John is a saint because his life was a heroic effort to live up to his name: “of the Cross.”
The folly of the cross came to full realization in time. “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny
himself, take up his cross, and follow me” (Mark 8:34b) is the story of John’s life. The Paschal
Mystery—through death to life—strongly marks John as reformer, mystic-poet and
Ordained a Carmelite priest at 25 (1567), John met Teresa of Jesus (Avila--October 15) and
like her vowed himself to the primitive Rule of the Carmelites. As partner with Teresa and in his
own right, John engaged in the work of reform, and came to experience the price of reform:
increasing opposition, misunderstanding, persecution, imprisonment. He came to know the cross
acutely—to experience the dying of Jesus—as he sat month after month in his dark, damp, narrow cell
with only his God!
Yet, the paradox! In this dying of imprisonment John came to life, uttering poetry. In the
darkness of the dungeon, John’s spirit came into the Light. There are many mystics, many poets; John
is unique as mystic-poet, expressing in his prison-cross the ecstasy of mystical union with God in
the Spiritual Canticle.
But as agony leads to ecstasy, so John had his Ascent to Mt. Carmel, as he named it in his
prose masterpiece. As man-Christian-Carmelite, he experienced in himself this purifying ascent; as
spiritual director, he sensed it in others; as psychologist-theologian, he described and analyzed it
in his prose writings. His prose works are outstanding in underscoring the cost of discipleship, the
path of union with God: rigorous discipline, abandonment, purification. Uniquely and strongly John
underlines the gospel paradox: The cross leads to resurrection, agony to ecstasy, darkness to light,
abandonment to possession, denial to self to union with God. If you want to save your life, you must
lose it. John is truly “of the Cross.” He died at 49—a life short, but full.