Revisiting St. John of the Cross

As I approach the anniversary of the events of Ash Wednesday of last year and the Great Peace that followed, I reflect back on that journey as I wonder what this year will bring. I haven't felt much need to write about faith this past year. I did at times, but it seemed to have a sameness to it that bothered me. My way forward has seemed unclear and as though I am inching along my path. I have felt that I have not been doing enough and as though I have not served God well and I have felt especially lonely not to feel any driving force through the grace of God. I have examined myself in ways that I never thought I would examine myself. I have lost all sense of envy of others--except as I would imitate them--noting my admiration of their opportunities, energy or inspiration instead. God's Great Peace has not left me feeling unloved but unmoved. Even as Lent began last year I felt sure of one thing, and it sort of bends a bit of scripture: Be still and know that I am God. And so I did.

Even when I felt the quickening of life again at the end of Lent last year, much of my past practice still held little luster. Meditation, which I think I had always come to naturally, had lost all appeal for me. I said my prayers dutifully, but I've been dissapointed by my ability to remember to work at following St. Benedict's Rule more enthusiastically. I've continued to be a little bit wishy-washy about my path.

Last week I loaned my priest the book that I had been studying, Traditions of Christian Spirituality. While I still have a dozen new books in my reading library that are begging me to read them, I noticed that Dark Night of the Soul had fallen onto the floor somehow. I picked it up, checked the marker in it--which may be my first Reading as lector--and then began to reread it. I hadn't read it for a good four years. It is a thin volume, at any rate.

It is a tedious read because the only copy I could find was an older translation. I had even intended to buy a better copy sometime. At any rate, it wasn't long before St. John had brought me to where I am on my journey. I recognized it. I am walking the path of purgation of the senses. Without remembering St. John's advice, I have actually followed it--or instinctively followed it.

So, that is where I am. And, again, one of those ancient mystics have pinpointed my path and thrilled me with their wisdom.