Translated and edited, with an Introduction,
by E. ALLISON PEERS
from the critical edition of
P. SILVERIO DE SANTA TERESA, C.D.
TO THE
DISCALCED CARMELITES OF CASTILE,
WITH ABIDING MEMORIES OF THEIR HOSPITALITY AND KINDNESS
IN MADRID, ÁVILA AND BURGOS,
BUT ABOVE ALL OF THEIR DEVOTION TO
SAINT JOHN OF THE CROSS,
I DEDICATE THIS TRANSLATION
This electronic edition (v 0.9) was scanned in 1994 from an uncopyrighted 1959 Image Books third edition of the Dark Night. The entire text except for the translator’s preface and some of the footnotes have been reproduced. Nearly 400 footnotes (and parts of footnotes) describing variations among manuscripts have been omitted. Page number references in the footnotes have been changed to chapter and section where possible. This edition has been proofread once, but additional errors may remain. The translator’s preface to the first and second editions may be found with the electronic edition of Ascent of Mount Carmel.
A.V.—Authorized Version of the Bible (1611).
D.V.—Douai Version of the Bible (1609).
C.W.S.T.J.—The Complete Works of Saint Teresa of Jesus, translated and edited by E. Allison Peers from the critical edition of P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, C.D. London, Sheed and Ward, 1946. 3 vols.
H.—E. Allison Peers: Handbook to the Life and Times of St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross. London, Burns Oates and Washbourne, 1953.
LL.—The Letters of Saint Teresa of Jesus, translated and edited by E. Allison Peers from the critical edition of P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, C.D. London, Burns Oates and Washbourne, 1951. 2 vols.
N.L.M.—National Library of Spain (Biblioteca Nacional), Madrid.
Obras (P. Silv.)—Obras de San Juan de la Cruz, Doctor de la Iglesia, editadas y anotadas por el P. Silverio de Santa Teresa, C.D. Burgos, 1929–31. 5 vols.
S.S.M.—E. Allison Peers: Studies of the Spanish Mystics. Vol. I, London, Sheldon Press, 1927; 2nd ed., London, S.P.C.K., 1951. Vol. II, London, Sheldon Press, 1930.
Sobrino.—Jose Antonio de Sobrino, S.J.: Estudios sobre San Juan de la Cruz y nuevos textos de su obra. Madrid, 1950.
SOMEWHAT reluctantly, out of respect for a venerable tradition, we publish the Dark Night as a separate treatise, though in reality it is a continuation of the Ascent of Mount Carmel and fulfils the undertakings given in it:
The first night or purgation is of the sensual part of the soul, which is treated in the present stanza, and will be treated in the first part of this book. And the second is of the spiritual part; of this speaks the second stanza, which follows; and of this we shall treat likewise, in the second and the third part, with respect to the activity of the soul; and in the fourth part, with respect to its passivity.
Ascent, Bk. I, chap. i, sect. 2.
This ‘fourth part’ is the Dark Night. Of it the Saint writes in a passage which follows that just quoted:
And the second night, or purification, pertains to those who are already proficient, occurring at the time when God desires to bring them to the state of union with God. And this latter night is a more obscure and dark and terrible purgation, as we shall say afterwards.
Op. cit., sect. 3.
In his three earlier books he has written of the Active Night, of Sense and of Spirit; he now proposes to deal with the Passive Night, in the same order. He has already taught us how we are to deny and purify ourselves with the ordinary help of grace, in order to prepare our senses and faculties for union with God through love. He now proceeds to explain, with an arresting freshness, how these same senses and faculties are purged and purified by God with a view to the same end—that of union. The combined description of the two nights completes the presentation of active and passive purgation, to which the Saint limits himself in these treatises, although the subject of the stanzas which he is glossing is a much wider one, comprising the whole of the mystical life and ending only with the Divine embraces of the soul transformed in God through love.
The stanzas expounded by the Saint are taken from the same poem in the two treatises.
The commentary upon the second, however, is very different from that upon the first,
for it assumes a much more advanced state of development. The Active Night has left
the senses and faculties well prepared, though not completely prepared, for the
reception of Divine influences and illuminations in greater abundance than before.
The Saint here postulates a principle of dogmatic theology—that by himself, and
with the ordinary aid of grace, man cannot attain to that degree of purgation which
is essential to his transformation in God. He needs Divine aid more abundantly.
‘However greatly the soul itself labours,’ writes the Saint, ‘it cannot actively
purify itself so as to be in the least degree prepared for the Divine union of perfection
of love, if God takes not its hand and purges it not in that dark fire.’
The Passive Nights, in which it is God Who accomplishes the purgation, are based upon this incapacity. Souls ‘begin to enter’ this dark night
when God draws them forth from the state of beginners—which is the state of those that meditate on the spiritual road—and begins to set them in the state of progressives—which is that of those who are already contemplatives—to the end that, after passing through it, they may arrive at the state of the perfect, which is that of the Divine union of the soul with God.
Op. cit., Bk. I, chap. i, sect. 1.
Before explaining the nature and effects of this Passive Night, the Saint touches, in passing, upon certain imperfections found in those who are about to enter it and which it removes by the process of purgation. Such travellers are still untried proficients, who have not yet acquired mature habits of spirituality and who therefore still conduct themselves as children. The imperfections are examined one by one, following the order of the seven deadly sins, in chapters (ii-viii) which once more reveal the author’s skill as a director of souls. They are easy chapters to understand, and of great practical utility, comparable to those in the first book of the Ascent which deal with the active purgation of the desires of sense.
In Chapter viii, St. John of the Cross begins to describe the Passive Night of
the senses, the principal aim of which is the purgation or stripping of the soul
of its imperfections and the preparation of it for fruitive union. The Passive Night
of Sense, we are told, is ‘common’ and ‘comes to many,’ whereas that of Spirit ‘is
the portion of very few.’
Having described this Passive Night of Sense in Chapter viii, he explains with great insight and discernment how it may be recognized whether any given aridity is a result of this Night or whether it comes from sins or imperfections, or from frailty or lukewarmness of spirit, or even from indisposition or ‘humours’ of the body. The Saint is particularly effective here, and we may once more compare this chapter with a similar one in the Ascent (II, xiii)—that in which he fixes the point where the soul may abandon discursive meditation and enter the contemplation which belongs to loving and simple faith.
Both these chapters have contributed to the reputation of St. John of the Cross as a consummate spiritual master. And this not only for the objective value of his observations, but because, even in spite of himself, he betrays the sublimity of his own mystical experiences. Once more, too, we may admire the crystalline transparency of his teaching and the precision of the phrases in which he clothes it. To judge by his language alone, one might suppose at times that he is speaking of mathematical, rather than of spiritual operations.
In Chapter x, the Saint describes the discipline which the soul in this Dark
Night must impose upon itself; this, as might be logically deduced from the Ascent,
consists in ‘allowing the soul to remain in peace and quietness,’ content ‘with
a peaceful and loving attentiveness toward God.’
At only slightly greater length St. John of the Cross describes the Passive Night
of the Spirit, which is at once more afflictive and more painful than those which
have preceded it. This, nevertheless, is the Dark Night par excellence, of
which the Saint speaks in these words: ‘The night which we have called that of sense
may and should be called a kind of correction and restraint of the desire rather
than purgation. The reason is that all the imperfections and disorders of the sensual
part have their strength and root in the spirit, where all habits, both good and
bad, are brought into subjection, and thus, until these are purged, the rebellions
and depravities of sense cannot be purged thoroughly.’
Spiritual persons, we are told, do not enter the second night immediately after
leaving the first; on the contrary, they generally pass a long time, even years,
before doing so,
Chapter ix describes how, although these purgations seem to blind the spirit,
they do so only to enlighten it again with a brighter and intenser light, which
it is preparing itself to receive with greater abundance. The following chapter
makes the comparison between spiritual purgation and the log of wood which gradually
becomes transformed through being immersed in fire and at last takes on the fire’s
own properties. The force with which the familiar similitude is driven home impresses
indelibly upon the mind the fundamental concept of this most sublime of all purgations.
Marvellous, indeed, are its effects, from the first enkindlings and burnings of
Divine love, which are greater beyond comparison than those produced by the Night
of Sense, the one being as different from the other as is the body from the soul.
‘For this (latter) is an enkindling of spiritual love in the soul, which, in the
midst of these dark confines, feels itself to be keenly and sharply wounded in strong
Divine love, and to have a certain realization and foretaste of God.’
The second line of the first stanza of the poem is expounded in three admirable
chapters (xi-xiii), while one short chapter (xiv) suffices for the three lines remaining.
We then embark upon the second stanza, which describes the soul’s security in the
Dark Night—due, among other reasons, to its being freed ‘not only from itself,
but likewise from its other enemies, which are the world and the devil.’
This contemplation is not only dark, but also secret (Chapter xvii), and in Chapter xviii is compared to the ‘staircase’ of the poem. This comparison suggests to the Saint an exposition (Chapters xviii, xix) of the ten steps or degrees of love which comprise St. Bernard’s mystical ladder. Chapter xxi describes the soul’s ‘disguise,’ from which the book passes on (Chapters xxii, xxiii) to extol the ‘happy chance’ which led it to journey ‘in darkness and concealment’ from its enemies, both without and within.
Chapter xxiv glosses the last line of the second stanza—‘my house being now at rest.’ Both the higher and the lower ‘portions of the soul’ are now tranquillized and prepared for the desired union with the Spouse, a union which is the subject that the Saint proposed to treat in his commentary on the five remaining stanzas. As far as we know, this commentary was never written. We have only the briefest outline of what was to have been covered in the third, in which, following the same effective metaphor of night, the Saint describes the excellent properties of the spiritual night of infused contemplation, through which the soul journeys with no other guide or support, either outward or inward, than the Divine love ‘which burned in my heart.’
It is difficult to express adequately the sense of loss that one feels at the
premature truncation of this eloquent treatise.
The autograph of the Dark Night, like that of the Ascent of Mount Carmel, is unknown to us: the second seems to have disappeared in the same period as the first. There are extant, however, as many as twelve early copies of the Dark Night, some of which, though none of them is as palaeographically accurate as the best copy of the Ascent, are very reliable; there is no trace in them of conscious adulteration of the original or of any kind of modification to fit the sense of any passage into a preconceived theory. We definitely prefer one of these copies to the others but we nowhere follow it so literally as to incorporate in our text its evident discrepancies from its original.
MS. 3,446. An early MS. in the clear masculine hand of an Andalusian: MS. 3,446 in the National Library, Madrid. Like many others, this MS. was transferred to the library from the Convento de San Hermenegildo at the time of the religious persecutions in the early nineteenth century; it had been presented to the Archives of the Reform by the Fathers of Los Remedios, Seville—a Carmelite house founded by P. Grecián in 1574. It has no title and a fragment from the Living Flame of Love is bound up with it.
This MS. has only two omissions of any length; these form part respectively of Book II, Chapters xix and xxiii, dealing with the Passive Night of the Spirit. It has many copyist’s errors. At the same time, its antiquity and origin, and the good faith of which it shows continual signs, give it, in our view, primacy over the other copies now to come under consideration. It must be made clear, nevertheless, that there is no extant copy of the Dark Night as trustworthy and as skilfully made as the Alcaudete MS. of the Ascent.
MS. of the Carmelite Nuns of Toledo. Written in three hands, all early. Save for a few slips of the copyist, it agrees with the foregoing; a few of its errors have been corrected. It bears no title, but has a long sub-title which is in effect a partial summary of the argument.
MS. of the Carmelite Nuns of Valladolid. This famous convent, which was one of St. Teresa’s foundations, is very rich in Teresan autographs, and has also a number of important documents relating to St. John of the Cross, together with some copies of his works. That here described is written in a large, clear hand and probably dates from the end of the sixteenth century. It has a title similar to that of the last-named copy. With few exceptions it follows the other most important MSS.
MS. Alba de Tormes. What has been said of this in the introduction to the Ascent (Image Books edition, pp. 6–7) applies also to the Dark Night. It is complete, save for small omissions on the part of the amanuensis, the ‘Argument’ at the beginning of the poem, the verses themselves and a few lines from Book II, Chapter vii.
MS. 6,624. This copy is almost identical with the foregoing. It omits the ‘Argument’ and the poem itself but not the lines from Book II, Chapter vii.
MS. 8,795. This contains the Dark Night, Spiritual Canticle,
Living Flame of Love, a number of poems by St. John of the Cross and the
Spiritual Colloquies between Christ and the soul His Bride. It is written
in various hands, all very early and some feminine. A note by P. Andrés de la Encarnación,
on the reverse of the first folio, records that the copy was presented to the Archives
of the Reform by the Discalced Carmelite nuns of Baeza. This convent was founded
in 1589, two years before the Saint’s death, and the copy may well date from about
this period. On the second folio comes the poem ‘I entered in—I knew not where.’
On the reverse of the third folio begins a kind of preface to the Dark Night,
opening with the words: ‘Begin the stanzas by means of which a soul may occupy itself
and become fervent in the love of God. It deals with the Dark Night and is divided
into two books. The first treats of the purgation of sense, and the second of the
spiritual purgation of man. It was written by P. Fr. Juan de la Cruz, Discalced
Carmelite.’ On the next folio, a so-called ‘Preface: To the Reader’ begins: ‘As
a beginning and an explanation of these two purgations of the Dark Night which are
to be expounded hereafter, this chapter will show how narrow is the path that leads
to eternal life and how completely detached and disencumbered must be those that
are to enter thereby.’ This fundamental idea is developed for the space of two folios.
There follows a sonnet on the Dark Night,
The copy contains many errors, but its only omission is that of the last chapter. There is no trace in it of any attempt to modify its original; indeed, the very nature and number of the copyist’s errors are a testimony to his good faith.
MS. 12,658. A note by P. Andrés states that he acquired it in Madrid but
has no more detailed recollection of its provenance. ‘The Dark Night,’ it
adds, ‘begins on folio 43; our holy father is described simply as “the second friar
of the new Reformation,”
The Codex contains a number of opuscules, transcribed no doubt with a devotional aim by the copyist. Its epoch is probably the end of the sixteenth century; it is certainly earlier than the editions. There is no serious omission except that of six lines of the ‘Argument.’ The authors of the other works copied include St. Augustine, B. Juan de Ávila, P. Baltasar Álvarez and P. Tomás de Jesús.
The copies which remain to be described are all mutilated or abbreviated and can be disposed of briefly:
MS. 13,498. This copy omits less of the Dark Night than of the Ascent but few pages are without their omissions. In one place a meticulous pair of scissors has removed the lower half of a folio on which the Saint deals with spiritual luxury.
MS. of the Carmelite Friars of Toledo. Dates from early in the seventeenth century and has numerous omissions, especially in the chapters on the Passive Night of the Spirit. The date is given (in the same hand as that which copies the title) as 1618. This MS. also contains an opuscule by Suso and another entitled ‘Brief compendium of the most eminent Christian perfection of P. Fr. Juan de la Cruz.’
MS. 18,160. The copyist has treated the Dark Night little better than the Ascent; except from the first ten and the last three chapters, he omits freely.
MS. 12,411. Entitled by its copyist ’spiritual Compendium,’ this MS. contains several short works of devotion, including one by Ruysbroeck. Of St. John of the Cross’s works it copies the Spiritual Canticle as well as the Dark Night; the latter is headed: ’song of one soul alone.’ It also contains a number of poems, some of them by the Saint, and many passages from St. Teresa. It is in several hands, all of the seventeenth century. The copy of the Dark Night is most unsatisfactory; there are omissions and abbreviations everywhere.
M.S. of the Carmelite Nuns of Pamplona. This MS. also omits and abbreviates continually, especially in the chapters on the Passive Night of Sense, which are reduced to a mere skeleton.
Editio princeps. This is much more faithful to its original in the
Dark Night than in the Ascent. Both the passages suppressed
The present edition. We have given preference, as a general rule, to MS. 3,446, subjecting it, however, to a rigorous comparison with the other copies. Mention has already been made in the introduction to the Ascent (Image Books edition, pp. lxiii–lxvi) of certain apparent anomalies and a certain lack of uniformity in the Saint’s method of dividing his commentaries. This is nowhere more noticeable than in the Dark Night. Instead of dividing his treatise into books, each with its proper title, the Saint abandons this method and uses titles only occasionally. As this makes comprehension of his argument the more difficult, we have adopted the divisions which were introduced by P. Salablanca and have been copied by successive editors.
M. Baruzi (Bulletin Hispanique, 1922, Vol. xxiv, pp. 18–40) complains that this division weighs down the spiritual rhythm of the treatise and interrupts its movement. We do not agree. In any case, we greatly prefer the gain of clarity, even if the rhythm occasionally halts, to the other alternative—the constant halting of the understanding. We have, of course, indicated every place where the title is taken from the editio princeps and was not the work of the author.
The following abbreviations are adopted in the footnotes:
A = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Friars of Alba.
B = MS. 6,624 (National Library, Madrid).
Bz. = MS. 8,795 (N.L.M.).
C = MS. 13,498 (N.L.M.).
G = MS. 18,160 (N.L.M.).
H = MS. 3,446 (N.L.M.).
M = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Nuns of Toledo.
Mtr. = MS. 12,658.
P = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Friars of Toledo.
V = MS. of the Discalced Carmelite Nuns of Valladolid.
E.p. = Editio princeps (1618).
MS. 12,411 and the MS. of the Discalced Carmelite nuns of Pamplona are cited without abbreviations.
Exposition of the stanzas describing the method followed by the soul in its journey upon the spiritual road to the attainment of the perfect union of love with God, to the extent that is possible in this life. Likewise are described the properties belonging to the soul that has attained to the said perfection, according as they are contained in the same stanzas.
IN this book are first set down all the stanzas which are to be expounded; afterwards, each of the stanzas is expounded separately, being set down before its exposition; and then each line is expounded separately and in turn, the line itself also being set down before the exposition. In the first two stanzas are expounded the effects of the two spiritual purgations: of the sensual part of man and of the spiritual part. In the other six are expounded various and wondrous effects of the spiritual illumination and union of love with God.
1. On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings—oh, happy chance!—
I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.2. In darkness and secure, By the secret ladder, disguised—oh, happy chance!—
In darkness and in concealment, My house being now at rest.3. 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.4. 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.5. Oh, night that guided me, Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover, Lover transformed in the Beloved!6. 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.7. 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.8. 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.
Begins the exposition of the stanzas which treat of the way and manner which the soul follows upon the road of the union of love with God.
Before we enter upon the exposition of these stanzas, it is well to understand
here that the soul that utters them is now in the state of perfection, which is
the union of love with God, having already passed through severe trials and straits,
by means of spiritual exercise in the narrow way of eternal life whereof Our Saviour
speaks in the Gospel, along which way the soul ordinarily passes in order to reach
this high and happy union with God. Since this road (as the Lord Himself says likewise)
is so strait, and since there are so few that enter by it,
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 this first stanza the soul relates the way and manner which it followed in going forth, as to its affection, from itself and from all things, and in dying to them all and to itself, by means of true mortification, in order to attain to living the sweet and delectable life of love with God; and it says that this going forth from itself and from all things was a ‘dark night,’ by which, as will be explained hereafter, is here understood purgative contemplation, which causes passively in the soul the negation of itself and of all things referred to above.
2. And this going forth it says here that it was able to accomplish in the strength
and ardour which love for its Spouse gave to it for that purpose in the dark contemplation
aforementioned. Herein it extols the great happiness which it found in journeying
to God through this night with such signal success that none of the three enemies,
which are world, devil and flesh (who are they that ever impede this road), could
hinder it; inasmuch as the aforementioned night of purgative
Sets down the first line and begins to treat of the imperfections of beginners.
INTO this dark night souls begin to enter when God draws them forth from the state of beginners—which is the state of those that meditate on the spiritual road—and begins to set them in the state of progressives—which is that of those who are already contemplatives—to the end that, after passing through it, they may arrive at the state of the perfect, which is that of the Divine union of the soul with God. Wherefore, to the end that we may the better understand and explain what night is this through which the soul passes, and for what cause God sets it therein, it will be well here to touch first of all upon certain characteristics of beginners (which, although we treat them with all possible brevity, will not fail to be of service likewise to the beginners themselves), in order that, realizing the weakness of the state wherein they are, they may take courage, and may desire that God will bring them into this night, wherein the soul is strengthened and confirmed in the virtues, and made ready for the inestimable delights of the love of God. And, although we may tarry here for a time, it will not be for longer than is necessary, so that we may go on to speak at once of this dark night.
2. It must be known, then, that the soul, after it has been definitely converted to the service of God, is, as a rule, spiritually nurtured and caressed by God, even as is the tender child by its loving mother, who warms it with the heat of her bosom and nurtures it with sweet milk and soft and pleasant food, and carries it and caresses it in her arms; but, as the child grows bigger, the mother gradually ceases caressing it, and, hiding her tender love, puts bitter aloes upon her sweet breast, sets down the child from her arms and makes it walk upon its feet, so that it may lose the habits of a child and betake itself to more important and substantial occupations. The loving mother is like the grace of God, for, as soon as the soul is regenerated by its new warmth and fervour for the service of God, He treats it in the same way; He makes it to find spiritual milk, sweet and delectable, in all the things of God, without any labour of its own, and also great pleasure in spiritual exercises, for here God is giving to it the breast of His tender love, even as to a tender child.
3. Therefore, such a soul finds its delight in spending long periods—perchance whole nights—in prayer; penances are its pleasures; fasts its joys; and its consolations are to make use of the sacraments and to occupy itself in Divine things. In the which things spiritual persons (though taking part in them with great efficacy and persistence and using and treating them with great care) often find themselves, spiritually speaking, very weak and imperfect. For since they are moved to these things and to these spiritual exercises by the consolation and pleasure that they find in them, and since, too, they have not been prepared for them by the practice of earnest striving in the virtues, they have many faults and imperfections with respect to these spiritual actions of theirs; for, after all, any man’s actions correspond to the habit of perfection attained by him. And, as these persons have not had the opportunity of acquiring the said habits of strength, they have necessarily to work like feebler children, feebly. In order that this may be seen more clearly, and likewise how much these beginners in the virtues lacks with respect to the works in which they so readily engage with the pleasure aforementioned, we shall describe it by reference to the seven capital sins, each in its turn, indicating some of the many imperfections which they have under each heading; wherein it will be clearly seen how like to children are these persons in all they do. And it will also be seen how many blessings the dark night of which we shall afterwards treat brings with it, since it cleanses the soul and purifies it from all these imperfections.
Of certain spiritual imperfections which beginners have with respect to the habit of pride.
AS these beginners feel themselves to be very fervent and diligent in spiritual
things and devout exercises, from this prosperity (although it is true that holy
things of their own nature cause humility) there often comes to them, through their
imperfections, a certain kind of secret pride, whence they come to have some degree
of satisfaction with their works and with themselves. And hence there comes to them
likewise a certain desire, which is somewhat vain, and at times very vain, to speak
of spiritual things in the presence of others, and sometimes even to teach such
things rather than to learn them. They condemn others in their heart when they see
that they have not the kind of devotion which they themselves desire; and sometimes
they even say this in words, herein resembling the Pharisee, who boasted of himself,
praising God for his own good works and despising the publican.
2. In these persons the devil often increases the fervour that they have and
the desire to perform these and other works more frequently, so that their pride
and presumption may grow greater. For the devil knows quite well that all these
works and virtues which they perform are not only valueless to them, but even become
vices in them. And such a degree of evil are some of these persons wont to reach
that they would have none appear good save themselves; and thus, in deed and word,
whenever the opportunity occurs, they condemn them and slander them, beholding the
mote in their brother’s eye and not considering the beam which is in their own;
3. Sometimes, too, when their spiritual masters, such as confessors and superiors,
do not approve of their spirit and behavior (for they are anxious that all they
do shall be esteemed and praised), they consider that they do not understand them,
or that, because they do not approve of this and comply with that, their confessors
are themselves not spiritual. And so they immediately desire and contrive to find
some one else who will fit in with their tastes; for as a rule they desire to speak
of spiritual matters with those who they think will praise and esteem what they
do, and they flee, as they would from death, from those who disabuse them in order
to lead them into a safe road—sometimes they even harbour ill-will against them.
Presuming thus,
4. Many such persons desire to be the favourites of their confessors and to become
intimate with them, as a result of which there beset them continual occasions of
envy and disquiet.
5. Some of these beginners, too, make little of their faults, and at other times
become over-sad when they see themselves fall into them, thinking themselves to
have been saints already; and thus they become angry and impatient with themselves,
which is another imperfection. Often they beseech God, with great yearnings, that
He will take from them their imperfections and faults, but they do this that they
may find themselves at peace, and may not be troubled by them, rather than for God’s
sake; not realizing that, if He should take their imperfections from them, they
would probably become prouder and more presumptuous still. They dislike praising
others and love to be praised themselves; sometimes they seek out such praise. Herein
they are like the foolish virgins, who, when their lamps could not be lit, sought
oil from others.
6. From these imperfections some souls go on to develop
7. Together with great tranquillity and humbleness, these souls have a deep desire to be taught by anyone who can bring them profit; they are the complete opposite of those of whom we have spoken above, who would fain be always teaching, and who, when others seem to be teaching them, take the words from their mouths as if they knew them already. These souls, on the other hand, being far from desiring to be the masters of any, are very ready to travel and set out on another road than that which they are actually following, if they be so commanded, because they never think that they are right in anything whatsoever. They rejoice when others are praised; they grieve only because they serve not God like them. They have no desire to speak of the things that they do, because they think so little of them that they are ashamed to speak of them even to their spiritual masters, since they seem to them to be things that merit not being spoken of. They are more anxious to speak of their faults and sins, or that these should be recognized rather than their virtues; and thus they incline to talk of their souls with those who account their actions and their spirituality of little value. This is a characteristic of the spirit which is simple, pure, genuine and very pleasing to God. For as the wise Spirit of God dwells in these humble souls, He moves them and inclines them to keep His treasures secretly within and likewise to cast out from themselves all evil. God gives this grace to the humble, together with the other virtues, even as He denies it to the proud.
8. These souls will give their heart’s blood to anyone that serves God, and will help others to serve Him as much as in them lies. The imperfections into which they see themselves fall they bear with humility, meekness of spirit and a loving fear of God, hoping in Him. But souls who in the beginning journey with this kind of perfection are, as I understand, and as has been said, a minority, and very few are those who we can be glad do not fall into the opposite errors. For this reason, as we shall afterwards say, God leads into the dark night those whom He desires to purify from all these imperfections so that He may bring them farther onward.
Of some imperfections which some of these souls are apt to have, with respect to the second capital sin, which is avarice, in the spiritual sense.
MANY of these beginners have also at times great spiritual avarice. They will
be found to be discontented with the spirituality which God gives them; and they
are very disconsolate and querulous because they find not in spiritual things the
consolation that they would desire. Many can never have enough of listening to counsels
and learning spiritual precepts, and of possessing and reading many books which
treat of this matter, and they spend their time on all these things rather than
on works of mortification and the perfecting of the inward poverty of spirit which
should be theirs. Furthermore, they burden themselves with images and rosaries which
are very curious; now they put down one, now take up another; now they change about,
now change back again; now they want this kind of thing, now that, preferring one
kind of cross to another, because it is more curious. And others you will see adorned
with agnusdeis
2. I knew a person who for more than ten years made use of a cross roughly formed
from a branch
3. But neither from these imperfections nor from those others can the soul be perfectly purified until God brings it into the passive purgation of that dark night whereof we shall speak presently. It befits the soul, however, to contrive to labour, in so far as it can, on its own account, to the end that it may purge and perfect itself, and thus may merit being taken by God into that Divine care wherein it becomes healed of all things that it was unable of itself to cure. Because, however greatly the soul itself labours, it cannot actively purify itself so as to be in the least degree prepared for the Divine union of perfection of love, if God takes not its hand and purges it not in that dark fire, in the way and manner that we have to describe.
Of other imperfections which these beginners are apt to have with respect to the third sin, which is luxury.
MANY of these beginners have many other imperfections than those which I am describing with respect to each of the deadly sins, but these I set aside, in order to avoid prolixity, touching upon a few of the most important, which are, as it were, the origin and cause of the rest. And thus, with respect to this sin of luxury (leaving apart the falling of spiritual persons into this sin, since my intent is to treat of the imperfections which have to be purged by the dark night), they have many imperfections which might be described as spiritual luxury, not because they are so, but because the imperfections proceed from spiritual things. For it often comes to pass that, in their very spiritual exercises, when they are powerless to prevent it, there arise and assert themselves in the sensual part of the soul impure acts and motions, and sometimes this happens even when the spirit is deep in prayer, or engaged in the Sacrament of Penance or in the Eucharist. These things are not, as I say, in their power; they proceed from one of three causes.
2. The first cause from which they often proceed is the pleasure which human
nature takes in spiritual things. For when the spirit and the sense are pleased,
every part of a man is moved by that pleasure
3. The second cause whence these rebellions sometimes proceed is the devil, who,
in order to disquiet and disturb the soul, at times when it is at prayer or is striving
to pray, contrives to stir up these motions of impurity in its nature; and if the
soul gives heed to any of these, they cause it great harm. For through fear of these
not only do persons become lax in prayer—which is the aim of the devil when he
begins to strive with them—but some give up prayer altogether, because they think
that these things attack them more during that exercise than apart from it, which
is true, since the devil attacks them then more than at other times, so that they
may give up spiritual exercises. And not only so, but he succeeds in portraying
to them very vividly things that are most foul and impure, and at times are very
closely related to certain spiritual things and persons that are of profit to their
souls, in order to terrify them and make them fearful; so that those who are affected
by this dare not even look at anything or meditate upon anything, because they immediately
encounter this temptation. And upon those who are inclined to melancholy this acts
with such effect that they become greatly to be pitied since they are suffering
so sadly; for this trial reaches such a point in certain persons, when they have
this evil humour, that they believe it to be clear that the devil is ever present
with them and that they have no power to prevent this, although some of these persons
can prevent his attack by dint of great effort and labour. When these impurities
attack such souls through the medium of melancholy, they are not as a rule freed
from them until they have been cured of that kind of humour, unless the dark night
has entered the soul, and rids them of all impurities, one after another.
4. The third source whence these impure motions are apt to proceed in order to make war upon the soul is often the fear which such persons have conceived for these impure representations and motions. Something that they see or say or think brings them to their mind, and this makes them afraid, so that they suffer from them through no fault of their own.
5. There are also certain souls of so tender and frail a nature that, when there
comes to them some spiritual consolation or some grace in prayer, the spirit of
luxury is with them immediately, inebriating and delighting their sensual nature
in such manner that it is as if they were plunged into the enjoyment and pleasure
of this sin; and the enjoyment remains, together with the consolation, passively,
and sometimes they are able to see that certain impure and unruly acts have taken
place. The reason for this is that, since these natures are, as I say, frail and
tender, their humours are stirred up and their blood is excited at the least disturbance.
And hence come these motions; and the same thing happens to such souls when they
are enkindled with anger or suffer any disturbance or grief.
6. Sometimes, again, there arises within these spiritual persons, whether they be speaking or performing spiritual actions, a certain vigour and bravado, through their having regard to persons who are present, and before these persons they display a certain kind of vain gratification. This also arises from luxury of spirit, after the manner wherein we here understand it, which is accompanied as a rule by complacency in the will.
7. Some of these persons make friendships of a spiritual kind with others, which
oftentimes arise from luxury and not from spirituality; this may be known to be
the case when the remembrance of that friendship causes not the remembrance and
love of God to grow, but occasions remorse of conscience. For, when the friendship
is purely spiritual, the love of God grows with it; and the more the soul remembers
it, the more it remembers the love of God, and the greater the desire it has for
God; so that, as the one grows, the other grows also. For the spirit of God has
this property, that it increases good by adding to it more good, inasmuch as there
is likeness and conformity between them. But, when this love arises from the vice
of sensuality aforementioned, it produces the contrary effects; for the more the
one grows, the more the other decreases, and the remembrance of it likewise. If
that sensual love grows, it will at once be observed that the soul’s love of God
is becoming colder, and that it is forgetting Him as it remembers that love; there
comes to it, too, a certain remorse of conscience. And, on the other hand, if the
love of God grows in the soul, that other love becomes cold and is forgotten; for,
as the two are contrary to one another, not only does the one not aid the other,
but the one which predominates quenches and confounds the other, and becomes strengthened
in itself, as the philosophers say. Wherefore Our Saviour said in the Gospel: ‘That
which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.’
8. When the soul enters the dark night, it brings these kinds of love under control. It strengthens and purifies the one, namely that which is according to God; and the other it removes and brings to an end; and in the beginning it causes both to be lost sight of, as we shall say hereafter.
Of the imperfections into which beginners fall with respect to the sin of wrath.
BY reason of the concupiscence which many beginners have for spiritual consolations, their experience of these consolations is very commonly accompanied by many imperfections proceeding from the sin of wrath; for, when their delight and pleasure in spiritual things come to an end, they naturally become embittered, and bear that lack of sweetness which they have to suffer with a bad grace, which affects all that they do; and they very easily become irritated over the smallest matter—sometimes, indeed, none can tolerate them. This frequently happens after they have been very pleasantly recollected in prayer according to sense; when their pleasure and delight therein come to an end, their nature is naturally vexed and disappointed, just as is the child when they take it from the breast of which it was enjoying the sweetness. There is no sin in this natural vexation, when it is not permitted to indulge itself, but only imperfection, which must be purged by the aridity and severity of the dark night.
2. There are other of these spiritual persons, again, who fall into another kind
of spiritual wrath: this happens when they become irritated at the sins of others,
and keep watch on those others with a sort of uneasy zeal. At times the impulse
comes to them to reprove them angrily, and occasionally they go so far as to indulge
it
3. There are others who are vexed with themselves when they observe their own imperfectness, and display an impatience that is not humility; so impatient are they about this that they would fain be saints in a day. Many of these persons purpose to accomplish a great deal and make grand resolutions; yet, as they are not humble and have no misgivings about themselves, the more resolutions they make, the greater is their fall and the greater their annoyance, since they have not the patience to wait for that which God will give them when it pleases Him; this likewise is contrary to the spiritual meekness aforementioned, which cannot be wholly remedied save by the purgation of the dark night. Some souls, on the other hand, are so patient as regards the progress which they desire that God would gladly see them less so.
Of imperfections with respect to spiritual gluttony.
WITH respect to the fourth sin, which is spiritual gluttony, there is much to
be said, for there is scarce one of these beginners who, however satisfactory his
progress, falls not into some of the many imperfections which come to these beginners
with respect to this sin, on account of the sweetness which they find at first in
spiritual exercises. For many of these, lured by the sweetness and pleasure which
they find in such exercises, strive more after spiritual sweetness than after spiritual
purity and discretion, which is that which God regards and accepts throughout the
spiritual journey.
2. These persons are most imperfect and unreasonable; for they set bodily penance
before subjection and obedience, which is penance according to reason and discretion,
and therefore a sacrifice more acceptable and pleasing to God than any other. But
such one-sided penance is no more than the penance of beasts, to which they are
attracted, exactly like beasts, by the desire and pleasure which they find therein.
Inasmuch as all extremes are vicious, and as in behaving thus such persons
3. You will find that many of these persons are very insistent with their spiritual
masters to be granted that which they desire, extracting it from them almost by
force; if they be refused it they become as peevish as children and go about in
great displeasure, thinking that they are not serving God when they are not allowed
to do that which they would. For they go about clinging to their own will and pleasure,
which they treat as though it came from God;
4. There are others, again, who, because of this gluttony, know so little of
their own unworthiness and misery and have thrust so far from them the loving fear
and reverence which they owe to the greatness of God, that they hesitate not to
insist continually that their confessors shall allow them to communicate often.
And, what is worse, they frequently dare to communicate without the leave and consent
5. These persons, in communicating, strive with every nerve to obtain some kind of sensible sweetness and pleasure, instead of humbly doing reverence and giving praise within themselves to God. And in such wise do they devote themselves to this that, when they have received no pleasure or sweetness in the senses, they think that they have accomplished nothing at all. This is to judge God very unworthily; they have not realized that the least of the benefits which come from this Most Holy Sacrament is that which concerns the senses; and that the invisible part of the grace that it bestows is much greater; for, in order that they may look at it with the eyes of faith, God oftentimes withholds from them these other consolations and sweetnesses of sense. And thus they desire to feel and taste God as though He were comprehensible by them and accessible to them, not only in this, but likewise in other spiritual practices. All this is very great imperfection and completely opposed to the nature of God, since it is Impurity in faith.
6. These persons have the same defect as regards the practice of prayer, for
they think that all the business of prayer consists in experiencing sensible pleasure
and devotion and they strive to obtain this by great effort,
7. These persons who are thus inclined to such pleasures have another very great
imperfection, which is that they are very weak and remiss in journeying upon the
hard
8. These persons have many other imperfections which arise hence, of which in
time the Lord heals them by means of temptations, aridities and other trials, all
of which are part of the dark night. All these I will not treat further here, lest
I become too lengthy; I will only say that spiritual temperance and sobriety lead
to another and a very different temper, which is that of mortification, fear and
submission in all things. It thus becomes clear that the perfection and worth of
things consist not in the multitude and the pleasantness of one’s actions, but in
being able to deny oneself in them; this such persons must endeavour to compass,
in so far as they may, until God is pleased to purify them indeed, by bringing them
Of imperfections with respect to spiritual envy and sloth.
WITH respect likewise to the other two vices, which are spiritual envy and sloth,
these beginners fail not to have many imperfections. For, with respect to envy,
many of them are wont to experience movements of displeasure at the spiritual good
of others, which cause them a certain sensible grief at being outstripped upon this
road, so that they would prefer not to hear others praised; for they become displeased
at others’ virtues and sometimes they cannot refrain from contradicting what is
said in praise of them, depreciating it as far as they can; and their annoyance
thereat grows
2. With respect also to spiritual sloth, beginners are apt to be irked by the things that are most spiritual, from which they flee because these things are incompatible with sensible pleasure. For, as they are so much accustomed to sweetness in spiritual things, they are wearied by things in which they find no sweetness. If once they failed to find in prayer the satisfaction which their taste required (and after all it is well that God should take it from them to prove them), they would prefer not to return to it: sometimes they leave it; at other times they continue it unwillingly. And thus because of this sloth they abandon the way of perfection (which is the way of the negation of their will and pleasure for God’s sake) for the pleasure and sweetness of their own will, which they aim at satisfying in this way rather than the will of God.
3. And many of these would have God will that which they themselves will, and
are fretful at having to will that which He wills, and find it repugnant to accommodate
their will to that of God. Hence it happens to them that oftentimes they think that
that wherein they find not their own will and pleasure is not the will of God; and
that, on the other hand, when they themselves find satisfaction, God is satisfied.
Thus they measure God by themselves and not themselves by God, acting quite contrarily
to that which He Himself taught in the Gospel, saying: That he who should lose his
will for His sake, the same should gain it; and he who should desire to gain it,
the same should lose it.
4. These persons likewise find it irksome when they are commanded to do that
wherein they take no pleasure. Because they aim at spiritual sweetness and consolation,
they are too weak to have the fortitude and bear the trials of perfection.
5. Let it suffice here to have described these imperfections, among the many to be found in the lives of those that are in this first state of beginners, so that it may be seen how greatly they need God to set them in the state of proficients. This He does by bringing them into the dark night whereof we now speak; wherein He weans them from the breasts of these sweetnesses and pleasures, gives them pure aridities and inward darkness, takes from them all these irrelevances and puerilities, and by very different means causes them to win the virtues. For, however assiduously the beginner practises the mortification in himself of all these actions and passions of his, he can never completely succeed—very far from it—until God shall work it in him passively by means of the purgation of the said night. Of this I would fain speak in some way that may be profitable; may God, then, be pleased to give me His Divine light, because this is very needful in a night that is so dark and a matter that is so difficult to describe and to expound.
The line, then, is:
Wherein is expounded the first line of the first stanza, and a beginning is made of the explanation of this dark night.
THIS night, which, as we say, is contemplation, produces in spiritual persons two kinds of darkness or purgation, corresponding to the two parts of man’s nature—namely, the sensual and the spiritual. And thus the one night or purgation will be sensual, wherein the soul is purged according to sense, which is subdued to the spirit; and the other is a night or purgation which is spiritual, wherein the soul is purged and stripped according to the spirit, and subdued and made ready for the union of love with God. The night of sense is common and comes to many: these are the beginners; and of this night we shall speak first. The night of the spirit is the portion of very few, and these are they that are already practised and proficient, of whom we shall treat hereafter.
2. The first purgation or night is bitter and terrible to sense, as we shall
now show.
3. Since, then, the conduct of these beginners upon the way of God is ignoble,
4. To recollected persons this commonly happens sooner after their beginnings than to others, inasmuch as they are freer from occasions of backsliding, and their desires turn more quickly from the things of the world, which is necessary if they are to begin to enter this blessed night of sense. Ordinarily no great time passes after their beginnings before they begin to enter this night of sense; and the great majority of them do in fact enter it, for they will generally be seen to fall into these aridities.
5. With regard to this way of purgation of the senses, since it is so common, we might here adduce a great number of quotations from Divine Scripture, where many passages relating to it are continually found, particularly in the Psalms and the Prophets. However, I do not wish to spend time upon these, for he who knows not how to look for them there will find the common experience of this purgation to be sufficient.
Of the signs by which it will be known that the spiritual person is walking along the way of this night and purgation of sense.
BUT since these aridities might frequently proceed, not from the night and purgation of the sensual desires aforementioned, but from sins and imperfections, or from weakness and lukewarmness, or from some bad humour or indisposition of the body, I shall here set down certain signs by which it may be known if such aridity proceeds from the aforementioned purgation, or if it arises from any of the aforementioned sins. For the making of this distinction I find that there are three principal signs.
2. The first is whether, when a soul finds no pleasure or consolation in the
things of God, it also fails to find it in any thing created; for, as God sets the
soul in this dark night to the end that He may quench and purge its sensual desire,
He allows it not to find attraction or sweetness in anything whatsoever. In such
a case it may be considered very probable
3. The second sign whereby a man may believe himself to be experiencing the said purgation is that the memory is ordinarily centred upon God, with painful care and solicitude, thinking that it is not serving God, but is backsliding, because it finds itself without sweetness in the things of God. And in such a case it is evident that this lack of sweetness and this aridity come not from weakness and lukewarmness; for it is the nature of lukewarmness not to care greatly or to have any inward solicitude for the things of God. There is thus a great difference between aridity and lukewarmness, for lukewarmness consists in great weakness and remissness in the will and in the spirit, without solicitude as to serving God; whereas purgative aridity is ordinarily accompanied by solicitude, with care and grief as I say, because the soul is not serving God. And, although this may sometimes be increased by melancholy or some other humour (as it frequently is), it fails not for that reason to produce a purgative effect upon the desire, since the desire is deprived of all pleasure and has its care centred upon God alone. For, when mere humour is the cause, it spends itself in displeasure and ruin of the physical nature, and there are none of those desires to sense God which belong to purgative aridity. When the cause is aridity, it is true that the sensual part of the soul has fallen low, and is weak and feeble in its actions, by reason of the little pleasure which it finds in them; but the spirit, on the other hand, is ready and strong.
4. For the cause of this aridity is that God transfers to the spirit the good things and the strength of the senses, which, since the soul’s natural strength and senses are incapable of using them, remain barren, dry and empty. For the sensual part of a man has no capacity for that which is pure spirit, and thus, when it is the spirit that receives the pleasure, the flesh is left without savour and is too weak to perform any action. But the spirit, which all the time is being fed, goes forward in strength, and with more alertness and solicitude than before, in its anxiety not to fail God; and if it is not immediately conscious of spiritual sweetness and delight, but only of aridity and lack of sweetness, the reason for this is the strangeness of the exchange; for its palate has been accustomed to those other sensual pleasures upon which its eyes are still fixed, and, since the spiritual palate is not made ready or purged for such subtle pleasure, until it finds itself becoming prepared for it by means of this arid and dark night, it cannot experience spiritual pleasure and good, but only aridity and lack of sweetness, since it misses the pleasure which aforetime it enjoyed so readily.
5. These souls whom God is beginning to lead through these solitary places of
the wilderness are like to the children of Israel, to whom in the wilderness God
began to give food from Heaven, containing within itself all sweetness, and, as
is there said, it turned to the savour which each one of them desired. But withal
the children of Israel felt the lack of the pleasures and delights of the flesh
and the onions which they had eaten aforetime in Egypt, the more so because their
palate was accustomed to these and took delight in them, rather than in the delicate
sweetness of the angelic manna; and they wept and sighed for the fleshpots even
in the midst of the food of Heaven.
6. But, as I say, when these aridities proceed from the way of the purgation of sensual desire, although at first the spirit feels no sweetness, for the reasons that we have just given, it feels that it is deriving strength and energy to act from the substance which this inward food gives it, the which food is the beginning of a contemplation that is dark and arid to the senses; which contemplation is secret and hidden from the very person that experiences it; and ordinarily, together with the aridity and emptiness which it causes in the senses, it gives the soul an inclination and desire to be alone and in quietness, without being able to think of any particular thing or having the desire to do so. If those souls to whom this comes to pass knew how to be quiet at this time, and troubled not about performing any kind of action, whether inward or outward, neither had any anxiety about doing anything, then they would delicately experience this inward refreshment in that ease and freedom from care. So delicate is this refreshment that ordinarily, if a man have desire or care to experience it, he experiences it not; for, as I say, it does its work when the soul is most at ease and freest from care; it is like the air which, if one would close one’s hand upon it, escapes.
7. In this sense we may understand that which the Spouse said to the Bride in
the Songs, namely: ‘Withdraw thine eyes from me, for they make me to soar aloft.’
8. The third sign whereby this purgation of sense may be recognized is that the soul can no longer meditate or reflect in the imaginative sphere of sense as it was wont, however much it may of itself endeavour to do so. For God now begins to communicate Himself to it, no longer through sense, as He did aforetime, by means of reflections which joined and sundered its knowledge, but by pure spirit, into which consecutive reflections enter not; but He communicates Himself to it by an act of simple contemplation, to which neither the exterior nor the interior senses of the lower part of the soul can attain. From this time forward, therefore, imagination and fancy can find no support in any meditation, and can gain no foothold by means thereof.
9. With regard to this third sign, it is to be understood that this embarrassment
and dissatisfaction of the faculties proceed not from indisposition, for, when this
is the case, and the indisposition, which never lasts for long,
Of the way in which these souls are to conduct themselves in this dark night.
DURING the time, then, of the aridities of this night of sense (wherein God effects
the change of which we have spoken above, drawing forth the soul from the life of
sense into that of the spirit—that is, from meditation to contemplation—wherein
it no longer has any power to work or to reason with its faculties concerning the
things of God, as has been said), spiritual persons suffer great trials, by reason
not so much of the aridities which they suffer, as of the fear which they have of
being lost on the road, thinking that all spiritual blessing is over for them and
that God has abandoned them since they find no help or pleasure in good things.
Then they grow weary, and endeavour (as they have been accustomed to do) to concentrate
their faculties with some degree of pleasure upon some object of meditation, thinking
that, when they are not doing this and yet are conscious of making an effort, they
are doing nothing. This effort they make not without great inward repugnance and
unwillingness on the part of their soul, which was taking pleasure in being in that
quietness and ease, instead of working with its faculties. So they have abandoned
the one pursuit,
2. These souls turn back at such a time if there is none who understands them; they abandon the road or lose courage; or, at the least, they are hindered from going farther by the great trouble which they take in advancing along the road of meditation and reasoning. Thus they fatigue and overwork their nature, imagining that they are failing through negligence or sin. But this trouble that they are taking is quite useless, for God is now leading them by another road, which is that of contemplation, and is very different from the first; for the one is of meditation and reasoning, and the other belongs neither to imagination nor yet to reasoning.
3. It is well for those who find themselves in this condition to take comfort, to persevere in patience and to be in no wise afflicted. Let them trust in God, Who abandons not those that seek Him with a simple and right heart, and will not fail to give them what is needful for the road, until He bring them into the clear and pure light of love. This last He will give them by means of that other dark night, that of the spirit, if they merit His bringing them thereto.
4. The way in which they are to conduct themselves in this night of sense is
to devote themselves not at all to reasoning and meditation, since this is not the
time for it, but to allow the soul to remain in peace and quietness, although it
may seem clear to them that they are doing nothing and are wasting their time, and
although it may appear to them that it is because of their weakness that they have
no desire in that state to think of anything. The truth is that they will be doing
quite sufficient if they have patience and persevere in prayer without making any
effort.
5. And although further scruples may come to them—that they are wasting their
time, and that it would be well for them to do something else, because they can
neither do nor think anything in prayer—let them suffer these scruples and remain
in peace, as there is no question save of their being at ease and having freedom
of spirit. For if such a soul should desire to make any effort of its own with its
interior faculties, this means that it will hinder and lose the blessings which,
by means of that peace and ease of the soul, God is instilling into it and impressing
upon it. It is just as if some painter were painting or dyeing a face; if the sitter
were to move because he desired to do something, he would prevent the painter from
accomplishing anything and would disturb him in what he was doing. And thus, when
the soul desires to remain in inward ease and peace, any operation and affection
or attentions wherein it may then seek to indulge
6. Wherefore it behoves such a soul to pay no heed if the operations of its faculties become lost to it; it is rather to desire that this should happen quickly. For, by not hindering the operation of infused contemplation that God is bestowing upon it, it can receive this with more peaceful abundance, and cause its spirit to be enkindled and to burn with the love which this dark and secret contemplation brings with it and sets firmly in the soul. For contemplation is naught else than a secret, peaceful and loving infusion from God, which, if it be permitted, enkindles the soul with the spirit of love, according as the soul declares in the next lines, namely:
Wherein are expounded the three lines of the stanza.
THIS enkindling of love is not as a rule felt at the first, because it has not
begun to take hold upon the soul, by reason of the impurity of human nature, or
because the soul has not understood its own state, as we have said, and has therefore
given it no peaceful abiding-place within itself. Yet sometimes, nevertheless, there
soon begins to make itself felt a certain yearning toward God; and the more this
increases, the more is the soul affectioned and enkindled in love toward God, without
knowing or understanding how and whence this love and affection come to it, but
from time to time seeing this flame and this enkindling grow so greatly within it
that it desires God with yearning of love; even as David, when he was in this dark
night, said of himself in these words,
2. But it must be noted that, as I began to say just now, this love is not as a rule felt at first, but only the dryness and emptiness are felt whereof we are speaking. Then in place of this love which afterwards becomes gradually enkindled, what the soul experiences in the midst of these aridities and emptinesses of the faculties is an habitual care and solicitude with respect to God, together with grief and fear that it is not serving Him. But it is a sacrifice which is not a little pleasing to God that the soul should go about afflicted and solicitous for His love. This solicitude and care leads the soul into that secret contemplation, until, the senses (that is, the sensual part) having in course of time been in some degree purged of the natural affections and powers by means of the aridities which it causes within them, this Divine love begins to be enkindled in the spirit. Meanwhile, however, like one who has begun a cure, the soul knows only suffering in this dark and arid purgation of the desire; by this means it becomes healed of many imperfections, and exercises itself in many virtues in order to make itself meet for the said love, as we shall now say with respect to the line following:
3. When God leads the soul into this night of sense in order to purge the sense of its lower part and to subdue it, unite it and bring it into conformity with the spirit, by setting it in darkness and causing it to cease from meditation (as He afterwards does in order to purify the spirit to unite it with God, as we shall afterwards say), He brings it into the night of the spirit, and (although it appears not so to it) the soul gains so many benefits that it holds it to be a happy chance to have escaped from the bonds and restrictions of the senses of or its lower self, by means of this night aforesaid; and utters the present line, namely: Oh, happy chance! With respect to this, it behoves us here to note the benefits which the soul finds in this night, and because of which it considers it a happy chance to have passed through it; all of which benefits the soul includes in the next line, namely:
4. This going forth is understood of the subjection to its sensual part which
the soul suffered when it sought God through operations so weak, so limited and
so defective as are those of this lower part; for at every step it stumbled into
numerous imperfections and ignorances, as we have noted above in writing of the
seven capital sins. From all these it is freed when this night quenches within it
all pleasures, whether from above or from below, and makes all meditation darkness
to it, and grants it other innumerable blessings in the acquirement of the virtues,
as we shall now show. For it will be a matter of great pleasure and great consolation,
to one that journeys on this road, to see how that which seems to the soul so severe
and adverse, and so contrary to spiritual pleasure, works in it so many blessings.
These, as we say, are gained when the soul goes forth, as regards its affection
and operation, by means of this night, from all created things, and when it journeys
to eternal things, which is great happiness and good fortune:
Of the benefits which this night causes in the soul.
THIS night and purgation of the desire, a happy one for the soul, works in it
so many blessings and benefits (although to the soul, as we have said, it rather
seems that blessings are being taken away from it) that, even as Abraham made a
great feast when he weaned his son Isaac,
2. This is the first and principal benefit caused by this arid and dark night
of contemplation: the knowledge of oneself and of one’s misery. For, besides the
fact that all the favours which God grants to the soul are habitually granted to
them enwrapped in this knowledge, these aridities and this emptiness of the faculties,
compared with the abundance which the soul experienced aforetime and the difficulty
which it finds in good works, make it recognize its own lowliness and misery, which
in the time of its prosperity it was unable to see. Of this there is a good illustration
in the Book of Exodus, where God, wishing to humble the children of Israel and desiring
that they should know themselves, commanded them to take away and strip off the
festal garments and adornments wherewith they were accustomed to adorn themselves
in the Wilderness, saying: ‘Now from henceforth strip yourselves of festal ornaments
and put on everyday working dress, that ye may know what treatment ye deserve.’
3. In the first place, the soul learns to commune with God with more respect
and more courtesy, such as a soul must ever observe in converse with the Most High.
These it knew not in its prosperous times of comfort and consolation, for that comforting
favour which it experienced made its craving for God somewhat bolder than was fitting,
and discourteous and ill-considered. Even so did it happen to Moses, when he perceived
that God was speaking to him; blinded by that pleasure and desire, without further
consideration, he would have made bold to go to Him if God had not commanded him
to stay and put off his shoes. By this incident we are shown the respect and discretion
in detachment of desire wherewith a man is to commune with God. When Moses had obeyed
in this matter, he became so discreet and so attentive that the Scripture says that
not only did he not make bold to draw near to God, but that he dared not even look
at Him. For, having taken off the shoes of his desires and pleasures, he became
very conscious of his wretchedness in the sight of God, as befitted one about to
hear the word of God. Even so likewise the preparation which God granted to Job
in order that he might speak with Him consisted not in those delights and glories
which Job himself reports that he was wont to have in his God, but in leaving him
naked upon a dung-hill,
4. And here we must note another excellent benefit which there is in this night
and aridity of the desire of sense, since we have had occasion to speak of it. It
is that, in this dark night of the desire (to the end that the words of the Prophet
may be fulfilled, namely: ‘Thy light shall shine in the darkness’
5. This is very well explained by the same prophet Isaias, where he says: ‘Whom
shall God teach His knowledge, and whom shall He make to understand the hearing?’
To those, He says, that are weaned from the milk and drawn away from the breasts.
6. And in order to prove more completely how efficacious is this night of sense,
with its aridity and its desolation, in bringing the soul that light which, as we
say, it receives there from God, we shall quote that passage of David, wherein he
clearly describes the great power which is in this night for bringing the soul this
lofty knowledge of God. He says, then, thus: ‘In the desert land, waterless, dry
and pathless, I appeared before Thee, that I might see Thy virtue and Thy glory.’
7. Likewise, from the aridities and voids of this night of the desire, the soul draws spiritual humility, which is the contrary virtue to the first capital sin, which, as we said, is spiritual pride. Through this humility, which is acquired by the said knowledge of self, the soul is purged from all those imperfections whereinto it fell with respect to that sin of pride, in the time of its prosperity. For it sees itself so dry and miserable that the idea never even occurs to it that it is making better progress than others, or outstripping them, as it believed itself to be doing before. On the contrary, it recognizes that others are making better progress than itself.
8. And hence arises the love of its neighbours, for it esteems them, and judges
them not as it was wont to do aforetime, when it saw that itself had great fervour
and others not so. It is aware only of its own wretchedness, which it keeps before
its eyes to such an extent that it never forgets it, nor takes occasion to set its
eyes on anyone else. This was described wonderfully by David, when he was in this
night, in these words: ‘I was dumb and was humbled and kept silence from good things
and my sorrow was renewed.’
9. In this condition, again, souls become submissive and obedient upon the spiritual road, for, when they see their own misery, not only do they hear what is taught them, but they even desire that anyone soever may set them on the way and tell them what they ought to do. The affective presumption which they sometimes had in their prosperity is taken from them; and finally, there are swept away from them on this road all the other imperfections which we noted above with respect to this first sin, which is spiritual pride.
Of other benefits which this night of sense causes in the soul.
WITH respect to the soul’s imperfections of spiritual avarice, because of which it coveted this and that spiritual thing and found no satisfaction in this and that exercise by reason of its covetousness for the desire and pleasure which it found therein, this arid and dark night has now greatly reformed it. For, as it finds not the pleasure and sweetness which it was wont to find, but rather finds affliction and lack of sweetness, it has such moderate recourse to them that it might possibly now lose, through defective use, what aforetime it lost through excess; although as a rule God gives to those whom He leads into this night humility and readiness, albeit with lack of sweetness, so that what is commanded them they may do for God’s sake alone; and thus they no longer seek profit in many things because they find no pleasure in them.
2. With respect to spiritual luxury, it is likewise clearly seen that, through this aridity and lack of sensible sweetness which the soul finds in spiritual things, it is freed from those impurities which we there noted; for we said that, as a rule, they proceeded from the pleasure which overflowed from spirit into sense.
3. But with regard to the imperfections from which the soul frees itself in this dark night with respect to the fourth sin, which is spiritual gluttony, they may be found above, though they have not all been described there, because they are innumerable; and thus I will not detail them here, for I would fain make an end of this night in order to pass to the next, concerning which we shall have to pronounce grave words and instructions. Let it suffice for the understanding of the innumerable benefits which, over and above those mentioned, the soul gains in this night with respect to this sin of spiritual gluttony, to say that it frees itself from all those imperfections which have there been described, and from many other and greater evils, and vile abominations which are not written above, into which fell many of whom we have had experience, because they had not reformed their desire as concerning this inordinate love of spiritual sweetness. For in this arid and dark night wherein He sets the soul, God has restrained its concupiscence and curbed its desire so that the soul cannot feed upon any pleasure or sweetness of sense, whether from above or from below; and this He continues to do after such manner that the soul is subjected, reformed and repressed with respect to concupiscence and desire. It loses the strength of its passions and concupiscence and it becomes sterile, because it no longer consults its likings. Just as, when none is accustomed to take milk from the breast, the courses of the milk are dried up, so the desires of the soul are dried up. And besides these things there follow admirable benefits from this spiritual sobriety, for, when desire and concupiscence are quenched, the soul lives in spiritual tranquillity and peace; for, where desire and concupiscence reign not, there is no disturbance, but peace and consolation of God.
4. From this there arises another and a second benefit, which is that the soul habitually has remembrance of God, with fear and dread of backsliding upon the spiritual road, as has been said. This is a great benefit, and not one of the least that results from this aridity and purgation of the desire, for the soul is purified and cleansed of the imperfections that were clinging to it because of the desires and affections, which of their own accord deaden and darken the soul.
5. There is another very great benefit for the soul in this night, which is that it practices several virtues together, as, for example, patience and longsuffering, which are often called upon in these times of emptiness and aridity, when the soul endures and perseveres in its spiritual exercises without consolation and without pleasure. It practises the charity of God, since it is not now moved by the pleasure of attraction and sweetness which it finds in its work, but only by God. It likewise practises here the virtue of fortitude, because, in these difficulties and insipidities which it finds in its work, it brings strength out of weakness and thus becomes strong. All the virtues, in short—the theological and also the cardinal and moral—both in body and in spirit, are practised by the soul in these times of aridity.
6. And that in this night the soul obtains these four benefits which we have
here described (namely, delight of peace, habitual remembrance and thought of God,
cleanness and purity of soul and the practice of the virtues which we have just
described), David tells us, having experienced it himself when he was in this night,
in these words: ‘My soul refused consolations, I had remembrance of God, I found
consolation and was exercised and my spirit failed.’
7. With respect to the imperfections of the other three spiritual sins which we have described above, which are wrath, envy and sloth, the soul is purged hereof likewise in this aridity of the desire and acquires the virtues opposed to them; for, softened and humbled by these aridities and hardships and other temptations and trials wherein God exercises it during this night, it becomes meek with respect to God, and to itself, and likewise with respect to its neighbour. So that it is no longer disturbed and angry with itself because of its own faults, nor with its neighbour because of his, neither is it displeased with God, nor does it utter unseemly complaints because He does not quickly make it holy.
8. Then, as to envy, the soul has charity toward others in this respect also; for, if it has any envy, this is no longer a vice as it was before, when it was grieved because others were preferred to it and given greater advantage. Its grief now comes from seeing how great is its own misery, and its envy (if it has any) is a virtuous envy, since it desires to imitate others, which is great virtue.
9. Neither are the sloth and the irksomeness which it now experiences concerning spiritual things vicious as they were before. For in the past these sins proceeded from the spiritual pleasures which the soul sometimes experienced and sought after when it found them not. But this new weariness proceeds not from this insuffficiency of pleasure, because God has taken from the soul pleasure in all things in this purgation of the desire.
10. Besides these benefits which have been mentioned, the soul attains innumerable others by means of this arid contemplation. For often, in the midst of these times of aridity and hardship, God communicates to the soul, when it is least expecting it, the purest spiritual sweetness and love, together with a spiritual knowledge which is sometimes very delicate, each manifestation of which is of greater benefit and worth than those which the soul enjoyed aforetime; although in its beginnings the soul thinks that this is not so, for the spiritual influence now granted to it is very delicate and cannot be perceived by sense.
11. Finally, inasmuch as the soul is now purged from the affections and desires of sense, it obtains liberty of spirit, whereby in ever greater degree it gains the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit. Here, too, it is wondrously delivered from the hands of its three enemies—devil, world and flesh; for, its pleasure and delight of sense being quenched with respect to all things, neither the devil nor the world nor sensuality has any arms or any strength wherewith to make war upon the spirit.
12. These times of aridity, then, cause the soul to journey in all purity in the love of God, since it is no longer influenced in its actions by the pleasure and sweetness of the actions themselves, as perchance it was when it experienced sweetness, but only by a desire to please God. It becomes neither presumptuous nor self-satisfied, as perchance it was wont to become in the time of its prosperity, but fearful and timid with regard to itself, finding in itself no satisfaction whatsoever; and herein consists that holy fear which preserves and increases the virtues. This aridity, too, quenches natural energy and concupiscence, as has also been said. Save for the pleasure, indeed, which at certain times God Himself infuses into it, it is a wonder if it finds pleasure and consolation of sense, through its own diligence, in any spiritual exercise or action, as has already been said.
13. There grows within souls that experience this arid night concern for God
and yearnings to serve Him, for in proportion as the breasts of sensuality, wherewith
it sustained and nourished the desires that it pursued, are drying up, there remains
nothing in that aridity and detachment save the yearning to serve God, which is
a thing very pleasing to God. For, as David says, an afflicted spirit is a sacrifice
to God.
14. When the soul, then, knows that, in this arid purgation through which it has passed, it has derived and attained so many and such precious benefits as those which have here been described, it tarries not in crying, as in the stanza of which we are expounding the lines, ‘Oh, happy chance!—I went forth without being observed.’ That is, ‘I went forth’ from the bonds and subjection of the desires of sense and the affections, ‘without being observed’—that is to say, without the three enemies aforementioned being able to keep me from it. These enemies, as we have said, bind the soul as with bonds, in its desires and pleasures, and prevent it from going forth from itself to the liberty of the love of God; and without these desires and pleasures they cannot give battle to the soul, as has been said.
15. When, therefore, the four passions of the soul—which are joy, grief, hope and fear—are calmed through continual mortification; when the natural desires have been lulled to sleep, in the sensual nature of the soul, by means of habitual times of aridity; and when the harmony of the senses and the interior faculties causes a suspension of labour and a cessation from the work of meditation, as we have said (which is the dwelling and the household of the lower part of the soul), these enemies cannot obstruct this spiritual liberty, and the house remains at rest and quiet, as says the following line:
My house being now at rest.
Expounds this last line of the first stanza.
WHEN this house of sensuality was now at rest—that is, was mortified—its passions being quenched and its desires put to rest and lulled to sleep by means of this blessed night of the purgation of sense, the soul went forth, to set out upon the road and way of the spirit, which is that of progressives and proficients, and which, by another name, is called the way of illumination or of infused contemplation, wherein God Himself feeds and refreshes the soul, without meditation, or the soul’s active help. Such, as we have said, is the night and purgation of sense in the soul. In those who have afterwards to enter the other and more formidable night of the spirit, in order to pass to the Divine union of love of God (for not all pass habitually thereto, but only the smallest number), it is wont to be accompanied by formidable trials and temptations of sense, which last for a long time, albeit longer in some than in others. For to some the angel of Satan presents himself—namely, the spirit of fornication—that he may buffet their senses with abominable and violent temptations, and trouble their spirits with vile considerations and representations which are most visible to the imagination, which things at times are a greater affliction to them than death.
2. At other times in this night there is added to these things the spirit of blasphemy, which roams abroad, setting in the path of all the conceptions and thoughts of the soul intolerable blasphemies. These it sometimes suggests to the imagination with such violence that the soul almost utters them, which is a grave torment to it.
3. At other times another abominable spirit, which Isaias calls Spiritus vertiginis,
4. As a rule these storms and trials are sent by God in this night and purgation
of sense to those whom afterwards He purposes to lead into the other night (though
not all reach it), to the end that, when they have been chastened and buffeted,
they may in this way continually exercise and prepare themselves, and continually
accustom their senses and faculties to the union of wisdom which is to be bestowed
upon them in that other night. For, if the soul be not tempted, exercised and proved
with trials and temptations, it cannot quicken its sense of Wisdom. For this reason
it is said in Ecclesiasticus: ‘He that has not been tempted, what does he know?
And he that has not been proved, what are the things that he recognizes?’
5. For how long a time the soul will be held in this fasting and penance of sense,
cannot be said with any certainty; for all do not experience it after one manner,
neither do all encounter the same temptations. For this is meted out by the will
of God, in conformity with the greater or the smaller degree of imperfection which
each soul has to purge away. In conformity, likewise, with the degree of love of
union to which God is pleased to raise it, He will humble it with greater or less
intensity or in greater or less time. Those who have the disposition and greater
strength to suffer, He purges with greater intensity and more quickly. But those
who are very weak are kept for a long time in this night, and these He purges very
gently and with slight temptations. Habitually, too, He gives them refreshments
of sense so that they may not fall away, and only after a long time do they attain
to purity of perfection in this life, some of them never attaining to it at all.
Such are neither properly in the night nor properly out of it; for, although they
make no progress, yet, in order that they may continue in humility and self-knowledge,
God exercises them for certain periods and at certain times
6. But the souls which are to pass on to that happy and high estate, the union of love, are wont as a rule to remain for a long time in these aridities and temptations, however quickly God may lead them, as has been seen by experience. It is time, then, to begin to treat of the second night.
Which begins to treat of the dark nights of the spirit and says at what time it begins.
THE soul which God is about to lead onward is not led by His Majesty into this
night of the spirit as soon as it goes forth from the aridities and trials of the
first purgation and night of sense; rather it is wont to pass a long time, even
years, after leaving the state of beginners, in exercising itself in that of proficients.
In this latter state it is like to one that has come forth from a rigorous imprisonment;
2. This sweetness, then, and this interior pleasure which we are describing,
and which these progressives find and experience in their spirits so easily and
so abundantly, is communicated to them in much greater abundance than aforetime,
overflowing into their senses more than was usual previously to this purgation of
sense; for, inasmuch as the sense is now purer, it can more easily feel the pleasures
of the spirit after its manner. As, however, this sensual part of the soul is weak
and incapable of experiencing the strong things of the spirit, it follows that these
proficients, by reason of this spiritual communication which is made to their sensual
part endure therein many frailties and sufferings and weaknesses of the stomach,
and in consequence are fatigued in spirit. For, as the Wise Man says: ‘The corruptible
body presseth down the soul.’
3. And in order that the necessity for such souls to enter this night of the spirit may be understood, we will here note certain imperfections and perils which belong to these proficients.
Describes other imperfections
[Lit., ‘Continues with other imperfections.’] which belong to these proficients.
THESE proficients have two kinds of imperfection: the one kind is habitual; the other actual. The habitual imperfections are the imperfect habits and affections which have remained all the time in the spirit, and are like roots, to which the purgation of sense has been unable to penetrate. The difference between the purgation of these and that of this other kind is the difference between the root and the branch, or between the removing of a stain which is fresh and one which is old and of long standing. For, as we said, the purgation of sense is only the entrance and beginning of contemplation leading to the purgation of the spirit, which, as we have likewise said, serves rather to accommodate sense to spirit than to unite spirit with God. But there still remain in the spirit the stains of the old man, although the spirit thinks not that this is so, neither can it perceive them; if these stains be not removed with the soap and strong lye of the purgation of this night, the spirit will be unable to come to the purity of Divine union.
2. These souls have likewise the hebetudo mentis
3. To actual imperfections all are not liable in the same way. Some, whose spiritual good is so superficial and so readily affected by sense, fall into greater difficulties and dangers, which we described at the beginning of this treatise. For, as they find so many and such abundant spiritual communications and apprehensions, both in sense and in spirit wherein they oftentimes see imaginary and spiritual visions (for all these things, together with other delectable feelings, come to many souls in this state, wherein the devil and their own fancy very commonly practise deceptions on them), and, as the devil is apt to take such pleasure in impressing upon the soul and suggesting to it the said apprehensions and feelings, he fascinates and deludes it with great ease unless it takes the precaution of resigning itself to God, and of protecting itself strongly, by means of faith, from all these visions and feelings. For in this state the devil causes many to believe in vain visions and false prophecies; and strives to make them presume that God and the saints are speaking with them; and they often trust their own fancy. And the devil is also accustomed, in this state, to fill them with presumption and pride, so that they become attracted by vanity and arrogance, and allow themselves to be seen engaging in outward acts which appear holy, such as raptures and other manifestations. Thus they become bold with God, and lose holy fear, which is the key and the custodian of all the virtues; and in some of these souls so many are the falsehoods and deceits which tend to multiply, and so inveterate do they grow, that it is very doubtful if such souls will return to the pure road of virtue and true spirituality. Into these miseries they fall because they are beginning to give themselves over to spiritual feelings and apprehensions with too great security, when they were beginning to make some progress upon the way.
4. There is much more that I might say of these imperfections and of how they are the more incurable because such souls consider them to be more spiritual than the others, but I will leave this subject. I shall only add, in order to prove how necessary, for him that would go farther, is the night of the spirit, which is purgation, that none of these proficients, however strenuously he may have laboured, is free, at best, from many of those natural affections and imperfect habits, purification from which, we said, is necessary if a soul is to pass to Divine union.
5. And over and above this (as we have said already), inasmuch as the lower part
of the soul still has a share in these spiritual communications, they cannot be
as intense, as pure and as strong as is needful for the aforesaid union; wherefore,
in order to come to this union, the soul must needs enter into the second night
of the spirit, wherein it must strip sense and spirit perfectly from all these apprehensions
and from all sweetness, and be made to walk in dark and pure faith, which is the
proper and adequate means whereby the soul is united with God, according as Osee
says, in these words: ‘I will betroth thee—that is, I will unite thee—with Me
through faith.’
Annotation for that which follows.
THESE souls, then, have now become proficients, because of the time which they have spent in feeding the senses with sweet communications, so that their sensual part, being thus attracted and delighted by spiritual pleasure, which came to it from the spirit, may be united with the spirit and made one with it; each part after its own manner eating of one and the same spiritual food and from one and the same dish, as one person and with one sole intent, so that thus they may in a certain way be united and brought into agreement, and, thus united, may be prepared for the endurance of the stern and severe purgation of the spirit which awaits them. In this purgation these two parts of the soul, the spiritual and the sensual, must be completely purged, since the one is never truly purged without the other, the purgation of sense becoming effective when that of the spirit has fairly begun. Wherefore the night which we have called that of sense may and should be called a kind of correction and restraint of the desire rather than purgation. The reason is that all the imperfections and disorders of the sensual part have their strength and root in the spirit, where all habits, both good and bad, are brought into subjection, and thus, until these are purged, the rebellions and depravities of sense cannot be purged thoroughly.
2. Wherefore, in this night following, both parts of the soul are purged together, and it is for this end that it is well to have passed through the corrections of the first night, and the period of tranquillity which proceeds from it, in order that, sense being united with spirit, both may be purged after a certain manner and may then suffer with greater fortitude. For very great fortitude is needful for so violent and severe a purgation, since, if the weakness of the lower part has not first been corrected and fortitude has not been gained from God through the sweet and delectable communion which the soul has afterwards enjoyed with Him, its nature will not have the strength or the disposition to bear it.
3. Therefore, since these proficients are still at a very low stage of progress,
and follow their own nature closely in the intercourse and dealings which they have
with God, because the gold of their spirit is not yet purified and refined, they
still think of God as little children, and speak of God as little children, and
feel and experience God as little children, even as Saint Paul says,
Sets down the first stanza and the exposition thereof.
On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings—oh, happy chance!—
I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.
INTERPRETING this stanza now with reference to purgation, contemplation or detachment or poverty of spirit, which here are almost one and the same thing, we can expound it after this manner and make the soul speak thus: In poverty, and without protection or support in all the apprehensions of my soul—that is, in the darkness of my understanding and the constraint of my will, in affliction and anguish with respect to memory, remaining in the dark in pure faith, which is dark night for the said natural faculties, the will alone being touched by grief and afflictions and yearnings for the love of God—I went forth from myself—that is, from my low manner of understanding, from my weak mode of loving and from my poor and limited manner of experiencing God, without being hindered therein by sensuality or the devil.
2. This was a great happiness and a good chance for me; for, when the faculties had been perfectly annihilated and calmed, together with the passions, desires and affections of my soul, wherewith I had experienced and tasted God after a lowly manner, I went forth from my own human dealings and operations to the operations and dealings of God. That is to say, my understanding went forth from itself, turning from the human and natural to the Divine; for, when it is united with God by means of this purgation, its understanding no longer comes through its natural light and vigour, but through the Divine Wisdom wherewith it has become united. And my will went forth from itself, becoming Divine; for, being united with Divine love, it no longer loves with its natural strength after a lowly manner, but with strength and purity from the Holy Spirit; and thus the will, which is now near to God, acts not after a human manner, and similarly the memory has become transformed into eternal apprehensions of glory. And finally, by means of this night and purgation of the old man, all the energies and affections of the soul are wholly renewed into a Divine temper and Divine delight.
There follows the line:
On a dark night.
Sets down the first line and begins to explain how this dark contemplation is not only night for the soul but is also grief and torment.
THIS dark night is an inflowing of God into the soul, which purges it from its ignorances and imperfections, habitual natural and spiritual, and which is called by contemplatives infused contemplation, or mystical theology. Herein God secretly teaches the soul and instructs it in perfection of love without its doing anything, or understanding of what manner is this infused contemplation. Inasmuch as it is the loving wisdom of God, God produces striking effects in the soul for, by purging and illumining it, He prepares it for the union of love with God. Wherefore the same loving wisdom that purges the blessed spirits and enlightens them is that which here purges the soul and illumines it.
2. But the question arises: Why is the Divine light (which as we say, illumines and purges the soul from its ignorances) here called by the soul a dark night? To this the answer is that for two reasons this Divine wisdom is not only night and darkness for the soul, but is likewise affliction and torment. The first is because of the height of Divine Wisdom, which transcends the talent of the soul, and in this way is darkness to it; the second, because of its vileness and impurity, in which respect it is painful and afflictive to it, and is also dark.
3. In order to prove the first point, we must here assume a certain doctrine
of the philosopher, which says that, the clearer and more manifest are Divine things
in themselves the darker and more hidden are they to the soul naturally; just as,
the clearer is the light, the more it blinds and darkens the pupil of the owl, and,
the more directly we look at the sun, the greater is the darkness which it causes
in our visual faculty, overcoming and overwhelming it through its own weakness.
In the same way, when this Divine light of contemplation assails the soul which
is not yet wholly enlightened, it causes spiritual darkness in it; for not only
does it overcome it, but likewise it overwhelms it and darkens the act of its natural
intelligence. For this reason Saint Dionysius and other mystical theologians call
this infused contemplation a ray of darkness—that is to say, for the soul that
is not enlightened and purged—for the natural strength of the intellect is transcended
and overwhelmed by its great supernatural light. Wherefore David likewise said:
That near to God and round about Him are darkness and cloud;
4. And it is clear that this dark contemplation is in these its beginnings painful likewise to the soul; for, as this Divine infused contemplation has many excellences that are extremely good, and the soul that receives them, not being purged, has many miseries that are likewise extremely bad, hence it follows that, as two contraries cannot coexist in one subject—the soul—it must of necessity have pain and suffering, since it is the subject wherein these two contraries war against each other, working the one against the other, by reason of the purgation of the imperfections of the soul which comes to pass through this contemplation. This we shall prove inductively in the manner following.
5. In the first place, because the light and wisdom of this contemplation is
most bright and pure, and the soul which it assails is dark and impure, it follows
that the soul suffers great pain when it receives it in itself, just as, when the
eyes are dimmed by humours, and become impure and weak, the assault made upon them
by a bright light causes them pain. And when the soul suffers the direct assault
of this Divine light, its pain, which results from its impurity, is immense; because,
when this pure light assails the soul, in order to expel its impurity, the soul
feels itself to be so impure and miserable that it believes God to be against it,
and thinks that it has set itself up against God. This causes it sore grief and
pain, because it now believes that God has cast it away: this was one of the greatest
trials which Job felt when God sent him this experience, and he said: ‘Why hast
Thou set me contrary to Thee, so that I am grievous and burdensome to myself?’
6. The second way in which the soul suffers pain is by reason of its weakness,
natural, moral and spiritual; for, when this Divine contemplation assails the soul
with a certain force, in order to strengthen it and subdue it, it suffers such pain
in its weakness that it nearly swoons away. This is especially so at certain times
when it is assailed with somewhat greater force; for sense and spirit, as if beneath
some immense and dark load, are in such great pain and agony that the soul would
find advantage and relief in death. This had been experienced by the prophet Job,
when he said: ‘I desire not that He should have intercourse with me in great strength,
lest He oppress me with the weight of His greatness.’
7. Beneath the power of this oppression and weight the soul feels itself so far
from being favoured that it thinks, and correctly so, that even that wherein it
was wont to find some help has vanished with everything else, and that there is
none who has pity upon it. To this effect Job says likewise: ‘Have pity upon me,
have pity upon me, at least ye my friends, because the hand of the Lord has touched
me.’
Of other kinds of pain that the soul suffers in this night.
THE third kind of suffering and pain that the soul endures in this state results
from the fact that two other extremes meet here in one, namely, the Divine and the
human. The Divine is this purgative contemplation, and the human is the subject—that
is, the soul. The Divine assails the soul in order to renew it and thus to make
it Divine; and, stripping it of the habitual affections and attachments of the old
man, to which it is very closely united, knit together and conformed, destroys and
consumes its spiritual substance, and absorbs it in deep and profound darkness.
As a result of this, the soul feels itself to be perishing and melting away, in
the presence and sight of its miseries, in a cruel spiritual death, even as if it
had been swallowed by a beast and felt itself being devoured in the darkness of
its belly, suffering such anguish as was endured by Jonas in the belly of that beast
of the sea.
2. A description of this suffering and pain, although in truth it transcends
all description, is given by David, when he says: ‘The lamentations of death compassed
me about; the pains of hell surrounded me; I cried in my tribulation.’
3. It feels, too, that all creatures have forsaken it, and that it is contemned
by them, particularly by its friends. Wherefore David presently continues, saying:
’ Thou hast put far from me my friends and acquaintances; they have counted me an
abomination.’
4. The fourth kind of pain is caused in the soul by another excellence of this dark contemplation, which is its majesty and greatness, from which arises in the soul a consciousness of the other extreme which is in itself—namely, that of the deepest poverty and wretchedness: this is one of the chiefest pains that it suffers in this purgation. For it feels within itself a profound emptiness and impoverishment of three kinds of good, which are ordained for the pleasure of the soul which are the temporal, the natural and the spiritual; and finds itself set in the midst of the evils contrary to these, namely, miseries of imperfection, aridity and emptiness of the apprehensions of the faculties and abandonment of the spirit in darkness. Inasmuch as God here purges the soul according to the substance of its sense and spirit, and according to the interior and exterior faculties, the soul must needs be in all its parts reduced to a state of emptiness, poverty and abandonment and must be left dry and empty and in darkness. For the sensual part is purified in aridity, the faculties are purified in the emptiness of their perceptions and the spirit is purified in thick darkness.
5. All this God brings to pass by means of this dark contemplation; wherein the
soul not only suffers this emptiness and the suspension of these natural supports
and perceptions, which is a most afflictive suffering (as if a man were suspended
or held in the air so that he could not breathe), but likewise He is purging the
soul, annihilating it, emptying it or consuming in it (even as fire consumes the
mouldiness and the rust of metal) all the affections and imperfect habits which
it has contracted in its whole life. Since these are deeply rooted in the substance
of the soul, it is wont to suffer great undoings and inward torment, besides the
said poverty and emptiness, natural and spiritual, so that there may here be fulfilled
that passage from Ezechiel which says: ‘Heap together the bones and I will burn
them in the fire; the flesh shall be consumed and the whole composition shall be
burned and the bones shall be destroyed.’
6. Wherefore, because the soul is purified in this furnace like gold in a crucible,
as says the Wise Man,
Continues the same matter and considers other afflictions end constraints of the will.
THE afflictions and constraints of the will are now very great likewise, and
of such a kind that they sometimes transpierce the soul with a sudden remembrance
of the evils in the midst of which it finds itself, and with the uncertainty of
finding a remedy for them. And to this is added the remembrance of times of prosperity
now past; for as a rule souls that enter this night have had many consolations from
God, and have rendered Him many services, and it causes them the greater grief to
see that they are far removed from that happiness and unable to enter into it. This
was also described by Job, who had had experience of it, in these words: ‘I, who
was wont to be wealthy and rich, am suddenly undone and broken to pieces; He hath
taken me by my neck; He hath broken me and set me up for His mark to wound me; He
hath compassed me round about with His lances; He hath wounded all my loins; He
hath not spared; He hath poured out my bowels on the earth; He hath broken me with
wound upon wound; He hath assailed me as a strong giant; I have sewed sackcloth
upon my skin and have covered my flesh with ashes; my face is become swollen with
weeping and mine eyes are blinded.’
2. So many and so grievous are the afflictions of this night, and so many passages
of Scripture are there which could be cited to this purpose, that time and strength
would fail us to write of them, for all that can be said thereof is certainly less
than the truth. From the passages already quoted some idea may be gained of them.
And, that we may bring the exposition of this line to a close and explain more fully
what is worked in the soul by this night, I shall tell what Jeremias felt about
it, which, since there is so much of it, he describes and bewails in many words
after this manner: ‘I am the man that see my poverty in the rod of His indignation;
He hath threatened me and brought me into darkness and not into light. So far hath
He turned against me and hath converted His hand upon me all the day! My skin and
my flesh hath He made old; He hath broken my bones; He hath made a fence around
me and compassed me with gall and trial; He hath set me in dark places, as those
that are dead for ever. He hath made a fence around me and against me, that I may
not go out; He hath made my captivity heavy. Yea, and when I have cried and have
entreated, He hath shut out my prayer. He hath enclosed my paths and ways out with
square stones; He hath thwarted my steps. He hath set ambushes for me; He hath become
to me a lion in a secret place. He hath turned aside my steps and broken me in pieces,
He hath made me desolate; He hath bent His bow and set me as a mark for His arrow.
He hath shot into my reins the daughters of His quiver. I have become a derision
to all the people, and laughter and scorn for them all the day. He hath filled me
with bitterness and hath made me drunken with wormwood. He hath broken my teeth
by number; He hath fed me with ashes. My soul is cast out from peace; I have forgotten
good things. And I said: “Mine end is frustrated and cut short, together with my
desire and my hope from the Lord. Remember my poverty and my excess, the wormwood
and the gall. I shall be mindful with remembrance and my soul shall be undone within
me in pains.”’
3. All these complaints Jeremias makes about these pains and trials, and by means
of them he most vividly depicts the sufferings of the soul in this spiritual night
and purgation. Wherefore the soul that God sets in this tempestuous and horrible
night is deserving of great compassion. For, although it experiences much happiness
by reason of the great blessings that must arise on this account within it, when,
as Job says, God raises up profound blessings in the soul out of darkness, and brings
up to light the shadow of death,
4. But, if it is to be really effectual, it will last for some years, however
severe it be; since the purgative process allows intervals of relief wherein, by
the dispensation of God, this dark contemplation ceases to assail the soul in the
form and manner of purgation, and assails it after an illuminative and a loving
manner, wherein the soul, like one that has gone forth from this dungeon and imprisonment,
and is brought into the recreation of spaciousness and liberty, feels and experiences
great sweetness of peace and loving friendship with God, together with a ready abundance
of spiritual communication. This is to the soul a sign of the health which is being
wrought within it by the said purgation and a foretaste of the abundance for which
it hopes. Occasionally this is so great that the soul believes its trials to be
at last over. For spiritual things in the soul, when they are most purely spiritual,
have this characteristic that, if trials come to it, the soul believes that it will
never escape from them, and that all its blessings are now over, as has been seen
in the passages quoted; and, if spiritual blessings come, the soul believes in the
same way that its troubles are now over, and that blessings will never fail it.
This was so with David, when he found himself in the midst of them, as he confesses
in these words: ‘I said in my abundance: “I shall never be moved.”’
5. This happens because the actual possession by the spirit of one of two contrary things itself makes impossible the actual possession and realization of the other contrary thing; this is not so, however, in the sensual part of the soul, because its apprehension is weak. But, as the spirit is not yet completely purged and cleansed from the affections that it has contracted from its lower part, while changing not in so far as it is spirit, it can be moved to further afflictions in so far as these affections sway it. In this way, as we see, David was afterwards moved, and experienced many ills and afflictions, although in the time of his abundance he had thought and said that he would never be moved. Just so is it with the soul in this condition, when it sees itself moved by that abundance of spiritual blessings, and, being unable to see the root of the imperfection and impurity which still remain within it, thinks that its trials are over.
6. This thought, however, comes to the soul but seldom, for, until spiritual
purification is complete and perfected, the sweet communication is very rarely so
abundant as to conceal from the soul the root which remains hidden, in such a way
that the soul can cease to feel that there is something that it lacks within itself
or that it has still to do. Thus it cannot completely enjoy that relief, but feels
as if one of its enemies were within it, and although this enemy is, as it were,
hushed and asleep, it fears that he will come to life again and attack it.
7. This is the reason why those who lie in purgatory suffer great misgivings
as to whether they will ever go forth from it and whether their pains will ever
be over. For, although they have the habit of the three theological virtues—faith,
hope and charity—the present realization which they have of their afflictions and
of their deprivation of God allows them not to enjoy the present blessing and consolation
of these virtues. For, although they are able to realize that they have a great
love for God, this is no consolation to them, since they cannot think that God loves
them or that they are worthy that He should do so; rather, as they see that they
are deprived of Him, and left in their own miseries, they think that there is that
in themselves which provides a very good reason why they should with perfect justice
be abhorred and cast out by God for ever. B. Bz., C, H. Mtr. all have this long passage on the
suffering of the soul in Purgatory. It would be rash, therefore, to deny that St.
John of the Cross is its author, [or to suppose, as P. Gerardo did, that he deleted
it during a revision of his works]. An admirably constructed synthesis of these
questions will be found in B. Belarmino, De Purgatorio, Bk. II, chaps. iv,
v. He asks if souls in Purgatory are sure of their salvation. This was denied by
Luther, and by a number of Catholic writers, who held that, among the afflictions
of these souls, the greatest is this very uncertainty, some maintain that, though
they have in fact such certainty, they are unaware of it. Belarmino quotes among
other authorities Denis the Carthusian De quattuor novissimis, Gerson (Lect.
I De Vita Spirituali) and John of Rochester (against Luther’s 32nd article);
these writers claim that, as sin which is venial is only so through the Divine mercy,
it may with perfect justice be rewarded by eternal punishment, and thus souls that
have committed venial sin cannot be confident of their salvation. He also shows,
however, that the common opinion of theologians is that the souls in Purgatory are
sure of their salvation, and considers various degrees of certainty, adding very
truly that, while these souls experience no fear, they experience hope, since they
have not yet the Beatific vision. Uncertainty as to their salvation, it is said, might arise from ignorance of
the sentence passed upon them by the Judge or from the deadening of their faculties
by the torments which they are suffering. Belarmino refutes these and other suppositions
with great force and effect. St. John of the Cross seems to be referring to the
last named when he writes of the realization of their afflictions and their deprivation
of God not allowing them to enjoy the blessings of the theological virtues. It is
not surprising if the Saint, not having examined very closely this question, of
which he would have read treatments in various authors, thought of it principally
as an apt illustration of the purifying and refining effects of passive purgation;
and an apt illustration it certainly is.
Of other pains which afflict the soul in this state.
BUT there is another thing here that afflicts and distresses the soul greatly,
which is that, as this dark night has hindered its faculties and affections in this
way, it is unable to raise its affection or its mind to God, neither can it pray
to Him, thinking, as Jeremias thought concerning himself, that God has set a cloud
before it through which its prayer cannot pass.
2. Inasmuch as not only is the understanding here purged of its light, and the
will of its affections, but the memory is also purged of meditation and knowledge,
it is well that it be likewise annihilated with respect to all these things, so
that that which David says of himself in this purgation may by fulfilled, namely:
’ I was annihilated and I knew not.’
3. And, to the end that this may be understood the more clearly, we shall here set down a similitude referring to common and natural light. We observe that a ray of sunlight which enters through the window is the less clearly visible according as it is the purer and freer from specks, and the more of such specks and motes there are in the air, the brighter is the light to the eye. The reason is that it is not the light itself that is seen; the light is but the means whereby the other things that it strikes are seen, and then it is also seen itself, through its reflection in them; were it not for this, neither it nor they would have been seen. Thus if the ray of sunlight entered through the window of one room and passed out through another on the other side, traversing the room, and if it met nothing on the way, or if there were no specks in the air for it to strike, the room would have no more light than before, neither would the ray of light be visible. In fact, if we consider it carefully, there is more darkness where the ray is, since it absorbs and obscures any other light, and yet it is itself invisible, because, as we have said, there are no visible objects which it can strike.
4. Now this is precisely what this Divine ray of contemplation does in the soul. Assailing it with its Divine light, it transcends the natural power of the soul, and herein it darkens it and deprives it of all natural affections and apprehensions which it apprehended aforetime by means of natural light; and thus it leaves it not only dark, but likewise empty, according to its faculties and desires, both spiritual and natural. And, by thus leaving it empty and in darkness, it purges and illumines it with Divine spiritual light, although the soul thinks not that it has this light, but believes itself to be in darkness, even as we have said of the ray of light, which although it be in the midst of the room, yet, if it be pure and meet nothing on its path, is not visible. With regard, however, to this spiritual light by which the soul is assailed, when it has something to strike—that is, when something spiritual presents itself to be understood, however small a speck it be and whether of perfection or imperfection, or whether it be a judgment of the falsehood or the truth of a thing—it then sees and understands much more clearly than before it was in these dark places. And exactly in the same way it discerns the spiritual light which it has in order that it may readily discern the imperfection which is presented to it; even as, when the ray of which we have spoken, within the room, is dark and not itself visible, if one introduce a hand or any other thing into its path, the hand is then seen and it is realized that that sunlight is present.
5. Wherefore, since this spiritual light is so simple, pure and general, not
appropriated or restricted to any particular thing that can be understood, whether
natural or Divine (since with respect to all these apprehensions the faculties of
the soul are empty and annihilated), it follows that with great comprehensiveness
and readiness the soul discerns and penetrates whatsoever thing presents itself
to it, whether it come from above or from below; for which cause the Apostle said:
That the spiritual man searches all things, even the deep things of God.
How, although this night brings darkness to the spirit, it does so in order to illumine it and give it light.
IT now remains to be said that, although this happy night brings darkness to
the spirit, it does so only to give it light in everything; and that, although it
humbles it and makes it miserable, it does so only to exalt it and to raise it up;
and, although it impoverishes it and empties it of all natural affection and attachment,
it does so only that it may enable it to stretch forward, divinely, and thus to
have fruition and experience of all things, both above and below, yet to preserve
its unrestricted liberty of spirit in them all. For just as the elements, in order
that they may have a part in all natural entities and compounds, must have no particular
colour, odour or taste, so as to be able to combine with all tastes odours and colours,
just so must the spirit be simple, pure and detached from all kinds of natural affection,
whether actual or habitual, to the end that it may be able freely to share in the
breadth of spirit of the Divine Wisdom, wherein, through its purity, it has experience
of all the sweetness of all things in a certain pre-eminently excellent way.
2. For, even as the children of Israel, solely because they retained one single
affection and remembrance—namely, with respect to the fleshpots and the meals which
they had tasted in Egypt
3. And thus it is fitting that, if the understanding is to be united with that
light and become Divine in the state of perfection, it should first of all be purged
and annihilated as to its natural light, and, by means of this dark contemplation,
be brought actually into darkness. This darkness should continue for as long as
is needful in order to expel and annihilate the habit which the soul has long since
formed in its manner of understanding, and the Divine light and illumination will
then take its place. And thus, inasmuch as that power of understanding which it
had aforetime is natural, it follows that the darkness which it here suffers is
profound and horrible and most painful, for this darkness, being felt in the deepest
substance of the spirit, seems to be substantial darkness. Similarly, since the
affection of love which is to be given to it in the Divine union of love is Divine,
and therefore very spiritual, subtle and delicate, and very intimate, transcending
every affection and feeling of the will, and every desire thereof, it is fitting
that, in order that the will may be able to attain to this Divine affection and
most lofty delight, and to feel it and experience it through the union of love,
since it is not, in the way of nature, perceptible to the will, it be first of all
purged and annihilated in all its affections and feelings, and left in a condition
of aridity and constraint, proportionate to the habit of natural affections which
it had before, with respect both to Divine things and to human. Thus, being exhausted,
withered and thoroughly tried in the fire of this dark contemplation, and having
driven away every kind
4. Moreover, in order to attain the said union to which this dark night is disposing
and leading it, the soul must be filled and endowed with a certain glorious magnificence
in its communion with God, which includes within itself innumerable blessings springing
from delights which exceed all the abundance that the soul can naturally possess.
For by nature the soul is so weak and impure that it cannot receive all this. As
Isaias says: ‘Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the
heart of man, that which God hath prepared, etc.’
5. And because the soul is to attain to the possession of a sense, and of a Divine
knowledge, which is very generous and full of sweetness, with respect to things
Divine and human, which fall not within the common experience and natural knowledge
of the soul (because it looks on them with eyes as different from those of the past
as spirit is different from sense and the Divine from the human), the spirit must
be straitened
6. The soul suffers all these afflictive purgations of the spirit to the end
that it may be begotten anew in spiritual life by means of this Divine inflowing,
and in these pangs may bring forth the spirit of salvation, that the saying of Isaias
may be fulfilled: ‘In Thy sight, O Lord, we have conceived, and we have been as
in the pangs of labour, and we have brought forth the spirit of salvation.’
7. This is a painful disturbance, involving many misgivings, imaginings, and
strivings which the soul has within itself, wherein, with the apprehension and realization
of the miseries in which it sees itself, it fancies that it is lost and that its
blessings have gone for ever. Wherefore the spirit experiences pain and sighing
so deep that they cause it vehement spiritual groans and cries, to which at times
it gives vocal expression; when it has the necessary strength and power it dissolves
into tears, although this relief comes but seldom. David describes this very aptly,
in a Psalm, as one who has had experience of it, where he says: ‘I was exceedingly
afflicted and humbled; I roared with the groaning of my heart.’
8. Such is the work wrought in the soul by this night that hides the hopes of
the light of day. With regard to this the prophet Job says likewise: ‘In the night
my mouth is pierced with sorrows and they that feed upon me sleep not.’
9. Deep is this warfare and this striving, for the peace which the soul hopes
for will be very deep; and the spiritual pain is intimate and delicate, for the
love which it will possess will likewise be very intimate and refined. The more
intimate and the more perfect the finished work is to be and to remain, the more
intimate, perfect and pure must be the labour; the firmer the edifice, the harder
the labour. Wherefore, as Job says, the soul is fading within itself, and its vitals
are being consumed without any hope.
10. But let us now see the reason why this light of contemplation, which is so sweet and blessed to the soul that there is naught more desirable (for, as has been said above, it is the same wherewith the soul must be united and wherein it must find all the good things in the state of perfection that it desires), produces, when it assails the soul, these beginnings which are so painful and these effects which are so disagreeable, as we have here said.
1l. This question is easy for us to answer, by explaining, as we have already done in part, that the cause of this is that, in contemplation and the Divine inflowing, there is naught that of itself can cause affliction, but that they rather cause great sweetness and delight, as we shall say hereafter. The cause is rather the weakness and imperfection from which the soul then suffers, and the dispositions which it has in itself and which make it unfit for the reception of them. Wherefore, when the said Divine light assails the soul, it must needs cause it to suffer after the manner aforesaid.
Explains this purgation fully by a comparison.
FOR the greater clearness of what has been said, and of what has still to be said, it is well to observe at this point that this purgative and loving knowledge or Divine light whereof we here speak acts upon the soul which it is purging and preparing for perfect union with it in the same way as fire acts upon a log of wood in order to transform it into itself; for material fire, acting upon wood, first of all begins to dry it, by driving out its moisture and causing it to shed the water which it contains within itself. Then it begins to make it black, dark and unsightly, and even to give forth a bad odour, and, as it dries it little by little, it brings out and drives away all the dark and unsightly accidents which are contrary to the nature of fire. And, finally, it begins to kindle it externally and give it heat, and at last transforms it into itself and makes it as beautiful as fire. In this respect, the wood has neither passivity nor activity of its own, save for its weight, which is greater, and its substance, which is denser, than that of fire, for it has in itself the properties and activities of fire. Thus it is dry and it dries; it is hot and heats; it is bright and gives brightness; and it is much less heavy than before. All these properties and effects are caused in it by the fire.
2. In this same way we have to philosophize with respect to this Divine fire of contemplative love, which, before it unites and transforms the soul in itself, first purges it of all its contrary accidents. It drives out its unsightliness, and makes it black and dark, so that it seems worse than before and more unsightly and abominable than it was wont to be. For this Divine purgation is removing all the evil and vicious humours which the soul has never perceived because they have been so deeply rooted and grounded in it; it has never realized, in fact, that it has had so much evil within itself. But now that they are to be driven forth and annihilated, these humours reveal themselves, and become visible to the soul because it is so brightly illumined by this dark light of Divine contemplation (although it is no worse than before, either in itself or in relation to God); and, as it sees in itself that which it saw not before, it is clear to it that not only is it unfit to be seen by God, but deserves His abhorrence, and that He does indeed abhor it. By this comparison we can now understand many things concerning what we are saying and purpose to say.
3. First, we can understand how the very light and the loving wisdom which are to be united with the soul and to transform it are the same that at the beginning purge and prepare it: even as the very fire which transforms the log of wood into itself, and makes it part of itself, is that which at the first was preparing it for that same purpose.
4. Secondly, we shall be able to see how these afflictions are not felt by the
soul as coming from the said Wisdom, since, as the Wise Man says, all good things
together come to the soul with her.
5. Thirdly, we can learn here incidentally in what manner souls are afflicted in purgatory. For the fire would have no power over them, even though they came into contact with it, if they had no imperfections for which to suffers. These are the material upon which the fire of purgatory seizes; when that material is consumed there is naught else that can burn. So here, when the imperfections are consumed, the affliction of the soul ceases and its fruition remains.
6. The fourth thing that we shall learn here is the manner wherein the soul, as it becomes purged and purified by means of this fire of love, becomes ever more enkindled in love, just as the wood grows hotter in proportion as it becomes the better prepared by the fire. This enkindling of love, however, is not always felt by the soul, but only at times when contemplation assails it less vehemently, for then it has occasion to see, and even to enjoy, the work which is being wrought in it, and which is then revealed to it. For it seems that the worker takes his hand from the work, and draws the iron out of the furnace, in order that something of the work which is being done may be seen; and then there is occasion for the soul to observe in itself the good which it saw not while the work was going on. In the same way, when the flame ceases to attack the wood, it is possible to see how much of it has been enkindled.
7. Fifthly, we shall also learn from this comparison what has been said above—namely,
how true it is that after each of these periods of relief the soul suffers once
again, more intensely and keenly than before. For, after that revelation just referred
to has been made, and after the more outward imperfections of the soul have been
purified, the fire of love once again attacks that which has yet to be consumed
and purified more inwardly. The suffering of the soul now becomes more intimate,
subtle and spiritual, in proportion as the fire refines away the finer,
8. Sixthly, we shall likewise learn here the reason why it seems to the soul that all its good is over, and that it is full of evil, since naught comes to it at this time but bitterness; it is like the burning wood, which is touched by no air nor by aught else than by consuming fire. But, when there occur other periods of relief like the first, the rejoicing of the soul will be more interior because the purification has been more interior also.
9. Seventhly, we shall learn that, although the soul has the most ample joy at
these periods (so much so that, as we said, it sometimes thinks that its trials
can never return again, although it is certain that they will return quickly), it
cannot fail to realize, if it is aware (and at times it is made aware) of a root
of imperfection which remains, that its joy is incomplete, because a new assault
seems to be threatening it;
10. Keeping this comparison, then, before our eyes, together with what has already been said upon the first line of the first stanza concerning this dark night and its terrible properties, it will be well to leave these sad experiences of the soul and to begin to speak of the fruit of its tears and their blessed properties, whereof the soul begins to sing from this second line:
Kindled in love
[Lit., ‘in loves’; and so throughout the exposition of this line.] with yearnings,
Begins to explain the second line of the first stanza.
Describes how, as the fruit of these rigorous constraints, the soul finds itself with the vehement passion of Divine love.
IN this line the soul describes the fire of love which, as we have said, like the material fire acting upon the wood, begins to take hold upon the soul in this night of painful contemplation. This enkindling now described, although in a certain way it resembles that which we described above as coming to pass in the sensual part of the soul, is in some ways as different from that other as is the soul from the body, or the spiritual part from the sensual. For this present kind is an enkindling of spiritual love in the soul, which, in the midst of these dark confines, feels itself to be keenly and sharply wounded in strong Divine love, and to have a certain realization and foretaste of God, although it understands nothing definitely, for, as we say, the understanding is in darkness.
2. The spirit feels itself here to be deeply and passionately in love, for this
spiritual enkindling produces the passion of love. And, inasmuch as this love is
infused, it is passive rather than active, and thus it begets in the soul a strong
passion of love. This love has in it something of union with God, and thus to some
degree partakes of its properties, which are actions of God rather than of the soul,
these being subdued within it passively. What the soul does here is to give its
consent; the warmth and strength and temper and passion of love—or enkindling,
as the soul here calls it—belong
3. This takes place to a great extent, as has already been said, in this dark
purgation, for God has so weaned all the inclinations and caused them to be so recollected
4. In this way it can be realized in some measure how great and how strong may
be this enkindling of love in the spirit, wherein God keeps in recollection all
the energies, faculties and desires of the soul, both of spirit and of sense, so
that all this harmony may employ its energies and virtues in this love, and may
thus attain to a true fulfilment of the first commandment, which sets aside nothing
pertaining to man nor excludes from this love anything that is his, but says: ‘Thou
shalt love thy God with all thy heart and with all thy mind, with all thy soul and
with all thy strength.’
5. When all the desires and energies of the soul, then, have been recollected
in this enkindling of love, and when the soul itself has been touched and wounded
in them all, and has been inspired with passion, what shall we understand the movements
and digressions of all these energies and desires to be, if they find themselves
enkindled and wounded with strong love and without the possession and satisfaction
thereof, in darkness and doubt? They will doubtless be suffering hunger, like the
dogs of which David speaks as running about the city
6. It is for this reason that the soul says in this line that it was ‘kindled
in love with yearnings.’
7. This is one kind of suffering which proceeds from this dark night; but, he goes on to say, with my spirit, in my bowels, until the morning, I will watch for Thee. And this is the second way of grieving in desire and yearning which comes from love in the bowels of the spirit, which are the spiritual affections. But in the midst of these dark and loving afflictions the soul feels within itself a certain companionship and strength, which bears it company and so greatly strengthens it that, if this burden of grievous darkness be taken away, it often feels itself to be alone, empty and weak. The cause of this is that, as the strength and efficacy of the soul were derived and communicated passively from the dark fire of love which assailed it, it follows that, when that fire ceases to assail it, the darkness and power and heat of love cease in the soul.
Shows how this horrible night is purgatory, and how in it the Divine wisdom illumines men on earth with the same illumination that purges and illumines the angels in Heaven.
FROM what has been said we shall be able to see how this dark night of loving
fire, as it purges in the darkness, so also in the darkness enkindles the soul.
We shall likewise be able to see that, even as spirits are purged in the next life
with dark material fire, so in this life they are purged and cleansed with the dark
spiritual fire of love. The difference is that in the next life they are cleansed
with fire, while here below they are cleansed and illumined with love only. It was
this love that David entreated, when he said: Cor mundum crea in me, Deus,
etc.
2. And Jeremias well shows how the soul is purged when it is illumined with this
fire of loving wisdom (for God never grants mystical wisdom without love, since
love itself infuses it), where he says: ‘He hath sent fire into my bones, and hath
taught me.’
3. From this we shall also infer that the very wisdom of God which purges these
souls and illumines them purges the angels from their ignorances, giving them knowledge,
enlightening them as to that which they knew not, and flowing down from God through
the first hierarchies even to the last, and thence to men.
4. Hence it follows that, the nearer to God are the higher spirits and the lower,
the more completely are they purged and enlightened with more general purification;
and that the lowest of them will receive this illumination very much less powerfully
and more remotely. Hence it follows that man, who is the lowest of all those to
whom this loving contemplation flows down continually from God, will, when God desires
to give it him, receive it perforce after his own manner in a very limited way and
with great pain. For, when the light of God illumines an angel, it enlightens him
and enkindles
5. This enkindling and yearning of love are not always perceived by the soul.
For in the beginning, when this spiritual purgation commences, all this Divine fire
is used in drying up and making ready the wood (which is the soul) rather than in
giving it heat. But, as time goes on, the fire begins to give heat to the soul,
and the soul then very commonly feels this enkindling and heat of love. Further,
as the understanding is being more and more purged by means of this darkness, it
sometimes comes to pass that this mystical and loving theology, as well as enkindling
the will, strikes and illumines the other faculty also—that of the understanding—with
a certain Divine light and knowledge, so delectably and delicately that it aids
the will to conceive a marvellous fervour, and, without any action of its own, there
burns in it this Divine fire of love, in living flames, so that it now appears to
the soul a living fire by reason of the living understanding which is given to it.
It is of this that David speaks in a Psalm, saying: ‘My heart grew hot within me,
and, as I meditated, a certain fire was enkindled.’
6. This enkindling of love, which accompanies the union of these two faculties,
the understanding and the will, which are here united, is for the soul a thing of
great richness and delight; for it is a certain touch of the Divinity and is already
the beginning
7. From what we have said it may here be inferred how in these spiritual blessings,
which are passively infused by God into the soul, the will may very well love even
though the understanding understand not; and similarly the understanding may understand
and the will love not. For, since this dark night of contemplation consists of Divine
light and love, just as fire contains light and heat, it is not unbefitting that,
when this loving light is communicated, it should strike the will at times more
effectively by enkindling it with love and leaving the understanding in darkness
instead of striking it with light; and, at other times, by enlightening it with
light, and giving it understanding, but leaving the will in aridity (as it is also
true that the heat of the fire can be received without the light being seen, and
also the light of it can be seen without the reception of heat); and this is wrought
by the Lord, Who infuses as He wills.
Of other delectable effects which are wrought in the soul by this dark night of contemplation.
THIS type of enkindling will explain to us certain of the delectable effects
which this dark night of contemplation works in the soul. For at certain times,
as we have just said, the soul becomes enlightened in the midst of all this darkness,
and the light shines in the darkness;
2. Sometimes, too, as has been said, it wounds the will at the same time, and enkindles love sublimely, tenderly and strongly; for we have already said that at certain times these two faculties, the understanding and the will, are united, when, the more they see, the more perfect and delicate is the purgation of the understanding. But, before this state is reached, it is more usual for the touch of the enkindling of love to be felt in the will than for the touch of intelligence to be felt in the understanding.
3. But one question arises here, which is this: Why, since these two faculties are being purged together, are the enkindling and the love of purgative contemplation at first more commonly felt in the will than the intelligence thereof is felt in the understanding? To this it may be answered that this passive love does not now directly strike the will, for the will is free, and this enkindling of love is a passion of love rather than the free act of the will; for this heat of love strikes the substance of the soul and thus moves the affections passively. And so this is called passion of love rather than a free act of the will, an act of the will being so called only in so far as it is free. But these passions and affections subdue the will, and therefore it is said that, if the soul conceives passion with a certain affection, the will conceives passion; and this is indeed so, for in this manner the will is taken captive and loses its liberty, according as the impetus and power of its passion carry it away. And therefore we can say that this enkindling of love is in the will—that is, it enkindles the desire of the will; and thus, as we say, this is called passion of love rather than the free work of the will. And, because the receptive passion of the understanding can receive intelligence only in a detached and passive way (and this is impossible without its having been purged), therefore until this happens the soul feels the touch of intelligence less frequently than that of the passion of love. For it is not necessary to this end that the will should be so completely purged with respect to the passions, since these very passions help it to feel impassioned love.
4. This enkindling and thirst of love, which in this case belongs to the spirit, is very different from that other which we described in writing of the night of sense. For, though the sense has also its part here, since it fails not to participate in the labour of the spirit, yet the source and the keenness of the thirst of love is felt in the superior part of the soul—that is, in the spirit. It feels, and understands what it feels and its lack of what it desires, in such a way that all its affliction of sense, although greater without comparison than in the first night of sense, is as naught to it, because it recognizes within itself the lack of a great good which can in no way be measured.
5. But here we must note that although, at the beginning, when this spiritual
night commences, this enkindling of love is not felt, because this fire of love
has not begun to take a hold, God gives the soul, in place of it, an estimative
love of Himself so great that, as we have said, the greatest sufferings and trials
of which it is conscious in this night are the anguished thoughts that it
6. It was for this reason that Mary Magdalene, though as greatly concerned for
her own appearance as she was aforetime, took no heed of the multitude of men who
were at the feast, whether they were of little or of great importance; neither did
she consider that it was not seemly, and that it looked ill, to go and weep and
shed tears among the guests provided that, without delaying an hour or waiting for
another time and season, she could reach Him for love of Whom her soul was already
wounded and enkindled. And such is the inebriating power and the boldness of love,
that, though she knew her Beloved to be enclosed in the sepulchre by the great sealed
stone, and surrounded by soldiers who were guarding Him lest His disciples should
steal Him away,
7. And finally, this inebriating power and yearning of love caused her to ask
one whom she believed to be a gardener and to have stolen Him away from the sepulchre,
to tell her, if he had taken Him, where he had laid Him, that she might take Him
away;
8. Of this manner, then, are the yearnings of love whereof this soul becomes
conscious when it has made some progress in this spiritual purgation. For it rises
up by night (that is, in this purgative darkness) according to the affections of
the will. And with the yearnings and vehemence of the lioness or the she-bear going
to seek her cubs when they have been taken away from her and she finds them not,
does this wounded soul go forth to seek its God. For, being in darkness, it feels
itself to be without Him and to be dying of love for Him. And this is that impatient
love wherein the soul cannot long subsist without gaining its desire or dying. Such
was Rachel’s desire for children when she said to Jacob: ‘Give me children, else
shall I die.’
9. But we have now to see how it is that the soul which feels itself so miserable and so unworthy of God, here in this purgative darkness, has nevertheless strength, and is sufficiently bold and daring, to journey towards union with God. The reason is that, as love continually gives it strength wherewith it may love indeed, and as the property of love is to desire to be united, joined and made equal and like to the object of its love, that it may perfect itself in love’s good things, hence it comes to pass that, when this soul is not perfected in love, through not having as yet attained to union, the hunger and thirst that it has for that which it lacks (which is union) and the strength set by love in the will which has caused it to become impassioned, make it bold and daring by reason of the enkindling of its will, although in its understanding, which is still dark and unenlightened, it feels itself to be unworthy and knows itself to be miserable.
10. I will not here omit to mention the reason why this Divine light, which is always light to the soul, illumines it not as soon as it strikes it, as it does afterwards, but causes it the darkness and the trials of which we have spoken. Something has already been said concerning this, but the question must now be answered directly. The darkness and the other evils of which the soul is conscious when this Divine light strikes it are not darkness or evils caused by this light, but pertain to the soul itself, and the light illumines it so that it may see them. Wherefore it does indeed receive light from this Divine light; but the soul cannot see at first, by its aid, anything beyond what is nearest to it, or rather, beyond what is within it—namely, its darknesses or its miseries, which it now sees through the mercy of God, and saw not aforetime, because this supernatural light illumined it not. And this is the reason why at first it is conscious of nothing beyond darkness and evil; after it has been purged, however, by means of the knowledge and realization of these, it will have eyes to see, by the guidance of this light, the blessings of the Divine light; and, once all these darknesses and imperfections have been driven out from the soul, it seems that the benefits and the great blessings which the soul is gaining in this blessed night of contemplation become clearer.
11. From what has been said, it is clear that God grants the soul in this state
the favour of purging it and healing it with this strong lye of bitter purgation,
according to its spiritual and its sensual part, of all the imperfect habits and
affections which it had within itself with respect to temporal things and to natural,
sensual and spiritual things, its inward faculties being darkened, and voided of
all these, its spiritual and sensual affections being constrained and dried up,
and its natural energies being attenuated and weakened with respect to all this
(a condition which it could never attain of itself, as we shall shortly say). In
this way God makes it to die to all that is not naturally God, so that, once it
is stripped and denuded of its former skin, He may begin to clothe it anew. And
thus its youth is renewed like the eagle’s and it is clothed with the new man, which,
as the Apostle says, is created according to God.
. . . oh, happy chance!— I went forth without being observed.
Wherein are set down and explained the last three lines of the first stanza.
THIS happy chance was the reason for which the soul speaks, in the next lines, as follows:
I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.
It takes the metaphor from one who, in order the better to accomplish something,
leaves his house by night and in the dark, when those that are in the house are
now at rest, so that none may hinder him. For this soul had to go forth to perform
a deed so heroic and so rare—namely to become united with its Divine Beloved—and
it had to leave its house, because the Beloved is not found save alone and without,
in solitude. It was for this reason that the Bride desired to find Him alone, saying:
’ Who would give Thee to me, my brother, that I might find Thee alone, without, and
that my love might be communicated to Thee.’
2. It was a happy chance for this soul that on this night God should put to sleep all the domestics in its house—that is, all the faculties, passions, affections and desires which live in the soul, both sensually and spiritually. For thus it went forth ‘without being observed’—that is, without being hindered by these affections, etc., for they were put to sleep and mortified in this night, in the darkness of which they were left, that they might not notice or feel anything after their own low and natural manner, and might thus be unable to hinder the soul from going forth from itself and from the house of its sensuality. And thus only could the soul attain to the spiritual union of perfect love of God.
3. Oh, how happy a chance is this for the soul which can free itself from the house of its sensuality! None can understand it, unless, as it seems to me, it be the soul that has experienced it. For such a soul will see clearly how wretched was the servitude in which it lay and to how many miseries it was subject when it was at the mercy of its faculties and desires, and will know how the life of the spirit is true liberty and wealth, bringing with it inestimable blessings. Some of these we shall point out, as we proceed, in the following stanzas, wherein it will be seen more clearly what good reason the soul has to sing of the happy chance of its passage from this dreadful night which has been described above.
Sets down the second stanza and its exposition.
In darkness and secure, By the secret ladder, disguised—oh, happy chance!
In darkness and concealment, My house being now at rest.
IN this stanza the soul still continues to sing of certain properties of the darkness of this night, reiterating how great is the happiness which came to it through them. It speaks of them in replying to a certain tacit objection, saying that it is not to be supposed that, because in this night and darkness it has passed through so many tempests of afflictions, doubts, fears and horrors, as has been said, it has for that reason run any risk of being lost. On the contrary, it says, in the darkness of this night it has gained itself. For in the night it has freed itself and escaped subtly from its enemies, who were continually hindering its progress. For in the darkness of the night it changed its garments and disguised itself with three liveries and colours which we shall describe hereafter; and went forth by a very secret ladder, which none in the house knew, the which ladder, as we shall observe likewise in the proper place, is living faith. By this ladder the soul went forth in such complete hiding and concealment, in order the better to execute its purpose, that it could not fail to be in great security; above all since in this purgative night the desires, affections and passions of the soul are put to sleep, mortified and quenched, which are they that, when they were awake and alive, consented not to this.
The first line, then, runs thus:
In darkness and secure.
Explains how, though in darkness, the soul walks securely.
THE darkness which the soul here describes relates, as we have said, to the desires
and faculties, sensual, interior and spiritual, for all these are darkened in this
night as to their natural light, so that, being purged in this respect, they may
be illumined with respect to the supernatural. For the spiritual and the sensual
desires are put to sleep and mortified, so that they can experience
2. The reason for this has been clearly expounded; for ordinarily the soul never strays save through its desires or its tastes or its reflections or its understanding or its affections; for as a rule it has too much or too little of these, or they vary or go astray, and hence the soul becomes inclined to that which behoves it not. Wherefore, when all these operations and motions are hindered, it is clear that the soul is secure against being led astray by them; for it is free, not only from itself, but likewise from its other enemies, which are the world and the devil. For when the affections and operations of the soul are quenched, these enemies cannot make war upon it by any other means or in any other manner.
3. It follows from this that, the greater is the darkness wherein the soul journeys
and the more completely is it voided of its natural operations, the greater is its
security. For, as the Prophet says,
4. But there is a question which at once arises here—namely, since the things of God are of themselves profitable to the soul and bring it gain and security, why does God, in this night, darken the desires and faculties with respect to these good things likewise, in such a way that the soul can no more taste of them or busy itself with them than with these other things, and indeed in some ways can do so less? The answer is that it is well for the soul to perform no operation touching spiritual things at that time and to have no pleasure in such things, because its faculties and desires are base, impure and wholly natural; and thus, although these faculties be given the desire and interest in things supernatural and Divine, they could not receive them save after a base and a natural manner, exactly in their own fashion. For, as the philosopher says, whatsoever is received comes to him that receives it after the manner of the recipient. Wherefore, since these natural faculties have neither purity nor strength nor capacity to receive and taste things that are supernatural after the manner of those things, which manner is Divine, but can do so only after their own manner, which is human and base, as we have said, it is meet that its faculties be in darkness concerning these Divine things likewise. Thus, being weaned and purged and annihilated in this respect first of all, they may lose that base and human way of receiving and acting, and thus all these faculties and desires of the soul may come to be prepared and tempered in such a way as to be able to receive, feel and taste that which is Divine and supernatural after a sublime and lofty manner, which is impossible if the old man die not first of all.
5. Hence it follows that all spiritual things, if they come not from above and be not communicated by the Father of lights to human desire and free will (howsoever much a man may exercise his taste and faculties for God, and howsoever much it may seem to the faculties that they are experiencing these things), will not be experienced after a Divine and spiritual manner, but after a human and natural manner, just as other things are experienced, for spiritual blessings go not from man to God, but come from God to man. With respect to this (if this were the proper place for it) we might here explain how there are many persons whose many tastes and affections and the operations of whose faculties are fixed upon God or upon spiritual things, and who may perhaps think that this is supernatural and spiritual, when it is perhaps no more than the most human and natural desires and actions. They regard these good things with the same disposition as they have for other things, by means of a certain natural facility which they possess for directing their desires and faculties to anything whatever.
6. If perchance we find occasion elsewhere in this book, we shall treat of this, describing certain signs which indicate when the interior actions and motions of the soul, with respect to communion with God, are only natural, when they are spiritual, and when they are both natural and spiritual. It suffices for us here to know that, in order that the interior motions and acts of the soul may come to be moved by God divinely, they must first be darkened and put to sleep and hushed to rest naturally as touching all their capacity and operation, until they have no more strength.
7. Therefore, O spiritual soul, when thou seest thy desire obscured, thy affections arid and constrained, and thy faculties bereft of their capacity for any interior exercise, be not afflicted by this, but rather consider it a great happiness, since God is freeing thee from thyself and taking the matter from thy hands. For with those hands, howsoever well they may serve thee, thou wouldst never labour so effectively, so perfectly and so securely (because of their clumsiness and uncleanness) as now, when God takes thy hand and guides thee in the darkness, as though thou wert blind, to an end and by a way which thou knowest not. Nor couldst thou ever hope to travel with the aid of thine own eyes and feet, howsoever good thou be as a walker.
8. The reason, again, why the soul not only travels securely, when it travels thus in the darkness, but also achieves even greater gain and progress, is that usually, when the soul is receiving fresh advantage and profit, this comes by a way that it least understands—indeed, it quite commonly believes that it is losing ground. For, as it has never experienced that new feeling which drives it forth and dazzles it and makes it depart recklessly from its former way of life, it thinks itself to be losing ground rather than gaining and progressing, since it sees that it is losing with respect to that which it knew and enjoyed, and is going by a way which it knows not and wherein it finds no enjoyment. It is like the traveller, who, in order to go to new and unknown lands, takes new roads, unknown and untried, and journeys unguided by his past experience, but doubtingly and according to what others say. It is clear that such a man could not reach new countries, or add to his past experience, if he went not along new and unknown roads and abandoned those which were known to him. Exactly so, one who is learning fresh details concerning any office or art always proceeds in darkness, and receives no guidance from his original knowledge, for if he left not that behind he would get no farther nor make any progress; and in the same way, when the soul is making most progress, it is travelling in darkness, knowing naught. Wherefore, since God, as we have said, is the Master and Guide of this blind soul, it may well and truly rejoice, once it has learned to understand this, and say: ‘In darkness and secure.’
9. There is another reason why the soul has walked securely in this darkness, and this is because it has been suffering; for the road of suffering is more secure and even more profitable than that of fruition and action: first, because in suffering the strength of God is added to that of man, while in action and fruition the soul is practising its own weaknesses and imperfections; and second, because in suffering the soul continues to practise and acquire the virtues and become purer, wiser and more cautious.
10. But there is another and a more important reason why the soul now walks in darkness and securely; this emanates from the dark light or wisdom aforementioned. For in such a way does this dark night of contemplation absorb and immerse the soul in itself, and so near does it bring the soul to God, that it protects and delivers it from all that is not God. For this soul is now, as it were, undergoing a cure, in order that it may regain its health—its health being God Himself. His Majesty restricts it to a diet and abstinence from all things, and takes away its appetite for them all. It is like a sick man, who, if he is respected by those in his house, is carefully tended so that he may be cured; the air is not allowed to touch him, nor may he even enjoy the light, nor must he hear footsteps, nor yet the noise of those in the house; and he is given food that is very delicate, and even that only in great moderation—food that is nourishing rather than delectable.
11. All these particularities (which are for the security and safekeeping of
the soul) are caused by this dark contemplation, because it brings the soul nearer
to God. For the nearer the soul approaches Him, the blacker is the darkness which
it feels and the deeper is the obscurity which comes through its weakness; just
as, the nearer a man approaches the sun, the greater are the darkness and the affliction
caused him through the great splendour of the sun and through the weakness and impurity
of his eyes. In the same way, so immense is the spiritual light of God, and so greatly
does it transcend our natural understanding, that the nearer we approach it, the
more it blinds and darkens us. And this is the reason why, in Psalm xvii, David
says that God made darkness His hiding-place and covering, and His tabernacle around
Him dark water in the clouds of the air.
12. Oh, miserable is the fortune of our life, which is lived in such great peril and wherein it is so difficult to find the truth. For that which is most clear and true is to us most dark and doubtful; wherefore, though it is the thing that is most needful for us, we flee from it. And that which gives the greatest light and satisfaction to our eyes we embrace and pursue, though it be the worst thing for us, and make us fall at every step. In what peril and fear does man live, since the very natural light of his eyes by which he has to guide himself is the first light that dazzles him and leads him astray on his road to God! And if he is to know with certainty by what road he travels, he must perforce keep his eyes closed and walk in darkness, that he may be secure from the enemies who inhabit his own house—that is, his senses and faculties.
13. Well hidden, then, and well protected is the soul in these dark waters, when
it is close to God. For, as these waters serve as a tabernacle and dwelling-place
for God Himself, they will serve the soul in the same way and for a perfect protection
and security, though it remain in darkness, wherein, as we have said, it is hidden
and protected from itself, and from all evils that come from creatures; for to such
the words of David refer in another Psalm, where he says: ‘Thou shalt hide them
in the hiding-place of Thy face from the disturbance of men; Thou shalt protect
them in Thy tabernacle from the contradiction of tongues.’
14. There is likewise another reason, which is no less effectual than the last, by which we may understand how the soul journeys securely in darkness; it is derived from the fortitude by which the soul is at once inspired in these obscure and afflictive dark waters of God. For after all, though the waters be dark, they are none the less waters, and therefore they cannot but refresh and fortify the soul in that which is most needful for it, although in darkness and with affliction. For the soul immediately perceives in itself a genuine determination and an effectual desire to do naught which it understands to be an offence to God, and to omit to do naught that seems to be for His service. For that dark love cleaves to the soul, causing it a most watchful care and an inward solicitude concerning that which it must do, or must not do, for His sake, in order to please Him. It will consider and ask itself a thousand times if it has given Him cause to be offended; and all this it will do with much greater care and solicitude than before, as has already been said with respect to the yearnings of love. For here all the desires and energies and faculties of the soul are recollected from all things else, and its effort and strength are employed in pleasing its God alone. After this manner the soul goes forth from itself and from all created things to the sweet and delectable union of love of God, ‘In darkness and secure.’
By the secret ladder, disguised.
Explains how this dark contemplation is secret.
THREE things have to be expounded with reference to three words contained in this present line. Two (namely, ’secret’ and ‘ladder’) belong to the dark night of contemplation of which we are treating; the third (namely, ‘disguised’) belongs to the soul by reason of the manner wherein it conducts itself in this night. As to the first, it must be known that in this line the soul describes this dark contemplation, by which it goes forth to the union of love, as a secret ladder, because of the two properties which belong to it—namely, its being secret and its being a ladder. We shall treat of each separately.
2. First, it describes this dark contemplation as ’secret,’ since, as we have
indicated above, it is mystical theology, which theologians call secret wisdom,
and which, as Saint Thomas says is communicated and infused into the soul through
love.
3. And it is not for this reason alone that it may be called secret, but likewise because of the effects which it produces in the soul. For it is secret not only in the darknesses and afflictions of purgation, when this wisdom of love purges the soul, and the soul is unable to speak of it, but equally so afterwards in illumination, when this wisdom is communicated to it most clearly. Even then it is still so secret that the soul cannot speak of it and give it a name whereby it may be called; for, apart from the fact that the soul has no desire to speak of it, it can find no suitable way or manner or similitude by which it may be able to describe such lofty understanding and such delicate spiritual feeling. And thus, even though the soul might have a great desire to express it and might find many ways in which to describe it, it would still be secret and remain undescribed. For, as that inward wisdom is so simple, so general and so spiritual that it has not entered into the understanding enwrapped or cloaked in any form or image subject to sense, it follows that sense and imagination (as it has not entered through them nor has taken their form and colour) cannot account for it or imagine it, so as to say anything concerning it, although the soul be clearly aware that it is experiencing and partaking of that rare and delectable wisdom. It is like one who sees something never seen before, whereof he has not even seen the like; although he might understand its nature and have experience of it, he would be unable to give it a name, or say what it is, however much he tried to do so, and this in spite of its being a thing which he had perceived with the senses. How much less, then, could he describe a thing that has not entered through the senses! For the language of God has this characteristic that, since it is very intimate and spiritual in its relations with the soul, it transcends every sense and at once makes all harmony and capacity of the outward and inward senses to cease and be dumb.
4. For this we have both authorities and examples in the Divine Scripture. For
the incapacity of man to speak of it and describe it in words was shown by Jeremias,
5. We may deduce from this the reason why certain persons—good and fearful souls—who
walk along this road and would like to give an account of their spiritual state
to their director,
6. And not only for that reason is it called secret, and is so, but likewise
because this mystical knowledge has the property of hiding the soul within itself.
For, besides performing its ordinary function, it sometimes absorbs the soul and
engulfs it in its secret abyss, in such a way that the soul clearly sees that it
has been carried far away from every creature and; has become most remote therefrom;
7. This property of secrecy and superiority over natural capacity, which belongs
to this Divine contemplation, belongs to it, not only because it is supernatural,
but also inasmuch as it is a road that guides and leads the soul to the perfections
of union with God; which, as they are things unknown after a human manner, must
be approached, after a human manner, by unknowing and by Divine ignorance. For,
speaking mystically, as we are speaking here, Divine things and perfections are
known and understood as they are, not when they are being sought after and practised,
but when they have been found and practised. To this purpose speaks the prophet
Baruch concerning this Divine wisdom: ‘There is none that can know her ways nor
that can imagine her paths.’
8. All this, speaking spiritually, is to be understood in the sense wherein we
are speaking. For the illumination of the round earth
Explains how this secret wisdom is likewise a ladder.
IT now remains to consider the second point—namely, how this secret wisdom is
likewise a ladder. With respect to this it must be known that we can call this secret
contemplation a ladder for many reasons. In the first place, because, just as men
mount by means of ladders and climb up to possessions and treasures and things that
are in strong places, even so also, by means of this secret contemplation, without
knowing how, the soul ascends and climbs up to a knowledge and possession of
2. We may also call it a ladder because, even as the ladder has those same steps
in order that men may mount, it has them also that they may descend; even so is
it likewise with this secret contemplation, for those same communications which
it causes in the soul raise it up to God, yet humble it with respect to itself.
For communications which are indeed of God have this property, that they humble
the soul and at the same time exalt it. For, upon this road, to go down is to go
up, and to go up, to go down, for he that humbles himself is exalted and he that
exalts himself is humbled.
3. Speaking now in a natural way, the soul that desires to consider it will be able to see how on this road (we leave apart the spiritual aspect, of which the soul is not conscious) it has to suffer many ups and downs, and how the prosperity which it enjoys is followed immediately by certain storms and trials; so much so, that it appears to have been given that period of calm in order that it might be forewarned and strengthened against the poverty which has followed; just as after misery and torment there come abundance and calm. It seems to the soul as if, before celebrating that festival, it has first been made to keep that vigil. This is the ordinary course and proceeding of the state of contemplation until the soul arrives at the state of quietness; it never remains in the same state for long together, but is ascending and descending continually.
4. The reason for this is that, as the state of perfection, which consists in
the perfect love of God and contempt for self, cannot exist unless it have these
two parts, which are the knowledge of God and of oneself, the soul has of necessity
to be practised first in the one and then in the other, now being given to taste
of the one—that is, exaltation—and now being made to experience the other—that
is, humiliation—until it has acquired perfect habits; and then this ascending and
descending will cease, since the soul will have attained to God and become united
with Him, which comes to pass at the summit of this ladder, for the ladder rests
and leans upon Him. For this ladder of contemplation, which, as we have said, comes
down from God, is prefigured by that ladder which Jacob saw as he slept, whereon
angels were ascending and descending, from God to man, and from man to God, Who
Himself was leaning upon the end of the ladder.
5. But, speaking now somewhat more substantially and properly of this ladder
of secret contemplation, we shall observe that the principal characteristic of contemplation,
on account of which it is here called a ladder, is that it is the science of love.
This, as we have said, is an infused and loving knowledge of God, which enlightens
the soul and at the same time enkindles it with love, until it is raised up step
by step, even unto God its Creator. For it is love alone that unites and joins the
soul with God. To the end that this may be seen more clearly, we shall here indicate
the steps of this Divine ladder one by one, pointing out briefly the marks and effects
of each, so that the soul may conjecture hereby on which of them it is standing.
We shall therefore distinguish them by their effects, as do Saint Bernard and Saint
Thomas,
Begins to explain the ten steps
[The word translated ’step’ may also (and often more elegantly) be rendered ‘degree.’ The same word is kept, however, throughout the translation of this chapter except where noted below.] of the mystic ladder of Divine love, according to Saint Bernard and Saint Thomas. The first five are here treated.
WE observe, then, that the steps of this ladder of love by which the soul mounts,
one by one, to God, are ten. The first step of love causes the soul to languish,
and this to its advantage. The Bride is speaking from this step of love when she
says: ‘I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem, that, if ye find my Beloved, ye tell
Him that I am sick with love.’
2. The second step causes the soul to seek God without ceasing. Wherefore, when
the Bride says that she sought Him by night upon her bed (when she had swooned away
according to the first step of love) and found Him not, she said: ‘I will arise
and will seek Him Whom my soul loveth.’
3. The third step of the ladder of love is that which causes the soul to work
and gives it fervour so that it fails not. Concerning this the royal Prophet says:
’ Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord, for in His commandments he is eager to
labour greatly.’
4. The fourth step of this ladder of love is that whereby there is caused in
the soul an habitual suffering because of the Beloved, yet without weariness. For,
as Saint Augustine says, love makes all things that are great, grievous and burdensome
to be almost naught. From this step the Bride was speaking when, desiring to attain
to the last step, she said to the Spouse: ’set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a
seal upon thine arm; for love—that is, the act and work of love—is strong as death,
and emulation and importunity last as long as hell.’
5. The fifth step of this ladder of love makes the soul to desire and long for
God impatiently. On this step the vehemence of the lover to comprehend the Beloved
and be united with Him is such that every delay, however brief, becomes very long,
wearisome and oppressive to it, and it continually believes itself to be finding
the Beloved. And when it sees its desire frustrated (which is at almost every moment),
it swoons away with its yearning, as says the Psalmist, speaking from this step,
in these words: ‘My soul longs and faints for the dwellings of the Lord.’
Wherein are treated the other five steps of love.
ON the sixth step the soul runs swiftly to God and touches Him again and again;
and it runs without fainting by reason of its hope. For here the love that has made
it strong makes it to fly swiftly. Of this step the prophet Isaias speaks thus:
’ The saints that hope in God shall renew their strength; they shall take wings as
the eagle; they shall fly and shall not faint,’
2. The seventh step of this ladder makes the soul to become vehement in its boldness.
Here love employs not its judgment in order to hope, nor does it take counsel so
that it may draw back, neither can any shame restrain it; for the favour which God
here grants to the soul causes it to become vehement in its boldness. Hence follows
that which the Apostle says, namely: That charity believeth all things, hopeth all
things and is capable of all things.
3. The eighth step of love causes the soul to seize Him and hold Him fast without
letting Him go, even as the Bride says, after this manner: ‘I found Him Whom my
heart and soul love; I held Him and I will not let Him go.’
4. The ninth step of love makes the soul to burn with sweetness. This step is
that of the perfect, who now burn sweetly in God. For this sweet and delectable
ardour is caused in them by the Holy Spirit by reason of the union which they have
with God. For this cause Saint Gregory says, concerning the Apostles, that when
the Holy Spirit came upon them visibly they burned inwardly and sweetly through
love.
5. The tenth and last step of this secret ladder of love causes the soul to become
wholly assimilated to God, by reason of the clear and immediate
6. This is the secret ladder whereof the soul here speaks, although upon these
higher steps it is no longer very secret to the soul, since much is revealed to
it by love, through the great effects which love produces in it. But, on this last
step of clear vision, which is the last step of the ladder whereon God leans, as
we have said already, there is naught that is hidden from the soul, by reason of
its complete assimilation. Wherefore Our Saviour says: ‘In that day ye shall ask
Me nothing,’ etc.
Which explains the word ‘disguised,’ and describes the colours of the disguise of the soul in this night.
Now that we have explained the reasons why the soul called this contemplation a ’secret ladder,’ it remains for us to explain likewise the word ‘disguised,’ and the reason why the soul says also that it went forth by this ’secret ladder’ in ’ disguise.’
2. For the understanding of this it must be known that to disguise oneself is naught else but to hide and cover oneself beneath another garb and figure than one’s own—sometimes in order to show forth, under that garb or figure, the will and purpose which is in the heart to gain the grace and will of one who is greatly loved; sometimes, again, to hide oneself from one’s rivals and thus to accomplish one’s object better. At such times a man assumes the garments and livery which best represent and indicate the affection of his heart and which best conceal him from his rivals.
3. The soul, then, touched with the love of Christ the Spouse, and longing to
attain to His grace and gain His goodwill, goes forth here disguised with that disguise
which most vividly represents the affections of its spirit and which will protect
it most securely on its journey from its adversaries and enemies, which are the
devil, the world and the flesh. Thus the livery which it wears is of three chief
colours—white, green and purple—denoting the three theological virtues, faith,
hope and charity. By these the soul will not only gain the grace and goodwill of
its Beloved, but it will travel in security and complete protection from its three
enemies: for faith is an inward tunic of a whiteness so pure that it completely
dazzles the eyes of the understanding.
4. It is clear that Saint Peter could find no better protection than faith to
save him from the devil, when he said: Cui resistite fortes in fide.
5. This white garment of faith was worn by the soul on its going forth from this
dark night, when, walking in interior constraint and darkness, as we have said before,
it received no aid, in the form of light, from its understanding, neither from above,
since Heaven seemed to be closed to it and God hidden from it, nor from below, since
those that taught it satisfied it not. It suffered with constancy and persevered,
passing through those trials without fainting or failing the Beloved, Who in trials
and tribulations proves the faith of His Bride, so that afterwards she may truly
repeat this saying of David, namely: ‘By the words of Thy lips I kept hard ways.’
6. Next, over this white tunic of faith the soul now puts on the second colour, which is a green vestment. By this, as we said, is signified the virtue of hope, wherewith, as in the first case, the soul is delivered and protected from the second enemy, which is the world. For this green colour of living hope in God gives the soul such ardour and courage and aspiration to the things of eternal life that, by comparison with what it hopes for therein, all things of the world seem to it to be, as in truth they are, dry and faded and dead and nothing worth. The soul now divests and strips itself of all these worldly vestments and garments, setting its heart upon naught that is in the world and hoping for naught, whether of that which is or of that which is to be, but living clad only in the hope of eternal life. Wherefore, when the heart is thus lifted up above the world, not only can the world neither touch the heart nor lay hold on it, but it cannot even come within sight of it.
7. And thus, in this green livery and disguise, the soul journeys in complete
security from this second enemy, which is the world. For Saint Paul speaks of hope
as the helmet of salvation
8. For this reason, because of this green livery (since the soul is ever looking
to God and sets its eyes on naught else, neither is pleased with aught save with
Him alone), the Beloved has such great pleasure with the soul that it is true to
say that the soul obtains from Him as much as it hopes for from Him. Wherefore the
Spouse in the Songs tells the Bride that, by looking upon Him with one eye alone,
she has wounded His heart.
9. With this livery of hope the soul journeys in disguise through this secret
and dark night whereof we have spoken; for it is so completely voided of every possession
and support that it fixes its eyes and its care upon naught but God, putting its
mouth in the dust,
10. Over the white and the green vestments, as the crown and perfection of this
disguise and livery, the soul now puts on the third colour, which is a splendid
garment of purple. By this is denoted the third virtue, which is charity. This not
only adds grace to the other two colours, but causes the soul to rise to so lofty
a point that it is brought near to God, and becomes very beautiful and pleasing
to Him, so that it makes bold to say: ‘Albeit I am black, O daughters of Jerusalem,
I am comely; wherefore the King hath loved me and hath brought me into His chambers.’
11. This, then, is the disguise which the soul says that it wears in the night
of faith, upon this secret ladder, and these are its three colours. They constitute
a most fit preparation for the union of the soul with God, according to its three
faculties, which are understanding, memory and will. For faith voids and darkens
the understanding as to all its natural intelligence, and herein prepares it for
union with Divine Wisdom. Hope voids and withdraws the memory from all creature
possessions; for, as Saint Paul says, hope is for that which is not possessed;
12. And thus, unless it journeys earnestly, clad in the garments of these three virtues, it is impossible for the soul to attain to the perfection of union with God through love. Wherefore, in order that the soul might attain that which it desired, which was this loving and delectable union with its Beloved, this disguise and clothing which it assumed was most necessary and convenient. And likewise to have succeeded in thus clothing itself and persevering until it should obtain the end and aspiration which it had so much desired, which was the union of love, was a great and happy chance, wherefore in this line the soul also says:
Oh, happy chance!
Explains the third
i.e., in the original Spanish and in our verse rendering of the poem in The Complete Works of St. John of the Cross, Ed. by E. Allison Peers, Vol. II (The Newman Press, Westminster, Md.). line of the second stanza.
IT is very clear that it was a happy chance for this soul to go forth with such an enterprise as this, for it was its going forth that delivered it from the devil and from the world and from its own sensuality, as we have said. Having attained liberty of spirit, so precious and so greatly desired by all, it went forth from low things to high; from terrestrial, it became celestial; from human, Divine. Thus it came to have its conversation in the heavens, as has the soul in this state of perfection, even as we shall go on to say in what follows, although with rather more brevity.
2. For the most important part of my task, and the part which chiefly led me to undertake it, was the explanation of this night to many souls who pass through it and yet know nothing about it, as was said in the prologue. Now this explanation and exposition has already been half completed. Although much less has been said of it than might be said, we have shown how many are the blessings which the soul bears with it through the night and how happy is the chance whereby it passes through it, so that, when a soul is terrified by the horror of so many trials, it is also encouraged by the certain hope of so many and such precious blessings of God as it gains therein. And furthermore, for yet another reason, this was a happy chance for the soul; and this reason is given in the following line:
In darkness and in concealment.
Expounds the fourth line
i.e., in the original Spanish and in our verse rendering of the poem in The Complete Works of St. John of the Cross, Ed. by E. Allison Peers, Vol. II (The Newman Press, Westminster, Md.). and describes the wondrous hiding place wherein the soul is set during this night. Shows how, although the devil has an entrance into other places that are very high, he has none into this.
‘IN concealment’ is as much as to say ‘in a hiding-place,’ or ‘in hiding’; and thus, what the soul here says (namely, that it went forth ‘in darkness and in concealment’) is a more complete explanation of the great security which it describes itself in the first line of the stanza as possessing, by means of this dark contemplation upon the road of the union of the love of God.
2. When the soul, then, says ‘in darkness and in concealment,’ it means that, inasmuch as it journeyed in darkness after the manner aforementioned, it went in hiding and in concealment from the devil and from his wiles and stratagems. The reason why, as it journeys in the darkness of this contemplation, the soul is free, and is hidden from the stratagems of the devil, is that the infused contemplation which it here possesses is infused into it passively and secretly, without the knowledge of the senses and faculties, whether interior or exterior, of the sensual part. And hence it follows that, not only does it journey in hiding, and is free from the impediment which these faculties can set in its way because of its natural weakness, but likewise from the devil; who, except through these faculties of the sensual part, cannot reach or know that which is in the soul, nor that which is taking place within it. Wherefore, the more spiritual, the more interior and the more remote from the senses is the communication, the farther does the devil fall short of understanding it.
3. And thus it is of great importance for the security of the soul that its inward
communication with God should be of such a kind that its very senses of the lower
part will remain in darkness
4. It is quite true that oftentimes, when these very intimate and secret spiritual
communications are present and take place in the soul, although the devil cannot
get to know of what kind and manner they are, yet the great repose and silence which
some of them cause in the senses and the faculties of the sensual part make it clear
to him that they are taking place and that the soul is receiving a certain blessing
from them. And then, as he sees that he cannot succeed in thwarting them in the
depth of the soul, he does what he can to disturb and disquiet the sensual part—that
part to which he is able to attain—now by means of afflictions, now by terrors
and fears, with intent to disquiet and disturb the higher and spiritual part of
the soul by this means, with respect to that blessing which it then receives and
enjoys. But often, when the communication of such contemplation makes its naked
assault upon the soul and exerts its strength upon it, the devil, with all his diligence,
is unable to disturb it; rather the soul receives a new and a greater advantage
and a securer peace. For, when it feels the disturbing presence of the enemy, then—wondrous
thing!—without knowing how it comes to pass, and without any efforts of its own,
it enters farther into its own interior depths, feeling that it is indeed being
set in a sure refuge, where it perceives itself to be most completely withdrawn
and hidden from the enemy. And thus its peace and joy, which the devil is attempting
to take from it, are increased; and all the fear that assails it remains without;
and it becomes clearly and exultingly conscious of its secure enjoyment of that
quiet peace and sweetness of the hidden Spouse, which neither the world nor the
devil can give it or take from it. In that state, therefore, it realizes the truth
of the words of the Bride about this, in the Songs, namely: ’see how threescore
strong men surround the bed of Solomon, etc., because of the fears of the night.’
5. At other times, when the spiritual communication is not made in any great
measure to the spirit, but the senses have a part therein, the devil more easily
succeeds in disturbing the spirit and raising a tumult within it, by means of the
senses, with these terrors. Great are the torment and the affliction which are then
caused in the spirit; at times they exceed all that can be expressed. For, when
there is a naked contact of spirit with spirit, the horror is intolerable which
the evil spirit causes in the good spirit (I mean, in the soul), when its tumult
reaches it. This is expressed likewise by the Bride in the Songs, when she says
that it has happened thus to her at a time when she wished to descend to interior
recollection in order to have fruition of these blessings. She says: ‘I went down
into the garden of nuts to see the apples of the valleys, and if the vine had flourished.
I knew not; my soul troubled me because of the chariots’—that is, because of the
chariots and the noise of Aminadab, which is the devil.
6. At other times it comes to pass that the devil is occasionally able to see
certain favours which God is pleased to grant the soul when they are bestowed upon
it by the mediation of a good angel; for of those favours which come through a good
angel God habitually allows the enemy to have knowledge: partly so that he may do
that which he can against them according to the measure of justice, and that thus
he may not be able to allege with truth that no opportunity is given him for conquering
the soul, as he said concerning Job.
7. We must observe, therefore, that it is for this reason that, in proportion
as God is guiding the soul and communing with it, He gives the devil leave to act
with it after this manner. When the soul has genuine visions by the instrumentality
of the good angel (for it is by this instrumentality that they habitually come,
even though Christ reveal Himself, for He scarcely ever appears
8. And not only does the evil one imitate God in this type of bodily vision,
but he also imitates and interferes in spiritual communications which come through
the instrumentality of an angel, when he succeeds in seeing them, as we say (for,
as Job said
9. At other times the devil prevails and encompasses the soul with a perturbation and horror which is a greater affliction to it than any torment in this life could be. For, as this horrible communication passes direct from spirit to spirit, in something like nakedness and clearly distinguished from all that is corporeal, it is grievous beyond what every sense can feel; and this lasts in the spirit for some time, yet not for long, for otherwise the spirit would be driven forth from the flesh by the vehement communication of the other spirit. Afterwards there remains to it the memory thereof, which is sufficient to cause it great affliction.
10. All that we have here described comes to pass in the soul passively, without its doing or undoing anything of itself with respect to it. But in this connection it must be known that, when the good angel permits the devil to gain this advantage of assailing the soul with this spiritual horror, he does it to purify the soul and to prepare it by means of this spiritual vigil for some great spiritual favour and festival which he desires to grant it, for he never mortifies save to give life, nor humbles save to exalt, which comes to pass shortly afterwards. Then, according as was the dark and horrible purgation which the soul suffered, so is the fruition now granted it of a wondrous and delectable spiritual contemplation, sometimes so lofty that there is no language to describe it. But the spirit has been greatly refined by the preceding horror of the evil spirit, in order that it may be able to receive this blessing; for these spiritual visions belong to the next life rather than to this, and when one of them is seen this is a preparation for the next.
11. This is to be understood with respect to occasions when God visits the soul
by the instrumentality of a good angel, wherein, as has been said, the soul is not
so totally in darkness and in concealment that the enemy cannot come within reach
of it. But, when God Himself visits it, then the words of this line are indeed fulfilled,
and it is in total darkness and in concealment from the enemy that the soul receives
these spiritual favours of God. The reason for this is that, as His Majesty dwells
substantially in the soul, where neither angel nor devil can attain to an understanding
of that which comes to pass, they cannot know the intimate and secret communications
which take place there between the soul and God. These communications, since the
Lord Himself works them, are wholly Divine and sovereign, for they are all substantial
touches of Divine union between the soul and God; in one of which the soul receives
a greater blessing than in all the rest, since this is the loftiest degree
12. For these are the touches that the Bride entreated of Him in the Songs, saying:
Osculetur me osculo oris sui.
13. To this blessing none attains save through intimate purgation and detachment and spiritual concealment from all that is creature; it comes to pass in the darkness, as we have already explained at length and as we say with respect to this line. The soul is in concealment and in hiding, in the which hiding-place, as we have now said, it continues to be strengthened in union with God through love, wherefore it sings this in the same phrase, saying: ‘In darkness and in concealment.’
14. When it comes to pass that those favours are granted to the soul in concealment (that is, as we have said, in spirit only), the soul is wont, during some of them, and without knowing how this comes to pass, to see itself so far withdrawn and separated according to the higher and spiritual part, from the sensual and lower portion, that it recognizes in itself two parts so distinct from each other that it believes that the one has naught to do with the other, but that the one is very remote and far withdrawn from the other. And in reality, in a certain way, this is so; for the operation is now wholly spiritual, and the soul receives no communication in its sensual part. In this way the soul gradually becomes wholly spiritual; and in this hiding-place of unitive contemplation its spiritual desires and passions are to a great degree removed and purged away. And thus, speaking of its higher part, the soul then says in this last line:
My house being now at rest.
The word translated ‘at rest’ is a past participle: more literally, ’stilled.’
Completes the explanation of the second stanza.
THIS is as much as to say: The higher portion of my soul being like the lower part also, at rest with respect to its desires and faculties, I went forth to the Divine union of the love of God.
2. Inasmuch as, by means of that war of the dark night, as has been said, the
soul is combated and purged after two manners—namely, according to its sensual
and its spiritual part—with its senses, faculties and passions, so likewise after
two manners—namely, according to these two parts, the sensual and the spiritual—with
all its faculties and desires, the soul attains to an enjoyment of peace and rest.
For this reason, as has likewise been said, the soul twice pronounces this line—namely,
3. This repose and quiet of this spiritual house the soul comes to attain, habitually
and perfectly (in so far as the condition of this life allows), by means of the
acts of the substantial touches of Divine union whereof we have just spoken; which,
in concealment, and hidden from the perturbation of the devil, and of its own senses
and passions, the soul has been receiving from the Divinity, wherein it has been
purifying itself, as I say, resting, strengthening and confirming itself in order
to be able to receive the said union once and for all, which is the Divine betrothal
between the soul and the Son of God. As soon as these two houses of the soul have
together become tranquillized and strengthened, with all their domestics—namely,
the faculties and desires—and have put these domestics to sleep and made them to
be silent with respect to all things, both above and below, this Divine Wisdom immediately
unites itself with the soul by making a new bond of loving possession, and there
is fulfilled that which is written in the Book of Wisdom, in these words: Dum
quietum silentium contineret omnia, et nox in suo cursu medium iter haberet, omnipotens
sermo tuus Domine a regalibus sedibus.
4. The soul cannot come to this union without great purity, and this purity is
not gained without great detachment from every created thing and sharp mortification.
This is signified by the stripping of the Bride of her mantle and by her being wounded
by night as she sought and went after the Spouse; for the new mantle which belonged
to the betrothal could not be put on until the old mantle was stripped off. Wherefore,
he that refuses to go forth in the night aforementioned to seek the Beloved, and
to be stripped of his own will and to be mortified, but seeks Him upon his bed and
at his own convenience, as did the Bride,
Wherein is expounded the third stanza.
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.
THE soul still continues the metaphor and similitude of temporal night in describing this its spiritual night, and continues to sing and extol the good properties which belong to it, and which in passing through this night it found and used, to the end that it might attain its desired goal with speed and security. Of these properties it here sets down three.
2. The first, it says, is that in this happy night of contemplation God leads the soul by a manner of contemplation so solitary and secret, so remote and far distant from sense, that naught pertaining to it, nor any touch of created things, succeeds in approaching the soul in such a way as to disturb it and detain it on the road of the union of love.
3. The second property whereof it speaks pertains to the spiritual darkness of this night, wherein all the faculties of the higher part of the soul are in darkness. The soul sees naught, neither looks at aught neither stays in aught that is not God, to the end that it may reach Him, inasmuch as it journeys unimpeded by obstacles of forms and figures, and of natural apprehensions, which are those that are wont to hinder the soul from uniting with the eternal Being of God.
4. The third is that, although as it journeys it is supported by no particular interior light of understanding, nor by any exterior guide, that it may receive satisfaction therefrom on this lofty road—it is completely deprived of all this by this thick darkness—yet its love alone, which burns at this time, and makes its heart to long for the Beloved, is that which now moves and guides it, and makes it to soar upward to its God along the road of solitude, without its knowing how or in what manner.
There follows the line:
In the happy night.
Thus end the majority of the MSS. Cf. pp. lxviii–lxiii, Ascent of Mount Carmel (Image Books edition), 26–27, on the incomplete state of this treatise. The MSS. say nothing of this, except that in the Alba de Tormes MS. we read: ‘Thus far wrote the holy Fray John of the Cross concerning the purgative way, wherein he treats of the active and the passive [aspect] of it as is seen in the treatise of the Ascent of the Mount and in this of the Dark Night, and, as he died, he wrote no more. And hereafter follows the illuminative way, and then the unitive.’ Elsewhere we have said that the lack of any commentary on the last five stanzas is not due to the Saint’s death, since he lived for many years after writing the commentary on the earlier stanzas.
Genesis
Exodus
3:2 4:10 7:11-22 8:7 16:3 32:31-32 33:5
Numbers
Deuteronomy
Job
1:1-11 2:7-8 3:24 7:2-4 7:20 7:20 12:22 16:12-16 16:13-17 19:21 23:6 30:16 30:17 37:16 41:25
Psalms
6:11-12 11:7 12:6 16:4 17:4 17:12 17:13 17:13 18:11 18:12 18:12 24:15 25:15 29:7 30:6 30:21 31:20 36:4 37:4 37:9 38:3 38:4 38:8 38:12 39:2 39:3 39:11 41:2 41:3 42:1 42:2 50:12 50:19 51:10 51:17 58:5 58:10 58:15-16 59:4 59:9 59:14-15 62:2 62:3 63:1 63:1-2 67:10 68:2-4 68:9 69:1-3 72:21 72:22 73:21-22 73:22 76:4 76:7 76:19-20 77:3-4 77:6 77:18-19 83:2 83:6 84:2 84:7 84:9 85:8 87:6-8 87:9 88:5-7 88:8 96:2 97:2 104:4 105:4 111:1 112:1 118:32 119:32 122:2 123:2 138:12 139:12 142:3 142:7 143:3-4 143:7 147:17
Proverbs
Song of Solomon
1:1 1:1 1:3 1:4 3:1 3:2 3:4 3:7-8 3:10 4:9 5:7 5:8 5:8 6:4 6:10 8:1 8:1 8:5
Isaiah
5:30 19:14 26:9 26:17-18 28:9 28:19 40:31 58:10 64:4
Jeremiah
Lamentations
1:13 3:1-20 3:9 3:9 3:17 3:17 3:28 3:29 3:44
Ezekiel
Daniel
Hosea
Jonah
Habakkuk
Matthew
5:8 6:3 7:3 7:14 7:14 7:14 10:36 16:25 23:24 25:8 27:62-66
Luke
John
1:5 3:2 3:6 16:23 20 20:1 20:15
Acts
Romans
1 Corinthians
2 Corinthians
Ephesians
Philippians
1 Thessalonians
1 Peter
Revelation
Tobit
Wisdom of Solomon
3:6 7:11 7:24 9:15 16:21 18:14
Baruch
Sirach
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