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The Living Flame of Love looks like a worthy read!
I love this thread. My favorite writing of St. John of the Cross is the Dark Night of the Soul. The Living Flame of Love is my second favorite because I like how St. John does a sort of “flash back” to explain what the soul endured before reaching the unitive state. I particularly like how St. John describes how the cautery of love wounds and then heals and then again and again until the soul is transformed into love and no longer experiences pain.The Living Flame of Love is my favorite by St John of the Cross.
Next to that is the Spiritual Canticle.
When I read them, they touched me and confirmed my prayer life was not my own, but what God had brought me to.
Jim
Very good. This is a good summary of the works of St. John of the Cross.John 16: 21 When a woman is in labor, she is in anguish because her hour has arrived; but when she has given birth to a child, she no longer remembers the pain because of her joy that a child has been born into the world. 22 So you also are now in anguish. But I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you.
Peace
Active and passive trials often occur simultaneously. My most painful spiritual trials relate to the purification of the memory as described in The Ascent Book 3, Chapters 1-15 … which is probably why I’ve been so vocal on this thread. Really, though, the trials I experienced trying to persevere in acquired contemplation were indistinguishable from the passive purification of memory St. John describes in The Dark Night Book 2, Chapter 8. Acquired and infused contemplation inter-mixed.… including my vigilant attempts to empty my will, memory, and intellect via St. John’s instructions in the Ascent to Mount Carmel. For me, I view this as something akin to what St. John describes as the purification of spirit in the Dark Night of the Soul, a most painful process that I have now been undergoing for over two years.
Dave,Active and passive trials often occur simultaneously. My most painful spiritual trials relate to the purification of the memory as described in The Ascent Book 3, Chapters 1-15 … which is probably why I’ve been so vocal on this thread. Really, though, the trials I experienced trying to persevere in acquired contemplation were indistinguishable from the passive purification of memory St. John describes in The Dark Night Book 2, Chapter 8. Acquired and infused contemplation inter-mixed.
It took me a long time to realize that these mystical teachings are not meant to be interpreted in a linear order: Mansion 1 begets 2 then 3,4,5,6 and finally 7. Or we’re purified first by the active night of sense followed by the passive night of sense then the active night of spirit followed by passive night of spirit. St. John and St. Teresa needed some sort of structure to present these teachings … and this was the way they chose (or were shown) to do it.
In my own case I was a nominal Catholic at best when suddenly at 8AM on Sept 17, 2002 I was struck by what I can only describe as a St. Paul on the road to Damascus moment. It was a life changing and instantaneous conversion I now see as a “touch” from St. John’s teaching. But how could that be since he says a “touch” is a specific aspect of union and I was still like a “reptile swimming around in the moat outside the castle” to use a bit of imagery from St. Teresa’s Interior Castle?
I had no prayer life previously … and then suddenly I was brought to the “loving attentiveness” Michael showed in his last post. My only spiritual food was reading St. Teresa’s prayer states of recollection, quiet and union and the passive trials of book 2 of the Dark Night.
Clearly I skipped many steps in this dramatic conversion I describe.
But what I’ve also learned is this: while God might immerse us a great deal in these teachings or little, or that He may start us at a point other than the literal beginning … He will always go back and “fill in the blanks” of what was left undone. Again, in my own case, purification of sense has typically lagged that of the spirit … but nevertheless He is working on me in all of it.
Blessings to you,
Dave![]()
As mentioned, the purification of memory is of great interest to me … so much so that I gave a series of talks on the subject to my Carmelite community. I’ve shared these talks before and do so now in the hope something in here might be of help. These are very personal reflections chock-full of real-life examples, hopefully presented in an easy to understand manner. Here’s a taste on the active night of spirit (The Ascent Book 3, Chapters 1-15) …As I learn best from examples, I would appreciate your providing examples from your own experience of how you worked to actively purify your memory
If anyone is interested in reading further, please click this link and select “Our Carmelite Promises” Talk #7MOVIES IN OUR MIND
Several years ago on retreat, I saw a stained glass window in the Church that moved me deeply. It said:
Silence … Of word … And mind … Of the imagination … And of passions … **Recollection **
And it occurred to me at that moment that interior silence is the key to unlocking the most mystical of the beatitudes: Purity of Heart . . . for it’s through silence that we will come to see the face of God. And this got me thinking about the multitude of interior passions that stifle purity of heart, acting like a fast growing cancer on the movements of the Holy Spirit in our souls. These passions play out in the back of our minds, often without our notice, like a continual running movie. What some might dismiss as trivial can actually be quite harmful, as my own experience has shown. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly my own mind can turn to anxiety, worry, complaining, excuses, rash judgment, petty resentments – all in a split second. Allowing useless thoughts like these to take hold of our mind – even for the briefest moment - is to banish Christ from the tabernacle of our heart.
Then it occurred to me that if we are to strive for purity of heart we must also live in simplicity. Simplicity means living in harmony . . . in union itself. When we open the door of our mind to Christ’s gentle knocking, we’ll “see the riches of simplicity, the treasures of peace, the joy of grace.” (St. Ambrose) The question, then, becomes how do we know when we have purity of heart? When we have purity of intention . . . love as our overriding motive. Purity of intention is the fruit of self-knowledge which, in turn, is the fruit of deep prayer. Purity of intention means knowing the state of one’s heart at every moment . . . before every thought is completed, any word is said or any action performed. Simplicity, then, is to realize all this and to continually examine our soul and expel any part that is not of God.
So, it would seem, this kind of simplicity is one that is based on self-denial. The ascetical life is sometimes described as nothing less than warfare on self-love. So if the passions of the mind choke off purity of heart . . . then the mind is where the battle must be waged. And interior silence becomes the means by which we fight. Quite simply, we need to turn off the movie running in the back of our minds that linger on the trivialities and useless thoughts that so often leads us toward the seven deadly sins.
Time and time again we must fight against our very selves and return to our place of rest . . . in God. Taken seriously, this is a battle that will be waged dozens if not hundreds of times a day. Seen in this light, silence is mortification . . . and a joyful sacrifice at that. Silence is where all the false idols we hold so dear are purged one by one from our soul. When you get right down to it, this is the essence of St. John of the Cross’ dark night. Further, this interior warfare highlights the wisdom of all the saints: mysticism without asceticism is a sham and a lie.
The mystical and ascetical, then, lead us to the glorious reality of knowing the indwelling presence of the Trinity in our souls. Too often, it seems, we over complicate contemplation. On retreat, Father told us “con-templation” simply means “with God in His temple.” The temple, of course, is our heart. Our contemplation is perfected when it becomes mystical and permeates all aspects of our life . . . when we begin living the unseen reality. And this is where the gifts of the Holy Spirit come into play, for without them we will never hear, let alone obey, His inspiration.
Living the unseen reality is to be attentive and receptive to the gentle stirrings of the Holy Spirit at all times. It’s to Practice the Presence of God and live entirely in the present moment. Joyful living is to “just be” — whether in prayer or in action. It’s to allow oneself to be guided by the Holy Spirit until He completely takes over. When this happens, our lives become intuitive, spontaneous, in rhythm. We move from situation to situation as the Spirit guides us . . . in a state of wonder and awe at everything.
Through silence our fruits will be made known and benefit others; radiating from the core of our being outward. We will shine. Seen in this light, silence is our sacred obligation. And lest anyone think only monastics can practice it; our Carmelite masters teach that silence can be achieved by anyone in any state of life. But truth be told, it’s one thing to know “what” to do and another thing entirely “how” to do it! The answer to “how” would seem to have much to do with being silent to self – and LISTENING.
houston1 said:… and how you endured the passive purification of your memory by God (of course, you can keep it somewhat general if it is too personal to share).
If anyone is interested in reading further, please click this link and select “Our Carmelite Promises” Talk #8SPIRITUAL FOG
But passive understanding is also given to help us along. First, we need to recognize that self-knowledge is the fruit of our hearing – the fine tuning of our conscience. And it can be intensely painful. In cultivating an attitude of silence we will be shown through “that little voice in our conscience” all sorts of sins, faults and imperfections we were previously unaware. Perhaps what we once thought was virtue is now seen as vice. And no matter how holy we might think we are, we begin to see that a selfish streak still lies hidden; buried and imbedded deep in the roots of our very soul. Simply put, our pain is the realization we are not who we think we are.
Second, we learn to see that God Himself has a hand in some of our falls. Sometimes our difficulty listening is self-inflicted, as with “Shiny Rocks.” Other times, though, trials are given us by God that places our memory in a great state of “forgetfulness of all things” that resembles a spiritual fog. During these passive trials, our active efforts to let go and tune-in are all but useless. We are overwhelmed by the advance of the fog descending upon us; blinding us to the work He is doing in the very depth of our souls.
St. John of the Cross describes this forgetfulness so wonderfully:
these persons can neither pray vocally nor be attentive to spiritual matters, nor still less attend to temporal affairs and business. Furthermore, they frequently experience such absorption and profound forgetfulness in the memory that long periods pass without their knowing what they did or thought about, and they know not what they are doing or about to do, nor can they concentrate on the tasks at hand, even though they desire to. (Dark Night, Bk 2, Chpt 8)
There is a great paradox here. The mind is intensely occupied, but it doesn’t know with what. The preoccupation that could previously be identified and easily dealt with in the active night; now goes by no name and we are powerless to stop it. The mind is completely captivated, yet we’re entirely forgetful. A huge disconnect exists, so much so that the mind literally asks itself, “where am I?” And, “where is He?”
This spiritual fog is “like” being in limbo; a void that is neither here nor there. It is truly a world between worlds. And it is a dark place with no visible means of escape; at least one that can be achieved through the strength of one’s own effort as in Practicing the Presence of God. So we find ourselves seemingly worthless to the needs of the world which lies below us; and unworthy of the call of the Spirit that relentlessly beckons from above. We remember the joys of the days in which we were able to listen and speak with Him in dialogue. Now that seems like an ancient memory. It is, as St. John describes while quoting a Psalm: “I was annihilated and knew not.”
What seems to be happening in these periods of spiritual fog is that God is allowing all sorts of deep seated spiritual “notions of self” (opinions, preferences, expectations, judgments) to bubble up from our subconscious – the fruit of His purifying hand in the dark fire of contemplation. It is like the Divine Doctor lancing a boil as ego, in the form of selfish clinging, is removed from all that we hold dear . . . the very concept of who we think we are. The poisons are being drained from our system so that we can be healed: “He humbles so that He may exalt.”
Yet, almost miraculously, life marches on and no one around you is the wiser. No one sees any of this, not even those closest to you; except in small exterior glimpses. He keeps all of this very hidden. So deadlines are met, obligations fulfilled, the duties of one’s state are kept in good working order . . . all for the benefit of those to whom you’ve been given. But you don’t know how any of this gets done in this state of forgetfulness. It’s as if you are a tiny, little pebble buffeted about by the strong current of a stream. You bounce here . . . then there. But all the time you’re moving . . . moving . . . moving … continually downstream.
So as St. John of the Cross teaches, our only true recourse is humble submission to His purifying hand and patient endurance for as long as He wills the storm to last. The key thing to remember at these times is that ultimately He must act. And in keeping with the Gospel teaching of Jesus Calming the Sea, He will either answer our prayer and command the storm to cease; or grant us the grace of an added measure of peace – to sleep in the boat as He did – while the waves of spiritual fog continue to crash in upon us.
Then and only then, will we be freed to hear the sound of the little chirping bird from our first talk; instead of the continual drone of the jackhammer in the form of spiritual fog. And we will be able to Practice the Presence of God again; but now, remarkably, in a new and deeper way. When the fog lifts, we find ourselves one step closer to the “second nature” Brother Lawrence holds as his promise.
The experience of night is different for everybody. The way St. Teresa of Avila describes it is different from St. John of the Cross who differs in expression from St. Therese of Lisieux. Just to give a few examples. While our entire soul is purified in the nights – with effects that are spiritual, physical and psychological – St. John gives hints why the experience varies by individual. He describes in The Dark Night how passive trials center on one or more of the theological virtues … some are tried in Faith (intellect), others in Hope (memory) and others still in Love (will).I seem to recall from another one of your posts from some time ago that you may have said something that prompted me to conclude that as a person acquires the gift of contemplation and grows closer to God through it that soon afterward the person is primarily tempted against the three theological virtues of faith, hope, and** love**. In my experience, I am finding that I have faced strong temptations to despair; distrust in God to answer prayer and just leave me languishing in uncertainty; and generally to just give up what I believe He is calling me to do in a particular situation (all of these against hope, for sure, some faith, and, of course, love - as where one of these is affected, the other two are, also). I may be misunderstanding what you may have said in the prior post. In any case, do you have any thoughts on this?
If anyone is interested in reading further, please click this link and select “Our Carmelite Promises” Talk #5ST. THERESE AS PRACTICAL EXAMPLE
And what better example of this way of unknowing do we have than our very own St. Therese! If by Faith we reach out into the unseen and invisible and yet, paradoxically, find intimate union with Christ … then St. Therese is a wonderful model for us to follow; a true disciple of St. John of the Cross. Celine had this to say about her sister:
Therese lived on bare faith her entire life. There was no soul less consoled in prayer. Nonetheless, people believed she was flooded with spiritual consolations, so unctuous were her words and deeds, so intimately was she united to God (A Memoir of My Sister, p103).
Therese’s lot was that Jesus told her nothing. So deep was her Faith that even as a teen she proclaimed “He is going to no trouble about carrying on a conversation with me! (Letters74) And yet, “He is giving me a peace so great that it is doing me good! (Letters 76) This is the essence of paradox … how she simply willed to believe that the nothingness she felt in the depths of her soul was in fact Christ Himself. It was the coexistence of seeming contraries: joy and suffering … aridity and serenity … nothing and everything. Thus she gave us her description of her interior life as “Jesus sleeping, as usual, in my little boat” (Story of a Soul, p165). And this experience of unknowing evokes imagery of night particularly her own … but one, nonetheless, that’s accessible to all:
My Fiance says nothing to me, and I say nothing to Him except that I love Him more than myself … for I am more His than my own. I don’t see that we are advancing towards the summit of the mountain since our journey is being made underground, but it seems to me that we are approaching it without knowing how (Letters 110)
She continues that “my soul is always in the subterranean passage, but it is very happy! (Letters 115)” This was the spiritual understanding she came to know from various trials she endured from her youth. Just as St. John teaches, her purification came through the ordinary circumstances of life. Her great accomplishment: the ability to see these trials in a purely spiritual way … as a gift … which allowed her to travel through the nights quicker than most of us who slow down the process by resisting, complaining and desiring to be rid of all that troubles us.
But Therese would have none of that and she always found a way to profit from the trials and tribulations of daily life. We see this in the death of her mother, Pauline leaving home soon thereafter, her serious childhood illness healed only by the smile of the Virgin, a long crisis of scruples cured by her Christmas conversion, her long struggle to enter Carmel followed shortly after by her father’s mental illness. Through all this, she detached herself from everything that could separate her from the love of Christ.
The culmination of all this, of course, was the crisis of Faith she endured just prior to her death. When she coughed up the first blood of her final illness she had what might seem an unusual response: transports of joy over the thought of going to heaven. She entered a brief, consoling period … one that fortified her for what was to come:
At this time I was enjoying such a living faith, such a clear faith, that the thought of heaven made up all my happiness and I was unable to believe there were really impious people who had no faith (Story of a Soul p211).
This innocence with regard to the shortcomings of others was to be the cause of her final purification … not of her own imperfections for those had likely already been purged; rather her suffering was redemptive … for the good of souls. Now Jesus denied her one last great hope:
He permitted my soul to be invaded by the thickest darkness and that the thought of heaven up until then so sweet to me, be no longer anything but the cause of struggle and torment (Story of a Soul p211).
Joined now intimately to souls, Therese found herself mocked by the voice of sinners inwardly telling her the harrowing destiny that awaited her:
You are dreaming about the light, about a fatherland embalmed in the sweetest perfumes; you are dreaming about the eternal possession of the Creator of all these marvels; you believe that one day you will walk out of this fog that surrounds you! Advance, advance; rejoice in death which will give you not what you hope for but a night still more profound … the night of nothingness (Story of a Soul p213)
Therese’s response to this interior onslaught was truly heroic. Rather than give in to despair, she practiced ever more frequent acts of Faith … her spiritual life reduced to the utmost simplicity of a purified will that proclaimed “I WANT TO BELIEVE.“ (Story of a Soul, p214) In short, she practiced the teaching of St. John of the Cross to turn off the movies in her mind that continually sought to present these crushing thoughts to her. She denied the hand of the devil by simply refusing to dwell on them. Rather, she changed the subject of her thoughts by returning to Jesus in recollection … the spouse who remained hidden, as usual, behind an unpeneterable wall. She was truly living the words of the Gospel … “Happy are those who have not seen and yet believe.” (Jn 20:29)
Dave,My apologies for posting so much
Hopefully something in here helps!
Dave
PS. Regardless how one experiences the night (intellect, will or memory), there is one sure path through the spiritual trials … RECOLLECTION!
hazcompat,The…“coexisting of seeming contraries” is an ecstasy. Exquisite pain the proximate cause of ineffable joy. Embrace what you are fleeing and trust Jesus. Pray without ceasing.
Peace
InLight247,Houston, in the other thread and in this one also, you mention your concern about developing a friendship with the priest. Based on what I read, you have been working with this priest on some projects, and you have chance to see and talk to the priest when attend daily Mass.
A priest belongs to all parishioners and we all have a friendship with our priest. I am not sure what kind of relationship you are seeking after. Are you hoping for a special attention, a special kind of friendship? Please help me understand, if you will.
I posted this in response to DBT post regarding “ST. THERESE AS PRACTICAL EXAMPLE” I have read your posts, and all the posts in this thread. Struggling against is sanctifying. The only thing I would offer for your cosideration is:hazcompat,
I’m not sure whether you read my last post that I addressed to Dave about my desire to develop a friendship with my soon-to-be pastor. When you say “embrace what you are fleeing and trust Jesus,” can you give me an example of what this might entail in my case?
Interiorly, I accept and embrace this cross because I know that God has made this especially for me. And, through this trial, my faith in God has increased immeasurably because it is only through my faith in Him that I that am able to hold onto the hope that God will eventually grant my request. Every other sign says “no.” Yet, I have peace in spite of all obstacles and ominous signs.
If the coexistence of seeming contraries is ecstasy, then I am in ecstasy much of the time.
houston1
I believe it is a temptation, and so as not to derail this thread, I sent an answer in your original thread.I’ve also asked my husband to help me figure out ways to get this priest to accept my help. And, in fact, this priest has accepted my help on many occasions. Yet, this isn’t enough for me. . . . and I don’t know why it isn’t. Perhaps, I am hoping for a more formal role in the parish???