“Would that men might come at last to see that it is quite impossible to reach the thicket of the riches and wisdom of God except by first entering the thicket of much suffering, in such a way that the soul finds there its consolation and desire. The soul that longs for divine wisdom chooses first, and in truth, to enter the thicket of the cross.”
Let us close our eyes, and imagine the most painful or humiliating moment of our lives. Let us bring it to mind, and try simply to let it be there, with all the terrors, fears, and feelings of helplessness it brings. Let us stay there for a moment. Then let us recollect and consider: What good or virtue (if any) has come out of this painful moment? What vices, sins, or evils?
Our answers are mixed. Far from looking perfectly Christlike, our fruits will look alternately more like those of the thieves crucified with Him – sometimes we carry in ourselves the last-minute gladness of the thief who believed, while other times it is the deep bitterness and nihilistic pain of the other thief. Yet more preferable than either response is that our crucifixion and its fruit be that of Christ. In His body our wounds find their true significance.
In the opening exercise, every fibre of our bodies screams against the spiritual scansion of our deepest wounds and heartbreak. We resist, and try to bury them again, even deeper. In part this is a necessary survival mechanism, a way to keep going in the face of suffering. But, pushed too far, this reflex can become the avoidance we are particularly skilled at in modern society, an opiate woven of material and media to make us forget that our hearts are screaming. However, simply opening our hearts and “letting it all out” may not be the answer either. Grief and pain can be as damaging and deceptive as any other emotion, and can destroy us – recall the more cynical thief on the cross.
This is where St. John of the Cross responds so beautifully in today’s reading from the Daily Office. Before glory, we must look for our meaning – the love that fixes us – in the thicket of the cross. Yet it is not suffering simpliciter that allows us to find meaning – as though pain itself were inherently virtuous – but our suffering conjoined to the body of Christ.
This is why, elsewhere in the passage from today’s Office, St. John notes that entry into the thicket of suffering involves “enduring interior and exterior labours,” and will not be achieved “unless it first receives from God very many blessings in the intellect and in the senses, and has undergone spiritual training.” It is by these means grace works in us. And as it works in us and our wounds are grafted into His, we can begin to “dig deeply in Christ..; however deep we dig we will never find their end or their limit.”
Suggested Prayer:
As You granted Your servant, St. John, the grace to know You in the thicket of Your cross, so now grant us the grace to conjoin our wounded bodies with Your wounded body. Let us find in Your wounds and ours – taken together – the deep riches of Your grace, and together with St. John of the Cross and all saints and angels let us glorify You in what we do, what we suffer, and what we enjoy.
The Inner Room
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