version differs greatly from the first, not in essentials but in innumerable details, showing how very carefully St. John wrote, weighing every word and every shade of expres sion, so as to convey his exact meaning. In this point, as in some others, he is the direct opposite of St.
Teresa, who used to write incredibly fast, rarely perusing what she had written before, not even after a long interruption, and seldom revising heri previous writings. Unfortunately the critical edition of the works of St. John, prepared in the eighteenth century by Fr. Andres de la Encar- nacion, has never been published, and students still have to rely on the unsatisfactory text of the first editors. We have been able to avail ourselves of their work in restoring a long and important passage which for some reason or other had been omitted in all former editions, Spanish as well as foreign.
Although eagerly expecting the publication of their work we did not dare to postpone the issue of this volume any longer, as many readers of the former manifested their impatience. It is hoped that the new edition will contain valuable additions to the correspondence of the saint. The older editions contained but ten letters, the first by Mr. Lewis seventeen, the second, of which this is a reprint eighteen ; but it would seem that further letters must be pre served in various places.
Even so, his corre spondence falls far short of that of St. Gerardo de San Juan de la Cruz. Still, we may look forward to the results of a tardy gleaning. The earlier editions contain a collection of a hundred Maxims culled from his writings now partly lost or mislaid and from his oral instruc tions. These have been augmented from his known works, and brought to the number of three hundred and sixty-three by Fray Antonio Arbiol, in the work Mystica Fundamental ; or, El Religioso Perfecto, published at Madrid in The poems are reprinted from Mr.
Lewis s second edition. In the first he gave the first three, that is, those which form the argument of the mystical treatises, in blank verse, as they occurred in the respective works. But in the second he added a rhymed and rhythmical version. The fourth poem is a glose on the words I live and yet not I, on which St. Teresa, too, wrote two sets of verses. Since the appearance of Mr. Lewis s second edition two more manuscripts of verses by St.
John have been discovered, one at the National Library at Madrid No. Each contains three new poems which unmistakably bear marks of the spirit of the holy friar stamped on them. One little treatise, entitled The Thorns of the Spirit, will be found in some of the Spanish editions of the works of St. It is also translated into French, f but not into English. The revisers of the writings of the saint left the question of its authenticity open ; the present writer is not acquainted with the external evi dence for or against it, and can only form an opinion from internal criteria ; it appears to him that the style and the manner of treating the subject-matter are very unlike the acknow ledged works of St.
Angel-Maria de Sta Teresa. Poesias de San Juan de la Cruz. Athanase de I lmmaculee Conception. Traite des pines de I Esprit de St. Jean de la Cwix. The work is divided into eight colloquies between the Spouse and the Bridegroom, and gives valuable instructions on mental prayer, frequent communion and various scruples. It is undoubtedly the work of a Carmelite confessor, and cannot but give consolation to afflicted souls, but in our opinion it bears no trace of the master- hand of St. John of the Cross. We have therefore refrained from including it among these volumes.
Since this Introduction was written the first volume of the critical Spanish edition, con taining a preliminary essay, the life of St. The spiritual transcends the sensual, and he speaks but indifferently of the mind of the spirit who has not a spiritual mind himself.
I have, therefore, in consideration of my own defects, put off this matter until now. But now that our Lord seems in some way to have opened to me the way of knowledge herein, and to have given me some fervour of spirit, I have resolved to enter on the subject. I know too well that of myself I can say nothing to the purpose on any subject, how much less then on a matter of such depth and substance as this! What is mine here will be nothing but defects and errors, and I therefore submit the whole to the better judgment and discretion of our Holy Mother the Catholic Roman Church, under whose guidance no one goeth astray.
There is nothing strange in the fact that God bestows favours so great and so wonderful upon those souls whom He is pleased to comfort. For if we consider that it is God Himself as God, and with infinite love and goodness, Who bestows them ; and this being the case, they will not seem unreasonable, for He hath said Himself that the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost will come to him that loves Him, and will dwell in him.
In the former stanzas I spoke of the highest degree of perfection to which it is possible to attain in this life, transformation in God ; t yet these, the explanation of which I now propose to undertake, speak of that love still more perfect and complete in the same state of transformation. OF LOVE 3 such, still with time and habits of devotion, the soul is more perfected and grounded in it. Thus, when a log of wood is set on fire, and when it is transformed into fire and united with it, the longer it burns and the hotter the fire, the more it glows until sparks and flames are emitted from it.
So too the soul and this is the subject of these stanzas when transformed, and glowing interiorly in the fire of love, is not only united with the divine fire, but becomes a living flame, and itself conscious of it. The soul speaks of this with an intimate delicious sweetness of love, burning in its own flame, dwelling upon the various marvellous effects wrought within it.
These effects I now proceed to describe, following the same method ; that is, I shall first transcribe the four stanzas, then each separately, and finally each line by itself as I explain them. As thou art no longer grievous, Perfect thy work, if it be thy will, Break the web of this sweet encounter. Savouring of everlasting life, And paying the whole debt, By slaying Thou hast changed death into life.
Seeing, too, that this sweet flame of love burning within her, each time it touches her makes her as it were glorious with foretaste of glory, so much so that whenever it absorbs and assails her, it seems to be admitting her to everlasting life, and to rend the veil of her mortality, she addresses herself, with a great longing, to the flame, which is the Holy Ghost, and prays Him to destroy her mortal life in this sweet encounter, and bestow upon her in reality what He seems about to give, namely, perfect glory, crying: O living flame of love.
The Living Flame of Love « Boston Carmel
O is the cry of strong desire, and of earnest sup plication, in the way of persuasion. The soul employs in it both senses here, for it magnifies and intimates its great desire, calling upon love to end its mortal life. The work of the Holy Ghost in a soul transformed in His love is this: His interior action within it is to kindle it and set it on fire ; this is the burning of love, in union with which the will loves most deeply, being now one by love with that flame of fire.
And thus the soul s acts of love are most precious, and even one of them more meritorious than many elicited not in the state of transformation. The transformation in love differs from the flame of love as a habit differs from an act, or as the glowing fuel from the flames it emits, the flames being the effect of the fire which is there burning. Hence then we may say of the soul which is trans formed in love, that its ordinary state is that of the fuel in the midst of the fire ; that the acts of such a soul are the flames which rise up out of the fire of love, vehement in proportion to the intensity of the fire of union, and to the rapture and absorption of the will in the flame of the Holy Ghost ; rising like the angel who ascended to God in the flame which consumed the holocaust of Mamie.
Hence then it seems to the soul, as often as the flame breaks forth, causing it to love sweetly with a heavenly dis position, that its life everlasting is begun, and that its acts are divine in God. This is the language in which God addresses purified and stainless souls, namely, words of flre. But those souls whose palate is not healthy, whose desire is after other things, cannot perceive the spirit and life of His words. And therefore the more wonderful the words of the Son of God, the more insipid they are to some who hear them, because of the impurity in which they live.
Peter loved the words of Christ, for he replied, Lord, to whom shall we go? And now when the soul has drawn so near unto God as to be transformed in the flame of love, when the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost are in com munion with it, is it anything incredible to say that it has a foretaste though not perfectly, because this life admits not of it of everlasting life in this fire of the Holy Ghost? This is the reason why this flame is said to be a living flame, not because it is not always living, but because its effect is to make the soul live spritually in God, and to be conscious of such a life, as it is written, My heart and my flesh have rejoiced toward the living God.
J The Psalmist makes use of the word living, not because it was necessary, for God is ever-living, but to show that the body and the spirit had a lively feeling of God ; that is the rejoicing in the living God. Thus in this flame, the soul has so vivid a sense of God and a perception of Him so sweet and delicious, that it cries out: O living flame of love!
Can you help?
That is, Thou touchest me tenderly in Thy love. The words of the bride in the Canticle are now fulfilled in the soul. But how can we say that it wounds the soul, when there is nothing to wound, seeing that it is all consumed in the fire of love? It is certainly marvellous ; for as fire is never idle, but in continual movement, flashing in one direction, then in another, so love, the function of which is to wound, so as to cause love and joy, when it exists in the soul as a living flame, darts forth its most tender flames of love, causing wounds, exerting joyously all the arts and wiles of love as in the palace of its wedding feast.
I was delighted every day. This wounding, therefore, which is the playing of divine wisdom, is the flames of those tender touches which touch the soul continually, touches of the fire of love which is never idle. The feast of the Holy Ghost is celebrated in the substance of the soul, which is inaccessible to the devil, the world, and the flesh ; and therefore the more interior the feast, the more secure, substantial, and delicious is it.
For the more interior it is, the purer it is ; and the greater the purity, the greater the abundance, frequency, and universality of God s communication of Himself ; and thus the joy of the soul and spirit is so much the greater, for it is God Himself Who is the author of all this, and the soul doeth nothing of itself, in the sense I shall immediately explain. And inasmuch as the soul cannot work naturally here, nor make any efforts of its own otherwise than through the bodily senses and by their help of which it is in this case completely free, and from which it is most detached the work of the soul is solely to receive what God communicates, Who alone in the depths of the soul, without the help of the senses, can influence and direct it, and operate within it.
Thus, then, all the movements of such a soul are divine, and though of God, still they are the soul s, because God effects them within it, itself willing them and assenting to them. In the first place the soul, regarded as spirit, has neither height nor depth of greater or less de gree in its own nature, as bodies have which have bulk.
- AMERICAS ARMAGEDDON PROGRAMMED.
- The Living Flame Of Love.
- Stationenlernen im Fremdsprachenunterricht (allgemein) (German Edition).
- Subscribe to Discerning Hearts Podcast.
The soul has no parts, neither is there any difference between its interior and exterior, for it is uniform ; it has no depths of greater or less profundity, nor can one part of it be more enlightened than another, as is the case with physical bodies, for the whole of it is enlightened uniformly at once.
Setting aside this signification of depth, material and measureable, we say that the inmost depth of the soul is there where its being, power, and the force of its action and movement penetrate and cannot go further. Thus fire, or a stone, tend by their natural force to the centre of their sphere, and cannot go beyond it, or help resting there, unless some obstacle intervene. Accordingly, when a stone lies on the ground it is said to be within its centre, because within the sphere of its active motion, which is the element of earth, but not in the inmost depth of that centre, the middle of the earth, because it has still power and force to descend thither, provided all that hinders it be taken away.
So when it shall have reached the centre of the earth, and is incapable of further motion of its own, we say of it that it is then in its inmost or deepest centre. The centre of the soul is God. This will be when the soul shall love Him, comprehend Him, and enjoy Him with all its strength. When, however, the soul has not attained to this state, though it be in God, Who is the centre of it by grace and communion with Him, still if it can move further and is not satisfied, though in the centre, it is not in the deepest centre, because there is still room for it to advance.
Love unites the soul with God, and the greater its love the deeper does it enter into God, and the more is it centered in Him. According to this way of speaking we may say, that as the degrees of love, so are the centres which the soul finds in God. These are the many man sions of the Father s house. If we have two degrees of love we shall then have found another centre, more interiorly in God ; and if we have three we shall have reached another and more interior centre still.
The soul in this state may be compared to crystal, lucid and pure ; the greater the light thrown upon it, the more luminous it becomes by the concentra tion thereof, until at last it seems to be all light and undistinguishable from it ; it being then so illumined, and to the utmost extent, that it seems to be one with the light itself. The flame wounds the soul in its inmost depth ; that is, it wounds it when it touches the very depths of its substance, power and force.
This expression implies that abundance of joy and bliss, which is the greater and the more tender, the more vehemently and substantially the soul is transformed and centred in God. It greatly surpasses that which occurs in the ordinary union of love, for it is in proportion to the greater heat of the fire of love which now emits the living flame. Thus the soul, feeling that the living flame ministers to it all good divine love brings all blessings with it cries out: O living flame of love, that woundest tenderly.
The cry of the soul is: O kindling burning love, how tenderly dost thou make me glorious by thy loving movements in my greatest power and strength, giving me a divine intelligence according to the capacity of my understand ing, and communicating love according to the utmost freedom of my will ; that is, thou hast elevated to the greatest height, by the divine intelligence, the powers of my understanding in the most intense fervour and sub stantial union of my will.
This ineffable effect then takes place when this flame of fire rushes upwards in the soul. The divine wisdom absorbs the soul which is now purified and most clean profoundly and sublimely in itself ; for wisdom reacheth everywhere by reason of her purity. And as the flame is so sweet, the soul says: Thou dost not afHict, nor vex, nor weary me as before.
In order to explain this we must dwell a little on this point. For before the divine fire enters into the soul and unites itself to it in its inmost depth by the complete and perfect purgation and purity thereof, the flame, which is the Holy Ghost, wounds it, destroys and consumes the imperfections of its evil habits. This is the work of the Holy Ghost, Who thereby disposes the soul for its divine union and a substantial transforma tion in God by love.
For the flame which afterwards unites itself to the soul, glorifying it, is the very same which before assailed and purified it ; just as the fire which ultimately penetrates the substance of the fuel is the very same which in the beginning darted its flames around it, playing about it, and depriving it of its ugliness until it prepared it with its heat for its own entrance into it, and transformation of it into itself. The soul suffers greatly in this spiritual exercise, and endures grievous afflictions of spirit which occasion ally overflow into the senses ; for then the flame is felt to be grievous, for in this state of purgation the flame does not burn brightly but is darksome, and if it gives forth any light at all it is only to show to the soul and make it feel all its, miseries and defects ; neither is it sweet but painful, and if it kindles a fire of love that fire causes l6 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN.
I am the man that see my poverty by the rod of His indignation ; He hath led me, and brought me into darkness and not into light. Only against me He hath turned, and turned again His hand all the day. My skin and my flesh He hath made old, He hath broken my bones. He hath built round about me, and He hath encompassed me with gall and labour. He hath set me in dark places, as those that are dead for ever. He hath built against me round about, that I may not get out: Here then, the heart is laid upon coals to drive away all kind of devils ; f here, too, all its maladies are brought to light, and openly exhibited before the eyes, and thus they are cured.
Whatever may have been hidden within its depths now becomes visible and palp able to the soul by the glare and heat of that fire, for previously nothing could be seen. Thus the soul, near this flame, sees and feels clearly its miseries, because, O wonder! The virtues and properties of God, being in the highest degree perfect, arise and make war within the soul, on the habits and properties of man which are in the highest degree imperfect. For since this flame gives forth a dazzling light it penetrates the darkness of the soul which, in its way, is profound in the extreme ; the soul now feels its natural darkness oppose the supernatural light, without feeling the supernatural light itself, for the darkness does not comprehend it.
For an intense light is to a weak sight, or an eye that is not wholly clear, nothing but darkness, because the excess of light destroys the power of seeing. And as hardness is discovered when con trasted with tenderness, and aridity when compared with love, so the will comes to a knowledge of its own hardness and aridity when contrasted with God, though it does not feel the love and tenderness of the flame, for hardness and aridity cannot comprehend their contraries, until, being expelled by these, the love and tenderness of God reign supreme in the will, for two contraries cannot co exist in one subject.
Similarly, the soul perceives its own smallness in comparison with the immensity of the flame, and suffers great uneasiness until the flame, acting on it, dilates it. Thus, the latter has proved grievous to the will also, for the sweet nourishment of love is in sipid to a palate not yet weaned from other affections.
Finally, the soul, which of itself is exceedingly poor, having nothing whatever, nor the means of procuring any satisfaction, gains a knowledge of its poverty, misery and malice by contrasting them with the riches, goodness and delights possessed by this flame, for malice does not com prehend goodness, nor poverty riches, etc. Here, God Who is all perfection, there the habits of imperfection of the soul ; cauterising it with a Divine fire He extirpates them and leaves a well-prepared soil upon which He may enter with His gentle, peaceful and glorious love, as does a flame when it gets hold of wood.
So powerful a purgation is the lot of but few souls, namely of those whom He intends to lift by contemplation to some degree of union ; the more sublime that degree, the fiercer the purification. When He resolves to snatch a soul from the common way of natural operations and to lead it to the spiritual life, from meditation to con templation which is heavenly rather than earthly life and to communicate Himself by the union of love, He begins by making Himself known to the spirit, as yet impure and imperfect and full of evil habits.
Each one suffers in proportion to his imperfections. This purga tion is sometimes as fierce in its way as that of Purgatory, for the one is meant to dispose the soul for a perfect union even here below, while the other is to enable it to see God hereafter. I shall say nothing here of the intention of this cleansing, the degrees of its intensity, its operation in the will, the understanding and the memory, in the substance of the soul, in all its powers, or in the sensitive part alone, nor how it may be ascertained whether it is this or that, at what time or at which precise point of the [STAN, i.
Thus, the same which now is sweet, being seated within the soul, was at first grievous while assailing it from without. The meaning of the whole is as follows: Thou art now not only not darkness as before, but the divine light of my understanding wherewith I behold Thee: The manuscripts make the matter clear, for St. John considered the Dark Night as part of the Ascent. Perfect Thy work, if it be Thy will. That is, do Thou perfect the spiritual marriage in the beatific vision. Though it is true that the soul is the more resigned the more it is transformed, when it has attained to a state so high as this, for it knows nothing and seeks nothing with a view to itself, f but only in and for the Beloved for Charity seeks nothing but the good and glory of the Beloved still because it lives in hope, and hope implies a want, it groans deeply though sweetly and joyfully because it has not fully attained to the perfect adoption of the sons of God, in which, being perfected in glory, all its desires will be satisfied.
How ever intimate the soul s union may be with God, it will never be satisfied here below till His glory shall appear ; J especially because it has already tasted, by anticipation, of its sweetness. This desire of the soul is therefore no longer painful, for its condition is now such that all pain is over, and its prayers are offered for the object it desires in great sweetness, joy and resigna tion. Such are now the glimpses of glory, and such the love which now shines forth, that it would argue but little love on its part if it did not pray to be admitted to the perfect consummation of love.
Moreover, the soul in the power of this sweet communication, sees that the Holy Ghost incites it, and invites it in most wonderful ways, and by sweet affections, to this immeasurable glory, which He there sets before it, saying, Arise, make haste, my love, my dove, my beautiful one, and come. For winter is now past, the rain is gone and departed. The flowers have appeared in our land. The fig-tree hath brought forth her green figs, the flourishing vineyards have given their savour.
That is, the hindrance to this so grand an affair. It is an easy thing to draw near unto God when all hindrances are set aside, and when the web that divides us from Him is broken. There are three webs to be broken before we can have the perfect fruition of God: The temporal web, which comprises all created things. The natural web, which comprises all mere natural actions and inclinations.
The web of sense, which is merely the union of soul and body ; that is, the sensitive and animal life, of which St. These webs were broken in the assaults of this flame when it was still grievous. In the spiritual purgation the soul breaks the two webs I am speaking of, and becomes united with God ; the third alone, the web of the life of sense remains now to be broken. This is the reason why but one web is mentioned here. For now one web alone remains, and this the flame assails not painfully and grievously as it assailed the others, but with great sweetness and delight.
Thus the death of such souls is most full of sweet ness, beyond that of their whole spiritual life, for they die of the sweet violence of love, like the swan which sings more sweetly when death is nigh. God now permits it to behold its own beauty, and intrusts it with the gifts and graces He has endowed it with, for all this turns into love and praise without the stain of presumption or of vanity, because no leaven of imperfection remains to corrupt it. John saith, profiteth nothing, J but is rather a hindrance to the good of the spirit.
The soul, therefore, prays for the dissolution of the body, for it is sad that a life so mean should be a hindrance in the way of a life so noble. This life is called a web for three reasons: Be cause of the connection between the spirit and the flesh. Because it separates the soul and God. Because a web is not so thick but that light penetrates it. When the power of the life to come is felt in the soul, the weakness of this life becomes manifest.
It may be asked here why the soul prays for the breaking of the web rather than for its cutting or its removal, since the effect would be the same in either case. There are four reasons which determine it: The ex pression it employs is the most proper, because it is more natural that a thing should be broken in an encounter, than that it should be cut or taken away. Because love likes force, with violent and impetuous contacts, and these result in breaking rather than in cutting or taking away.
The power of love is now more concentrated and more vigorous, and the perfection of transforming love enters the soul, as form into matter, in an instant. Until now there was no act of perfect transformation, only the disposition towards it in desires and affections successively repeated, which in very few souls attain to the perfect act of transformation. Hence a soul that is disposed may elicit many more, and more intense acts in a brief period than another soul not so disposed in a long time, for this soul spends all its energies in the preparation of itself, and even afterwards the fire does not wholly penetrate the fuel it has to burn.
But when the soul is already prepared, love enters in continuously, and the spark at the first contact seizes on the fuel that is dry. And thus the enamoured soul prefers the abrupt breaking of the web to its tedious cutting or waiting for its removal. The fourth reason why the soul prays for the breaking of the web of life is its desire that it may be done quickly: Moreover, it knows well that it is the way of God to call such souls to Himself before the time, that He fills them with good, and delivers them from evil, perfecting them in a short space, and bestowing upon them, through love, what they could have gained only by length of time.
Pleasing God, he is made beloved, and living among sinners he was translated. He was taken away lest malice should change his understand ing, or lest any guile deceive his soul. But why is this interior assault of the Holy Ghost called an encounter? Though the soul is very desirous to see the end of its natural life, yet because the time is not yet come, that cannot be, and so God, to make it perfect and to raise it above the flesh more and more, assails it divinely and gloriously, and these assaults are really encounters wherein God penetrates the soul, deifies the very substance of it, and renders it as it were divine.
The whole stanza may be paraphrased as follows: O flame of the Holy Ghost, penetrating so profoundly and so tenderly the very substance of my soul, and burning it with Thy heat, since Thou art now so gentle as to mani fest Thy desire of giving Thyself wholly to me in ever lasting life ; if formerly my petitions did not reach Thine ears, when I was weary and worn with love, suffering through the weakness of sense and spirit, because of my great infirmities, impurity, and little love, I prayed to be set free for with desire hath my soul desired Thee when my impatient love would not suffer me to submit to the conditions of this life according to Thy will for it was Thy will that I should live and when the previous impulses of my love were insufficient in Thy sight, be cause there was no substance in them ; now that I am [STAN, n.
O delicious wound I O tender hand! Savouring of everlasting life, And paying the whole debt, In destroying death Thou hast changed it into life. The burn is the Holy Ghost ; the hand is the Father ; and the touch is the Son. Thus the soul magnifies the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, extolling those three grand gifts and graces which They perfect within it, in that They have changed death into life, transforming it in Themselves. And as His power is infinite, He consumes infinitely, burning with great vehemence, and transforming into Himself all He touches.
But He burns everything according to the measure of its preparation, some more, others less; and also according to His own good plea sure, as, and when, and how, He will. And as this is an infinite fire of love, so when He touches the soul somewhat sharply, the burning heat within it becomes so extreme as to surpass all the fires of the world. This is the reason why this touch of God is said to be a burn: When the divine fire shall have transformed the soul into itself, the soul not only feels the burn, but itself is become wholly and entirely burnt up in this vehement fire.
O how wonderful the fire of God! Thus, on the day of Pentecost the fire descended with great vehemence upon the Apostles, who, according to St.
The Church also says, when celebrating that event: This is the reason why it is said to be sweet. It is of that soul that the Apostle said: Intus facta sunt corda flammantia, quia dum Deum in ignis visione susceperunt, per amorem suaviter arserunt. Advenit ignis divinus, non comburens, sed illuminans. O, the great glory of the souls who are worthy of this supreme fire which, having infinite power to con sume and annihilate you, consumes you not, but makes you infinitely perfect in glory!
Wonder not that God should elevate some souls to so high a degree, for He alone is wonderful in His marvellous works. Having mused on the ways that the Holy Spirit worked in his life in the past, John of the Cross now shifts to the future. Song of Songs 2: For such people, their own death is gentle and sweet, filled with divine impulses of love. It heats us up so much that we ourselves shoot forth a living flame. Not only does he transform us, but God also cauterizes us, setting us on fire and making us blaze with his glory.
In a burn wound caused by a material fire, it must be cured by first aid and medicines. But in the case of the spiritual burn wound, it is cured by the very thing that caused it: In being wounded with love, the soul is made completely healthy. Some mystics, such as St. Francis of Assisi, say that this wounding is like being stabbed in the heart by an angel, with flaming darts of love.
It seems to it that the entire universe is a sea of love in which it is engulfed. Rather, the activity of the senses must be left behind. O gentle origin, hand of the terrifyingly powerful Father! O delicate contact, touch of the awesome Son. John calls the Father the hand; the Son is the touch of that hand. It is the hand that wounds the soul by touching it, in order to cure it. Since you were acceptable to God, he favored you by sending you temptation that he might try you more in order to exalt you more. In killing my old self you changed my daily dying into perfect spiritual life in you.
For if you live after the flesh, you must die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. The sinner has been put to death. Paul puts it this way:. I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I that live, but Christ lives in me. That life which I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself up for me. Suffering can be a path of discipleship for the soul. Some sort of suffering will indeed be in store for pretty much everyone. I have told you these things, that in me you may have peace.
In the world you have trouble; but cheer up! I have overcome the world. The small and momentary sufferings we have experienced in the past did not eliminate us from the race. Thus we can gather courage from having made it this far by faith. In a similar vein, John discusses temptation as a schoolmaster allowed by God to strengthen the believer on the path of love.
Thus temptations, too, can be welcomed. They transmit light and give off warmth. Thus we can see that holiness comes from God, and not from us. In prayer, we are communing with love itself. If we stay there often enough, we become more loving. It does even more than illumine the soul from the inside.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
They are like happy festivals and games that the Holy Spirit plays together with us. Who can express how elevated this happy soul feels here, how exalted, how much admired in holy beauty. The depths of our being are like caverns. If these faculties are not emptied of all their affections, they do not feel the vast emptiness of their deep capacity. Then they can easily become bewitched and burdened by any little thing, even though they are capable of infinite goods.
My soul longs, and even faints for the courts of the LORD. My heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. John spends a considerable amount of space 40 paragraphs offering advise about three blind guides. The first blind guide is the spiritual director; the second is the Devil; the third is the soul itself. We could loose our progress or even fall back. We can draw comfort from the fact that. He acts as guide of the blind. The first blind guide is the spiritual director. A suitable spiritual director will be learned, discreet and experienced.
The director should be sensitive to where God has brought souls to and guide them accordingly. Directors should strive to bring souls out of meditation and into solitude and idleness. The second blind guide is the devil. The devil can lead the soul astray by moving it back to meditative prayer or to the desire for feelings in prayer.
He can do greater damage simply by leading these souls away from contemplation than he can by greatly harming other souls.
St. John of the Cross – Living Flame of Love, My Soul is a Candle – Discerning Hearts
The third blind guide is the ourselves. He creates a road map of spirituality. The last comment John provides in this line of the poem concerns the deep caverns. But now the Holy Spirit is burning within the deep caverns of our feeling. Now that the caverns of the faculties are pervaded with the lamps that are burning within them, they give to God the very splendors they have received from him.
All things that are mine are yours, and yours are mine, and I am glorified in them. John calls souls to cultivate a desire for God that eclipses all other desires. John says to proceed only with a loving attentiveness to God, until the soul is conscious of being placed in solitude and in the state of listening. Then they should even forget the practice of loving attentiveness. This state can be recognized in that it always comes to pass with a certain peace and calm and inward absorption.
This is because pure contemplation lies in receiving. We wait in reverent expectation. The Fourth Stanza addresses two admirable effects that the Bridegroom sometimes produces within us:. John is speaking of those delights. It yields grandeur and dominion, glory and intimate sweetness. It seems that all the fragrant spices and flowers of the world yield their sweet fragrance together.
Likewise, when God moves and awakens us, it seems that it was God who moved and awakened. Nonetheless, this experience is so powerful that it is entirely beyond words. John says that God dwells secretly within all people, both saint and sinner, as the metaphysical ground of their being. But here, there is a vast difference. He dwells there in secret and pure embrace, unchallenged by inordinate appetites.
God the Father is breathing the Holy Spirit into the soul. This happens to the extent that the soul is able to understand and know the Father. This breathing of the Holy Spirit absorbs the soul profoundly in the Holy Spirit. John points out the dilemma faced by those who have tasted and seen that the Lord is good. They are called to live an active life, yet they would prefer to be still. We have seen this in a few isolated individuals. The loftiest experiences of even the greatest mystics are but a weak foretaste of that which is yet to come.
Now the soul feels that it is inflamed in union with God. From its depths flow rivers of living water. The world of contemplative and unitive prayer uses some very specialized terminology. Not all the authors use those terms to mean the same thing. Even an individual author uses them to mean different things in different contexts. John of the Cross is like that. A deep love communion with the Triune God. We cannot produce this; we can only receive it. It is a wordless awareness and a love that we cannot initiate or produce ourselves. It can be described by its effects: It cannot be figured out; it cannot be understood fully.
A passive experience of recollection. A drawing of the faculties gently inward. The recollection achieved at the cost of human effort is different than this.