Reflections on St. John of the Cross

Notice: I apologize in advance if I sound like an English teacher.

On a dark night,

Kindled in love with yearnings

—oh, happy chance!—

I went forth without being observed,

My house being now at rest.

In darkness and secure,

By the secret ladder, disguised

—oh, happy chance!—

In darkness and in concealment,

My house being now at rest.

In the happy night,

In secret, when none saw me,

Nor I beheld aught,

Without light or guide,

save that which burned in my heart.

This light guided me

More surely than the light of noonday

To the place where he (well I knew who!)

was awaiting me—

A place where none appeared.

Oh, night that guided me,

Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,

Oh, night that ed

Beloved with lover,

Lover transformed in the Beloved!

Upon my flowery breast,

Kept wholly for himself alone,

There he stayed sleeping,

and I caressed him,

And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.

The breeze blew from the turret

As I parted his locks;

With his gentle hand

he wounded my neck

And caused all my senses to be suspended.

I remained, lost in oblivion;

My face I reclined on the Beloved.

All ceased and I abandoned myself,

Leaving my cares

forgotten among the lilies.

From a surface-level reading, this poem, called "The Dark Night" and written by St. John of the Cross, may look romantic or even sexual. However, the author would probably be disgusted by that interpretation. He wrote multiple commentaries on the poem, such as one or the same name and one called "Ascent of Mount Carmel," though both of these were never fully finished. "Ascent of Mount Carmel" is divided into three books to explain the three stages of the poem. The first is called "The Active Night of the Senses" while the second and third are usually grouped together under "The Active Night of the Spirit." The three stages of the poem itself are a purgation of worldly senses, followed by spiritual illumination, and then union, which Eastern Christians commonly call "theosis."

In this sense, as a mystic, St. John isn't referring to some sort of fantasy of his, but to how the soul innately seeks God. This central theme is one that he himself expounds on his other commentary, also called "The Dark Night," when explaining the very first verse: "In this first verse, the soul tells the mode and manner in which it departs, as to its affection, from itself and from all things, dying through a true mortification to all of them and to itself, to arrive at a sweet and delicious life with God." Perhaps it can be said that he is referring to a kind of fantasy, but one of pure spiritual enment to the divine, which as a saint, has become a reality for him, and should become a reality for all of us, for God created the human race so that He may have others to share in His glory.

The phrase, "dark night of the soul," which comes from St. John's poem, refers to this sort of inner process through which someone feels lost in a spiritual wilderness. St. John saw it as the final purgation of the soul, which could feel like a withdrawal of God's presence, hence the depression that often accompanies it, because the human soul requires God to avoid hell, which is defined as separation from God, which is the ultimate form of suffering. It is when we come out of this dark night that we find ourselves "unselfed," as St. John put it, and ready to surrender ourselves completely to God. It is not necessarily something to dread, but rather a mystical journey of spiritual maturity and self-discovery — that is to say a discovery of the self in God and in His will.

Many other saints have endured this dark night of the soul, such as Mother Teresa and St. Paul of the Cross. I would be willing to bet that St. John also had such an experience or knew someone who did, seeing as how it would usually require a deep personal knowledge of the human condition to write about its most natural tendency: to seek a higher purpose. Perhaps it is something that we all feel from time to time when we learn what true loneliness is. St. Silouan the Athonite, another mystic whose spirituality emphasized humility and connection to God, is sometimes attributed with the saying, "The worst part of hell is not the fire, but not being able to see your brother's face."