Saint John of the Cross

Thank you for posting this. I wish someone knowledgeable would comment on it. I have been wondering for some time about this kind of spirituality by a male. Males and females are not the same psychologically. But to attain union with God does the human male have to become, psychologically, more like the female in a human love between a man and a woman? This is not easy to do as man. Nuns are the “brides of Christ.” The Church is the bride of Christ. Where does that leave the psychologically normal male? Reading the Song of Solomon only deepens the question.

Another book that may be useful is Wild Man’s Journey: Reflections on Male Spirituality, by Richard Rohr and Joseph Martos, 1996, St. Anthony Messenger Press. Rohr is a Franciscan priest and is considered one of the foremost preachers on male spirituality. Though I’m not familiar with his work on male spirituality, I have appreciated his work in other areas.

Pete, I hear what you’re saying. As a heterosexual married man, I’m looking for ways to relate to God that flows from my masculinity. Yes, I’m in touch with my “feminine side” but I don’t feel the need to become more feminine to pray or to get in touch with God. By the same token, the images from the Song of Songs, etc. present no problem for me because I don’t think of God as a male. Song of Songs presents the image of 2 impassioned lovers and suggests that as a metaphor for the desire God has for intimacy with us. I simply compare that to the passion and desire my wife and I have for eachother (yes, even after 24 years of marriage!) and think to myself, “The way my wife and I long for eachother is the way God longs for me” and that to me is a profound image. The imagery in the poem from John of the Cross does refer to the beloved as feminine and the Lover as masculine. I simply read that as a reflection of the times it was written in when it was assumed that the man was the initiator of intimate relations. I don’t know that John could have written it any other way. Anyway, all that to say that God, who is neither male or female, passionately desires to have an intimate relationship (spiritual)with me and with all people: to be joined in union (communion)with us. That’s what makes the Eucharist such a wonderful gift because it is a physical expression of that spiritual communion.

Thanks for the comments Joe and Pete. I don’t know that I’d say that in a love relationship the male is normally more active and the female more passive. I think that in our culture it is balancing out, though women continue to be slotted into a more passive, even submissive role by our culture. Are people who are naturally passive able to better enter into this way of relating to God? For many (not all) women, the language of passivity and submission and surrender can have a negative connotation because of the way society has treated women. Even though these things have their positive/virtuous aspects — allowing God to seek us out, submitting our will to God’s will, etc. — they can still be a challenge to relate to. No language will ever exhaust the mystery of God and our call to union with God.

I was afraid I might get into trouble by broaching this subject. The real problem may be that we humans think of love in which union is attained in terms of sex. In other kinds of human loving, that is, to our neighbors, we give of ourselves, but do not seek union. In sex we do. “For a man shall leave his mother and his father and cling to his wife, and the two shall become one.” Hudds53 is saying what I mean when he writeS: “In our human world the greatest or closest comparable we may have is the love between a man and wife and their yearnings or desire to be together. Hence the sexual inference to give our human minds something tangible for somewhat of a comparison.:

So, Sister, this is not a question of women being forced into passive and submissive roles by our society, or any society. That is a different issue. I am really talking about seeking union, that is, if I can say it, a form of consumation. Is that what is happening in contemplation, at least at the higher levels of it? If it is, isn’t God active and we passive? I think men find it harder to be passive than women, so is it harder for men to achieve this than women? Why are men less interested in this, in general, than women?

By the way, I am not attempting to denigrate St. John of the Cross. Far from it. I have been attending a secular Carmelite community’s meetings for about six months and hope to be received into formation. Therefore, I am really, really, trying to get a hold on what John has to say.

I think I must be reinventing the wheel. It appears I am asking the same questions and using the same lanaguage and images that the mystics use. Perhaps it means I’m learning or growing; perhaps it means I should study more. I am certainly not a mystic. Anyway, thanks. Of course I have seen the Bernini sculpture of Teresa before, but I have to admit I wondered and still wonder if she really would have looked like that in prayer. I doubt it, but who knows? More to my point in this thread, would Bernini ever have imagined a man in ecstacy with the same expression? I doubt that, but I am even less of a scholar of art than of mystical spirituality, and perhaps there is such a painting or sculpture of a male in “ecstacy.” I don’t think I have ever been there, or even anywhere remotely close to there, but I would be willing to bet it’s in the heart, not on the face. And I am pretty sure it’s not in the head, either, just the heart.

Joe, I keep trying to find a way to define the issue without being indelicate. What I am talking about is that point in deep prayer which I–and I have now learned from Sr. Julie some of the mystics–have equated to consumation. I am not talking about what leads up to it. I thought about the poem “The Hound of Heaven” when writing earlier posts but did not mention it because this is not what I am talking about. There have been times in my life when God has sought me out; I think he is always seeking us in one way or another. But there have also been times when I have sought him, desperately.

I think that, in deep, deep prayer, when one lets God work on his soul, when there are no words to say, when one is almost oblivious to everything but the action of the Spirit, one must be totally passive, totally open, totally accepting. One must completely, totally give up all control. At the end, one sort of “wakes up,” almost with a feeling of being completely spent and completely satisfied. I have only experienced this a few times over a period of years and never by seeking it. I definitely cannot make it happen; it just has to happen. Actually, I am afraid that by writing this I am intellectualizng it too much, and so doing something which may stop it from ever happening again. It must be completely with the heart and not at all with the head.

I have wondered if this is too “feminine” to be psychologically healthy for a male; hence my original post in response to the poem by John of the Cross with which Sr. Julie began this thread.

I cannot describe this experience any better. I think that only by participating in this discussion for the past several days have I been able to come to the point where I could write the second paragraph in this post. I think I would like to read more and pray much more before trying to say any more. I have not yet read St. Teresa’s Interior Castle or any of the works of John of the Cross. I have just learned by doing and I don’t know how to say any more.

Sister Julie, thank-you for asking me to comment regarding the matter of men assimilating into their spiritual experience the words of this precious poem, as well as the beautiful words of the Song Of Solomon found in the Old Testament. Much can be said, but I will say only a little for now. … As we know, in marriage, a man is to “love” his wife, and the woman is to “respect” her husband. This is a premise that is a core dynamic of what God intends for peaceful marital union. For the man who has loved his wife in the sacred experience of intimacy, that man can understand the words of this poem by having primarily been the “giver” of this loving experience to his beautiful wife and bride. You see, the “giving” and receiving of intimate love are merely opposite sides of the same coin. A man can feel caressed and cherished by God, because he as a man has caressed and cherished a woman in sacramental loyalty. As what defines manhood is to cherish and love regardless of circumstances, the man in his relationship with God can feel protected, loved and cherished within strong arms of an ever present, all powerful Diety. Also, when a man truly practices acts of love and commitment to his wife, that experience becomes the true path to loving himself (also stated in scripture). Interestingly, for a man, especially a man, when that man feels lonely and needing love, he can feel love “after he gives love”. It is how man is made psychologically. It is his path to fulfillment. … Yes, the gentleman is correct. Taken further, “we men need to not be like women.” Often we process thought and emotion within ourselves different than women do, but remember, God made us this way. We men need to truly be “men”. This is what is sadly missing so vitally in the world. By being men, loving at all costs, then in our intimate loving, true loving of the woman with whom we are “one”, the man knows entirely from a different perspective the tender, and merciful caress of our Heavenly God. That God will be our husband for all eternity.

Thank you Jim and Sr. Julie. Jim, your phrase “A man can feel caressed and cherished by God” interests me very much, because I had been wondering if this feeling is psychologically unhealthy for males. Your response is reassuring. For reasons that I cannot fully explain yet am sure come from God I have been drawn towards the Carmelites and their spirituality, which I do view as feminine in many ways. When I first thought of joining a third order I got interested in the Franciscans, but when I realized it would be a lifetime commitment I decided to explore several orders carefully. All I can say is that every time I pray with Carmelites, especially communal silent prayer, I know I am in the right place for me. Moreover, Teresa of Avila’s book The Way of Perfection, which I was advised to read, is one of the most sensible spiritual books I have ever read.