From St. John of The Cross To Us

From St.
John of the Cross to Us, Part I
From St. John of the Cross to Us
Part I:
ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS ON CONTEMPLATION
Chapter 1: Christian Contemplation Today
CHAPTER 1:
CHRISTIAN CONTEMPLATION TODAY
The Current Situation
We are at the beginning of the first sustained and

practical interest in contemplative prayer since the 17th
century. The word practical has to be stressed. The first
half of this century saw a far-reaching renewal of
mystical theology and the history of spirituality, but that
was never translated into the widespread enthusiasm
for the practice of contemplative prayer that we are
seeing today. Old attitudes, prevalent in the 18th and
19th centuries, which said that contemplation was
something dangerous and extraordinary and reserved
for the saints with their visions and revelations,
persisted even when this speculative renewal of
mysticism was stressing how contemplation was the
normal outcome of the Christian virtues and the gifts of
the Holy Spirit.
Today’s revival of practical interest in contemplative

prayer is witnessed by a flood of books and articles,
lectures, conferences and retreats, and its causes can be
traced to factors both within and outside the Church.
The Second Vatican Council, for example, gave both
religious and lay people a new sense of freedom and a
desire for spiritual renewal. Groups like the Cursillo
and the Charismatic Movement, and later Centering
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From St. John of the Cross to Us, Part I
Prayer and meditation groups following the teach-ing of

John Main have helped introduce large numbers of
Christians to a deeper life of prayer. When we add to
this the spiritual hunger so characteristic of our modern
Western civilization and its deeper acquaintance of
Eastern forms of meditation and various depth
psychologies, we end up with a setting in which
practical questions about Christian mysticism naturally
arise.
Increasing numbers of Christians today are searching

for a deeper inner life. They want to be contemplatives,
to practice contemplative prayer, to go on an interior
journey to union with God, and they are enthusiastic
about anything that purports to tell them about how to
actually go about doing this. But there is a gap between
this enthusiasm for contemplative prayer and our
knowledge of the history of spirituality and the
theology of mysticism. It is a gap that is a mirror image
of the one that existed in the first part of this century.
But now practice is in the forefront and history and
theology in the back-ground. Such symmetry should
lead us to wonder if the former situation has not in
some way given birth to the latter.
Today’s practical interest in mysticism, inasmuch as it is

a reac-tion to the past, cuts us off from it. We are not
interested in anything that seems too theoretical or
speculative. We really don’t ask ourselves about the
inner nature of mysticism, and we are even less
interested in the modern history of Christian mysticism.
The harm that the bad attitudes of the past have
inflicted upon us has created a wall that prevents us
from looking at this past, and so we run the very real
danger of repeating its mistakes. The crisis of Christian
mysticism today is not in what we are doing, not in all
the bright new beginnings that are springing up, but in
what we are failing to do. While the rest of theology has
discovered its historically conditioned nature, Christian
mysticism still acts like it is exempt from history, and
may very soon begin to pay the price for this blindness.
I don’t propose to write a detailed history of Christian

mysticism or a comprehensive treatise on mystical

theology. My intent is much more selective. I want to
look at one central problem in the practice of
contemplative prayer, the delicate transition from
ordinary prayer or meditation to contemplation, a
problem that is reappearing today and which will only
become more critical as time goes on. And I want to
look at it in the light of the last 400 years of reflection on
the writings of John of the Cross on this particular issue.
This critical threshold forms a very clearly defined
landmark in St. John’s writings, and has acted like a
mysterious planet whose gravity has captured the
attention of both practitioners and theoreti-cians of
mysticism ever since his day. In pursuing this objective I
think you will find that we have plenty of history and
mystical theo-logy to contend with, but hopefully
presented in a way that serves to illuminate our current
renewal of contemplation.
Can We Be Contemplatives?
The real issue today, just as it was for the first people
who read John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, is
whether you and I can be contemplatives. The answer
depends, of course, on just what we call contemplation
or mysticism. If we define it from the outside and say
that it means the attempt to lead a more reflective life in
which we make time for prayer, then certainly we can
be contemplatives. Or if we define contemplative prayer
as the more simplified and affective states of prayer that
follow formal meditation, that is, a carefully organized
process in which we use imagination and reasoning and
affect in prayer, then clearly contemplation is within our
grasp.
But just what did John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila
call con-templation? For both of them contemplation
meant infused contem-plation. It was not simply
believing in God and putting ourselves in God’s
presence by faith and reaching out in love, but it was an
actual experience of God’s presence and love for us no
matter how mysteri-ous that experience might be. And
while this infused contemplation admitted of many

degrees, in all of them it was a prayer that was beyond

our ability to obtain by our own efforts. Once we define
con-templation in this way, then we have to ask
ourselves whether the current renewal in mysticism is
going to lead more and more people to the experience of
contemplation, or even whether this should be one of its
goals. These are much more complex questions than
they appear at first glance, and we have to keep them in
mind throughout all the historical chapters to come.
Their implications are enormous. In any dialogue with
Hinduism or Buddhism, for example, one of the most
important points to clarify is the kind of interior
experience that each tradition leads to. Both Buddhists
and Hindus, I think, would be surprised to learn how
unfocused the Christian to carry on a deep discussion
with other traditions understanding of the nature of
Christian mysticism is today. It is hard if we are not
clear about what our own has to say. Further, even on
the practical level within Christian spirituality itself, if
we fail to clarify the nature of contemplation, guide-
lines drawn from one definition will be indiscriminately
applied to an entirely different kind of contemplation
with unfortunate results.
Two Views of the History of Christian Mysticism
There are two basic ways in which to look at the last 400
years of the history of Christian mysticism. The first is
more straightforward and unfolds logically. In it, John
and Teresa are the founders of a new school of
spirituality and their impact spreads out in ever
growing concentric circles, first to the members of the
Carmelite reform, then to other religious congregations
of the time, and to the secular clergy and laity, and so
forth, until we finally become the beneficiaries of a
spiritual tradition which has been faithfully transmitted
from John of the Cross to us. Unfortunately, we are not
going to follow this approach because it suffers from
one drawback. It is wrong.
The second way of looking at this same history is a lot

less straightforward. We start with Teresa and John, but
instead of there being an orderly progression of

commentary and development that transmits their

message to us, we find a fatal misunderstanding that
begins even before St. John’s writings are published, a
misunderstanding that takes on a life of its own. This
misunderstanding goes on to play a central role in the
drama of Quietism and leads to the winter of practical
interest in mysticism that we are just beginning to
recover from, and it centers on the transition from
meditation to contemplation. This second viewpoint is a
story that has not been fully told, and its impact on our
current renewal of Christian mysticism insufficiently
examined. While specialized studies of great value have
appeared about our topic during the course of the 20th
century, they remain hidden, for the most part, in little
known journals and their wider significance
unrecognized. It is a jigsaw puzzle which we will try to
assemble without knowing whether we have all the
pieces and without the picture on the box. Better yet, I
like to think of this lost world of contemplation as a
detective story, and we have been assigned to discover
what really happened after the passage of 400 years.
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Chapter 2
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From St. John of the Cross to Us, Chapter 2
Part I:
ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS ON CONTEMPLATION
Chapter 2: John of the Cross' Teaching of Contemplation
There is no substitute for reading John of the Cross

himself. Reading his poems will give us a glimpse of
what was in his heart, while reading his major prose
works, especially when he talks about the transition
from meditation to contemplation, will give us his
formal teaching about contemplation.
The story that begins in Chapter 3 is the story of how

this transition was understood by those who came after
him. But if we are to make any sense of it we need to
understand what John was saying so we can see
whether it was altered or not.
In order to help us grasp St. John’s ideas on

contemplation this chapter is divided into two parts.
The first is a short primer on the basic principles that
govern St. John’s view of contemplation. The second is a
tour of some of his actual texts on the subject.
New Beginnings
The story of Teresa of Avila (1515-1582) and John of the

Cross (1542-1591) and their Carmelite reform is well
known and need not be repeated here in detail. Teresa,
gifted with mystical graces, is inspired to reform her
Carmelite Order, a job the calls for brains, guts and
holiness, all of which she had in abundance, not to
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mention a large dose of common sense and a sense of

humor.
1562 finds her finishing the first version of her

autobiography and founding the first convent for the
sisters of the Reform. Five years later she receives
permission to extend the Reform to the Carmelite friars,
and she meets a young friar who is at the point of
passing to the more secluded life of the Carthusians, but
who is willing to work with her on her new project if
they begin without any long delay.
This is John of the Cross, or Juan de San Matía, as he

was known then. Equally gifted with Teresa in the
graces of the mystical life, he is very different from her
in temperament. If it hadn’t been for Teresa, he probably
would have gone to the obscurity of the Carthusian
Order and perhaps never have written anything at all. It
wasn’t in his nature to think up a reform of his own
Order by himself. But once set upon this road he was to
be unmovable. The infant reform was soon locked in a
bitter struggle with its parent congregation, and the
history of its early years is a perfect antidote to the belief
that contemplation can only flourish in tranquility.
In 1578, while John of the Cross was imprisoned and

tormented in a jail cell in Toledo by his brothers in
religion, poems of astonishing beauty began to well up
inside of him. These primordial outpourings became the
gems around which his writings crystallized, and it is
his writings on the beginning of the mystical life that
occupy an important place in his Ascent of Mt. Carmel
and its companion work, The Dark Night of the Soul, and
his later Living Flame of Love that are going to occupy us.
There is another factor that can help us situate St. John

and St. Teresa's writings. Both of them are rooted in the
mainstream of the mystical traditions of the Church.
Teresa read Bernardo de Laredo and Francisco de
Osuna, while John of the Cross was familiar with
Dionysius and the Institutions attributed to Tauler, and
they both can be placed in that current of mysticism that
stretches from the Scriptures to Clement of Alexandria

and Origen to Gregory of Nyssa, and from Dionysius to

the Victorines and the mystics of the Rhine. The
originality of the great Carmelite saints should not be
looked for in some kind of departure from the Church's
mystical heritage, but in their revolutionary expression
of this age-old mystical current. A new age was
dawning in Europe, and one of its most important
features was a dramatic increase in psychological self-
consciousness. Further, up until the time of Teresa and
John mysticism had tended to remain amalgamated
with theological reflection and Scriptural exegesis. It
hadn't been focused upon for itself. Then come Teresa
and John who begin to talk about mystical experience
not only for itself, but as a personal experience.
A Primer on St. John’s Teaching on the Beginning of

Contemplation
St. John’s teaching on the transition from ordinary

prayer to contemplation can be distilled into the
following points:
By ordinary prayer St. John meant any kind of prayer

that we can do by our own efforts aided by God’s grace.
He called this meditation. In it we make use of our
natural faculties, that is, our senses, imagination,
intellect, memory and will in order to pray.
But since this is not how we understand meditation

today, it is important to see the difference. Meditation
today brings to mind a particular formula for praying in
which we imagine a scene from the Gospel, for example,
and draw conclusions about what it means for our lives,
and this process stirs our hearts to praise, thank and
love God, and to amend our lives. The realm of ordinary
prayer, that is, prayer that we can do ourselves, is now
divided between this kind of meditation and other more
simplified and affective prayers that go under the names
of the prayer of simplicity, or the prayer of the practice
of the presence of God, and so forth. These kinds of
prayers make much less use of the discursive activity of
the intellect and much more of the will in acts of love.
But for John of the Cross, who lived at a time before

these distinctions fully emerged, meditation embraces

all these kinds of ordinary prayer.
John also gives a precise meaning to the word

contemplation. It is a kind of prayer that we cannot do
whenever we want, for it does not depend on the
natural working of the faculties. It is a prayer given by
God in the depths of the heart so it is called infused
contemplation, or mystical experience. The goal of the
Christian life is union with God, and contemplation is a
mysterious experience of that union.
St. John also gives us a schema of the evolution of the
life of prayer. The beginning of our serious interest in
the life of prayer, or conversion to God, is often marked
by a period of sensible consolation. God feels present to
us. We feel a warm glow in our spiritual exercises, a
glow that pervades our feelings and thoughts, indeed,
all our natural faculties, and serves the good purpose of
drawing us from the things of the world to the things of
God. But eventually this sense of God’s presence falls
away. This can happen gradually or suddenly, and we
are left in darkness. It can feel like God has abandoned
us, and in our anxiety we wonder if we have committed
some sin to bring about what appears to be a terrible
state of affairs. And most of all, we want things to be
back the way they were. This could be called the dark
night of the senses in the wider meaning of the term,
and is a common experience in those devoted to the life
of prayer.
But this is not precisely what St. John is interested in. It

is true, he says, that this dark night might be due to our
lukewarmness or sins, or even to some kind of
psychological problem which, in the language of his
day, he called melancholy. But most of St. John’s energy
goes into analyzing another possibility. This dark night
might be a very distinctive kind of dark night that is
meant to lead us from ordinary prayer or meditation to
infused contemplation. His famous three signs were
meant to guide us so we could discover whether we
were actually called to this kind of contemplation or not.
The first sign is that we cannot pray like we did before.

The second – in order to rule out a disinclination coming

from our own bad conduct – is that we have no desire to
fix our attention on other things. The third sign is meant
to rule out melancholy, or a disinterest in things coming
from some kind of psychological cause. But it goes
beyond all that and is, by far, the most important sign.
We are beginning to experience an interior quiet and
rest that we are inclined to give ourselves to even while
we may still be thinking that we should be going back to
our old way of praying with our faculties, and that to
give into this new inclination is to give into idleness.
This inner quiet is the beginning of contemplation, itself.
It is a loving knowledge that comes, not through the
faculties of sense, imagination, intellect, memory or will,
but wells up from the depths of the heart and draws us
into those depths, to rest there and receive what God is
giving us.
John was so concerned that someone might miss this

call to contemplation that he described it in exquisite
detail. He explains, for example, how this new
experience could be so gentle and subtle, and we are so
used to pounding away with the faculties, that it might
be imperceptible at first – insensible, he says – to our
ordinary consciousness. We would have to quiet
ourselves and be lovingly attentive to this new
experience in order to taste it. Ironically, these
wonderfully detailed descriptions of the transition from
meditation to contemplation were going to haunt the
history of spirituality.
John of the Cross on Contemplation
This brief summary can hardly do justice to St. John’s

delicately nuanced treatment of the transition from
meditation to contemplation. It is worth trying to steep
ourselves in his language. The best way to do this is to
read The Ascent of Mt. Carmel, Book 2, Chapters 12-15,
The Dark Night, Book 1, Chapters 8-10, and The Living
Flame of Love, Stanza III, Nos. 26-58 from which the
following passages have been drawn.
The Ascent of Mt. Carmel

Contemplation does not come through the natural

working of the faculties. St. John makes this clear in
Chapter 12 in The Ascent of Mt. Carmel:
"For the farther the soul progresses in spirituality, the

more it ceases from the operation of the faculties in
particular acts, since it becomes more and more
occupied in one act that is general and pure." (1)
Therefore we need to take up a special attitude towards

this general act which is contemplation:
"The advice proper for these individuals is that they

must learn to abide in that quietude with a loving
attentiveness to God (con atención y advertencia
amorosa en Dios en aquella quietud) and pay no heed to
the imagination and its work. At this stage, as we said,
the faculties are at rest, and do not work actively but
passively, by receiving what God is effecting in
them." (2)
This passage continues: "...and, if they work at times it is

not with violence or with carefully elaborated
meditation, but with sweetness of love moved less by
the ability of the soul itself than by God as will be
explained hereafter." (3)
It is worth noting that the first edition of St. John’s

writings altered this final passage to read: "…and work
not save in that simple and sweet loving attentiveness;
and if at times they work more (than this) it is not with
violence…" (4) What appears here as a perhaps
unimportant shift in emphasis will take on a deeper
meaning as our story unfolds.
In Chapter 13, John goes on to describe the three signs

by which we can know whether this quietude or general
and pure knowledge, or infused contemplation, is
actually being given to us. "The first is the realization
that one cannot make discursive meditation nor receive
satisfaction from it as before." (5)

"The second sign is an awareness of a disinclination to

fix the imagination or senses upon other objects exterior
or interior." (6)
"The third and surest sign is that a person likes to

remain alone in loving awareness of God (con atención
amorosa a Dios) without particular considerations, in
interior peace and quiet and repose, and without the
acts and exercises (at least discursive, those in which
one progresses from point to point) of the intellect,
memory and will, and that he prefers to remain only in
that general loving awareness and knowledge (con la
atención y noticia general amorosa) we mentioned,
without any particular knowledge or understanding." (7)
"Actually at the beginning of this state the loving

knowledge is almost unnoticeable (casi no se hecha de
ver esta noticia amorosa). There are two reasons for this:
first, ordinarily the incipient loving knowledge is
extremely subtle and delicate and almost imperceptible
(casi insensible) (almost imperceptible to the senses – P);
second, a person who is habituated to the exercise of
meditation which is wholly sensible hardly perceives or
feels this new insensible purely spiritual experience (no
hecha de ver ni casi siente estotra novedad insensible
que es ya pura de espíritu) (it is unaware and hardly
conscious of this other new and imperceptible
condition, which is purely spiritual – P). This is
especially so when through failure to understand it he
does not permit himself any quietude, but strives after
the other more sensory experience. Although the
interior peace is more abundant, the individual allows
no room for its experience and enjoyment (no se da
lugar a sentirla y gozarla).
"But the more habituated he becomes to this calm the

deeper his experience of the general loving knowledge
of God (amorosa noticia general de Dios) will grow.
This knowledge is more enjoyable than all other things
because without the soul’s labor it affords peace, rest,
savor and delight." (8)

There is a general continuity between meditation and

contemplation, for both aim at the love and knowledge
of God, but they do so in different ways.
"It should be known that the purpose of discursive

meditation on divine subjects is the acquisition of some
knowledge and love of God. Each time a person through
meditation procures some of this knowl-edge and love,
he does so by an act. Many acts, in no matter what area,
will engender a habit. Similarly, the repetition of many
particular acts of this loving knowledge (muchos actos
de estas noticias amorosas) becomes so continuous that
a habit is formed in the soul. God, too, effects this habit
in many souls without the precedence of at least many
of these acts as means, by placing them at once in
contemplation.
"What the soul, therefore, was periodically acquiring

through the labor of meditation on particular ideas has
now, as we said, been converted into the habitual and
substantial, general and loving knowl-edge (en hábito y
sustancia de una noticia amorosa general). This
knowledge is neither distinct nor particular as the
previous. Accordingly, the moment prayer begins, the
soul as one with a store of water, (como quien tiene
allegada el agua) (like one to whom water has been
brought – P) drinks peaceably without the labor or the
need of fetching the water through the channels of past
considerations, forms and figures. At the moment it
recollects itself in the presence of God it enters upon an
act of general, loving, peaceful and tranquil knowl-edge,
drinking wisdom and love and delight (se pone en acto
de noticia confusa, amorosa, pacifica y sosegada en que
está el alma bebiendo sabiduría y amor y sabor)." (9)
This experience of contemplation is necessary if we are

to leave ordinary prayer or meditation: "If a man did not
have this knowledge or attentiveness to God, (esta
noticia o asistencia en Dios) he would as a consequence
be neither doing anything nor receiving anything.
Having left the discursive meditation of the sensitive
faculties and still lacking contemplation (the general
knowledge in which the spiritual faculties – memory,

intellect, and will – are actuated and united in this

passive, prepared knowledge) he would have no
activity whatsoever relative to God." (10)
But it is not always easy to consciously experience

contemplation: "It is noteworthy that this general
knowledge is at times so recondite and delicate
(especially when purer, simpler and more perfect),
spiritual and interior that the soul does not perceive or
feel it (no la echa de ver ni la siente), even though
employed with it." (11)
"As we have mentioned, it seems to a person when

occupied with this knowledge that he is idle because he
is not at work with his senses or faculties (no obra nada
con los sentidos ni con las potencias). Nevertheless he
must believe he is not wasting time, for even though the
harmonious interaction of his sensory and spiritual
faculties ceases, his soul is occupied with knowledge in
the way we have explained." (12)
"He will often find that he is experiencing this loving or

peaceful awareness passively (esta amorosa o pacifica
asistencia sin obrar nada) without having first engaged
in any active work (regarding particular acts) with his
faculties. But on the other hand he will frequently find it
necessary to aid himself gently and moderately with
meditation in order to enter this state.
"But once he has been placed in it, as we have pointed

out, he does not work with the faculties. It is more exact
to say that then the work is done in the soul and the
knowledge and delight is already produced, than that
the soul does anything, besides attentively loving God
(tener advertencia el alma con amar el Dios) and
refraining from the desire to feel or see anything. In this
loving awareness the soul receives God's
communication passively, just as a man, without doing
anything else but keeping his eyes open, receives light
passively. This reception of the light infused
supernaturally in the soul is a passive knowing. It is
affirmed that the person does nothing, not because he
fails to understand, but because he understands by dint

of no effort other than the reception of what is

bestowed... This light is never lacking to the soul, but
because of creature forms and veils weighing upon and
covering it the light is never infused. If a person will
eliminate these impediments and veils, and live in pure
nakedness and poverty of spirit, as we shall explain
later, his soul in its simplicity and purity will then be
immediately transformed into simple and pure
Wisdom, the Son of God. As soon as natural things are
driven out of the enamored soul the divine are naturally
and supernaturally infused, since there can be no void
in nature." (130
The Dark Night
"The sensory night is common and happens to

many." (14)
"...it is at the time they are going about their spiritual

exercises with delight and satisfaction, when in their
opinion the sun of divine favor is shining most brightly
on them, that God darkens all this light and closes the
door and spring of the sweet spiritual water they were
tasting as often – and as long as they desired." (15)
"This usually happens to recollected beginners sooner

than to others, since they are freer from occasions of
backsliding and they more quickly reform their
appetites for worldly things. A reform of the appetites is
the requirement for entering the happy night of the
senses. Not much time ordinarily passes after the initial
stages of their spiritual life before beginners start to
enter this night of sense. And the majority of them do
enter it, because it is common to see them suffer these
aridities." (16)
It is important to distinguish between what can be

called the dark night in the strict sense, that is, a dark
night coming from the beginning of contemplation, and
a dark night in a more general sense, which is a growing
inability to meditate as before. If these two nights were
identical John could have simply concluded his

treatment here and not have gone on to describe the

signs that are necessary in order that we can be sure that
we are entering into the night of contemplation. But a
few lines later he goes on:
"Because the origin of these aridities may not be the

sensory night and purgation, but sin and imperfection,
or weakness and lukewarmness, or some bad humor or
bodily indisposition, I will give some signs here for
discerning whether the dryness is the result of this
purgation or of one of these other defects. I find there
are three principal signs for knowing this.
"The first is that as these souls do not get satisfaction or

consolation from the things of God, they do not get any
out of creatures either." (17)
"The second sign for the discernment of this purgation is

that the memory ordinarily turns to God solicitously
and with painful care and the soul thinks it is not
serving God, but turning back because it is aware of this
distaste for the things of God." (18)
"Since the sensory part of the soul is incapable of the

goods of the spirit it remained deprived, dry, and
empty, and thus while the spirit is tasting the flesh
tastes nothing at all and becomes weak in its work... If in
the beginning the soul does not experience (no siente)
this spiritual savor and delight, but dryness and
distaste, it is because of the novelty involved in this
exchange." (19)
"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." (20)
"The third sign for the discernment of this purgation of

the senses is the powerlessness, in spite of one's efforts,
to meditate and make use of the imagination, the
interior sense, as was one's previous custom. At this
time God does not communicate Himself through the
senses as He did before by means of the discursive
analysis and synthesis of ideas, but begins to
communicate Himself through pure spirit by an act of
simple contemplation, in which there is no discursive
succession of thought." (21)
"Those who do not walk the road of contemplation act

very differently. This night of the aridity of the senses is
not so continuous in them, for sometimes they
experience the aridities and at other times not, and
sometimes they can meditate and at other times they
cannot. God places them in this night solely to exercise
and humble them, and reform their appetite lest in their
spiritual life they foster a harmful attraction towards
sweetness. But He does not do so in order to lead them
to the life of the spirit, which is contemplation. For God
does not bring to contemplation all those who
purposely exercise themselves in the way of the spirit,
nor even half. Why? He best knows. As a result He
never completely weans their senses from the breasts of
consideration and discursive meditations, except for
some short periods and at certain seasons, as we
said." (22)
"The attitude necessary in the night of sense is to pay no

attention to discursive meditation, since this is not the
time for it. They should allow the soul to remain in rest
and quietude, even though it may seem very obvious to
them that they are doing nothing and wasting time, and
even though they think this disinclination to think about

anything is due to their laxity... They must be content

simply with a loving and peaceful attentiveness to God,
(una advertencia amorosa y sosegada en Dios), and live
without the concern, without the effort, and without the
desire to taste or feel Him (sin gana de gustarle o de
sentirle). All these desires disquiet the soul and distract
it from the peaceful quiet and sweet idleness of the
contemplation which is being communicated to it." (23)
The Living Flame of Love
St. John returns for a third time to this theme of when

we ought to turn from meditation to contemplation in
The Living Flame of Love.
" ... the practice of beginners is to meditate and make

acts of discursive reflection with the imagination...
"But when the appetite has been fed somewhat, and has
become in a certain fashion accustomed to certain
things, and has acquired some fortitude and constancy,
God begins to wean the soul, as they say, and place it in
the state of contemplation. This occurs in some persons
after a very short time...
"The soul conducts itself only as the receiver and as one

in whom something is being done; God is the giver and
the one who works in it, by according spiritual goods in
contemplation (which is knowledge and love together,
that is, loving knowledge), (noticia y amor divino junto,
esto es, noticia amorosa) without the soul's natural acts
and discursive reflections, for it can no longer engage in
these acts as before." (24)
"Since God, then, as the giver communes with him

through a simple loving knowledge (noticia sencilla y
amorosa) the individual also as the receiver communes
with God through a simple and loving knowledge or
attention (noticia y advertencia sencilla y amorosa) so
that knowledge is joined with knowledge and love with
love. The receiver should act according to the mode of
what is received, and not otherwise, in order to receive

and keep it in the way it is given." (25)
"If a person should, then, desire to act on his own

through an attitude different from the passive loving
attention (advertencia amorosa passiva) we mentioned,
in which he would remain very passive and tranquil
without making any act, unless God would unite
Himself with him in some act, he would utterly hinder
the goods God communicates supernaturally to him in
the loving knowledge. This loving knowledge is
communicated in the beginning through the exercise of
interior purgation, in which the individual suffers, as
we have said, and afterwards in the delight of love." (26)
"He should be very free and annihilated regarding all

things, because any thought or discursive reflection or
satisfaction upon which he may want to lean will
impede and disquiet him, and make noise in the
profound silence of his senses and his spirit, which he
possesses for the sake of this deep and delicate listening
(profunda y delicada audición de Dios)." (27)
"When it happens, therefore, that a person is conscious

in this manner of being placed in solitude and in this
state of listening, he should even forget the practice of
loving attentiveness I mentioned (aun el ejercicio de la
advertencia amorosa que dije ha de olvidar) (aun la
advertencia amorosa que dije ha de olvidar - first
redaction) so as to remain free for what the Lord then
desires of him. He should make use of that loving
awareness (advertencia amorosa) only when he does not
feel himself placed in this solitude or inner idleness or
oblivion or spiritual listening. That he may recognize it,
it always comes to pass with a certain peace and calm
and inward absorption." (28)
"This wisdom is loving, tranquil, solitary, peaceful,

mild, and an inebriator of the spirit, by which the soul
feels tenderly and gently wounded and carried away,
without knowing by whom, nor from where, nor how.
The reason is that this wisdom is communicated
without the soul's own activity.

"... and although one is not so clearly conscious of it (no

se echa tanto de ver) it will in due time shed its light.
The least that a person can manage to feel is a
withdrawal and an estrangement to all things,
sometimes more than at other times, accompanied by an
inclination towards solitude and a weariness with all
creatures and with the world, in the gentle breathing of
love and life in the spirit... the blessings this silent
communication and contemplation impresses on the
soul, without it then experiencing them (sin ella sentirlo)
are, as I say, inestimable." (29)
"...In the contemplation we are discussing (by which

God infuses Himself into the soul) particular knowledge
as well as acts made by the soul are unnecessary,
because God in one act is communicating light and love
together, which is loving supernatural knowledge
(noticia sobrenatural amorosa). We can assert that this
knowledge is like light which transmits heat, for that
light also enkindles love. This knowledge is general and
dark to the intellect because it is contemplative
knowledge, which is a ray of darkness for the intellect,
as St. Dionysius teaches." (30)
"God will feed you with heavenly refreshment since you

do not apply your faculties to anything, nor encumber
them, but detach them from everything, which is all you
yourself have to do (besides the simple loving
attentiveness – advertencia amorosa sencilla – in the
way I mentioned above, that is, when you feel no
aversion toward it). You should not use any force,
except to detach the soul and liberate it, so as not to alter
its peace and tranquility." (31)
St. John’s Language of Contemplation
When St. John talked about contemplation he made no

effort to use the same words to describe it. He used
language fluidly in order to describe a living reality
from different perspectives.
In the Ascent he calls contemplation: a general and pure

act, interior quiet, loving knowledge, general

knowledge, or general loving knowledge, supernatural
knowledge of contemplation, general loving advertence,
loving or peaceful attendance, loving attention,
attention and loving advertence, attention and general
loving knowledge.
In The Dark Night contemplation becomes: obscure and

dry contemplation, interior refreshment, a loving a calm
advertence, infused contemplation, obscure and secret
contemplation, and a sweet, peaceful, loving infusion of
God.
While in The Living Flame it is described as: loving

knowledge, wisdom and loving knowledge, simple and
loving knowledge, loving advertence, passive loving
advertence, recollection and interior solitude, infused
love, silent quietude, and emptiness and solitude.
A Postscript on St. Teresa of Avila
This infused contemplation that St. John is talking about

is no different than what St. Teresa teaches. She
naturally has her own distinctive point of view, but in
essence their doctrines on contemplation are identical.
When she is talking about the prayer of quiet she writes:
"This quiet and recollectedness in the soul makes itself

felt largely through the satisfaction and peace which it
brings to it, together with very great joy and repose of
the faculties and a most sweet delight... It dares not
move or stir, for it thinks that if it does so this blessing
may slip from its grasp: sometimes it would like to be
unable even to breathe. The poor creature does not
realize that, having been unable to do anything of itself
to acquire that blessing, it will be still less able to keep it
longer than the time for which the Lord is pleased that it
shall possess it. I have already said that in this first state
of recollection and quiet, the faculties of the soul do not
fail; but the soul has such satisfaction in God that,
although the other two faculties may be distracted, yet,
since the will is in union with God for as long as the

recollection lasts, its quiet and repose are not lost, but
the will gradually brings the understanding and
memory back to a state of recollection again. For,
although the will is not yet completely absorbed, it is so
well occupied, without knowing how, that, whatever
the efforts made by the understanding and memory,
they cannot deprive it of its contentment and rejoicing:
indeed, without any labor on its part, it helps to prevent
this little spark of love for God from being quenched.
"... there are many, many souls that reach this state and
few that pass beyond it..." (32)
"This quiet and recollection - this little spark - if it

proceeds from the spirit of God... is not a thing that can
be acquired, as anyone who has experience of it must
perforce realize immediately, but this nature of ours is
so eager for delectable experiences that it tries to get all
it can. Soon, however, it becomes very cold; for, hard as
we may try to make the fire burn in order to obtain this
pleasure, we seem only to be throwing water on it to
quench it." (33)
"What the soul has to do at these seasons of quiet is

merely to go softly and make no noise. By noise, I mean
going about with the understanding in search of many
words and reflections with which to give thanks for this
benefit and piling up its sins and imperfections so as to
make itself realize that it does not deserve it." (34)
For Teresa there are two kinds of prayers of recollection

that can precede this prayer of quiet. One is called active
recollection "because the soul collects together all the
faculties and enters in itself to be with its God. Its
Divine Master comes more speedily to teach it, and to
grant it the Prayer of Quiet, than in any other way. For,
hidden there within itself, it can think about the Passion,
and picture the Son, and offer Him to the Father,
without wearying the mind by going to seek Him on
Mount Calvary, or in the Garden, or at the Column." (35)
"...I should like to be able to explain the nature of this

holy companionship with our great Companion, the

Holiest of the holy in which there is nothing to hinder
the soul and her Spouse from remaining alone together,
when the soul desires to enter within herself, to shut the
door behind her so as to keep out all that is worldly and
to dwell in that Paradise with her God. I say "desires,"
because you must understand that this is not a
supernatural state but depends upon our volition, and
that by God's favor, we can enter it of our own accord:
this condition must be understood of everything that we say
in this book can be done, for without it nothing can be
accomplished and we have not the power to think a
single good thought. For this is not a silence of the
faculties: it is a shutting up of the faculties within itself
by the soul." (36)
In contrast to this active recollection St. Teresa describes

a passive or supernatural recollection "which almost
invariably begins before" the prayer of quiet. (37)
"A person involuntarily closes his eyes and desires

solitude; and, without the display of any human skill
there seems gradually to be built for him a temple in
which he can make the prayer already described; the
senses and all external things seem gradually to lose
their hold on him, while the soul on the other hand,
regains its lost control." (38)
"So, like a good Shepherd, with a call so gentle that even

they can hardly recognize it, He teaches them to know
His voice... Do not suppose that the understanding can
attain to Him, merely by trying to think of Him within
the soul, or the imagination, by picturing Him as there.
This is a good habit and an excellent kind of meditation,
for it is founded upon a truth – namely, that God is
within us. But it is not the kind of prayer that I have in
mind, for anyone (with the help of the Lord, you
understand) can practice it for himself. What I am
describing is quite different. These people are
sometimes in the castle before they have begun to think
about God at all. I cannot say where they entered it or
how they heard their shepherd's call: it was certainly not
with their ears, for outwardly such a call is not audible.

They become markedly conscious that they are

gradually retiring within themselves; it happens only
when God is pleased to grant us this favor." (39)
"One preparation for listening to Him, as certain books

tell us, is that we should contrive, not to use our
reasoning powers, but to be intent upon discovering
what the Lord is working in the soul; for, if His Majesty
has not begun to grant us absorption, I cannot
understand how we can cease thinking in any way
which will not bring us more harm than profit, although
this has been a matter of continual discussion among
spiritual persons. For my own part, I confess my lack of
humility, but their arguments have never seemed to me
good enough to lead me to accept what they say. One
person told me of a certain book by the saintly Fray
Peter of Alcántara (for a saint I believe he is), which
would certainly have convinced me, for I know how
much he knew about such things; but we read it
together, and found that he says exactly what I say,
although not in the same words; it is quite clear from
what he says that love must already be awake...
"... when from the secret signs He gives us we seem to

realize that He is hearing us, it is well for us to keep
silence... But if we are not quite sure that the King has
heard us, or sees us, we must not stay where we are like
ninnys, for there still remains a great deal for the soul to
do when it has still the understanding; if it did nothing
more it would experience much greater aridity and the
imagination would grow more restless because of the
effort caused it by the cessation of thought... God gave
us our faculties to work with, and everything will have
its due reward; there is no reason, then, for trying to cast
a spell over them - they must be allowed to perform
their office until God gives them a better one." (40)
Notes
(K is the Kavanaugh-Rodriguez translation; P is the

Peers’ translation, while O is the original text in the
Obras de San Juan de la Cruz. BAC, 6th edition.)

1. Ascent, 2, 12, 6. P. p. 130.

2. 2, 12, 8. K. p. 139. O. p. 506.
3. 2, 12, 8. P. p. 132.
4. P. p. 132, n. 27.
5. 2, 13, 2. K. p. 140.
6. 2, 13, 3. K. p. 140.
7. 2, 13, 4. K. p. 141. O. p. 507.
8. 2, 13, 7. K. p. 141. P. p. 135-156. O. p. 507-508.
9. 2, 14, 2. K. p. 142-143. P. p. 138. O. p. 508-509.
10. 2, 14, 6. K. p. 144. O. p. 509.
11. 2, 14, 8. K. p. 144. O. p. 510.
12. 2, 14, 11. K. p. 146.
13. 2, 15, 2 and 4. K. p. 148-149. O. p. 513.
14. Dark Night. I, 8, 1. K. p. 311.
15. 1, 8, 3. K. p. 312.
16. 1, 8, 4. K. pp. 312-313.
17. 1, 9, 1 and 2. K. p. 313.
18. 1, 9, 3. K. p. 313.
19. 1, 9, 4. K. p. 314. O. p. 632.
20. 1, 9, 6. P. pp. 66-67.
21. 1, 9, 8. K. p. 315.
22. 1, 9, 9. K. p. 316.
23. 1, 10, 4. K. p. 317. O. p. 635.
24. The Living Flame of Love. III, 32. K. pp. 621-622. O.
p. 944.
25. III, 34. K. pp. 622-623. O. p. 944.
26. III, 34. K. p. 623. O. p. 944.
27. III, 34. K. p. 623. O. p. 945.
28. III, 35. K. p. 623. O. pp. 945-946.
29. III, 38-40. K. p. 625. O. pp. 947-948.
30. III, 49. P. p. 629. O. p. 952.
31. III, 65. P. p. 636. O. p. 960.
32. Life. p. 154.
33. Ibid., pp. 155-156.
34. Ibid., p. 156.
35. The Way of Perfection. Ch. 28, p. 185.
36. Ibid., Ch. 29, pp. 191-192.
37. Interior Castle, Fourth Mansion, III, p. 85.
38. Ibid.
39. Fourth Mansion, III, pp. 86-87.
40. Ibid. pp. 87-89.

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Part II, Section 1
Home

From St. John of the Cross to Us, Part II, Section 1
Part II, Section 1: A LOST WORLD

OF CHRISTIAN MYSTICISM
Contents:
CHAPTER 3: TOMÁS DE JESÚS AND THE TRATADO BREVE
CHAPTER 4: El CAMINO ESPIRITUAL
CHAPTER 5: TEXT RIDDLES
CHAPTER 3:
TOMÁS DE JESÚS AND THE TRATADO BREVE
The Tratado Breve
In the last chapter we spent considerable effort focusing on what John of the Cross
meant by contemplation. It was unavoidable. It forms the indispensable background
for our story which now begins to unfold and which vitally influenced the history of
Christian mysticism and is still influencing it today.
The year is 1608. A fat devotional manual of over 1,000 pages has appeared – and this
is only the first volume – called Arte de bien vivir by the Spanish Benedictine abbot
Antonio Alvarado (1561-1617). Like many of the books of its time it bore a long title:
The Art of Living Well and Guide to the Paths of Heaven by the Exercise of the Spiritual Life.
These guides to living and dying were quite common, and this one would not have
captured posterity’s attention except for the fact it included (Bk II, Chapters 39-48) a
treatise known elsewhere as El Tratado breve or, in its full glory: A Brief Treatise of
Affirmative and Negative Obscure Knowledge of God and the Way for the Soul to Unite Itself
with God by Love. And it is this treatise which mentions for the first time in print an
active or acquired contemplation that we can do ourselves. Indeed, it does more than
mention it. It systematically develops the idea and does so in a language that is filled
with resonances of John of the Cross. In fact, it could almost be called a veiled
commentary on John’s transition from meditation to infused contemplation, but this
time the outcome is an active contemplation.
The heart of the drama of the history of Christian mysticism in the 17th century lies
file:///D|/Letöltés/fromp2a.htm (1 of 46)2012.04.11. 21:18:12

precisely here. Did John of the Cross know and teach an active, or acquired,
contemplation we can do ourselves in addition to his infused contemplation? And can
we find that teaching in his major writings, or in some other work like this Tratado
breve? In short, is John of the Cross the father of acquired contemplation and, indeed,
the author of the Tratado breve? It is important that we grasp what is at stake here, for if
we don’t, the tortuous twists and turns of the history we are now embarking on will
lose their meaning. They need to be illuminated by the fundamental issue of just what
John of the Cross meant by contemplation. If it is the infused contemplation, which his
texts so clearly seem to indicate, we need to act accordingly in the life of prayer. But if
he is also teaching a contemplation we can do ourselves, then how we act will be
different. Confusion on this point can lead to disaster, as we will see.
Ironically, despite the battle over acquired contemplation that was to be fought
throughout the length of the 17th century and the importance of the Tratado breve, it
was not until the 18th century that the debate about acquired contemplation received a
formulation that centered around the authorship of this treatise. Andrés de la
Encarnación (1716-1795), the great Carmelite historian, was preparing a new edition of
John’s writings, which would have been a major step toward a critical edition if it had
ever been published. He had found in the archival trunk with three keys of the
Discalced Friars of Toledo a manuscript of the Tratado breve bound together with a
copy of St. John’s Dark Night, both written in the same hand and dated 1618. It had
belonged to one of the friars, Pedro de San Angelo, and someone – perhaps the
Carmelite Esteban de San José – had written on it, "Belonging to the Carmelite Fathers
of Toledo."1
Andrés reasoned that Pedro de San Angelo, who had joined the Order in 1584, that is,
seven years before the death of John of the Cross, would certainly have known if this
manuscript was the work of John and would have crossed out John’s name on it. We
can add that even if Pedro de San Angelo didn’t cross out John’s name, Esteban de San
José, who was to play a highly visible role in the drama of those times, should have, as
we shall see.
But Andrés had his doubts about the authenticity of this manuscript. There was
something about its style and way of citing authorities, and even its use of the idea of
acquired contemplation, that didn’t sound quite right. Yet, on the other hand, it was so
reminiscent of John’s thought that he was going to include it in his edition of John’s
works.
It wasn’t until the 20th century that the question was to come up again. Gerardo de San
Juan de la Cruz was preparing his edition of John’s works which was to be the first
critical style edition to see the light of day (1912-1914), and there he printed the Tratado
breve as a probable work of St. John. Carmelite scholars began to circle the truth. In

1918, for example, Claudio de Jesús Crucificado thought that the Tratado breve reflected
an oral tradition coming from John of the Cross, while a bit later the noted Carmelite
scholar, Gabriel de Sainte-Marie-Magdeleine felt that Tomás de Jesús – one of the most
talented and enigmatic figures in the second generation of Discalced Carmelite Friars –
had only known St. John through the Tratado breve. Finally, Silverio de Santa Teresa,
the great historian and General of the Discalced, who prepared the first truly critical
edition of John’s writings, put to rest, once and for all, any attribution of the Tratado
breve to St. John, a judgment that hasn’t been questioned since.
These early 20th century attempts to find the author of the Tratado breve did leave one
clue that was not to be followed up for many years. Gerardo de San Juan de la Cruz,
after he published his edition of John’s works, wrote to Claudio de Jesús Crucificado
saying that he now believed that the author of the Tratado breve was Tomás de Jesús.2
The reason he had for saying this I don’t know. Perhaps he had stumbled on some
then unknown manuscript in the Biblioteca Nacional in Madrid, but whatever the
reason was, it was going to prove to be a very shrewd insight, for it is around Tomás
de Jesús that our story of the lost world of Carmelite mysticism revolves.
Tomás de Jesús
Díaz Sánchez Dávila, known in religion as Tomás de Jesús, was the son of Baltasar
Dávila and Teresa Herrera, and had been born in Baeza in southern Spain in 1564.3 He
was the third of five brothers of a well-connected family, and from his earliest years
showed a precocious intellect, and he excelled in his studies at Baeza, finishing his
course of study in the arts and theology before he left for Salamanca to study law in
1583. Legend has it that when he graduated with his Bachelor of Arts he was so small
that it was necessary to add cork lifts to his shoes so he could sit in his chair at
graduation.
In Salamanca, one of his teachers, Baltasar Céspedes, praised the writings of a

Discalced sister. Tomás knew he was speaking of Teresa of Avila and went to the
Discalced monastery in Salamanca and asked to borrow one of her writings, and was
given a manuscript copy of her autobiography which had not yet been published. He
took it to his house and tells us he was reading it for its style "because I was still at that
time very much a distracted young man."4 He came by chance upon the passage where
Teresa describes the four waters of the various stages of contemplative union, and after
having read it, found himself in tears. He felt that God had given him the light to
understand what favors God had prepared for those who follow Him. And without
ever having even the first motion towards becoming a religious – on the contrary,
having had many contrary motions, he tells us – that reading was so efficacious that
within two weeks he had taken the Discalced habit.

Let’s try to read between the lines a bit here. How did Tomás know that it was Teresa
his professor was talking about, and why would the Carmelites have lent him what
would have been a valuable copy of a manuscript of her life? It is not likely he had
simply come in off the street. He probably had had some kind of prior contact with the
Order. In fact, it turns out that one of his friends and classmates was Fernando del
Pulgar y Sandoval (1564-1646) who had been born in Granada and was a relative of
Teresa of Avila. Fernando’s grandfather had won fame and fortune in the wars against
the Moors by riding into hostile territory and nailing a placard with a Hail Mary on it
to the door of the principle mosque of Granada.5 Fernando had arrived in Salamanca
in 1585 and had made friends with Tomás and then joined the Carmelites in Valladolid
on March 10, 1586 taking the name Francisco de Santa María. A month later Tomás
followed him, taking the name Thomas out of his devotion to Thomas Aquinas.
This devotion to Thomas Aquinas is worth noting. The study of St. Thomas was
coming into vogue among the Carmelites and they were going to insist on it in their
general chapter of 1590.6 They would even insist that Francisco repeat his former
studies so they would be in accord with the teaching of the Angelic Doctor.7 Later we
will see that Tomás wanted to clarify mystical doctrine by using scholastic theology,
and this use of St. Thomas by Tomás and Francisco Quiroga will have some unfortuate
consequences.
So it is probable that Francisco’s departure had set the stage for Tomás’ decision, and
for his reading of Teresa. It is also entirely possible that Tomás knew about Teresa
through Francisco and might even have visited the Carmelites in Salamanca with him.
Indeed, the chronicles of the Order tell us that Francisco was in the habit of visiting
them.8
Tomás made his profession of vows at the hand of Jerónimo Gracián, the first
provincial of the Reform, on April 4, 1587. Two weeks later a General Chapter was
held at Valladolid in which John of the Cross took part. Did Tomás know John of the
Cross at this time, or even before? We do know that Francisco who was charged with
caring for the frail and sick Chapter members met John who brought tidings about
Francisco to his family in Granada from this meeting .9
John had been sent to Baeza to found a Carmelite House of Studies at the University in
June of 1579. He soon was a well-known and respected figure in the religious life of the
town, active in spiritual direction, and he was to remain there for two years. It is
entirely possible that Tomás, while studying theology at the University, had some
knowledge of him. Baeza at that time was a town larger than Avila or Salamanca, but
it still had only 25,000 people. However, how much attention Tomás as a young man
in his mid-teens would have paid to John’s presence is another matter. But it is likely
that he knew about him, and perhaps had even met him.

John of the Cross had been the Prior at the Carmelite House in Granada beginning in
1582, and he did much of his writing on his major prose works while he was there.
Later a number of intriguing reports circulated about the presence there of a certain
Tomás de Jesús. Baltasar de Jesús, who was a member of the house in Granada from
October 1584 to May 1586, reported that a certain brother Thomas had been making a
copy of the Spiritual Canticle. And in a deposition about John’s beatification given at
Ubeda, Alfonso de Camles stated that he had seen the original Canticle, and also one in
the hand of P. Fr. Thomas de Jesús.The same Baltasar de Jesús, in a deposition dated
Feb. 12, 1628, reported that among the manuscripts he had read was "one of the
Canticle that was written in the handwriting of Padre Fray Thomas Jesús, a novice who
then was of the Convent of Granada and is now deceased." When Baltasar writes that
Thomas is now deceased does he have in mind the death of our Tomás de Jesús some
nine months earlier?10
Tomás had been a novice from April of 1586 to April of 1587, but that had been in
Valladolid. Is it the same Tomás? It is possible, but there is, at this point, no way to
know for sure. Tomás could have gone to Granada seeking a manuscript of John’s
works, just as we have seen him do in Salamanca in regard to Teresa’s. He could even
have gone there with Francisco de Santa María, who was from Granada, and all this
could have taken place before, during or after Tomás’ novitiate. Tomás was no
ordinary novice. Francisco received his subdiaconate in Granada and stayed with his
parents and then received his diaconate in Córdoba. He met Tomás there who told him
about an idea he had for a Carmelite desert, or special contemplative monastery.11 If
this is true it shows how quickly Tomás was moving to try to live out his
contemplative aspirations. Even during their novitiate they had been called on to do
special writing projects. Why not a project copying the newly written Spiritual Canticle?
But we really don’t have enough facts and are on shaky ground. Andrés de la
Encarnación thinks that it was some other Tomás.12 It does, however, remain a
fascinating possibility because of the very problematic relationship future scholars
were going to see between Tomás and the various versions of the Spiritual Canticle.
If Tomás had been a precocious student, he now became a precocious Carmelite, and
his rise in the Order was rapid. He spent two years as the Master of Students in
Valladolid, and was ordained in 1589. He then spent two more years teaching theology
in Seville. It was while he was in Seville that he did research on the hermits of old and
the more solitary religious orders like the Camaldolese, and it was there that he had
the inspiration – or tried to follow through on the inspiration he had earlier
communicated to Francisco – that the Carmelites, themselves, should create desert
monasteries. In these monasteries some of the friars would be permanently assigned,
while others would stay a year or so, and all would give themselves to the life of
prayer. He shared this inspiration with two of his pupils: his old friend Francisco de
Santa María and Alonso de Jesús María. But when he presented it to Nicolás de Jesús

María Doria (1539-1594), the General of the Order, Doria was unenthusiastic. The hot,
humid climate of Seville bothered Tomás, and he was plagued with insomnia. His
superiors reassigned him to the north to teach and be the Vice-Rector of the College of
Saint Cyril at Alcalá de Henares.
One day, so the story goes, Juan de Jesús María Aravalles, the Rector of the college,
entered Tomás’ cell and saw some papers pertaining to the desert monasteries, and
encouraged him to pursue it. Tomás had another interview with Doria, who this time
approved the project, and the first desert monastery was founded by Tomás and
Alonso de Jesús María, who became its first superior at Bolarque near Pastrana on
August 7, 1592.
In 1594, Tomás was named Prior of the Discalced Monastery of Zaragoza. Esteban de
San José, who was a novice during Tomás’ stay in Zaragoza, and received profession at
his hands, reports that Tomás made a good impression on the notable citizens of the
town who, because of his youthful appearance, called him the "mozo sabio," or the
wise boy.
In 1597, Tomás became the Provincial of Old Castille and very much on his mind was
the foundation of a desert monastery for this province. With the experience of
founding Bolarque behind him, he was determined to find a special place for this new
desert. He and others commissioned by him scoured the province for a year without
success. Then he heard that one of the friars was going up into the mountains to cut
timbers, and he asked him to make inquiries. It was in this way that he discovered a
sheltered little valley on the border between the provinces of Salamanca and Caceres
along the Batuecas River. It was uninhabited except for an occasional shepherd, and
mountains blocked the north wind to give it a more temperate climate.13
The first two religious that Tomás assigned to begin this monastery found this remote
and uninhabited place not to their liking. Tomás then turned to Francisco de Santa
María and two recently ordained priests, Gaspar del Santíssimo Sacramento and Juan
del Espíritu Santo. They set out in March of 1599 and found a dilapidated hut with
unplastered stone walls for which they made a roof of odd boards and branches. They
were immediately met by a rainstorm that lasted for two weeks, so they could scarcely
cook or stay dry, but even this failed to dampen their enthusiasm. They were on an
adventure like the monks of old, or their own founders at Duruelo not that many years
before. Tomás came a little while later and officially inaugurated the Santo Desierto de
San José del Monte de las Batuecas, and construction began. There was to be a church
in the center and separate cells with their own gardens near it, and all this was to be
surrounded by a wall. In the outskirts hermitages were to be constructed, and around
the whole of the desert another wall. Later a hole in a giant cork tree became one of the
hermitages, and cork was used for doors and benches, and the mild climate allowed
them to grow flowers and have an orchard. By 1602 the Desert was far enough along

that strict rules of enclosure could be formally instituted. This solemn moment was
initiated with a celebration which was a fine and final chance for the devout and
curious from far and near to come and have a look.
Life in the Desert was given over to prayer and mortification. Quiet reigned, broken
only by the chanting of the Divine Office by the friars living in their cells, and the bells
of the chapel signalling to the hermits in the outskirts the time of prayer, and their
bells answering in turn. Once every two weeks there was a conference on some
spiritual subject, and an hour of socializing. Silence was broken only by the occasional
cry of praise of a hermit, or the manual labor that was an integral part of the day. The
brothers of Batuecas worked mightily to construct the outer wall, having to haul
materials themselves to the inaccessible places the pack mules could not reach. This
wall was seven kilometers long.
The monastery was the outer symbol and realization of Tomás’ initial inspiration that
he had had while reading St. Teresa. He wanted nothing more than to be a
contemplative, and so he worked to create the perfect setting for the contemplative life.
He felt that here many of the hermits entered into supernatural contemplation in a
short time.
The Preparation of St. John’s Writings for Publication
In 1600, rumors circulated that Tomás might be elected General of the Discalced, but
he dissuaded his supporters and was given, instead, the high office of Definitor
General and stationed at Las Batuecas. On Sept. 7, 1601, the Definitory met and gave
Tomás and Juan de Jesús María Aravalles, both members of it, the task of preparing
John of the Cross’ writings for publication.14 Why did it choose them? Perhaps it is not
necessary to look any further than the fact that they were present at the meeting and
both were active in a ministry of spiritual direction. Tomás was, of course, at Las
Batuecas, guiding a community devoted to the contemplative life, and he had
published in 1599 a Libro de la antigüedad y sanctos de la orden and Aravalles had been a
novice master for the Discalced. Both of these men had known each other at Alcalá de
Henares, and Aravalles had known John of the Cross. Did the Definitors realize that
Tomás had a special interest in St. John’s writings, and therefore should be given this
assignment? We don’t know.
In July, 1603, the Definitory declared John of the Cross the first of the Discalced, and
gave Tomás permission, without mentioning Aravalles, to print his works. John was,
as these things were reckoned in religious orders, the second friar of the Reform
because the first place fell to the superior of the first house at Duruelo and older friar,
Antonio de Jesús. This declaration making him the first of the Discalced was in all
probability meant to pave the way for the publication of his writings.

Why was permission to publish them given to Tomás alone, and not to both Tomás
and Aravalles? Had Aravalles disagreed with Tomás about the edition, or had he
simply moved on to other things, or was it a job better suited to Tomás with his quiet
time at Batuecas? Again we don’t know. But it does appear likely that this granting of
permission indicates that considerable progress had been made in preparing John’s
writings for publication. The question then immediately arises why weren’t they
printed until fifteen years later in 1618? There are two parts to this answer. The first
demands a consideration of the evidence concerning whether Tomás actually worked
on this project. This certainly cannot be immediately taken as a given, especially when
we remember that modern scholars like Gabriel de Sainte-Marie-Magdeleine, as we
have seen, had wondered if Tomás had even known St. John’s writings. The second
part of the answer revolves around why this edition was never published.
Tomas’ Edition of John of the Cross
It is here that the first of our modern detectives – scholars, the Discalced friar Simeón
de la Sagrada Familia (Tomás-Fernández) appears. In Rome, in the general archives of
the Order, he found a manuscript of St. John’s writings (ms. 328a) that had for the most
part been ignored.15 It contained The Ascent – but lacked Book Three of it – The Dark
Night, The Living Flame, but not the Spiritual Canticle, and Padre Simeón discovered it
had been annotated by none other than Tomás de Jesús, himself. It bore an elaborate
title page for The Ascent upon which Tomás had made a very revealing correction. The
title page had read "composed by… Fray Juan de la Cruz who was the second who had
been discalced…" Tomás crossed out "the second" and wrote "first". This was no whim
on his part, but most probably reflects the Chapter decree of July, 1603, and means that
the manuscript could have been part of Tomás’ actual preparation for the first edition,
and can be dated to before then. Indeed, this was no ordinary copy of St. John’s
writings, but someone with more than one manuscript before him had carefully
incorporated different readings.
Tomás’ annotations on what appears to be part of his own work to prepare John of the
Cross’ writings for publication give us a wonderful way to enter his mind during the
first years he spent at Batuecas. He makes, for example, marginal lines in The Dark
Night where John talks about the three major temptations of blasphemy, scruples and
sexuality that stand on the road for those going from meditation to contemplation, and
who, perhaps, are destined to reach higher states of union. The whole passage in St.
John reads:
"An angel of Satan (2 Cor. 12:7), which is the spirit of fornication, is given to some to
buffet their senses with strong and abominable temptations, and afflict their spirit with
foul thoughts and very vivid images, which sometimes is a pain worse than death for
them.

"At other times the blasphemous spirit is added; it commingles intolerable

blasphemies with all their thoughts and ideas. Sometimes these blasphemies are
strongly suggested to the imagination that the soul is almost made to pronounce them,
which is a grave torment to it.
"Sometimes another loathsome spirit, which Isaias calls spiritus vertiginis (Is. 19:14), is
sent to these souls, not for their downfall but to try them. This spirit so darkens the
senses that it fills them with a thousand scruples and perplexities, and these seem so
intricate to them that they can never be content with anything, nor can their judgment
receive the support of any counsel or idea. This is one of the most burdensome goads
and horrors of this night – very similar to what occurs in the spiritual night."16
Tomás also underlines a passage in the Ascent where John is describing the third and
surest sign that shows that someone is ready to move from meditation to
contemplation. In another place in The Dark Night he underlines the passage: "Pure
faith is the means for the soul to unite itself to God." Elsewhere in The Dark Night he
makes marginal lines and underlines a passage in which John is talking again about
the three signs.
But it is another passage in The Dark Night that deals with how someone should act in
the transitional phase from meditation to contemplation that captures most of his
attention:
"The attitude necessary in the night of sense is to pay no attention to discursive

meditation, since this is not the time for it. They should allow the soul to remain in rest
and quietude, even though it may seem very obvious to them that they are doing
nothing and wasting time, and even though they think this disinclination to think
about anything is due to their laxity. Through patience and perseverance in prayer,
they will be doing a great deal without activity on their part. All that is required of
them here is freedom of soul, that they liberate themselves from the impediment and
fatigue of ideas and thoughts and care not about thinking and meditating. They must
be content simply with a loving and peaceful attentiveness to God, and live without
the concern, without the effort, and without the desire to taste or feel Him. All these
desires disquiet the soul and distract it from the peaceful quiet and sweet idleness of
the contemplation which is being communicated to it."17
He makes lines in the margin, underlines, and makes marginal notes which
unfortunately have been mutilated by the binder’s knife. The notes read: "How it is to
be understood that they do not have to work any more. Here he speaks of the souls
who have already exercised themselves in meditation and other acts of virtue that we
have treated above, and he treats of when God makes them leave all these discourses,

and then he says that they are in that rest, and so it would be madness before having
exercised themselves in the first, and God taking them away from the images and
discourses that they stop them without entering into that night (a line or more
probably missing) including the act of understanding and will ...a notice with the eye
of faith and…"
And at the end of the passage which he has underlined he writes: "it treats here of
contemplation or mystical theology which is the most high."18
What can we make of these annotations? His interest in the passage about the three
temptations probably points to similar events in his own experience and those of
members of the Batuecas community. He even wrote a treatise on scruples which,
unfortunately, is lost to us, and one of the early members of the Desert of San José was
Sebastian de la Cruz recruited by Tomás, himself. Sebastian was so abstracted, we are
told, that he forgot to eat, and he wandered about weeping, unable to keep in mind
what he was supposed to do. He sometimes entered the cells of others thinking them
to be his own. But he attended the acts of the community and was always praying.
Once he came to his companion Juan del Espíritu Santo and told him that demons
were persecuting him and wanted to drown him. He lived under a staircase and
would not go out, and when he did go with the community he went wondering, "What
tree is this? What hermitage is that?" And he was tormented by scruples and said to
the friars who tried to help him, "Don’t tire yourselves, fathers, since all is great
torment and darkness." At the end of his life he suffered from temptations against
chastity and from the scruples connected to those temptations.19
Whatever could be said about all this, from a psychological point of view, it clearly
shows the kind of experiences that Tomás would have to draw upon when he read
John of the Cross on temptation, and I believe it was much the same situation when he
read St. John’s three signs. Tomás had joined the Discalced in order to become a
contemplative, and the passages he noted are precisely those that would attract the
attention of someone who very much wanted to be a contemplative, for they deal with
the vital question of the perceptibility of the beginning of contemplation, and the
attitude of loving attentiveness to take up in regard to it.
By 1602, Tomás’ rapid ascent in the Order had peaked and begun to decline. He fell
into conflict with the General of the Order, Francisco de la Madre de Dios, over a
proposal to fuse the two provinces of Andalucía into one, which was something he
objected to. Things hadn’t mended by the General Chapter of 1604, and Tomás left it
without being named as one of the Definitors, and was sent back to Las Batuecas as
Prior.
The beginning of May of 1607 finds Tomás recently appointed to be the Prior of

Zaragoza. "A small office for such a great subject," writes Silverio de Santa Teresa in
his chronicles of the Order.20 His relationships with the powers that be must not have
significantly improved even though the new general of the Discalced was his former
student and coworker in the founding of the Desert of Bolarque, Alonso de Jesús María.
There is a new development, as well, which had Tomás’ superiors known about it at
the time, they would have been even less pleased with him. While Tomás had been at
Las Batuecas, he had received a letter from Francisco del Santíssimo Sacramento, a
Spanish Discalced friar who had gone on to work in Italy and was now recruiting
Spanish talent for the Italian province, in which he asked Tomás whether he would
like to come to Italy. Tomás, however, answered that he believed God was calling him
to the life of a hermit. But Francisco persisted, and went to his fellow Carmelite in
Rome, Pedro de la Madre de Dios, who was the preacher to Pope Paul V, and with the
Pope’s backing they hatched a plan to appeal to Tomás to go to the abandoned
Discalced missions in the Congo, and then off to see the King of Abysinnia, and search
for the mysterious king of legend, Prester John. Once again, Tomás said no, though it is
hard to imagine that he was not at least a little bit tempted, and he was certainly well
aware that the leaders of the Spanish Discalced were dead set against any missionary
activity, and that included Alonso de Jesús María.
But one day, Tomás tells us, while finishing Mass, he felt so great an interior change
that while formerly he felt contrary to accepting this mission, now he found his will
much moved and inclined to it. He made a vow dedicating himself to the missions,
and unknown to his superiors, he accepted the mission to the Congo, and the Pope
sent him a brief through the Papal Nuncio in Madrid instructing him to come to Rome.
The vow that he took is interesting in itself for it mentions "our holy mother Teresa of
Jesus" but not John of the Cross even though Tomás had been working on the edition
of his writings.21 When word finally reached his superiors that Tomás was about to
take off without their leave, they sent emissaries in the middle of November to
Zaragoza to take him into custody. But he had slipped away in secular clothes, one
account tells us, the day before they arrived.22
This caused an uproar in the Spanish province with some of the friars accusing him of
gross disobedience springing from his wounded feelings when he had been passed
over for high office, and the leaders of the Discalced in Spain instituted proceedings
against him and vehemently opposed any mission to the Congo, and later to Tomás’
plans for a Carmelite congregation devoted to the missions. Tomás’ flight from Spain
in November of 1607, however, marks the end of our need to analyze his life in detail.
He was to go on to become a great founder of monasteries and convents in the north of
Europe, but the first phase of his life was over.
The Failure of Tomás’ Edition of John of the Cross

Why, then, didn’t Tomás’ appointment bear fruit in the publication of St. John’s
writings? Various explanations have been advanced: Tomás was, for example, too
busy at Las Batuecas to carry out the task, or because of his disagreement with St.
John’s doctrine he didn’t want to carry it out. But neither of these explanations holds
up under scrutiny. Much more promising is the hypothesis advanced by another of
our modern detective-scholars, the Carmelite historian, Eulogio Pacho.24 The effort to
produce the first edition of John’s writings was in full motion between 1601 and 1603
or 1604, as we have seen, and apparently it ceased from 1607 to around 1613 when it
once again went rapidly forward. What happened between 1607 and 1613?23
The leadership of the Discalced passed to Alonso de Jesús María (1565-1638). Alonso
was of the school and temperament of Nicolás Doria, who had in the course of his
struggle to impose his authoritarian rule on the Order, driven Jerome Gracián, its first
Provincial, out of it, and had almost sent John of the Cross into exile. This could easily
account for the delay in trying to publish John’s writings immediately after his death,
and even up until 1601, when Tomás and Aravalles were appointed as joint editors of
the first edition. The problems with his superiors that Tomás faced preceding his
departure in 1607 could account for the failure of the first edition between 1604 and
1607. From as far back as the Chapter of 1602 Tomás had been in conflict with the
General of the Order, Francisco de Madre de Dios, opposing a plan to combine the two
provinces of Andalucía into one, as we saw. This is a struggle that Francisco de Santa
María was to take up after him. This may have played a role in his failure to be
reelected Definitor in 1604, and for some time prior to 1607 he was involved with his
clandestine plans to leave Spain.24 From 1607 to 1613 there will be no attempt to
present St. John’s writings to the world despite the fact that they were circulating
widely in manuscript. It is easily possible that Alonso de Jesús María had no interest in
such a project, and it wouldn’t have helped matters at all that the edition would have
been the work of Tomás de Jesús. As soon as Alonso stepped down in 1613, the work
on the first edition seems to have begun again, and culminated with its publication in
1618. In 1619 Alonso is again elected General of the Order, and though efforts are
underway to have John’s writings condemned, the apologias, written to defend John’s
writings by Francisco de Quiroga and Basilio Ponce de Leon, were never printed.
Even the failure to print St. John’s Spiritual Canticle, often ascribed to the fear the
Discalced had of it being condemned, might have a link with Alonso de Jesús María.
The book was dedicated to Ana de Jesús, later known as the rebel Prioress for her
opposition to the attempts of Doria to change the constitutions under which the sisters
lived. In this resistance she was joined by Gracián and John of the Cross, and so the
Discalced authorities who printed the works in 1618 might have felt it prudent to omit
the Spiritual Canticle as a form of appeasement to Alonso and his faction rather than
print a work dedicated to Ana de Jesús. And Alonso did, indeed, come back into
power in 1619-1625. Padre Pacho notes that the first edition gives the reader no reason

to believe that the Spiritual Canticle even exists even though this was a well-known fact
except for one very cryptic hint. In one of the woodcuts John is shown at an altar
beside which there are four books. The titles of three of them are visible: The Ascent,
The Dark Night, and The Living Flame of Love, but not the title of the fourth.25 It is also
true, as we shall see, that Quiroga’s literary activity seems to cease, as well, between
1607 and 1613-14. Would Alonso de Jesús María have acted in such a manner? It is not
at all unthinkable. Between 1607 and 1613 he had forty friars expelled from the Order
and punished 97 more for grave faults. Some passed without permission to the
Mercederians, and back in power between 1619 and 1625 he expelled 66 more, and
punished another 67 for grave faults, all of which was far in excess of the behavior of
the other generals of his time.26
Back to the Tratado Breve
We can now return to the Tratado breve that appeared in the Arte de bien vivir of
Antonio Alvarado in 1608, as we have seen. This book contained, as part of its front
matter, an approbation of it by Alvarado’s fellow Benedictine, Leandro de Granada,
dated May 8, 1607. Leandro writes, "It appears to me that the author has taken flowers
from the most useful spiritual books." Was the Tratado breve, itself, one of the flowers
that Alvarado had collected? While the Tratado breve was making its way in some
fashion or another to Alvarado, Tomás was in Pastrana about to be appointed Prior of
Zaragoza, having already secretly committed himself to leaving Spain under
circumstances that would make his return very difficult.
But if the Tratado breve belonged to Tomás, how did it make its way to Alvarado?
Perhaps we need not look any further than Leandro de Granada, himself, for Leandro
was well acquinted with Francsico de Santa María, as we will see. And it is entirely
possible, therefore, that if Tomás was the author of the Tratado breve, and it had passed
from him to his friend, Francisco, it could easily have gone on to Antonio Alvarado
through the good offices of Leandro. If that were so, when Leandro spoke of the
flowers that Alvarado had collected, he might have known exactly where the flower of
the Tratado breve came from, and Alvarado, on his part, could have been privy to the
information that Tomás was about to leave Spain, not to return, and so, in a certain
sense,was leaving his treatise an orphan.
There is another link, as well, between Tomás and Leandro, and thus perhaps on to
Alvarado. It is Diego de Yepes, Bishop of Taragona, and the second biographer of St.
Teresa. On Nov. 15, 1603 he sent Leandro a very interesting letter about the joy he felt
after receiving a copy of Leandro’s translation of St. Gertrude, for he, himself, had been
translating it when he heard it was being printed in Salamanca. He was delighted with
the translation and the annotations, and wrote:

"I have purchased an immense number of these volumes for the Discalced Carmelites
and all who are earnestly desiring a more perfect life; and I would, were it possible,
disseminate them throughout the entire world."27
Tomás knew Diego during his second time in Zaragoza. Perhaps they had been drawn
together earlier by their mutual interests in the writings of St. Teresa and by their
defense of them. In the Discalced archives in Rome there is a work written by Tomás
but never published called, Apologia pro defensione doctrine B.M.N. Teresiae (387b, c) in
which he defends her doctrine against the objections raised by "a modern author who
up until now is unknown." This unknown author was the Dominican Juan de
Lorençana who had complained to the Holy Office about Teresa’s writings. Diego de
Yepes wrote him a letter about this matter on July 6, 1594 which he never answered,
but Diego kept a copy of his own letter, and Tomás was apparently one of the people
who the Carmelite superiors asked to respond to Lorençana’s objections.28
When Diego’s biography of Teresa was ready to be printed in Zaragoza, he could not
be present, so he left it in the hands of Tomás to see it through the presses. Later, when
certain passages in it were used to show that Teresa had approved of an active as well
as a contemplative life for the Reform, Diego claimed that, unknown to himself, Tomás
had altered it before printing. It is possible that such an alteration reflects Tomás’ own
missionary conversion, but if Diego had not noticed these alterations immediately, or
had tried to overlook them before they became subject to controversy, he may have
still formed a link between Tomás and Leandro, and therefore to Alvarado.
But let’s return to our initial question. Just who came up with the idea of acquired
contemplation that first saw the light of day in Antonio Alvarado’s book in 1608? Was
it Tomás de Jesús? All through this chapter we have been accumulating bits and pieces
of evidence that point to Tomás as the author of the notion of acquired contemplation,
but they are circumstantial..
But what would be ideal would be to find a way to see what Tomás was thinking and
teaching in the Desert of San José in those first years of the seventeenth century about
John’s transition from meditation to contemplation. An impossible dream. Or is it?
Notes
1. For the story of the Tratado breve see Simeón de la Sagrada Familia. "Gloria y
Ocaso..."
2. "Gloria y Ocaso" I, p. 200.
3. See Miguel Angel Diez, "Thomas de Jésus" in the Dictionnaire de spiritualité (DS)

and José de Jesús Crucificado, "El P. Tomás de Jesús..."

4. "Essendo io scolaro in Salamanca, dice, sentendo dire al mro. che leggeua
humanità chiamato il mro.Cespedes, che tra l’altri libri, che parlauano in lingua
volgare castigliana pura e propria, era un libro di una monaca Discalza lodando
assai il linguaggio di quel libro, Io sapendo che quella monaca era la Bta. Teresa,
andai al conuento del nro. orde. a dimandare uno di questi libri, e mi fu dato un
libro della sua uita, manu scritto, che ancora non era stampato, quale leggendolo
io in casa mia, senza che guardar altro che il modo di parlare per essere io
ancora di qual tempo giovane distratto assai, a sorte aprendo il libro nel cap. 18
della sua uita doue tratta dell’orazione per similitudine di 4o acque dopo hauer
letto un poco do. libro, mi trouai tanto mutato che cominciai a piangere e mi par
che subo. per mezzo di quel libro il Sigr. Iddio mi diede lume per poter
conoscere efficacemente quanto sono grandi li beni, e fauori, che il Sigr. Iddio
tiene preparato per quelli che le seranno; parendomi che mi si era scoperto un
nouo Regno, et una noua ragione (sie) di luce, e verità, e con non hauer hauuto
mai ne manco un primo moto d’esser Religioso, anzi molti contrari moti, fu
tanto efficace quella lettione, che fra 15 giorni pigliai l’habito di questa
Religione." in José de Jesús Crucificado, "El P. Tomás de Jesús..." I, note 3.
5. Historia del Carmen Descalzo (HCD), X, p. 230.
6. HCD, IX, p. 9.
7. HCD, X, p. 236.
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid.
10. "en el sumario Latino de la causa de la Beatif(icacio)n del S(an)to que se halla
Alm(ario) 1 del Archivo, se dice que en el Proceso de Ubeda depuso D(o)n
Alphonso de Camles: que vio el cantico original – y – tambien de mano del P
(adre) Fr(ay) Thomas de Jesus," Andrés de la Encarnación, Memorias historiales,
Vol. I, p. 83: Jean Krynen, Le Cantique Spirituel, p. 327, note 4.
11. HCD, X, p. 237.

12. Andrés de la Encarnación, Memorias historiales, Vol. I, pp. 90-91.
13. HCD, VII, xxi.
14. "en el Difinitorio >de Madrid< de 7 de Septiembre de 1601.= Item se determino
que las obras del P(adre) fr(ay) Juan de la Cruz se Impriman y se cometio el
Verlas, y aprovarlas al P(adre) fr(ay) Juan de Jesus Maria y al P(adre) fr(ay)
Thomas Difinidores... En el Difinitorio de Madrid de 4 de Julio de 1603.= El
mismo Dia se dio licencia al P(adre) Difinidor fr(ay) thomas para que pueda
imprimir las obras del P(adre) fr(ay) Juan de la Cruz primero Religioso de N
(uest)ra Recoleccion de Descalzos," Andrés de la Encarnación, Memorias
historiales, Vol. I, p. 78.
15. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia. "Un Nuevo Códice Manuscrito..."
16. The Dark Night, 1, 14, 1-3. K. p. 328.

17. The Dark Night, 1, 10, 4. K. p. 317.

18. "(C)omo se entiende q no an de obrar nada. / (Aq)ui habla de las almas q ya se
an exer / (citado) en meditaciones, y otros actos de vtudes / (de q) arriba
auemos tratado, y trata de ellas / (qu)ando dios les quita todos estos arrimos y /
(entô)zes dize q se estê en aquel otio, y asi / (seri)a locura antes de aberse
exercitado en / (esto) primo y de quitar dios las imagines (y) arrimos,
quitarselos uno y quedarse / (sin en)trar en esta noche / ................... / cluye acto
de entendimo y volu(ntad...) / una advertêcia cô el ojo de la fe y (...)" Simeón de
la Sagrada Familia. "Un Nuevo Códice Manuscrito..." pp. 130-131.
19. HCD, VII, Chapter XXI, pp. 580ff.
20. HCD, VIII, p. 580.
21. Ibid. p. 579.
22. Miguel Angel Diez, "Thomas de Jésus", DS, 835.
23. Eulogio Pacho, El Cántico espiritual.
24. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia. "Un Nuevo Códice Manuscrito..." p. 135, note 31.
25. Eulogio Pacho, El Cántico espiritual, p. 54.
26. HCD, IX, pp. 392ff.
27. Mary Frances Clare, The Revelations of St. Gertrude, p. xxxiii. Diego, in the same
letter, seems to make it clear that Leandro knew St. Teresa when he writes: "...
Our holy mother, Teresa of Jesus, whom you so often consoled by your
discourses." (p. xxxiv). This would only strengthen the link between Leandro
and Francisco de Santa María who was related to Teresa.
28. José de Jesús Crucificado, "El P. Tomás de Jesús...", I, note 57.
CHAPTER 4:
El CAMINO ESPIRITUAL
One day around the middle of this century Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, whom we
met in Rome in the last chapter unearthing the manuscript copy of St. John’s writings
annotated by Tomás de Jesús, was going through the Carmelite manuscripts in the
Biblioteca Nacional in Madrid. There was a remarkable collection of them. In 1835 the
Carmelite Order had been suppressed by the government. The Discalced General at
the time, Pedro de Carmelo, took refuge in Alcalá de Henares, and perhaps even
brought with him some of the papers from the Order’s general archive at the Priory of
San Hermenegildo in Madrid. He died there in 1850, and his successor, Juan de Santo
Tomás, died there, as well, in 1880. But until 1913 the Discalced sisters of the city
possessed an inventory book of the contents of the archive, which they then gave to
Silverio de Santa Teresa. (1) Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, much of the
archive disappeared. But luckily a good portion of it surfaced in the National Library

in Madrid. (2) The damage of this loss was compounded by the loss, as well, of the
archives of the Spanish Congregation’s archive in Rome of which nothing has surfaced
save a few books in the library of the Teresianum.
In any event, Padre Simeón made a series of remarkable discoveries among these
manuscripts that allow us to realize our dream of hearing what Tomás had to say
about John of the Cross’ doctrine on the transition from meditation to contemplation.
(3) He came across three unknown manuscripts that contain a treatise on prayer and
contemplation by Tomás.
The first (ms. 12398) bore the title Tratado de oración y contemplación donde se trata, de los
differentes caminos de contemplación, Poniendo Reglas y avisos para saber el camino de oración
q. cada uno ha de elegir, dirigido a los P.es del yermo de S.t Joseph del monte, de la Orden de los
descalcos de nuestra Señora del Carmen. Por nro fr. Thomas de Jesús.The second (ms. 6873)
bore almost the same title, but without the author’s name, and contained, as well, some
other works by Tomás, and the third (ms. 8273) contained a partial copy of this treatise
on contemplation.
So we have an unknown treatise by Tomás directed to his brother hermits at Las

Batuecas, but Padre Simeón was not done. He discovered another manuscript (ms.
6533) called: Primera parte del camino espiritual de oración y contemplación. It bore no
mention of an author on its title page, but someone had later scribbled on it: "Written
by the very reverend father Discalced Carmelite Portuguese." And the same person
had written on the preceding blank page: "The author of this book is the very
Reverend Father José del Espíritu Santo, the Portuguese, who has written, as well, the
Cadena mística Carmelitana printed in Madrid in the year 1678, and this manuscript has
never been printed."
But Padre Simeón was not going to stop at surface appearances. The handwriting of
the manuscript could easily belong, he felt, to the early part of the 17th century, and its
citing of authorities did not include any of the Carmelite spiritual writers of the time of
José del Espíritu Santo (1609-1674). The weighty author of the Cadena, or Chain of
Carmelite Mysticism, would certainly have mentioned them. Further, the handwriting
of whomever had written in the front of the manuscript was not to be identified with
the handwriting of any of those who had written down the text, and the author of
those scribbles was not a Spaniard, either, for when he had written "the manuscript
had never been printed," it came out "nunca es stado" in place of the "estado" that
would have been expected. Perhaps José del Espíritu Santo had had the manuscript in
his possession when he was writing his Cadena Mística, and it had been found among
his papers after his death, and therefore someone could have imagined it was his own
work. But none of his biographers had ever listed it among his writings, and so, in this
way, Padre Simeón began the long process that was to lead him to the conclusion that
the author was none other than Tomás de Jesús.

The book was composed of a prologue and three parts, as the title page announced:
"First Treatise of Prayer and its Parts; Second Treatise of the Three Ways, Purgative,
Illuminative and Unitive, Where are to be found the Exercises of each one; Third
Treatise on What is Contemplation and the Grades and Kinds of it and where is taught
the most perfect mode of contemplation and the most fitting for each one according to
his advantage."
Padre Simeón carefully examined each of these parts and compared it with Tomás’
known writings, as well as the new writings he had just discovered, and came to some
very interesting conclusions:
The first part of the Camino espiritual naturally implies at least a second part. But this
has never turned up in its original form. But what we have before us is part of Tomás’
original synthesis of his ideas on the spiritual life. Simeón called it "the first systematic
spiritual Summa of the Discalced Carmelite School since those of the two holy
founders and teachers." (4)
The substance of the hypothetical second part has come down to us in the form of two
books that Tomás published in Latin in the 1620s: De contemplatione divina (1620) and
Divinae orationis (1623).
The fundamental distinction that governs the division of the Camino espiritual into two
parts is the difference between the ordinary prayer and acquired contemplation of the
first part, and the infused prayer, which is the subject matter of the second part. What
interests us most about the first part is Book III, which is devoted to acquired
contemplation. When Padre Simeón compared it with the newly found treatise on
prayer and contemplation, he discovered that Book III is nothing other than this
treatise on prayer and contemplation, lightly retouched, to fit into this larger synthesis.
It turned out that Tomás’ treatise on contemplation had actually made a fleeting
appearance in the world of print. In Liege, in 1675, a book appeared called Traité de la
contemplacion divine. Particulièrement de celle qui avec la faveur du Ciel se peut acquérir pour
notre travail. Composé par le R.P. Thomas de Jésus, Definiteur Général de l’Order des Carmes
déchaussés. Et nouvellement mis en lumiere par les soins du R.P. Maurice de S. Matthieu,
Religieus du même Ordre. This volume about a divine contemplation that we can do
ourselves had become so scarce that Padre Simeón had had a copy made from the one
possessed by the Discalced sisters of Antwerp. Its front matter indicated that it was
being translated from the original Spanish for the first time, and when Simeón
compared it to the Tratado de oración y contemplación, he found that it was the original
Spanish source for the printed book.
Further, in the general archives of the Discalced Carmelites in Rome there was a
fragment of a Latin manuscript ms. 333a2 with the title Liber secundus. De signis per quae

cognosci potest via ad contemplationem magis proportionata iis qui incipiunt orationi vacare et
quale sit illius exercitium continuandum usque ad supremum divinae contemplationis gradum
written by a known secretary of Tomás and annotated by Tomás, himself. This turned
out to be an adaptation from Tomás’ Treatise on Prayer and Contemplation. Still further,
in 1922, Eugenio de San José had published another Latin manuscript of Tomás from
the same archive under the title of De contemplatione acquisita. This manuscript later
disappeared, (5) but Padre Simeón discovered that it was yet another adaptation of
Tomás’ Tratado de oración y contemplación. And another book that had appeared in
Brussels in 1886 called La Meilleure parte de la vie contemplative turned out to be still
another adaptation of De contemplatione acquisita itself.
Padre Simeón finally solved the riddle of the Tratado breve, as well. It, too, had been
extracted and adapted from either this original treatise on prayer and contemplation,
or the form it had taken in Book III of the first part of the Camino espiritual. The Tratado
breve exists in two versions. The first is the one used by Antonio Alvarado in his Arte de
vivir bien in 1608. The second is to be found in the manuscript of the Carmelites of
Toledo. Andrés de la Encarnación used this manuscript and referred to Alvarado’s
book to make his copy of the Tratado, which is now in Burgos. The Burgos copy is
apparently what Gerardo de San Juan de la Cruz used for his published version.
Another copy of the Tratado breve is in the Biblioteca Nacional in Madrid (ms. 6895)
and appears to be virtually identical with Gerardo’s. Both the Toledo manuscript and
ms. 6895 were formally attributed to John of the Cross.
In the Carmelite Archives in Rome is a manuscript (ms. 334a) called Repertorium P.N.
Thomae a Jesu in ord.e ad libros de contemplat.ne et orat.ne which is a massive collection of
Tomás’ jottings, notes and outlines. It is like a workbook or writing journal which
helped pave the way for his works on infused contemplation. But it also helped Padre
Simeón in the complex task of figuring out when Tomás had written his treatise on
contemplation and the first part of the Camino espiritual.
In the Repertorium Tomás discussed his plans for writing his works on infused
contemplation, and he says that he has already written a work on acquired
contemplation. The Repertorium reflects Tomás’ activities in Las Batuecas, and in the
back of it there is a reference to a sermon that Tomás gave there on Christmas 1603,
thus making it likely that his writings on acquired contemplation were earlier than that.
There is also other evidence that confirms this early date, for at least the treatise on
contemplation, if not for its life as Book III of the first part of the Camino espiritual. One
day Padre Simeón had been reading Andrés de la Encarnación’s manuscripts called
Memorias historiales, which were the results of his own inquiries into the life and
writings of John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, and he found a reference to a treatise
on contemplation by Tomás that Andrés had seen in the General Archives. Andrés also
said that he had seen another manuscript which also had a treatise on contemplation
by Tomás, and this time in the handwriting of Esteban de San José who said he had

helped write it down. (6) Indeed, it may have been clues of this sort that had sent
Padre Simeón off to examine the Carmelite manuscripts in the Biblioteca Nacional in
the first place.
He also discovered in the chronicles of the Order the testimony of Esteban de San José
about helping Tomás write down his book on contemplation. Esteban thought that
Tomás was writing about what was happening inside him. He tells us that Tomás
would start to write, but made many errors, and then he would put his pen down, go
off to pray either alone or with the community, and afterwards call Esteban again, and
they would write for two or three hours without stopping or making a mistake.
Incidentally, this gives us an insight into Tomás’ great productivity during these years.
(7)
These events are recorded in the history of the Order that deals with the time prior to
the General Chapter of 1604. Further, the Carmelite sisters of Pamplona have a
manuscript which contains a few pages called Suma de la via unitiva by Tomás, and this
turns out to be an adaptation of the second book of the first part of the Camino
espiritual. This manuscript was copied by Magdalena de la Asunción in Barcelona
before 1604. All this led Padre Simeón to place the date of the composition of Tomás’
treatise on contemplation, if not the whole of the first part of the Camino espiritual,
between 1601 and 1604. It must have taken place at least before 1607 when Tomás left
Spain.
The Camino espiritual appears to be fashioned out of treatises that Tomás composed
earlier and adapted for this synthesis of the spiritual life. After he left Spain he
published some parts of it that he had probably already written in Spanish and
reworked, and adapted others and put them into Latin. Occasionally a piece of his
voluminous output would go astray and appear under someone else’s name. We saw
this in the case of the Tratado breve appearing in Alvarado’s book, but it was also true
of his Tratado de oración mental which appeared in his name in 1610, together with his
Suma y compendio de los grados de oración por donde sube un alma a la perfección y
contemplación. In his Tratado de oración mental he writes, "... there are two kinds of
mental prayer, the one supernatural and divine," which is a gift of God we cannot
merit, but which ordinarily God gives to those who have devoted themselves to
mortification, and the other "acquired prayer (oración acquisita) of which we will
speak now." While Teresa spoke of supernatural prayer in her books, there is "another"
kind of prayer which each of us with divine favor can and ought to achieve, (which is
ordinarily called acquired), and this is what we now are going to deal with in this
book. (8) And he tells us that this work on mental prayer had appeared years earlier
under the name of someone already dead, and though he was happy to see it
published so that it might be of some use, he was less happy with the errors it
contained, and therefore he was now printing a corrected edition.

The Content of Tomás’ Treatise on Prayer and Contemplation
We will look at some passages from the Tratado de oración y contemplación, and Book III
of the first part of the Camino espiritual, which is virtually equivalent to it, and at an
interesting passage that appears in Alvarado’s version of the Tratado breve. In all this
we have to keep our ears tuned to the resonances of John’s writings as well as the
different meaning that Tomás gives to John’s understanding of the beginning of
contemplation.
The Prologue of the Camino espiritual
The Prologue of the first part of the Camino espiritual reads:
"The principle intention of this book, devout reader, is to instruct and to guide souls
from the first day’s journey and the beginnings of prayer and mortification until the
end of this spiritual path… and so this whole work has for its principle matter to treat
of the three ways which are commonly called purgative, which is that of beginners,
illuminative, which is that of the progressives, and unitive, which is that of those who
are already perfect." (9)
"That which has principally moved me to make this treatise is the great necessity that I
have experienced in many souls who have started well the path of prayer, but not
having a master to help them and to give them light, either don’t advance or if they go
forward it is with great work and difficulty." (10)
These sentiments are certainly familiar to anyone who has read the Prologues to St.
John’s Ascent or Spiritual Canticle, and Tomás goes on to refine his focus: "I have known
some people… in great ignorance so that sometimes it appeared to some of them that
there was no prayer but meditation. Others, having advanced to contemplation, but
thinking in the same way, were attempting to flee from it as from something
impertinent and return to their discourses. There were others who had a very quiet
contemplation with a great silence of the faculties, and it appeared to them – because
they didn’t understand it – that this peace and rest of the soul was melancholy. And
there were not lacking those who were having a very supernatural contemplation with
great ease and quiet of the soul, but who were ready to leave this kind of prayer
because they were persuaded that God was not taking them along this road, and it
would be better to occupy themselves in the works of the active life." (11)
It is entirely possible that Tomás is talking about his brothers at Las Batuecas to whom
he dedicated this work. In fact, later in the Camino espiritual he will refer to
conversations he had with two members of the Order. One of them told him that he
had kept his soul like a greased wall (pared ensebada) so that images would never
stick to it, but rather, slide off and fall away. Another had seen a boat with people sink,

and the demons had made war against him so that he could not forget it. When Tomás
asked him why such a thing should matter so much, he replied, "Oh, Padre!" and went
on to explain that anything held in the memory like this was a great impediment to
going on. (12) This story reminds us of Sebastián de la Cruz whom we saw wandering
around Las Batuecas, and it may actually refer to him.
Tomás is going to propose a solution to the problems that cluster around the beginning
of the contemplative life, and he tells us that he will do so in simple Spanish and with
the help of scholastic theology, and thus make up for a lack of proper advice about
these matters even among people who should know better, like novice masters.
What is Tomás’ solution? It is to divide the Camino espiritual into two parts. The second
part is to be devoted to infused contemplation and to be written later. And the first
part to another kind of contemplation which "we can and ought to attempt to attain
with our own efforts and work…. which we can (podemos) call acquired prayer."
Without trying to read too much into this "podemos," it is worth noting that Tomás
says "we can call" rather than something like "which is called," and this just might be
an indication that he is naming this kind of prayer himself. (13)
Alvarado’s Tratado breve
The first chapter of the two versions of the Tratado breve does not correspond with
Tomás’ treatise on prayer and contemplation. Yet when we look at it, especially in
Alvarado’s longer version, Book II, Chapter XXXVIII, its content makes it very unlikely
that it was invented by Alvarado. (14) Quite possibly it gives us Tomás’ thought, either
directly, or filtered through some editor. It certainly does give us what people after
1608 read about acquired contemplation: "The means of the unitive life consist in an
intellectual contemplation which Dionysius the Carthusian defined in this way:
"Contemplation is an affective prompt and simple knowledge of God or of his effects."
" The author of this chapter cites St. Thomas to this effect, and goes on to say that
philosophy teaches us that our human intellect has two ways of understanding things:
"The first is by deducing and drawing conclusions out of their principles, inferring
some things from others, and insofar as our understanding works in this way, it is
called rational and discursive." (15) The second mode of understanding things is by a
simple apprehension and sight of them which is called "simple intelligence" and is a
more perfect way of knowing and, indeed, is like the way angels understand. In a
similar way, the will has two ways of loving. The first is based on discursive activity,
and in it the will can freely consent, or not consent, to the conclusion the intellect
arrives at. The second way is based on this simple intelligence, and here the will
necessarily loves what is proposed to it "as good absolutely."
Meditation is based on the discursive intellect, and it is "difficult to hold the attention
fixed and quiet on one thing," or to "abstract and disencumber the substance of the
thing that is meditated on from its accidents and material circumstances." But when

the intellect acts in this second manner, that is, in a simple way, this is what is called
contemplation, and it has many advantages over meditation "because without any
difficulty from thoughts which don’t enter here and without the necessity of
abstracting and dematerializing the object, which is already abstracted and
spiritualized, the intellect sees with much clarity the truths of the object that it is
gazing at…" (16)
This kind of contemplation can happen both naturally and supernaturally. In

supernatural contemplation God "elevates and moves the soul by a supernatural
motion so that the soul knows by this way of simple intelligence." Our author goes on
to talk of four kinds of light by which the intellect can know divine things. The first
three are the natural light of the intellect, the supernatural light of faith, which is
connected to the gift of wisdom and supernatural contemplation, and the light of glory
of the blessed in heaven. The fourth light, however, is an "illumination that God
communicates to a soul for a brief time in order for it to know some supernatural
mysteries with more clarity than that of the light of faith…" (17)
This last passage touches on two themes that are important in understanding Tomás’
ideas on contemplation. For John of the Cross, faith is the only proximate means of
union with God, but for Tomás, there is a higher light. Further, St. Thomas certainly
knew of a distinction between what can be called ratio, or discursive activity, and
intellectus, which is what we could call intuition or intuitive insight. But he realized
that they were two interconnected dimensions of the human intellect. It is precisely
because they go hand in hand that we have a human intellect and not an angelic one.
We said that for St. John meditation embraced all the natural working of the faculties,
and therefore it encompassed both reasoning and intuitive insight, as well. It did not
and would not occur to him to try to separate intuition from reasoning, and to base a
contemplation on the former without the support of the latter. The intuitive insight we
receive in meditation is the result of reasoning, and while it can play a more dominant
role as prayer simplifies, it is born out of the use of our faculties and cannot go off and
live a life of its own.
Tratado de oración y contemplación
Chapter 2 of both versions of the Tratado breve is close to what we find in Tomás’
original treatise on contemplation (ms. 12398) from which the following passages come:
"Of the two kinds of knowledge that we can have of God in this life on which are founded two
paths of contemplation." (18)
"In order to better declare the different kinds and paths that there are of
contemplation, we have to first suppose, as St. Dionysius teaches, (On the Divine
Names, Chapter 1) that there are two paths by which we can come to know God. One is
by affirmation, which is when we attribute and posit in God all those things that are of

perfection and of excellence in creatures. And so we consider God infinitely wise,

powerful, good, perfect, and place in Him all the rest of the things that we see of
perfection in created things. And so this knowledge is a going up from the perfection
of the effects to those of the cause. Another knowledge is by way of negation when we
take our eyes away from the perfections of all creatures and considering them all as
inferior to God, Himself, and lift our eyes to contemplate God as a being so
incomprehensible and so above all that which can be imagined that we do not find a
created name that can encompass Him. In this way we know God not as substance,
goodness, wisdom, or mercy, because by this path we take away from God whatever
kind of attribute or perfection that we are able to attain. For this reason it is called
knowledge by negation, or remotion, as St. Thomas teaches, because we negate of God
all that which by the way of affirmation we attributed to Him. And so we say that God
is not being because he is more than being…" (19)
Tomás goes on to tell us that this is a higher and more perfect way of knowing God,
and that on the foundation of these two kinds of knowledge are raised two kinds of
contemplation, the affirmative and the negative. He describes various kinds of
affirmative contemplation, but what most interested him was negative contemplation:
"The second kind of contemplation is that which is founded on an obscure and

negative knowledge of God. In this knowledge is exercised a high and excellent grade
of contemplation which is when our understanding raises itself to know God, and not
finding any foothold in His being and perfection, is submerged in the abyss of that
darkness of His incomprehensibility and immensity. In this kind of contemplation the
soul feels God in a most lofty manner because it lifts itself above all that is sensible,
imaginable or intelligible, that is, above all that it can sense, imagine or understand.
And so it forms an inestimable concept and an ineffable esteem for what God is. This
moves and inflames the will and absorbs it in the incomprehensibility of God…" (20)
"The practice of this contemplation – in order that its exercise would be easier and for
all – is in this manner. The soul, placed in prayer, ought to exercise itself in this or in
another kind of contemplation… after it is habituated to know God by particular kinds
of knowledge and is exercised in the contemplation of the attributes and divine
perfections (because as St. Bonaventure says very well, this negative knowledge of
God presupposes the affirmative and includes it) it raises itself to God saying
interiorly, "God bless me! God is more than being, more than substance, more than
goodness, more than wisdom, more than everything we can understand; then what is
God? God bless me! What will be this God who is so great?" And searching here for
what He is, it finds nothing that is comparable to God. It finds itself placed in an abyss
where it looses its footing, grows weak, and is submerged, and the will is enkindled
and is inflamed, and the affect holds vigil, although the understanding shuts itself off;
and the soul loves what it does not know with particular and distinct knowledge." (21)
This, according to Tomás, is what is called mystical theology. What Tomás is

proposing is a philosophical negative contemplation of God that becomes the basis for
a type of prayer which everyone can do if they apply themselves. There is certainly
nothing wrong with this in itself, but very real and important problems arise if it is
identified with John of the Cross’ beginning of contemplation.
At the beginning of Book II of this treatise on prayer and contemplation Tomás leaves
just that impression by applying to acquired contemplation signs similar to those John
had used to discuss the beginning of infused contemplation. The heading of this
chapter reads (ms. 12398): "On the signs that ought to be had in order to discover when a
soul is ready to pass to contemplation." (22)
"In the first book we have already said that every prayer and meditation ought to stop
in contemplation…" For those who have already exercised themselves in discourse and
reasoning "it is not necessary to return to them, but with a simple gaze look upon the
conclusions that have been drawn out before." (23) This language is reminiscent of the
author of the first chapter of Alvarado’s Tratado who, as I said before, is probably
Tomás, himself. Tomás goes on to compare this way of praying to a child learning to
read. First the child must work hard by focusing on individual letters, but later he or
she can read without difficulty with a simple gaze. At this point Tomás explicitly tells
us he is not dealing with those raised to the supernatural infused contemplation that
St. Teresa described, but rather those "who are now seasoned to go out from the
swaddling clothes of meditation and take contemplation for their ordinary
exercise." (24) This is an extremely important admission. It is so easy for us, having
grown accustomed to St. John’s language, to read passages from Tomás and mentally
transpose them into St. John’s categories. This is all the more true since Tomás is often
using John’s language. But we have to take Tomás at his word; his is a contemplation
that we can do when we will and it is not John’s infused contemplation.
Tomás will now go on to give both remote and proximate rules for passing from
meditation to this "habitual contemplation." The first sign deals with the exercise of the
purgative and illuminative ways, which Tomás equates with the spiritual exercises of
repentance, self-denial, obedience, etc. How long does this stage last before someone
passes to the unitive way, or contemplation? There are no hard and fast rules, Tomás
tells us, "but to speak of what ordinarily happens it can be well hoped that for a novice
who has during the whole year of his novitiate exercised himself with care and
humility in the practice of the purgative and illuminative ways will be well enough
seasoned in order to aspire to the exercise of contemplation." (25)
Another of these signs that carries particular weight runs like this: "When a soul at the
beginning of its conversion has been praying by means of discourse and meditation,
and then the door of discourse is closed so that now it cannot meditate or reason no
matter what effort it makes…" this is a "certain sign... that God is either giving it
infused contemplation, even though it does not perceive or understand it, or that God
wants it with its industry and work to go up to contemplation," i.e., exercise the

acquired contemplation that Tomás is talking about. "And for this (purpose) God
closes that door and places it as if it is within four walls" so it can now exercise itself in
contemplation. (26)
"The reason for this is God is always trying to bring souls to perfection, and those we
are talking about for their part are trying according to their weakness to exercise
themselves in meditation, and the exercise of virtues. Supposing that our Lord now
takes away from them discourse which is the means by which the soul enkindles the
light in the understanding and fire in the will, and how it is moved to contrition for its
sins and exercises the virtues, it is certain that God does not take away discourse in
order that the soul would remain crippled and without protection, but acts like a
master with a child having before made the child decipher each letter, and now
advances it to reading a book, or like a pious mother who takes away her milk from
her child and gives it more solid and appropriate food for its age." (27)
The echoes of John of the Cross are quite clear here, but Tomás has changed the whole
context of John’s first sign. It can now lead to infused contemplation or acquired
contemplation. He goes on to give John’s second sign. This inability to meditate cannot
be "born of lukewarmness or negligence or aversion and boredom with the exercise of
prayer or too many occupations and affairs." Nor can it stem from melancholy. Tomás
tells us he is only talking about those who have exercised themselves in prayer and
diligence in the purgative and illuminative ways. This loss of the ability to meditate
can happen suddenly, or little by little, and some of those to whom it happens "God
brings them to affirmative contemplation, others to passive purgation…, and at other
times they, themselves, dispose themselves and enter into contemplation, choosing
that which either their teachers instruct them in, or that which God interiorly moves
them to." (28)
When those who are going by the way of discourse sometimes stop because of the light
and admiration they feel at seeing some truth this, to Tomás’ mind, is another sign that
the door of contemplation is open, and it would be a great error for them to go back to
their discourses. Their spiritual masters ought to set them on the road of the exercise of
contemplation because God is clearly calling them to it. This stopping and quieting can
happen in two ways. One leads to affirmative contemplation, but in the other,
sometimes at the beginning of prayer, or even before the soul begins to use discourse,
or think of anything, "it finds itself in a great peace and quiet without then knowing
anything in particular about God, nor understanding what it loves, nor how, and
sometimes it does not perceive if the will loves. Only without thinking anything it feels
great peace and quiet. This is very fine contemplation, and as we will declare in the
following chapter, is mystical theology, and so to whomever this happens, that person
should not now meditate, but wait for the divine operation and dispose itself in order
that the Lord might work in it this kind of contemplation with the means that we will
declare further on." (29)

This is Tomás’ version of John’s third and most important sign which, for St. John, is
nothing other than the experience of infused contemplation beginning to make itself
felt. For Tomás it is a sign that it is time to practice acquired contemplation.
Camino espiritual
Book 2, Chapter 11 in the Camino espiritual that was also taken up in the various
versions of the Tratado breve gives Tomás’ idea about how to practice this negative
contemplation. It is called: "How the disencumbered understanding has to travel by lively
faith in this contemplation of mystical theology and what is that which we call general and
confused knowledge of God (noticia general y confusa)." (30)
"Supposing that the understanding has to disencumber and purge itself of all
particular kinds of knowledge and apprehensions, it necessarily follows that it raises
itself above itself by means of the light of faith, and it travels in this way empty of all
that can fall under the senses and its proper forms, drawing near to faith which alone
is (the most proximate and proportionate means for this) obscure and pure
contemplation than any other apprehension of the understanding, and so it is fitting
that the understanding is blind to all its proper knowledge and is founded on faith
taking it for its guide and light, not wanting to know or feel or experience anything,
contenting itself with pure and disencumbered faith because truly insofar as faith is
more pure and simple and disencumbered of all its proper knowledge, to that degree it
is excellent and meritorious." (31)
This passage is somewhat mutilated in the manuscript of the Camino espiritual and the
better reading in the parenthesis comes from ms. 6873. (32)
Tomás goes on to cite St. Paul that we have to believe in the being of God "which is
incomprehensible, unnamable and beyond the reach of the intellect."
"From this it follows that by means of this knowledge by faith that we are now treating
of, the soul is not able to form any particular kind of knowledge of God because now
we have to disencumber ourselves of all the acts and apprehensions of the
understanding, save for a general and negative knowledge (noticia general y negativa)
of God. It is fitting to realize that God is not this or that, but rather, a being above all
that which we are able to understand, and this is what we call general knowledge, and
knowledge of God by negation, and the soul goes to contemplation founded and
supported only on this knowledge, and empty of all the other kinds of knowledge,
tastes and feelings. This is called travelling by faith… It is like a blind person if you
were to tell him about colors. However much you would tell him, he would not
succeed in understanding what color is.
"It remains now to declare, therefore, how from this faith is born this quiet and pure
contemplation – which is the same as we are accustomed to call this general and loving

view of God – from which it should be noted there are two ways by means of faith for
this contemplation to be acquired. One is when the soul, after having been exercised in
the purgative and illuminative ways, and realizing that God is incomprehensible,
begins to exercise itself in these anagogical acts until little by little it comes to acquire a
habit of contemplation which consists in habitual, loving, quiet and tranquil
knowledge of God, Himself (una habitual noticia amorosa quieta y pacífica), and this
habit is born from the anagogical acts which the soul does because each act is no more
than a burning desire of love to unite itself with this God Whom it knows by faith.
"The second manner is when the soul exercised in affirmative contemplation rises up
from here to the knowledge of faith that we are now treating of, which is the same as
knowledge by negation, or general knowledge of God (conocimiento por negación o
conocimiento general de Dios) and exercises it, together with an ardent desire to
penetrate and unite itself with God in such a way that when this general and confused
knowledge (noticia general y confusa) that by means of faith we have of God is
exercised habitually, together with love, it comes to be the contemplation of mystical
theology and is called virtual, general and loving knowledge of God (virtuosa noticia
general y amorosa de Dios); others call it loving advertence of God (advertencia
amorosa de Dios). (33)
"From what we have said, first of all, it is clear that this knowledge is born of faith and
is no more than a knowledge of faith by which we know God as incomprehensible.
And so it is a habit of contemplation of the incomprehensibility of God and the divine
darkness. In this way from the anagogical acts exercised in regard to God – that is, the
lively and burning desires of the soul to unite itself to God whom it knows by faith –
will be born this habit and general knowledge which we call contemplation. For
contemplation is nothing other than a loving gaze at the truth, and so it is this
knowledge, accompanied with the acts of the will, as we have said, and by it we know
the truth of the incomprehensibility of God and we burn in His love, and so it is
properly contemplation of mystical theology, which is, as is said, a most burning and
loving view of the incomprehensibility of God, and because it is of the
incomprehensibility of God, it is not formed by any particular kind of knowledge of
the understanding, so is called general and confused knowledge, and it has many
other names, as we have declared many times. Particularly this knowledge is called
quiet and tranquil knowledge because it is the end and goal of all the anagogical acts,
and the term of the movement where rest and quiet are naturally found..." (34)
This is "a loving and quiet contemplation, which is exercised in such pure spirit that
many times the soul does not feel the operation of the understanding. And it is not
much because here it doesn’t have a grasp of a particular thing, and it is so subtle and
delicate as to be almost imperceptible (imperceptible)… and in other people even the
operation of the will, itself, is not felt and the cause is that as the faculties are so
saturated and absorbed, they don’t give room to the understanding in order to reflect
and comprehend what is happening in the will. And for this reason some spiritual

writers have called it mystical theology and unknowing and ease of the faculties.
"Although at the beginning the soul enters with work into this contemplation because
of the necessity of much disencumbering of the faculties and the continual exercise of
anagogical movements, afterwards it finds itself with such facility of entering within
itself and quieting itself in God that every time it wants it finds itself in this
contemplation (que todas las veces que quiere se halla en esta contemplación)… Yet
with the force of love and of the exercise by means of the habitual knowledge of faith,
without averting or reflecting whether God is incomprehensible nor about any other
thing, hardly with any knowledge that it is able to avert to, it enters into that abyss of
darkness, rests and is quiet in it, exercising love more than knowledge." (35)
If by now we have begun to wonder once again if Tomás is talking about infused
contemplation after all, he tells us explicitly that the effects of this contemplation are
experienced differently by beginners and the advanced, and those who exercise this
contemplation actively, and those who are supernaturally introduced into it. We can
know if someone is in this contemplation whenever the soul feels inside itself "this
quietness and loving inclination towards God, "and although at that time it doesn’t
know what it loves or how," it is a certain sign that it has begun to taste of this
wisdom." (36)
The language is John of the Cross’, but the structure of the thought belongs to Tomás.
When Tomás says, "others call it loving advertence to God" who else does he mean but
St. John? But for Tomás this loving advertence is no longer a receptivity to the
beginning of infused contemplation, but a separate activity which gives rise to an
acquired contemplation.
Tomás has been reading the 14th chapter of Book 2 of the Ascent in which St. John
describes reasons why a person can give up meditation and go on to contemplation:
"The second reason is that he has now acquired the substantial and habitual spirit of
meditation. It should be known that the purpose of discursive meditation on divine
subjects is the acquisition of some knowledge and love of God. Each time a person
through meditation procures some of this knowledge and love, he does so by an act.
Many acts, in no matter what area, will engender a habit. Similarly, the repetition of
many particular acts of this loving knowledge becomes so continuous that a habit is
formed in the soul. God, too, effects this habit in many souls, without the precedence
of at least many of these acts as means, by placing them at once in contemplation." (37)
Tomás interprets this passage as one of the ways by which this contemplation can be
acquired by faith. "One way is when the soul, having been exercised in the purgative
and illuminative ways, realizing that God is incomprehensible, begins to exercise these
anagogical acts until little by little it comes to acquire a habit of contemplation." (38)
Nowhere in this passage of St. John’s does he say that the soul by its own acts comes to
acquire a habit of infused contemplation. The whole context of this passage in the
Ascent is the actual transition to infused contemplation, which would certainly not be

so mysterious if it were simply the outcome of the soul’s own activity. It is a transition
from one order of prayer to another, even if we attain a facility, and in this sense a
habit of loving knowledge as the fruit of meditation. This habit is very different from
the loving knowledge that St. John is talking about, so St. John writes: "What the soul,
therefore, was periodically acquiring through the labor of meditation on particular
ideas has now, as we said, been converted into the habitual and substantial, general
and loving knowledge. This knowledge is neither distinct nor particular, as the
previous. Accordingly, the moment prayer begins, the soul, as one with a store of
water, drinks peaceably, without the labor and the need of fetching the water through
the channels of past considerations, forms, and figures. At the moment it recollects
itself in the presence of God, it enters upon an act of general, loving, peaceful, and
tranquil knowledge, drinking wisdom and love and delight." (39)
The reference to St. Teresa’s prayer of quiet is unmistakable, and it would dismember
St. John’s thought to force this text into a statement of acquired contemplation. Then
St. John would be saying that the past considerations, forms, and figures are the very
efficacious means of arriving at this contemplation, and this is precisely what he is not
saying. Tomás, driven by the dilemma of the dark night of sense, is compelled,
unconsciously no doubt, to widen St. John’s solution to the night of sense, which is
infused contemplation, to include an acquired contemplation, and in that way solve
this pressing problem in the spiritual life. But we have already seen how St. John
insists on the passivity of the faculties of the soul instead of their activity. His loving
attentiveness is the reception of the infusion of contemplation, not an active exercise by
which we attempt to acquire contemplation. Because Tomás insists that there is an
acquired contemplation, he cannot understand St. John’s working of the faculties or
meditation in the complete sense that it has in St. John’s writings. By the very logic of
his position he has to find an activity of the soul that is beyond discourse and
meditation, which is his intuition. For St. John the imperceptibility of contemplation
was rooted in the newness of infused contemplation, and ought to give way to an
actual experience of the presence of God. In Tomás imperceptibility begins to take a
life of its own.
Finally, acquired contemplation, which in Tomás’ schema of the various degress of

contemplation, ought to lead to infused contemplation, is already gathering
momentum so that it begins to act like a parallel way to St. John’s infused
contemplation. In short, Tomás invents a doctrine of acquired contemplation which is
born out of his study of John of the Cross, and this doctrine contains the seeds of a
misunderstanding that will blossom throughout the century.
The Creation of Acquired Contemplation
We have seen Tomás de Jesús writing his Tratado de oración y contemplación in Las
Batuecas sometime before 1604, and thus creating the idea of acquired contemplation

as an indirect commentary on John of the Cross’ teaching on the transition from

meditation to infused contemplation. What we need to do now is to grasp in a deeper
way why he did this.
It is here that the third of our modern detective-scholars appears on the scene. It is Jean
Krynen who stirred the world of Carmelite scholarship in 1948 with his book, Le
Cantique Spirituel de Saint Jean de la Croix commente et refondu au XVII siecle. This book
was another shot in the long-running battle that had started in the 1920s over whether
John was the author of the second version of the Spiritual Canticle. It was Krynen’s
contention that someone had used the commentaries of Augustín Antolínez on John’s
poems to create a second redaction of the Canticle that better reflected his own ideas on
contemplation, and this someone was none other than Tomás de Jesús, himself. This
was vigorously disputed by many Carmelites, and has little to do with our story except
that the controversies that ensued managed to throw up various facts that greatly
increased our knowledge about the relationship between Tomás de Jesús and Juan de
la Cruz.
One of the things that Jean Krynen’s research helped bring to light was the book we
saw before by Leandro de Granada that had appeared in 1601 called Insinuación de la
divina piedad, which was a Spanish edition of the first part of the revelations of St.
Gertrude, together with commentaries, but it also contained a short Latin work called
Quid sit theologia mystica secundum Dionisii mentem by none other than Francisco de
Santa María. (40) This volume, which had appeared in Salamanca, was followed by
another in Valladolid in 1607, which was a separate amplified version of the discourses
of 1601 with a Spanish summary of Francisco’s treatise, and bore a title that makes the
other long titles that we have been seeing pale in comparison:
Luz de maravillas… Light of the marvels that God has worked from the beginning of the world
in the souls of his prophets and friends, as well as in natural law and in the Scriptures, and in
the Gospel of grace: by visions and corporeal works in the exterior senses: by visions and
imaginary words in the imagination and sensory powers: by visions and intellectual words in
the center of the soul and in the most pure and elevated of the powers and by the sovereign
communion of his divine name which is made by grace. Treating of the apparitions of God,
Christ, angels, glorious saints, souls in purgatory made to the living: and resolving the difficult
points of mystical theology.
Quite a mouthful. Leandro had consulted with Francisco, who was then the vice-rector
of the Carmelite college of Salamanca, about mystical theology, and told him to correct
his writings as he wished, and was so pleased with his suggestions that he had
included them in his first volume in the form of Francisco’s little Latin treatise. (41)
But there is something much more important going on with the appearance of

Leandro’s work in 1601 and 1607 than the possible link between Tomás through
Francisco and Leandro to Alvarado. The grand title of the Luz de maravillas announces
a view of the contemplative life that John of the Cross would have been uncomfortable
with, to say the least. Jean Krynen has carefully explored the difference between what
he calls a mysticism of light, exemplified in the doctrine of the Luz de maravillas, and
the mysticism of John of the Cross. For John, infused contemplation, which is the only
kind of contemplation he is talking about, is a result of the development of the life of
sanctifying grace through the theological virtues and the gifts of the Holy Spirit. It
works through faith, a faith animated by love, and thus is a dark, loving knowledge.
John will insist that faith in this sense is the only proximate means of union with God,
and therefore, all distinct forms of knowledge of God must be put aside.
Leandro is enamored with distinct supernatural kinds of knowledge. These distinct

forms of knowledge tend to turn the mystical life into a search for various kinds of
visions and revelations that are rooted not in the fundamental organism of the life of
grace, but in a specifically given charism of prophecy. John’s science of love becomes
in their hands a miraculous science of the intellect. John had a profound
understanding of these distinct kinds of supernatural knowledge and how to deal with
them, but he never confused them with the substance of the mystical life, itself.
Francisco for his part, in his Quid sit theologia mystica, expresses a view of
contemplation that is closer to Tomás than to John of the Cross. He invokes Dionysius
as the great master of mystical theology from whom he has learned that this science is
"completely a work of the understanding." (42) Then he goes on to tell us that "there
are two ways of knowing God." (43) In the first, we see that He is different from
creatures. He is, for example, eternal or omnipotent. In the second, He is somehow
similar to creatures, i.e., He is living. Each of these two ways gives rise to affirmative
and negative names. And these different ways of knowing, in turn, found three
theologies: the affirmative, the significative, and the mystical.
In the mystical all that the senses can attain and the understanding can perceive is
taken from the sight of the soul. God is neither sun nor air, but neither is He
understanding, or substance. And the soul, tiring of all concepts, throws them aside
and throws itself into that immense sea of God. (44) In the end, then, all the names we
can give to God, whether negative or positive, are surpassed, and this highest kind of
understanding goes beyond the natural forces of the soul, and the ordinary work of
grace, and "works with a particular and extraordinary ray of light." (45)
There are, therefore, three grades of mystical theology. The first takes away from God
the perfections of creatures. The second uses negative names, and the third, with a
special help, sees that no words are suitable to be applied to God. This doctrine of
Dionysius, Francisco tells us, is very different from that of San Buenaventura who
makes mystical theology reside in the will. (46) All in all, this little treatise of

Francisco’s bears a rather strong resemblance to Chapter 2 of the Tratado breve.
Jean Krynen felt that it was Tomás’ reading of Teresa on the intellectual vision of the
Holy Trinity which not only helped inspire him to join the Carmelites, but also set the
stage for his understanding of contemplation. Tomás confused the experience of the
Holy Trinity, which takes place in the spiritual marriage, and thus is an integral part of
this lofty contemplation, with the intellectual vision of the Trinity that St. Teresa
described. She had both, but the first belonged to the substance of the mystical life,
while the second was a charismatic grace that was not essential to it. It was because of
this confusion, Krynen reasoned, that Tomás created in his theology a supereminent
contemplation that did not come from the virtues and gifts of the Holy Spirit, but was
a special motion of the Holy Spirit, a charismatic grace, that led to a certain transient
knowledge of God. The heart of contemplation, therefore, is no longer the dark, loving
knowledge of St. John, but an illumination of the intellect, and thus very similar to
what Francisco was proposing. (47)
Let’s look further at Tomás’ relationship with John of the Cross. Tomás never lost his
fascination for St. John’s writings. He cites him in his Tratado de oración y contemplación
and leaves an interesting passage in his Repertorium about him:
"Of the three paths of prayer. The union of the soul with God is the goal and port of
prayer and love. There are three paths in order to arrive there: the first is by meditation
and discourses, and affirmative contemplations; the second by way of acts and
drynesses, etc.; the third by way of negative contemplation.
"To the first is reduced the paths of Our Holy Mother, of fr. Luis de Granada, P. Avila,
Ricardo. To the second, the Path of P.fr. John of the Cross of the Dark Night and Ascent
of Mt. Carmel, especially where this purgation happens passively. To the third, the
Mystical Theology of S. Bonaventure." (48)
Once again we can ask ourselves if this represents a good understanding of St. John’s
infused contemplation in the Ascent and Dark Night. But let’s go on. Soon after the first
publication of John’s writings in 1618 we find Tomás writing a letter from Brussels
dated Feb. 22, 1619 to Alonso de la Madre de Dios: "Our Father General has sent me
the works of our holy father Fr. Juan de la Cruz together with a brief essay on his life. I
have been greatly consoled to see them, and it appears to me that all of it is a doctrine
that has been poured out by heaven because such treasures of science and heavenly
wisdom are not to be found in the books of earth." (49)
Sometime after 1619 Tomás was using the Barcelona edition of John’s writings to
extract a series of questions on visions and revelations based on Book II of the Ascent.
He had also been preparing for a long time a commentary on some of the questions in
St. Thomas’ Summa on these same issues, and he cites St. John again to the effect that
John had dealt with these things in detail and his doctrine was more given by God

than acquired by human effort. There is a Latin translation of this part of the Ascent in
the Discalced Archives in Rome that Tomás had caused to be prepared and had
annotated and corrected himself.
Less than a year after Tomás died in 1627, Bernardo de San Onofre, one of the students
he had had in Rome stated that his heart would easily become enkindled while
reading the dialogues of St. Catherine of Genoa and the Living Flame of Friar John of
the Cross: "Once when I was reading him this book he commanded me to stop because
I think that the excessive application of his mind while he was hearing it at an
inappropriate time was hurting him." (50)
If on the one hand Tomás maintained his interest in John of the Cross, on the other he
also stuck with his ideas on acquired contemplation, as his Latin treatise De
contemplatione acquisita, composed sometime after the early 1620s, indicates. And
despite Tomás’ interest in John of the Cross, we are left with one mysterious fact.
While Tomás cites John in his manuscripts, as we have seen, he never cites him in his
published works. Was it an old habit that grew out of his working on his edition of
John’s writings when he felt it would be better to wait until John’s works were
published? Yet even after the first edition of 1618 Tomás does not cite him. Even his
citations of St. John in his earlier version of Tratado de oración y contemplación disappear
when the treatise is apparently expanded and reworked, and then becomes Book III of
the Camino espiritual. Incidentally, this might be an indication that the manuscript of
the Camino espiritual was being readied for publication, and the reason that it never
appeared could be ascribed to the same difficulties that beset Tomás’ edition of John’s
writings, that is, his fall from favor in the eyes of his superiors. But in final analysis,
why didn’t Tomás ever publicly cite John of the Cross? We don’t know.
But let’s go back to our question of why Tomás used John’s writing to create the
doctrine of acquired contemplation. Or put in a subtler and perhaps more accurate
way, what moved Tomás unconsciously to reinterpret John of the Cross? If anyone
should have been a contemplative, it was Tomás de Jesús. We have seen him joining
the Carmelites after reading St. Teresa, and he devoted himself to the life of prayer and
to the study of mystical theology. He drew on the Scriptures and the Fathers and tells
us he searched out contemplatives both inside and out of the Order. It was Tomás, as
well, who was inspired with the idea of the Carmelite desert monasteries which, I
think, is simply the outer expression of his inner desire to be a contemplative. But was
he a contemplative in the sense that John of the Cross uses the term? Jean Krynen puts
us on the path to discovering an answer by pointing out an important passage in
Tomás’ work Divinae orationis:
"I acknowledge freely, nevertheless, that after having diligently studied the writings of
many learned men, I had not been able, even speculatively, for more than 20 years to
grasp the nature of the supreme and celestial union of the soul with God…" (51)

But Tomás goes on to tell us that finally God opened His hand and gave him the light
to grasp the nature of that union. We have already seen two of Tomás’ conversions:
one to religious life, and the other to the missions. Now we are confronted with a third,
a conversion to a new understanding for Tomás of the nature of contemplation. When
did it take place? Tomás tells us it happened after more than 20 years of effort, and the
best starting point for these 20 years is his initial conversion of 1586 which, if we were
strict about it, would make the date of his inspiration around 1606. But I don’t think
we have to take him literally here. Looking back, for example, on his difficult years in
Seville when he was plagued with poor health, he tells us he was there for four years
when, in fact, it appears he was only there for two. The most logical time for his
inspiration about contemplation were those early years in Las Batuecas when he was
putting down the foundations for his writings on the spiritual life and composing his
Tratado de oración y contemplación.
What was the content of this inspiration? His new insight is probably what led him to
look at infused contemplation afresh and see a supereminent contemplation above it
and an acquired contemplation below it. Was Tomás a contemplative in the sense that
he experienced in a manifest way the infused contemplation that John of the Cross
talked about? Probably not. And it is this lack of contemplative experience that is the
key to understanding his creation of an acquired contemplation. Jean Krynen puts it
like this: "One could suppose that the very nature of acquired contemplation translates
on the doctrinal plane the sustained and unfruitful effort of Tomás de Jesús to arrive at
living and understanding the mystical experience itself." (52)
We have to keep our ultimate goal in mind, which is to see how John of the Cross’
understanding of contemplation was transformed by those who came after him. We
must certainly allow Tomás to be a man of his own times, and make his own use of the
Church’s many faceted contemplative traditions. He can take up the idea of a
supereminient contemplation from wherever he found it. (53) He can use, or coin, the
idea of acquired prayer, as seen in his Prologue to the Camino Espiritual and his treatise
on mental prayer. He can even talk of an acquired contemplation, but the one thing he
should not do is to take his ideas on prayer and contemplation and through them
reinterpret and distort what John of the Cross is talking about when he speaks of
infused contemplation.
It is not essential that we sort out in detail how the ideas on contemplation of Leandro,
Francisco and Tomás compare to each other. What is important is to see that none of
these views do justice to John of the Cross. Leandro is enamored by visions and
revelations, and Francisco is proposing a kind of philosophical contemplation á la
Dionysius, and Tomás, from whom he probably got many of his ideas, is altering both
the beginning and the heights of St. John’s contemplation. It appears that both
Francisco and Tomás, inspired by their studies of Dionysius and Thomas Aquinas,
have been led to see mystical theology after a philosophical model of our knowledge of

our names of God, and since this kind of knowledge is within our own power, Tomás
might have been led in this way to create an acquired contemplation. (54)
When Tomás read John of the Cross on the beginning of contemplation, he read him
through the tinted glasses of his own burning desire to be a contemplative. He could,
no doubt, verify in himself St. John’s first sign, that is, his inability to meditate like he
did before. And the second sign would have appeared clear, that is, that this inability
to meditate didn’t come from his own misconduct or some kind of overt psychological
problem. He may have even seen in himself, or at least in others, the three temptations
John describes as often accompanying this transition. This only left the third sign, but
the third sign was, for St. John, the actual beginning of the experience of infused
contemplation. John realized that this dawning of contemplation could be very subtle
because we are accustomed to working with our faculties, and even be hard to
perceive because at times it struck deeply into a recollected soul like a beam of light
into a dust-free room, and this is why he left such details and refined descriptions of
this transition. It was important to him to distinguish it both from its counterfeits, and
yet encourage true contemplatives not to overlook the possibility of an almost
imperceptible beginning to it.
But Tomás read these descriptions through his own need. He took John’s general and
loving knowledge, which was infused contemplation, itself, and turned it into the
outcome of a quasi-philosophical type of reflection on the names of God. He took
John’s loving attentiveness, which was a receptivity to the experience of infused
contemplation that was actually being granted, and he turned it into an active exercise
that we do in order to try to draw closer to God. In short, he transformed St. John’s
doctrine on infused contemplation into one of acquired contemplation, and in this way
he became the contemplative that he so much wanted to be.
It is important to see where Tomás’ mistake lay. The problem with acquired
contemplation is not a problem about the existence of simplified states of prayer that
often follow more organized forms of meditation. They exist and are useful. Nor is the
problem one of addressing the important question of what we can do about the dark
night of sense in the wide sense of the term, that is, when we are no longer able to pray
like we did before. There is a time in the life of prayer where the old ways of praying
fail, and this is one of the most important problems in the spiritual life. The real
problem with acquired contemplation is that it misunderstands St. John’s solution to
this dark night of sense in the wide sense of the term. His solution is infused
contemplation. That’s how he went, himself, and that’s what he was interested in and
wrote about even though he realized that while many people enter this dark night,
only some of them go on to infused contemplation.
Tomás wanted a solution to the dark night and to his quest for contemplation, and so
he reinterpreted St. John’s description of the third sign, that is, the actual dawning of

contemplation, and reinterpreted it, unconsciously, as I said, and came up with

another kind of contemplation. This acquired contemplation, he tells us, is to lead to
infused contemplation, but in actual fact it has the uncanny tendency to take on a life
of its own even in Tomás’ writings. It becomes a parallel path to infused
contemplation. It draws to itself the terminology that had been created to describe the
nature of infused contemplation, and in doing so, it leads to psychological,
philosophical and theological errors, and a significant part of the subsequent history of
western Christian mysticism is now going to revolve around this fatally flawed notion.
Notes
1. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, Inventario del Archivo General..., p. xivff.

2. Matías del Niño Jesús, "Indice de Manuscritos Carmelitanos..."
3. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, "La Obra Fundamental..."
4. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, Contenido doctrinal..., p. 8.
5. José de Jesús Crucificado, "El Padre Tomás..." I, see section on De contemplatione
acquisita.
6. Andrés de la Encarnación, Memorias historiales, Vol. II, p. 290. See Chapter 5, note
1 for this passage.
7. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, "La Obra Fundamental...," p. 515.
8. Ibid., p. 495.
9. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, Contenido doctrinal..., pp. 10-11.
10. Ibid., p. 13, note 4b.
11. Ibid., p. 13, note 5.
12. Ibid., p. 21, note 17.
13. BNM ms. 6533, Prologue, f. 3v.
14. Antonio Alvarado, Arte de bien vivir, Ch. XXXVIII.
15. Ibid., p. 515.
16. Ibid., p. 517.
17. Ibid., p. 519.
18. BNM ms. 12398, Book 1, Chapter 4, f. 59r.
19. Ibid., f. 59v – 60r.
20. Ibid., f. 63r – 63v.
21. Ibid., f. 64r – 64v.

22. Ibid., Book 2, Chapter 1, f. 118v.
23. Ibid., f. 118v – 119r.
24. Ibid., f. 119v.
25. Ibid., f. 121v.
26. Ibid., f. 122v.

27. Ibid., f. 122v – 123r.

28. Ibid., f. 123v.
29. Ibid., f. 124r.
30. BNM ms. 6533, Camino espiritual, f. 277r.
31. Ibid., f. 277v.
32. BNM ms. 6873, f. 96v.
33. BNM ms. 6533, Camino espiritual, f. 277v – 278r.
34. Ibid., f. 278r.
35. Ibid., f. 278v.
36. Ibid., f. 279r.
37. Ascent, 2, 14, 2. K. p. 142.
38. BNM ms. 6533, Camino Espiritual, f. 277v – 278r.
39. Ascent, 2, 14, 2. K. p. 142.
40. Jean Krynen, "Du Nouveau..." and Saint Jean de la Croix... p. 287ff. See also
Eulogio Pacho, "El P. Francisco..."
41. Francisco also supplied a Latin prologue to the commmentary of Juan de Jesús
María (el Calagurritano) on the Song of Songs published in Salamanca in 1602
and wrote a life of Tomás de Jesús and a treatise of the three signs both of which
have failed to come down to us. HCD, X, pp.242-3.
42. Pacho, "El P. Francisco..." p. 154.
43. Ibid., p. 155.
44. Ibid., p. 156.
45. Ibid., p. 157.
46. Ibid., p. 158.
47. Jean Krynen, Le Cantique Spirituel, p. ?
48. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, "Tomás de Jesús y San Juan de la Cruz," p. 118.
49. Ibid., p. 121.
50. Ibid., p. 127.
51. "Fateor tamen et quidem libenter, etiam evolutis diligentissime plurimorum
virorum doctorum scriptis, non potuisse me per annos plusquam vigenti,
speculative etiam, percipere quidnam esset suprema et caelestis haec animae com
Deo unio... donec tendem divina illa bonitas lumen quod manibus absconditum
tenebat, aliqua data occasione, aliquantisper mihi reseravit quo quidnam ista sit
unio et in quo praecipue consistat capere possem." Jean Krynen, Le Cantique
Spirituel..., p. 317, note 1.
52. Ibid., p. 318, note 2.
53. Louis Cognet, La Spiritualité Moderne, p. 183.
54. "Avec sa théorie de la contemplation mystique "active" or "acquise", il en
réduisait le mystère par le bas. Il confondait, en effet, la libre réaction du sujet
face à l’initiative souveraine de la grâce, la négativité d’un non-voir et d’un non-
goûter spécifique, avec le processus de la négativité propre à la spéculation des
philosophes ou des théologiens qui recourent à la connaissance négative." Jean

Krynen, Saint Jean de la Croix..., p. 320.
CHAPTER 5:
TEXT RIDDLES
Simeón de la Sagrada Familia had hoped to produce a critical edition of the first part of
the Camino espiritual, but unfortunately it never appeared, and he went on to become
the Procurator General of the Discalced Carmelites, charged with overseeing the
canonization process of prospective saints of the Order. In a critical edition he would
have, no doubt, clarified a number of interesting textural questions by comparing the
various manuscripts of the Tratado de oración y contemplación, the Tratado breve, and
Book 3 of the first part of the Camino espiritual. And he would have refined the already
detailed studies that he has left us on these manuscripts and rare volumes. As it is, he
has left us enough indications which we can supplement to develop a picture of how
the various texts we have been discussing fit together.
I like to imagine Tomás in the desert monastery of Las Batuecas in 1601 having
received the job of preparing John’s writings for publication. He is 37 years old, often a
time of great personal transition, and while reading St. John and directing the brothers
of the monastery and giving conferences to them, he has had an insight into the nature
of contemplation, and begins to write his Tratado de oración y contemplación.
A Map of the Tratado de oración y contemplación

Text Family
Copies of the
Tratado that
Known copies of the
Andrés de la Tratado Breve Family (4)
Tratado (2)
Encarnación
knew (1) see text
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bytes) bytes) bytes)
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bytes) bytes) bytes) bytes)
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1. Can we identify any of the copies of the Tratado de oración that Andrés de la
Encarnación knew with the ones we now possess? Andrés writes in his Memorias
historiales: "The following books have been now placed again in the Archive...
unprinted manuscripts of Fray Tomás de Jesús... Treatise of contemplation in two
books – it is of a good size and useful... The treatise of contemplation of Venerable Fray
Thomas partly in the handwriting of Fray Gerónimo de San Joseph. In it I read that he
helped him write it and I am inferring from this that it is the original." (1) And under

the heading of manuscripts worthy of note in Pastrana, he writes: "Another codex in

quarto where are found various treatises on prayer, and among them the two Books of
contemplation which Our Father Fray Thomas de Jesus wrote which are not yet
printed." (2)
Since Andrés mentions that they are being put again in the Archive, we can wonder
where they had been and why. The Inventory Book of the Archive de San
Hermenigildo does not show them, although ms. 12398 shows the signature K-To 26.Q.
o3 of the Archive, and so we can wonder if they went wandering again.
Padre Simeón does not mention whether he compared the writing of Esteban de San
José whom he thought Andrés had in mind when he wrote Gerónimo de San José with
the copyist of the various Tratados de oración that we now possess. I assume that he did,
and found nothing, but it is something that is worth checking. Nor does it seem that
any of the existing copies mention anything Esteban helping Tomás to write it down.
So as far as I can see, there is no way yet to link any of the existing manuscripts with
the ones that Andrés knew.
2. But we have three manuscripts of the Tratado de oración. Which one is closest to the
original, and which does the Camino follow? To simplify our problem, we will discard
ms. 8273, for it is a partial copy, and its prologue is a summary of the prologue to be
found in the other two copies. The copyist writes there: "Aquí hace el autor una larga
digresión... (Here the author makes a long digression...)" (3) From this we can conclude
that it is probably a derivative copy.
A comparison of the other two copies, that is, ms. 12398 and ms. 6873, especially of
their final chapters, leaves the impression that ms. 12398 is a more primitive version.
Ms. 6873 is a fluid copy, and it expands the later chapters of ms. 12398. The copyist
who wrote these last chapters of ms. 12398 makes many corrections and exhibits bad
handwriting, as well. Could he have been taking down dictation? The most striking
change between ms. 12398 and ms. 6873 is the fact that Tomás mentions John of the
Cross five times in ms. 12398, but these citations, as far as I have been able to trace
them, disappear in ms. 6873:
"a) lib. II, cap. 9, f. 158v "Concerning the mortification of the senses, see our Venerable
Padre in the first book of the Ascent of the Mount.
b) lib. II, cap. 10, f. 161r "From all these (kinds of knowledge) it has to empty and purge
the understanding except from the last obscure knowledge, which before coming to it,
which is the contemplation of mystical theology, it has to denude itself from the others.
Concerning this purgation see our Venerable Padre, the second book of the Ascent of
the Mount."

c) lib. II, cap. 10, f. 161r "Concerning the signs when these forms can be put aside is
treated in Chapter 8 and our Venerable Padre treats of it at length in the place cited."
d) lib. II, cap. 10 bis. f. 164r "(...this general knowledge of God) is so subtle and delicate
that it is scarcely perceived. The example of the ray of sun which our Venerable Padre
uses declares it well."
e) lib. II, cap. 12, f 165r "Of all these purgations our Venerable Padre Fr(ay) Juan treats
in the first and second book of the Ascent." (4)
Why did Tomás leave these explicit citations of St. John out of the new version of the
Tratado de oración? Was he preparing the Tratado for possible publication, which might
account for ms. 6873’s more professional appearance, and he thought it would be more
diplomatic to leave them out given the political climate within the Order? Did he have
in mind the edition of St. John’s writings he was preparing and wanted to wait until it
appeared?
3. Can we be sure that Tomás really wrote the Tratado de oración y contemplación before
the Camino espiritual? It seems clear from Padre Simeón’s analysis that the Camino was
assembled from various existing treatises, and among them was the Tratado de oración.
One striking sign of this is the fact that the copyist of the Camino, upon reaching Book 2
of the Tratado, wrote Liber 2, and then, realizing it was inappropriate in this new
context, wrote Parte Segunda del Lib. 3. The Camino, itself, follows the manuscript line
represented by ms. 6873, which is another indication that it comes later than the
apparently more primitive version of the Tratado in ms.12398. And in following ms.
6873, it leaves out the explicit mentions of John of the Cross.
4. Somewhere along the line someone extracted the Tratado breve either from one of the
versions of the Tratado de oración, or from the Camino, and this gave rise to the Tratado
breve family of manuscripts. There is Antonio Alvarado’s version in his Arte de bien
vivir, and another in Ezquerra which may or may not be derived from it. (5) Then there
is the Toledo manuscript, as well as ms. 6895 BNM. The Toledo version was used by
Andrés, along with a knowledge of Alvarado’s text to create a version that is now in
Burgos, which was used, in turn, by Gerardo de San Juan de la Cruz for his published
version. (6) This published version appears virtually identical with ms. 6895, although
Gerardo doesn’t think so. (7) Ms. 6895 looks like a fluid copy of something else.
Alvarado at times seems to be following a manuscript closer to the Camino espiritual
than ms. 6873, and the Camino, itself is not a simple copy of ms. 6873.
Thus, various versions of the Tratado de oración and the Tratado breve seem to have been
floating around Spain before and after Tomás’ hasty departure for Rome in 1607.

When Tomás left there is reason to believe that he took with him the first part of his
Camino espiritual, and the second, if it actually existed, or at least his Repertorium, which
was the foundation for it. After his stay in Rome he was to go to Flanders from 1610-
1623, and then came back to Rome where he was from 1623 to his death in 1627.
5. During this time, as we have seen, he kept up his interest in John of the Cross, and in
acquired contemplation, although still not mentioning St. John in his published works.
He composed a manuscript called Liber secundus, ms.333a 2 of the General Archives in
Rome, which is a Latin translation of Book 2 of the Tratado de oración. It was never
completed, but does it follow one of the versions of the Tratado de oración or the Camino,
itself? Its very title makes us think it is following one of the Tratados de oración, for there
is no Book 2 in the Camino, as we saw, but there is evidence that it could be following
the Camino. The heading for Chapter 3 in the Liber secundus reads: "In quo agitur de
gradu contemplationis quem anima eligere, (Where it is treated of the grade of
contemplation that the soul should choose.)" (8) Ms. 6873 reads: "Dónde se pone el
grado de contemplación que cada uno ha de seguir, (Where it is treated of the grade of
contemplation each should follow,)" while the Camino reads: "Dónde se pone el grado
de contemplación que cada uno ha de elegir. (Where it is treated of the grade of
contemplation that each should choose.)" (9) So, perhaps, Tomás had the first part of the
Camino espiritual with him.
Sometime after 1623 – for he cites his own Divinae orationis, published in 1623 – he
wrote his De contemplatione acquisita. Its Book One, Chapter 5 and 6, follow the Liber
secundus. The heading of Chapter 5 of De contemplatione acquisita reads: "De indiciis sive
signis ex quibus colligi potest quando anima sit debite disposita ut contemplationis
divinae arcem ascendere possit, (Concerning the indications or signs from which it can
be inferred when the soul is duly disposed so that it might ascend...)" while Chapter
One of the Liber secundus reads: "De indiciis per quae colligi potest quando anima sit
debite disposita ad contemplationem. (Concerning the indications through which it
can be inferred when the soul is duly disposed for contemplation.)" (10) But the title
just before this Chapter One heading in the Liber secundus reads: "De signis ex quibus...
with the ex quibus crossed out, making it look like De contemplatione acquisita
combined features of both headings of the Liber secundus. Perhaps Tomás had started
writing the Liber secundus, following the Camino espiritual, and then abandoned it and
incorporated some of it in his freer version of the same subject matter in De
contemplatione acquisita.
6. In 1675 with the permission of the Italian congregation, Maurice de S.Matthieu

published at Liege a Traité de la contemplation divine, which was based on Tomás’
original Spanish. Again, the question is whether he followed one of the versions of the
Tratado de oración y contemplación or the Camino. And once again, he seems to be
following the Camino. The Camino reads: "He reseruado para el postres lugar este
tratado... (I have reserved for the latter place this treatise...)" which indicates the place

of the Tratado de oración in the larger context of the Camino. (11) And the Traité reads:
"De la contemplation dont j’ay reservé l’explication en ce dernier Traité... (Of which I
have reserved the explanation in this last Treatise...)" which is out of context. Perhaps
Père Maurice had a copy of the Camino he had received from the Italian congregation
before him, but chose only to give part of it to the world.
If we imagine that there is only one copy of the first part of the Camino espiritual, the
very copy Tomás took with him and made use of, then this copy next appears in 1675
in the hands of Père Maurice. It surfaces again sometime between 1678 and perhaps
1684 when we saw some unknown person, whose mother tongue was not Spanish,
writing on it that it was the work of José del Espiritú Santo. This person tells us José’s
Cadena mística was printed in 1678, but he does not mention José’s Enucleatio which
was published in 1684, which might imply it had not been published yet.
In 1632 the Italian Congregation had ordered the publication of Tomás’ works and had
given the job to Paulus ab Omnibus Sanctis. Interestingly, the lists that Tomás made of
his own works for the intended collection of his writings does not contain either the
Tratado de oración or the Camino espiritual or De contemplatione acquisita. (12) For some
unknown reason Tomás’ works were not printed until 1684, and then only in a partial
version which consisted of two of the three proposed volumes, and published in the
end of volume two is José de Espíritu Santo’s Enucleatio. Padre José, himself, had died
in 1674.
Could the Camino, after having been used by Père Maurice sometime prior to 1675,
been sent on to José del Espíritu Santo for his possible use in his studies of the
Carmelite spiritual writers, only to be found among his papers after his death? (13) In
any event, Andrés never came across a copy of the Camino in the General Archives, or
in the monasteries of the Order in Spain. Nor does it feature in the Inventory Book of
the General Archives that was kept up until the exclaustration of 1835. Further, there is
no indication on ms. 6533 BNM of its origin, and it rested there undisturbed, save for
an occasional notice of it as a work of José del Espíritu Santo until Padre Simeón
arrived on the scene.
Notes
1. Andrés de la Encarnación. Memorias historiales, Vol. II, p. 290. "Se han puesto
aora de nuevo en el Archivo los libros siguientes... Obras manuscritas no
Impresas de Fr(ay) Tomas de Jesus – 1a. del modo de caminar por la Mystica
Theologia, y exercicio de las virtudes à la union con Dios –2o. Tratado de
contemp(lacio)n en dos libros – en largo y de lo bueno que aquel V(enerable) P

(adre) escrivio – Alm(ario) 7 cod(ice) 38 esta el trat(ado) de contemp(lacio)n del V

(enerable) Fr(ay) Thomas parte de el de letra de Fr(ay) Geronimo de S(a)n J(ose)
ph. En este he leydo se le ayudo à escribir con que se Infiere fue este el orig(ina)
l=..."
2. Ibid., p. 292. "Otro cod(ice) en 4. donde se hallan varios tratados de oracion y
entre los dos Libros de contemp(lacio)n que escrivio N(uestro) P(adre) Fr(ay)
Thomas de Jesus, que no estan aun Impresos=..."
3. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, "La Obra Fundamental..." p. 493.
4. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, "Tomás de Jesús y San Juan..." pp. 116-117. "a) lib.
II, cap. 9, f. 158v (trata de la mortificación de los sentidos): "De la mortificación
de los sentidos véase a nuestro Venerable Padre en el primer libro de la Subida del
Monte". b) lib. II, cap. 10, f. 161r (desnudez del entendimiento): "De todas estas
(noticias) se ha de vaciar y purgar el entendimiento salvo de la última noticia
oscura, que antes para venir a ella, que es la contemplación de mística teología,
se ha de desnudar de las otras. De cuya purgación vide a nuestro Venerable Padre,
libro segundo de la Subida del Monte". c) lib. II, cap. 10, f. 161r (senales para dejar
la meditación): "De las señales cuándo se pueden dejar estas formas se trata en el
capítulo 8o, y nuestro Venerable Padre trata largo en el lugar citado". d) lib. II, cap.
10 bis. f. 164r (cómo el entendimiento ya desnudo ha de caminar por viva fe por
la mística teología): "...(e)sta noticia general de Dios) es tan sutil y delicada, que
casi no se percibe. El ejemplo del rayo del sol que trae nuestro Venerable Padre lo
declara bien". e) lib. II, cap. 12, f 165r (de la purgación de la memoria y
voluntad): "De todas estas purgaciones trata nuestro Venerable Padre Fr. Juan en el
primero y segundo libro de la Subida, etc."
5. See Chapter 10.
6. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, "Gloria y Ocaso..." p. 200.
7. Gerardo de San Juan de la Cruz, Obras... Vol. III, p. 272.
8. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, "La Obra Fundamental..." p. 479.
9. Ibid., p. 476.
10. José de Jesús Crucificado, "El P. Tomás de Jesús..." I, note 45.
11. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, "La Obra Fundamental..." p. 468, note 27.
12. José de Jesús Crucificado, "El P. Tomás de Jesús..." I.
13. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, "La Obra Fundamental..." p. 456, 498-499.
Up

Part II, Section 2
Home


Contents:
CHAPTER 6: THE EARLY CARMELITES AND
ACQUIRED CONTEMPLATION
CHAPTER 7: THE PUBLICATION OF THE FIRST
EDITION
CHAPTER 8: ANTONIO ROJAS AND JUAN
FALCONI
CHAPTER 6:
THE EARLY CARMELITES AND ACQUIRED
CONTEMPLATION
By the year 1604 the die had been cast for the upheavals in
Christian mysticism that were to come. The teachings of
Teresa and John were going to spread all over Europe and
beyond with the rapid growth of the Carmelite Order. And
everywhere they found fertile ground in fervent Christians
who could now ask themselves in a new way whether they
were being called to be contemplatives. And flowing right
with the works of the Carmelite founders was the idea of
The Diffusion of Tomás de Jesús’ Ideas of Acquired

Contemplation
We saw how in 1608 Alvarado’s version of the Tratado breve

had appeared, and in 1610 the novices of the Benedictine
Order were told to read Alvarado’s works. (1) And beyond
this daylight diffusion there was a less visible spread of this
file:///D|/Letöltés/fromp2b.htm (1 of 53)2012.04.11. 21:18:18

same idea by Tomás’ manuscripts and no doubt orally, as

well. Tomás’ time in Rome was to be followed by intense
missionary activity during which he founded monasteries
in northern Europe, and he would not have forgotten to
spread his ideas on contemplation there, as well, and would
not his ideas on contemplation have had a special weight
precisely because he had been the first editor of St. John’s
writings? We have also seen that three copies of his treatise
on prayer and contemplation have come down to us, and
there were others that were mentioned by Andrés de la
Encarnación.
It is interesting to note how often Tomás’ writings are to be

found bundled together with those of John of the Cross. Ms.
12398, which has a copy of Tomás’ treatise on
contemplation, also contains John’s Cautelas, or Cautions,
while ms. 12068, which contains a treatise on mystical
theology by Tomás, as well as one on the presence of God,
both in the same handwriting, has sandwiched between
them a copy of John’s Dark Night which, as Andrés de la
Encarnación noted on it, must be very old because it calls St.
John the second friar of the Reform, which is an indication
that it antedated the Chapter of 1603 which declared John
the first friar. There is no way, though, to tell when these
manuscripts were bound together in the same volume. A
manuscript of the Discalced Sisters of Pamplona has bound
in it after John’s writings a fragment of a treatise of Tomás
that was taken up in the Camino espiritual, while in the
Library of the University of Barcelona, there is another
manuscript, ms. 411, from the old Carmelite convent of San
José in that city with the Ascent, Dark Night, and the part of
the Living Flame containing the transition from meditation to
contemplation, and a few pages of Tomás’ treatise on
mental prayer. The fact that only this part of The Living
Flame is reproduced is not unique to it, for the same part of
the Living Flame is also found in the BNM ms. 8273 which
contains Quiroga’s Don que tuvo and part of Tomás’ Tratado
de oración. In a 1619 copy of John’s works, also in the
university library of Barcelona, there is a marginal note in
The Dark Night, Book 1, Chapter XIIII, which reads, in part,
"vide Thomá a Jesu de oratio infusa..."
The Toledo manuscript of the Tratado breve also contains St.

John’s Dark Night, and ms. 6895 has another copy of the
Tratado breve, John’s Dark Night, and his poem "The Spiritual
Canticle" in its second version with a commentary by
Agustín Antolínez. And, although we don’t know when this
bundling took place, it would not be surprising if it
happened soon after Tomás had written his works. It is
even possible that some of it happened while Tomás was
handling John’s manuscripts in Las Batuecas, and writing
his own. This would make it possible – and here we get to
the point of this little exercise – for someone to be
introduced to John’s ideas on contemplation, and at the
same time to get Tomás’ view of how to understand them.
Even more telling are the manuscripts of the Tratado breve,
for we saw that two of them (Toledo and ms. 6895) had
John’s name on them, and the Toledo manuscript was dated
1618. Therefore, before John’s writings appeared in print for
the first time in Alcalá de Henares, someone could have
been reading the Tratado breve as John’s work. This Toledo
manuscript was handled by Esteban de San José who wrote
on it, "Belonging to the Discalced Carmelites of Toledo," as
we saw, but either didn’t notice or didn’t think it worth
correcting this attribution to John of the Cross, even though
this very Tratado was derived from the treatise on
contemplation that he had helped Tomás write down. Later
we will meet with Esteban again, who is going to be
instrumental in circulating the commentaries of Antolínez
on John’s poems.
Just who put John’s name on the Tratado breve, and how
much before 1618 did they do it? We don’t know. But let’s
imagine how it could have taken place. The first part of the
Camino espiritual was finished by 1604 and someone
extracted from it, or from the treatise on contemplation, the
version that Alvarado had by the middle of 1607 at the
latest when his book was ready to go to press. This kind of
extracting could easily have been done by Tomás, himself.
Would Alvarado have used this treatise if it had come to
him with St. John’s name on it? Probably not. But what if he
knew through their mutual friends that it was a work of
Tomás and Tomás was on the brink of leaving Spain, as we
surmised before? At the same time, other copies of this
Tratado breve could have been circulated both in and outside
the Order, and someone who read it and recognized its

affinity with John of the Cross – which was rather easy to do

since Chapter 9 gives John’s famous maxims for ascending
Mt. Carmel, i.e., travelling by the road you don’t know –
and put his name on it. In any event, the basic point is clear.
John of the Cross is made the father of acquired
contemplation before his works are even printed. It would
be little wonder that later spiritual writers, even those
within the Order, will take up the theme of acquired
contemplation and honestly think they are following John
of the Cross.
Just what did spiritual writers within the Discalced think

about John’s doctrine on contemplation in the years leading
up to 1618 when his works were to be published? No clear
picture emerges. It is not as if they were uniformly
overwhelmed by John’s writings and made them the firm
foundations on which to build their own.
The Treatise of 1602
Was Tomás de Jesús actually the first to develop the idea of

acquired contemplation in the wake of reading John of the
Cross? All the evidence points that way. But in an appendix
to a spiritual treatise found among the Discalced Carmelites
of Segovia and written, apparently, by 1602, we read that
there are "two contemplations. One natural that we can
acquire with common grace; the other supernatural and
infused where our Lord, with very little work, or without
any, gives to his servants great and profound
contemplation…" (2) Sometimes it is difficult to tell the two
apart, we are told, but if we burn with the love of God
without preliminary exercise of discourse, then it is infused.
If the date of this passage is, indeed, 1602 - the dating is

somewhat indirect – then this is, indeed, an interesting
statement. But what does it say? Its wider context is to
compare meditation with contemplation taken in the
general sense of a natural conclusion to the discursive
process and, as I mentioned before, the problem of acquired
contemplation is not the existence of this kind of
contemplation as a momentary rest at the conclusion of
meditation. It is the identification of this contemplation with
passages in the writings of St. John on infused

contemplation. Still, the language of this passage is

interesting. Can it have nothing to do with Tomás de Jesús?
He could have written his Tratado de oracion y contemplacion
by this time, and this treatise is, in fact, bound with a
collection of spiritual writings which include both John of
the Cross and Tomás’ Del modo de caminar por la mística
Theulujia y ejercicio de las virtudes a la union con Dios which is
his Tratado de mística theologia which, in turn, was included
in the last part of the Camino espiritual, and so it is possible
that even this early treatise owes something of its language
to the work of Tomás.
Jerónimo Gracián
Jerónimo Gracián (1545-1614),was the confidant of St.

Teresa and the first provincial of the Carmelite Reform, and
from there he went on to lead a life worthy of any
adventure novel. He was expelled from the Discalced by
Nicolás Doria, and then later captured by the Barbary
pirates and held for ransom. His Elucidation Concerning the
True Spirit was published in Spain in 1604 where he had
spent from 1600 to 1607, though he may have composed this
book before in Rome. There he writes: "There are two kinds
of spiritual unions. The one procured and worked for and
acquired with meditation and the exercise of reason…; the
second union is given, supernatural and impressed in
prayer…" (3) He says something similar in his 1609 Vida del
alma: "the first which they call active which the soul
procures for itself with its meditation… the second, which
some call passive, is that which comes from God, Himself…
without working with meditation." (4)
In his De la vida del Cristo y perfección del alma unida he states:

"Union with Christ has two modes. The first we can call
active, which is when our free will works together with
grace to unite us to Christ, although it may go by the way of
meditation or contemplation or speaking vocally. The
second is more passive…" (5)
All these passages seem to be describing nothing more than

the difference between meditation and infused
contemplation on the one hand, and sometimes

contemplation taken as the culmination of the process of

meditation. Later Gracián went to the Low Countries where
he teamed up with Tomás de Jesús in combating what they
felt were the excesses of the perfectionists, that is, the
followers of the northern mystics who went too far, they
felt, in the annihilation of the faculties. Gracián had also
written various versions of a commentary on a treatise of St.
Bonaventure which now is attributed by scholars to Hughes
de Balma. The initial version of 1601 he called The Heavenly
Road, while another in 1607 he named Mystical Theology.
There was also a 1616 version called The Itinerary of the Ways
of Perfection, and one that was published in 1617 in Brussels
after his death, but which is said to have appeared eight
years earlier. (6) In it he draws on "the masters of mystical
theology" and discusses the difference between acquired
mental prayer and supernatural mental prayer or theology.
It would, perhaps, be worthwhile to compare these various
versions, as well as the development of this theme of
acquired prayer in his other writings, to see if he developed
in the direction of the acquired contemplation of Tomás, but
as things stand now, he can hardly be called a proponent of
acquired contemplation in that sense.
Inocencio de San Andrés
Let’s take the case of Inocencio de San Andrés (Andrés

Lacarra López), 1553-1620. If anyone should have known
John of the Cross’ doctrine on contemplation, it was
Inocencio. He had met John when John was the rector of the
Carmelite College of Alcalá de Henares, and it was on
John’s counsel that he join the Carmelites. Later Inocencio
was in El Calvario when John arrived there after having
escaped from prison, and he went with John to Baeza and
then to Granada. He even tells us that it was at his request
that John wrote The Dark Night by which he might have
meant the Ascent of Mt. Carmel, or even the whole Ascent-
Dark Night.
After all this, when we hear he wrote a book called Theológia

mística y espejo de la vida eterna por el cual son encaminadas las
almas, which was published in 1615, we want nothing more
than to see what he has to say about this difficult issue of
acquired contemplation. This would have been a desire that

for a long time would not have been easy to satisfy. There is
a singular lack of information about his book in the ancient
chronicles of the Order, but we are told that his Theológia
mística y espejo was published under the pseudonym Andrés
Lacarra y Crucate, Canon Regular, and it was divided into
three parts: mental prayer, mortification, and the interior
man. Later, in the middle of the 18th century Andrés de la
Encarnación adds that he found the original in Granada, but
when he compared it with the printed version he noticed
important additions and omissions.
In the 20th century Crisógono de Jesús had found a copy of

the book in the library of the Discalced Friars in Toledo, but
the library was ravaged during the Civil War and the book
disappeared. But the story has a happy ending. In the 1950s
Eulogio Pacho found a copy of the book, but it raised more
questions than it answered. (7) It showed the influence of
John of the Cross in a very literal way, for its third part
actually transcribes chapters 13 and 14 of Book II of the
Ascent, and thus one of these chapters is called, "The signs
that have to be present in the spiritual person in order to
know what time to leave discourse and meditation." And all
this is, of course, three years before the publication of John’s
writings. But despite this borrowing of John’s text, the book
never mentions him, nor is it prefaced with an approval by
a censor of the Order.
These facts, along with the circumstances surrounding the

book’s publication, lead us in the direction of an
explanation along the lines we have already seen when it
was a question of why it took so long for St. John’s writings,
themselves, to appear, and why Tomás de Jesús failed to
cite John in his published writings. The political climate of
the Order may have caused Inocencio to give his
manuscript to a friend to publish, and to make no mention
in it of John of the Cross. This would still leave unexplained
why it was published in a form that differed from the
original, and poorly edited, as well.
The Prologue of the book reads: "This compendium is

divided into two kinds of subject matter. In the first we will
treat of acquired prayer, which is a kind of common and
plain prayer for those souls who, like animals, advance with

work and effort… In the second mystical theology will be

treated…" Thus, we are promised the study of the two kinds
of mental prayer: "one supernatural, or divine, or mystical,
which God infuses in whomever he desires… the other kind
of prayer is that which each one with divine favor can and
ought to have, which is ordinarily called acquired."
At first glance this appears to be an impressive testimony

about the early origins of the use of the word acquired in
connection with prayer although not with contemplation,
perhaps even reflecting the teaching of John of the Cross,
himself. But Inocencio never follows this plan in the printed
version of the book, and this latter passage has a very
familiar ring to it. In fact, when the Spanish Carmelite
scholar Fortunato de Jesús Antolín, another of our detective-
scholars, saw a copy of Eulogio Pacho’s article, he must
have read it with great interest, for he, too, had discovered a
copy of Inocencio’s book in the library of the Discalced
Sisters of Alba de Tormes. (8) But when he read these
passages, he turned to Tomás de Jesús’ Tratado de oración
mental, which had appeared in Rome five years before the
publication of Inocencio’s book, and he found that far from
Inocencio giving original testimony to the antiquity of the
doctrine of acquired contemplation he, or his editor,
appeared to be paraphrasing Tomás’ treatise. Not only that,
Tomás’ book had been printed at the same place as
Inocencio’s, and a canon regular, Pedro Cayas de Torres of
Montaragón, who was devoted to St. Teresa, had been
instrumental in the publication of Tomás’ work, and it
seemed possible to Padre Fortunato that the pseudonym
Andrés Lacarra y Cruzate, Canon Regular, was a
combination of Inocencio’s name in the world and the title
of this canon regular. We can even go further and surmise,
as we have, that this was a device by which Inocencio
avoided the ban on John of the Cross in his Order, and paid
homage to his dear master. Inocencio writes that it is
important to dwell on the acts of the will in prayer, and that
"the saints and masters of the spiritual life call that good
and perfect prayer, and even contemplation," for all the
other parts of prayer are meant to lead to contemplation.
There is certainly nothing here that could not have come
from Tomás de Jesús, and he might have been one of the
spiritual masters called upon. Padre Fortunato goes on to

show that other parts of the Theológia mística y espejo had

been cobbled together, relying on Francisco Arias, Luis de
Granada, and others, and while John of the Cross is present
in virtue of a transcription of part of the Ascent – which
Inocencio might have felt a certain proprietary rights to –
his influence does not appear elsewhere in the book.
Juan de Jesús María Aravalles
Juan de Jesús María Aravalles, whom we saw assigned with

Tomás to edit the works of John of the Cross, had also
known St. John towards the end of John’s life. For a long
time he was thought to be the author of an often reprinted
Instruction of Novices, and a treatise on prayer, written
around 1587 but not printed until the 20th century, had been
attributed to him, as well. But Simeón de la Sagrada Familia
had shown that the attribution of these works to Aravalles
was without foundation. (9) Whoever the author of this
treatise of prayer may have been, he makes no pretense at
being a mystic, himself. "If I had tasted it, I should not speak
of it," he tells us. (10) And despite our expectations that
someone so close to the beginnings of the Carmelite Reform
would reflect the influence of John of the Cross, he cites him
neither in his Treatise of Prayer nor in his Instruction of
Novices. In The Treatise on Prayer he divides mental prayer
into the traditional seven parts: preparation, reading,
meditation, contemplation, thanksgiving, petition and
epilogue. He connects meditation with the work of the
understanding, and contemplation with the work of the
will, and while contemplation is the "soul of prayer,"
sometimes it is difficult to distinguish from meditation. (11)
In this context contemplation could not be infused
contemplation, but simply the affectively toned insights that
meditation naturally leads to.
Juan de Jesús María (el Calagurritano)
Juan de San Pedro y Ustarroz (1564-1615) also took the

name of Juan de Jesús María after entering the Order in
1582, and he was a much more important figure in the
history of Carmelite spirituality than his namesake,
Aravalles, leaving more than 70 titles. But he interests us

here for two reasons. First, for the light that his relationship
with John of the Cross, or lack of one, sheds on St. John’s
influence within the Order in its early years, and secondly,
his relationship with Tomás de Jesús.
As a student at Alcalá de Henares from autumn 1579 to

January of 1582, it is probable that he came in contact with
the Discalced Carmelites there at the house at which John of
the Cross had been Rector in 1571, for he entered the
Reform right after; nor could he have escaped the influence
of St. John because his novice master at Pastrana was Juan
Bautista, el Remendato who, in turn, had been the novice of
John of the Cross. Juan de Jesús María was sent to Italy by
Doria in 1585 and remained there the rest of his life. Some
scholars have gone so far as to say that he had no
knowledge of John of the Cross’ writings. This is unlikely
for the reasons just given, and so we are left with the puzzle
of why he never cites St. John.
The problem we saw in connection with the listing of the

seven parts of mental prayer in Aravalles is resolved by
Juan de Jesús María by leaving out contemplation for fear
that beginners would attempt to do it prematurely, for in
his mind, this contemplation meant infused contemplation.
(12)
From 1607 to 1608 Juan de Jesús María taught theology in

Naples, and then went to Rome as the Procurator General of
the Order, where he worked on St. Teresa’s beatification. It
is here that he met Tomás de Jesús, whom we saw leaving
Spain in 1607, and they worked on the idea of a Carmelite
missionary congregation and, no doubt, discussed
passionately the nature of contemplation. Their relationship
is one more reason why Juan de Jesús María had to be
acquainted with the works of John of the Cross, for it was in
the years preceding Tomás de Jesús’ departure for Rome
that he was annotating and reflecting on the works of John
of the Cross. The relationship between Tomás de Jesús and
Juan de Jesús María has never, unfortunately, been subject
to close scrutiny, and there are a number of hints that it
would be a fruitful project. Tomás de Jesús shared Juan de
Jesús María’s six-fold division of mental prayer. In his
Escuela de oración or School of Prayer written in 1610 and

published the following year he divides contemplation into

natural, supernatural and divine, with the supernatural
being equivalent to acquired contemplation. (13)
For Juan de Jesús María, if we are to understand divine

contemplation we must note "that there is a natural
contemplation of God insofar as he is the author of nature
and about natural things, and there is a supernatural
contemplation of God insofar as he is the author of grace,
mysteries and supernatural works, and finally, there is
divine contemplation of this same God and His divine
perfections by means of the gift of wisdom." (14) The first
kind of contemplation is found among philosophers who
arrive at a clear and penetrating understanding of things
after having reasoned about them. The second kind of
contemplation is an admirable knowledge of the mysteries
of grace in which we know them "with a quiet and
penetrating knowledge and with suspension of the
soul." (15) The third kind of contemplation works through
the gift of wisdom when we receive from it an actual divine
light with special aid. (16)"
Juan de Jesús María joins with Tomás de Jesús and later

Quiroga in invoking Dionysius the Areopagite and in
expressing the following sentiment: "considering the state of
this age of ours, in which many books on this subject
circulate and are read in the vernacular, in unintelligible
language, causing spiritual persons no little harm, and
considering, furthermore, the profit which can arise from
brief and clear expositions in the vulgar tongue… we will
treat of the points of this said theology in clear terms." (17)
The role of the gifts of the Holy Spirit in contemplation

would be another way to try to unravel the relationship
between Tomás de Jesús and Juan de Jesús María. The latter
in his Theologica Mística talks of a contemplation that does
not come from the gift of wisdom, but from the gift of
prophecy, and is not limited to souls in grace. (18) The
Theologia Mística appeared in 1605 and thus before Tomás de
Jesús’ appearance on the Roman scene. Is this doctrine on
contemplation through the gift of prophecy present in the
1605 version without any influence of Tomás, or did Tomás
receive it from Juan de Jesús María whose book he

apparently knew before he left Spain because he made a

reference to it in his Repertorium? And when it comes to the
central issue of acquired contemplation it seems possible
that Juan de Jesús María in his School of Prayer is reflecting
in a minor way the influence of Tomás de Jesús who had
come to Rome with well-developed ideas on the subject. If
Juan de Jesús María shows so little influence of John of the
Cross, and acquired contemplation was supposed to be an
invention of John of the Cross, how could he have come to
this idea if not through some intermediary? This second
kind of contemplation is acquired normally, and the word
acquired occurs in the Italian original and the Latin
translation of the book, but not, we are told, in the Spanish
translation. (19) Is Juan de Jesús María really talking about
an acquired contemplation in the modern sense of the term
stemming from Tomás de Jesús? If he is, it does not play a
significant role in his work. (20)
Tomás’ attempt to found a missionary congregation of

Discalced Carmelites ran into serious opposition on the part
of both the Spanish and Italian congregation, and in 1608
Juan de Jesús María was requesting that the new General,
Fernando de Santa María, come to Rome to speak to the
Pope about the elimination of the missionary congregation,
which the Pope did. (21) If Juan de Jesús María and the
unknown author of the book attributed to his name sake,
Aravalles, both of whom followed so closely in time after
John of the Cross in the Carmelite Order could escape
without a significant understanding of his work, what does
this tell us? First, St. John’s spiritual authority and influence
grew only slowly within the Carmelite Order itself. If his
works circulated in manuscript widely, as is likely, they
were not necessarily appreciated as the work of genius we
know them for today. With the rapid expansion of the
Reform and its acceptance of men already formed, it was
entirely possible to be a Carmelite during the time that John
of the Cross was still alive and have no deep understanding
of his teaching and of his works. This isn’t to suggest that
these early spiritual writers had anything against John of
the Cross, not to say, however, that this was an
impossibility, given the disgrace that John of the Cross fell
in at the end of his life, but rather, early Carmelite
spirituality, while it could hardly escape the influence of St.

Teresa, in its earliest formative stage did not necessarily

build on the work of John of the Cross.
José de Jesús María Quiroga
Given the failure of these writers to openly cite John of the

Cross, and even to speak in a way that would make their
dependence on him, or lack of it, clear, it is a relief to come
to someone who was an outstanding and vocal champion of
John of the Cross and who cited him at every turn. This is
Francisco de Quiroga (1562-1628) known in religion as José
de Jesús María. Quiroga was the nephew of Cardinal
Gaspar de Quiroga and was already a priest of 33 years of
age when he joined the Carmelites. He was soon appointed
their first Historian General, and traveled all over Spain
collecting information about the Order and its founders.
Except for a period between 1600 to 1607, when he was
appointed Prior of Toledo, he successfully resisted office.
He wanted nothing more than to be left alone in his cell and
to give himself over to prayer and his spiritual writings.
Unfortunately, it was his writings that were to bring him
into conflict with his superiors. Quiroga had strong views
about what he saw as the excessive activity in the Order,
and how it was detrimental to its contemplative vocation,
and he didn’t hesitate to make these criticisms known. He
felt that the Order had been more solitary in the past, and
should follow that past example, as well as that of John of
the Cross. The friars should spend four hours in the
morning in their cells in spiritual exercises.
The balance between the active and the contemplative

dimensions of the Carmelite life was already a touchy point,
which we have seen flare up with Tomás’ interpolations of
Diego Yepes’ book on St. Teresa, and the question of a
Carmelite missionary congregation. When Quiroga’s life of
John of the Cross appeared in Brussels in 1628 without the
approval of the Order, and asserting his strong opinions
about the need for the predominance of the solitary life, as
well as other controversial matters, he was exiled to Cuenca
where he soon died.
Quiroga must have known Tomás de Jesús, for what would

have been more natural for the Order’s Historian General to

consult with the editor of John’s writings? Indeed, in a letter

to Alonso de Madre de Dios dated Feb. 13, 1614, he tells
Alonso that his first volume of the history of the Order,
which he is sending him, had been ready for three years.
(22) And in a letter to Quiroga, Alonso praises him for the
care he has taken in verifying the facts about what he has
been writing, and adds: "And it didn’t come to me to say
this either from the love or lack of it I might have for Tomás
de Jesús, for I have said something of it to him on another
occasion." (23) The very least that this correspondence
shows is that Quiroga had some knowledge of Tomás de
Jesús, which is something that we would have expected in
any event. But it also might imply some friction between
Tomás and Alonso, and perhaps Tomás and Quiroga, over
something Tomás had written. But there is something more
here. The same kind of events that held up the publication
of John of the Cross’ writings could have easily effected
Quiroga’s writing career, as well. Why was Quiroga’s book
on hold for three years? Eulogio Pacho feels that Quiroga’s
literary activity ceased between 1607 and 1613-1614. (24)
Then it began again, as we have just seen, and Quiroga
began collaborating in the production of the first edition of
John’s writings and contributed the first published
biographical sketch of St. John. (25) Did he have any
influence on the text of the edition itself? He knew its editor,
Salablanca, very well, not only in religion, but from the fact
that both of them had grown up as part of the household of
Cardinal Quiroga.
Quiroga’s mystical works, which include his Don que tuvo

and Apología mística, as well as Subida del alma, allow us to
see in detail what he thought about John of the Cross’
doctrine of contemplation, especially its delicate beginnings.
There is no unanimity, however, among scholars about the
relationship between Quiroga’s teaching on contemplation
and that of John of the Cross. Jean Krynen, for example,
whom we saw before insisting that Tomás de Jesús had
deformed John’s teaching on contemplation, in this case
believes that Quiroga was his faithful interpreter. (26) For
my part, I confess that I see Quiroga as one of the chief
architects of a doctrine of acquired contemplation, which is
incorrectly attributed to John of the Cross.

Let’s look at Quiroga’s Don que tuvo. One of the

approbations of the book was written on Nov. 19, 1622 by a
Dr. Merino, so Padre Fortunato dates the composition of the
book somewhere between 1618 and 1622. (27) Gerardo de
San Juan de la Cruz in his edition of John of the Cross
published the Don que tuvo, basing himself on a manuscript
of the Discalced Friars of Toledo, as well as ms. 11990 and
ms. 8273 in the Biblioteca Nacional in Madrid. We have
already met ms. 8273 because it contains a partial copy of
Tomás’ Tratado de oración y contemplación. Quiroga’s full title
runs: Summary Notice of the Singular Divine Gift that our Holy
Father, Fray Juan de la Cruz had in order to communicate to
contemplative souls the hidden wisdom he had received from the
Holy Spirit. Quiroga explains in the first chapter just what
this singular gift is. Not only did John have the gift to know:
"the highest grades of contemplation, which no one can
arrive at without a particular divine illumination" – a gift he
shared with St. Teresa – "but also (the gift) to teach
advantageously the common grades of contemplation that
we are able to achieve by our own human mode by means
of the light of faith and the ordinary help of grace, and
which is what properly concerns and upon which we have
to principally found our exercise of mental prayer as the
means and proportionate disposition for the other more
elevated graces." (28) What was obscure in this
contemplation in St. Dionysius and the other saints, John
has made clear even to the "simple and uneducated." And
Quiroga, relying on the twin lights of St. Dionysius and St.
Thomas Aquinas, is going to make the nature of this
contemplation clear to us despite the objections raised by
"some spiritual masters."
The first objection of these masters is that John didn’t teach

about meditation with the imagination, but had people
jump straight into "divine intellectual contemplation."
Quiroga replies that John is limiting himself to the
proximate means that lead to divine union, and not dealing
with the more remote ones like sensible meditation. Now
while it is necessary for the soul to be totally mortified in
order to reach divine union, such complete mortification is
not required to attain "simple intellectual contemplation."
Indeed, this simple intellectual contemplation serves to
prepare us for divine union.

All this begins to sound very much like Tomás’ acquired

contemplation. But let’s go on. Quiroga claims that John
taught his disciples about meditation and divided it into
three parts. The first two were the representation of the
mystery to be meditated on and the intellectual
consideration of it. The third we would expect to be the
exercise of the will in love and, indeed, it is, but Quiroga
calls it "an attentive and loving quiet towards
God," (quietud atenta y amorosa a Dios) and a peaceful,
loving and calm quiet of faith (quietud pacifica amorosa y
sosagada de fe) and a "simple attention to God" (atención
sencilla). And so we are back to the very misunderstanding
we saw in the Tratado breve. The terms used by St. John to
explain our receptivity to infused contemplation have now
become attached to a contemplation we can do ourselves.
Quiroga goes on to tell us that this kind of meditation,

which John taught to his disciples, quickly led them to
contemplation. In fact, "without having ever left sensible
means, they were already contemplatives because they were
finishing their meditation in contemplation, and before
entering of set purpose in it they have already overcome the
major difficulty of the contemplative life," (29) which is not
knowing how to quiet the soul in God. Since they are
accustomed to working actively, "it appears to them that
they are losing time, although passively they might be
receiving divine influence and illumination even if it is not
communicated to them so efficaciously so as to suspend
their proper operations. In this way, they are taught to
speak with God, not with the discourses of the
understanding, but with the voices of the affect."
Much of this, of course, echoes the language of John of the

Cross, but a language now given over to the service of
acquired contemplation. The goal of meditation is "the
simple contemplation of God in the general, loving and
pure knowledge of faith." (30)And it is to this that Quiroga
applies John’s signs. Given this overall program, it is not
surprising to find Quiroga quoting St. John’s Ascent to the
effect that acts of loving knowledge in meditation lead to a
habit of loving knowledge. This loving knowledge, for
Quiroga, has two components, which are knowledge and

sensible love. As far as knowledge is concerned, a few acts

of meditation are sufficient and "very soon the soul is
prepared in meditation to pass to contemplation." (31)
When it comes to sensible love, more effort is needed. He
cites St. Bonaventure to the effect that one or two months
are enough to mature the sensible appetite so that it, too,
can pass to contemplation, and when the soul has made use
of meditation and finds it has no more taste for it, "it is a
very certain sign that it is prepared to pass to
contemplation." (32) It is this divine contemplation that is
the goal of the Order. (33)
There seems to be little in Quiroga’s contemplation that we

have not seen in one way or another in Tomás de Jesús, and
when Quiroga was criticized by his superiors, he wrote a
short treatise, BNM ms. 2711, that contains a very intriguing
passage. If the Company of Jesus, he tells us, can be so
appreciated for having received the way of sensible
meditation, how can I fulfill my office without talking about
the divine contemplation which is the goal of our Order,
and which opens the door to divine illumination? This
divine contemplation is the contemplation that he has been
talking about throughout the Don que tuvo. "And further, it
is very clear to me," he continues, " that one of the greatest
harms that our Order has suffered is the little appreciation
and exercise of this contemplation so that although our
Lord gave us an accredited master of it in our venerable
father Fray Juan de la Cruz, the first Discalced of the
Reform, and he taught us about it by word and writing with
distinction and propriety, his most useful doctrine is not
received with the applause it deserves, not only in the
monasteries of the common life, but also in the desert
monasteries dedicated to this divine contemplation." (34)
Jean Krynen attempted to use this passage to show that

Quiroga was not in agreement with Tomás de Jesús since it
was Tomás, of course, who played the leading role in the
formation of the Carmelite desert monasteries. If this were
true, then we are left in the strange situation of wondering
why Quiroga’s doctrine on active contemplation would be
so similar to that of Tomás de Jesús if he were really at odds
with him. The answer, I think, is to be found in the
concluding paragraphs of the Don que tuvo. Here Quiroga

again berates the Order for forgetting the doctrine of John of

the Cross, but he is more explicit about what is being
forgotten. He writes, "Because the influence and teaching of
our holy father Fray Juan de la Cruz is lacking (in the
Order) other masters have entered that favor more
discourse of reason and the unquiet operation of the soul
than simple spiritual acts where the divine operation is
received and the effects of supernatural influence which
work our perfection. They made in their disciples such a
different work that the disciples came forth from them
many times with crippled heads and are found few elevated
spirits, and as they do not teach them in the novitiates how
to travel to contemplation when they have become ready for
it, they go out of the school without knowing the chief thing
about their vocation, and afterwards remain the rest of the
life without knowing it…" (35) By 1628 when Quiroga made
his response to his superiors, Tomás had been gone from
the Carmelite deserts in Spain for more than 20 years, and
Quiroga is not complaining about Tomás’ doctrine on
contemplation, but rather he is complaining that active
contemplation that he imagines John of the Cross to be the
father of is not being used widely enough.
Later Andrés de la Encarnación will also complain that even

in the Discalced cloisters, themselves, until this venerable
father came (Quiroga), the doctrine of our holy father (John
of the Cross) appeared unknown… Before him (Quiroga) no
one seems to refer or even know (John’s) most particular
new doctrine of faith and contemplation, as we have seen in
the writings of el Calagurritano, Fray Tomás de Jesús, and
Fray Domingo (de Jesús María). (36)
Does this testimony drive a wedge between Tomás and

Quiroga? Not really, for we have only to remember the
praise that Andrés, himself, heaped upon the Tratado breve.
He would not have included Tomás among those forgetful
of John’s doctrine on contemplation, as set forth by Quiroga
– this new doctrine of faith and contemplation – if he had
known that Tomás was responsible for the Tratado breve.
Why didn’t Andrés ever notice the similarity between The
Tratado breve and Tomás’ Tratado de oración y contemplación,
which he handled when they returned to the archive of San
Hermenegildo? Perhaps having already been familiar with

some of Tomás’ published works he did not look at these

manuscripts closely. (37)
Quiroga’s doctrine on acquired contemplation in the Don

que tuvo can be found in his other works, as well, like his
Apología mística, which was written sometime between 1615-
1625, (38) but not published until a few years ago when Jean
Krynen came out with a French translation of BNM ms.
4478, and later with the Spanish text. (39) In Chapter 4, for
example, Quiroga will make many of the same points as the
author of the first chapter of the Tratado breve in Alvarado’s
version. He will, for example, make a fundamental
distinction between discourse and intuition, which latter he
calls "intelligence of the indivisible." And when this
intelligence is applied to faith it becomes a "simple
apprehension of the objects of the faith," "a pure
intelligence" without discourse.
And the same doctrine is to be found in his Subida del alma

de Dios which was published in two parts in 1656 and 1659,
although there remains a question about how faithful this
printed edition was to the original manuscripts. BNM ms.
2231 of the Subida was written prior to 1617, for one of the
approvals of that manuscript is of that date. (40) The Subida
was to go on to have a tumultuous history of condemnation
and resurrection that was to last well beyond the end of the
17th century. There is no need to examine these works in
detail, but only to note some interesting points that
supplement the perspective of the Don que tuvo. The Subida
states that Teresa was "chosen by God to be a master of
infused and supernatural contemplation," and John of the
Cross "a master of the contemplation we can attain by our
own industry." (41) And Quiroga, having spoken of the
spiritual marriage, refers to "a most eminent contemplation
practiced by those transformed in God in the participation
of the celestial life." And he tells us "an experienced author"
calls this "supereminent contemplative life." E. Allison
Peers, the great English scholar of Spanish mysticism,
suggests that this experienced author might be none other
than Tomás de Jesús, himself. (42)
These might not be the only hints on Tomás’ influence on

Quiroga. In the tenth chapter of the Don que tuvo Quiroga

leaves us with this striking passage: "There are two manners

of supernatural contemplation: one in the human mode by
means of the simple light of faith and the common help of
grace; and this we are able to exercise whenever we want
just as we are able to exercise whatever other act of faith
with this same help; and the gift of wisdom supernaturally
illumines this contemplation in our human mode… The
other contemplation is more elevated and makes use of a
particular and more efficacious aid and a greater
illumination than the gift of wisdom which lifts the soul to a
knowledge and love of God above our human mode to
which no one can attain without God granting it to
him…" (43) He goes on to say that God made St. Teresa the
teacher of this latter kind of contemplation, as is seen in her
books, and of the other "which is exercised in our human
mode by means of the enigmatic mirror, that is, by a
superintellectual concept formed by our mode in the
obscurity of faith (which is not denied to anyone). God
made our holy father Fray Juan de la Cruz a great master as
his writing and the experience of his disciples show." (44)
When Fortunato Antolín examined in detail Quiroga’s
doctrine on ordinary contemplation, he found that Quiroga
describes two kinds of contemplation. The first he calls
divine, supernatural and illuminated, perfect,
supernaturally infused, elevated, above our human mode,
and the second is described as simple, pure and simple,
simple of faith, light of faith, common, ordinary, obscure
knowledge of faith, simple of God in general, loving and
pure knowledge of faith, and so forth. (45)
The main point of all this is that Quiroga had a doctrine of

acquired contemplation which, in substance, was the same
as Tomás de Jesús’ whether he received it from him or not.
Both of them commented on John of the Cross á la
Dionysius and Thomas Aquinas, and both created a
contemplation we can do ourselves.
Notes
1. Antoine de Alvarado, DS, 403.

2. Jacinto de Santa Teresa, "Manuscritos espirituales," p.
109.
3. Crisógono de Jesús, La escuela mística..., p. 130.

4. Jerónimo Gracián, Vida del Alma, Obras, Vol. I, p. 385.

5. Crisógono de Jesús, La escuela mística..., p. 130.
6. E.A. Peers, Studies of the Spanish Mystics, Vol. II, p.
139ff.
7. Eulogio Pacho, "Fray Inocencio..."
8. Fortunado Antolín, "Inocencio de San Andrés..."
9. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, "Dos tratados
espirituales..."
10. Peers, Studies of the Spanish Mystics, Vol. III, p. 12.
11. Ibid., p. 10.
12. Ibid., p. 20.
13. Jean de Jésus Marie, DS, 579.
14. Juan de Jesús María, Escuela de oración, Tratado VII,
Duda 7a, p. 209.
15. Ibid., p. 210.
16. Ibid.
18. Ibid., p. 28.
19. Ibid., p. 27, note 4.
20. Roberto di Santa Teresa, "La contemplatione infusa..."
p. 664, note 42.
21. HCD, VIII, p. 586.
22. HCD, IX, p. 466.
23. "No me nace el decirlo de amor o desamor que yo
tenga al Fr. Tomás de Jesús, que a él en otra occasión
le dije algo de esto." Ibid.
24. Eulogio Pacho, El Cántico Espiritual, p. 43.
25. Ibid., p. 45, note 19.
26. Jean Krynen, L’Apologie Mystique de Quiroga,
Introduction.
27. The Don que tuvo was dated 1614 in an article in the
Dictionnaire de spiritualité written by Fortunato de
Jesús (Antolín). This would have had Quiroga
defending John of the Cross well before the
publication of his writings, and citing John of the
Cross according to the text of the first edition. Padre
Fortunato said in a letter to me, however, that the
1614 date is a typographical error for 1914, which is
when Don que tuvo was first published by Gerardo de
San Juan de la Cruz.
28. Gerardo de San Juan de la Cruz, Obras de San Juan de
la Cruz, Vol. III, pp. 511-512.
29. Ibid., p. 518.

30. Ibid., p. 520.

31. Ibid., p. 525.
32. Ibid.
33. Ibid., p. 528.
34. Jean Krynen, "Saint Jean de la Croix, Antolínez..." p.
411.
la Cruz, Vol. III, p. 569.
36. Jean Krynen, "Saint Jean de la Croix, Antolínez..." p.
412.
37. In the first decades of the 20th century when the
debates over acquired contemplation were raging,
Claudio de Jesús Crucificado felt that Juan Arintero
had misunderstood this very passage of Andrés and
identified the kind of contemplation at stake as
acquired contemplation. Claudio de Jesús
Crucificado, "Questiones místicas," IV, p. 75, note 1.
38. Jean Krynen, L’Apologie Mystique de Quiroga, p. x.
39. Jean Krynen, L’Apologie Mystique de Quiroga; Max
Huot de Longchamp produced a Spanish-French
version of the same manuscript, and Fortunado
Antolín another Spanish version of the same text.
40. The first approval was by Dr. Martín Ramírez on
April 9, 1617, followed by one by Fray Juan González
on Oct. 10, 1619, but the third by Andrés Merino does
not take place until July 10, 1625. (Matías del Niño
Jesús, "Indice de manuscritos," p. 202) Alonso de
Jesús María was back in power between 1619 and
1625. Was Quiroga’s book on hold during that time?
42. Ibid., p. 52.
la Cruz, Vol. III, pp. 533-534.
44. Ibid., p. 534.
45. Fortunado Antolín, El Padre José... sobre contemplación
ordinaria, pp. 175ff., p. 179, note 77.

CHAPTER 7:
THE PUBLICATION OF THE FIRST EDITION
Juan Bretón
The official delays to print St. John’s writings did not

prevent them from circulating widely in manuscript, nor
did it stop what could be called a partial pirated edition of
them. This "first" edition did not go unnoticed by the
Carmelites. In his introductory remarks to the official first
edition the General of the Order, José de Jesús María – not
to be confused with his namesake Quiroga – made a veiled
reference to it, and in the next century Andrés de la
Encarnación wrote: "I have seen a book on mysticism by a
Victorine father printed before that of the saint in which
many and entire chapters of The Ascent of Mt. Carmel have
been taken word for word and been passed off as his
own." (1) Finally, Gerardo de San Juan de la Cruz named
the culprit in the introduction to his edition of the writings
of John of the Cross. It was Juan Bretón in his Mística
theologia y doctrina de la perfección evangelica a la que puede
llegar el alma en esta vida sacada del spú (espíritu) de los sagrados
doctores. And the Carmelite Enrique Llamas in 1991 clarified
the extent of Bretón’s borrowings. (2) This is yet another
example, similar to that of the Tratado breve, where the
wheels of Carmelite scholarship ground slowly, but
continued to work over the centuries.
But just who was Juan Bretón, and why did he appropriate
John’s writings? Bretón was a friar Minim of the Order of
San Francisco de Paula which were also called Victorines
after their house Our Lady of Victory in Madrid. He
borrowed long passages from The Ascent, and some from
the Living Flame, as well, including one that didn’t come
from any of the manuscripts that we know now, and so
incidentally did a service to the textual criticism of St. John’s
works. Bretón was a lector of theology at Valladolid from
1583 onwards, as well as a Consultor y Calificador of the
Holy Office. He also preached widely in Valladolid, Madrid
and Andalusía. He was invited to Valencia, perhaps by Juan
de Ribera, its archbishop and future saint, sometime before

1611 when Ribera died. (3) There he met "good preachers

and spiritual directors," and he mentions in 1612 the work
of Sobrino who had been writing about some propositions
that were "sent from Flanders and which have made a great
disturbance." (4) He is referring to the Franciscan Antonio
Sobrino who worked in Valencia and whom he might have
met there. Sobrino, as we will see later, had strong
Carmelite connections, and in his own book of 1612 he took
up the cause of Jerónimo Gracián and Tomás de Jesús who
were fighting against the perfectionists in the Lowlands.
Any or all of these circumstances could have brought him

into contact with St. John’s writings, but we are left with the
puzzle of why he felt free to so largely avail himself of
them, and why, too, he never cites John of the Cross once.
Perhaps he, too, knew of the official opposition of the Order
to the publication of St. John’s writings, and so could have
reasoned that he was doing the world a favor by publishing
them. Bretón also tells us that he had been working on his
book for 14 years, (5) and that would make it possible that
he might have known St. John’s writings around the same
time that Tomás began his work as editor.
But together with John’s writings we find Bretón

propounding a doctrine that sounds much like acquired
contemplation. He describes three kinds of recollection:
contemplation, union, and mystical theology, and E. Allison
Peers comments: "This is an unusual use of the work
"recollection" (recogimiento), to take in the whole of the
contemplative life, and the word "contemplation" must also
be understood in a special sense - viz., as acquired
contemplation. For it is something which, through silence
and the stilling of the understanding, can be achieved by
all." (6)
Melquiades Andrés Martín, in his Los Recogidos, mentions in

passing that Bretón knew the Tratado breve, and, if this is
true, this makes us wonder even more about the context in
which he discovered St. John’s writings. (7) Bretón’s work
was translated into French by his fellow Minim Claude
Burens in 1619, but no copy of that translation is to be
found. He also strongly influenced the Benedictine Pelayo
de San Benito (died1635) in his 1626 Suma de oración. Later,

when controversy was going to envelope Antonio Rojas’

1628 Vida del espiritú because he was teaching an acquired
contemplation, Bretón’s name was to come up again. The
Discalced Carmelite, Agustín de San José, writing from the
monastery of Los Mártires in Granada, denounced Rojas’
book to the Inquisition in 1630 and said that Rojas should
not be claiming to be following John of the Cross, but rather,
Juan Bretón in his Theologia mística where "it teaches in
detail this kind of prayer, and so is as worthy of being
withdrawn as that of this other author." (8) Rojas, in his
defense of his book, as we shall see shortly, freely calls on
Juan Bretón as someone who is teaching the same doctrine
as John of the Cross, as well as himself. He mentions that
"after the Tribunal of Toledo had called him before it over
this doctrine, and had discussed and satisfied itself about all
its doubts, they made him Calificador de la Suprema, and
he taught it in pulpits and confessionals, in the court and
beyond it." (9) Perhaps Rojas thought that he, too, deserved
this kind of treatment after having been called before the
Inquisition.
The First Edition
In 1618 when John of the Cross’ works were finally

published, the doctrine of acquired contemplation and its
attribution to St. John were well on their way to being
established. John’s writings appeared at the end of that year
in Alcalá de Henares under the editorship of Diego de Jesús
Salablanca (1570-1621), and soon after in another printing in
Barcelona at the beginning of 1619. Diego had close links
both with Quiroga, whose summary of the life of John of the
Cross appeared in this edition, and to Tomás de Jesús
whose secretary and student he had been, filling in for him
on occasion in class. For fear of John of the Cross being
accused of the errors of the Alumbrados, this first edition
appeared with innumerable alterations in the text and left
out the Spiritual Canticle entirely. Evidently Salablanca had
been working on St. John’s works for some time, or they
were already in an almost publishable form, for it took him
only little more than a year after being given the
commission to publish on Sept. 21, 1617 before the job was
done. (10) Perhaps Salablanca, with the help of Quiroga,
had begun work soon after Alonso de Jesús had left the

generalship in 1613. Later when Salablanca was reproached

for these alterations and omissions, he laid the blame at the
doorstep of his superiors. (11)
But is there any real evidence that Tomás’ and Quiroga’s

doctrine on acquired contemplation played a role in how
the first edition appeared? No strong evidence is visible.
(12) Quiroga does, indeed, cite one of these altered passages
in his Don que tuvo, as we will see in a moment, and it
certainly suits his purpose better to see in it the doctrine of
acquired contemplation. But there is no way to really link
these alterations to him, and they may, however suggestive
they appear, be written off to the general purpose of the
editor, which was to avoid any accusations on the part of
critics that John of the Cross was recommending excessive
passivity. Further, at this point in time, Tomás de Jesús had
long since departed from Spain, and there is no strong
connection, according to Padre Simeón, between the
manuscript of St. John’s writings he had annotated and how
the first edition appeared.
Salablanca, himself, published with this edition some

clarifications which he called Apuntamientos y advertencias en
tres discursos. He mentions that some people had made
extracts of St. John’s writings, distorting the original,
leaving us to wonder whether he had Juan Bretón in mind.
He defends John against any accusation that he has
neglected meditation and discourse, mortification, and the
acquiring of virtues, all of which, he tells us, "puede tener
nombre de aquisita," that is, could have the name acquired.
But Salablanca never takes advantage of this wonderful
opportunity to say that John is talking about an acquired
contemplation. (13)
Later he has another chance to do so when he is

commenting on the phrase "sin obrar las potencias," or
without the working of the faculties. But again he does not
take advantage of it. Instead, he tells us that the divine life
and loving affect seems to strike the substance of the soul
rather than its powers. (14) And so here all is totally infused
without giving place to reflection. We work, but in a higher
fashion, moved by God by means of silence, or quietude. So
the phrase of not working with the faculties means "that the

powers don’t work when they are in this serene, calm,

simple quietude of infused contemplation." (15) With these
kinds of remarks Diego shows a keen appreciation of St.
John’s doctrine of infused contemplation. When he
comments on the Ascent, Book II, Chapter 12, he says that in
every state there is some operation of the soul, at least "an
advertence or loving knowledge in general of God, (una
advertencia o noticia amorosa en general de Dios.)" (16) For
without it we would have laziness rather than
contemplation.
On the surface and in the context of his other remarks on

infused contemplation, this seems quite unobjectionable,
but it could actually serve as a starting point for a
movement towards acquired contemplation because this
chapter of the Ascent contains the following passage about
infused contemplation: "…the faculties are at rest and are
working, not actively, but passively by receiving what God
acts in them…" and in the first edition, it has been altered to
read "…and work not save in that simple and sweet loving
attentiveness…" This is a critical change, and if we could
attribute it with any certainty to Salablanca rather than to
someone like Quiroga, his remarks would become more
suspect. Yet earlier (17) he says (with emphasis at least in
the Gerardo version), "the soul does not have to work or
concur actively but passively." All in all, then, it would be
hard to accuse Salablanca of promoting an acquired
contemplation.
Sevilla
The first edition finally appeared, armored with the

approbations of scholars, the explanations of Salablanca, the
innumerable changes in the text, and the absence of the
Spiritual Canticle, and yet all of this did not prevent it from
being denounced to the Inquisition. On May 29, 1623 the
Inquisitor of Sevilla, Alonso de Hoces, wrote to the
Inquisitor General in Madrid, sending him a book from
which he claimed the Alumbrados of Sevilla were taking
their doctrine, together with some of his remarks about it.
(18) The book was none other than the writings of St. John,
which he called The Dark Night.

The Inquisitor General turned to Agustín Antolínez (1554-

1626), for an opinion. This was certainly a choice that was to
incline the final verdict in favor of the Carmelites. Antolínez
had had a close relationship with the Discalced sisters of
Salamanca from whom he received St. John’s Spiritual
Canticle long before it was published and which he
commented on, as well as the Dark Night and the Flame and
he, in turn, recommended his fellow Augustinian, Basileo
Ponce de León (1570-1629), a relative of Luis de León, and
the man who was to succeed him in his chair at Salamanca.
Basilio obviously took this task seriously and signed his
Respuesta a las notas y objecciones que se hicieron a algunas
proposiciones del libro de fray Juan de la Cruz on July 11, 1623.
(19)
Basilio’s defense of the third proposition, which has to do

with John’s three signs, is particularly interesting. The
inability to meditate had obviously bothered the delator.
Basilio responds: "I first lay down that which is not in the
power of man, neither does it fall within the scope of
human industry, to reach so high a point of contemplation
and prayer of union as this." He insists that the words Luis
de León applied to the work of St. Teresa ought to be
applied in this case, as well: "Of this raising up or
suspension of the soul it is said that it is supernatural: that
is, that the soul more properly suffers therein than works.
And it is said that nobody must presume to raise himself
up, before he be raised up: for one reason, because this
transcends all our industry and thus would be in vain; for
another, because it would show a lack of humility, and the
Holy Mother warns us of this with good reason because
there are books of prayer which counsel those who pray, to
suspend thought and to allow nothing to figure in the
imagination, with the result that they remain cold and
undevout." (20)
This stands in strong contrast with Quiroga’s sentiments

expressed in his Apologia mística that was written about the
same time, and with his ideas in his Subida, which he was
finishing in November of that year. Basilio Ponce de León’s
response had its desired effect, and no action was taken
against the first edition, but the struggle was not over. On
Sept. 9, 1625 Rodrigo de Villavincencio and Dionisio

Fernández Portocarrero wrote to Madrid again about the

danger to be found in the mystical writings circulating in
the vernacular in Sevilla. All sorts of people, they claim,
from all classes and levels of education are reading them,
and yet don’t necessarily understand them, but this lack of
understanding doesn’t prevent them from teaching others
about them, which leads to spiritual confusion.
On May 4, 1626 the Dominican Domingo Farfán, who had

been employed by the Inquisition in Sevilla to help stamp
out the errors of the Alumbrados also wrote to the
Inquisitor General about a book commonly called The Dark
Night. Farfán told him that he had the keys to the rooms of
those accused of being Alumbrados, and when he examined
their papers, he always found this book which he hadn’t
known about before. And when he studied it, he realized
that the Alumbrados had either taken their doctrine from it,
or its author had taken it from them. (21) And he goes on to
give a very interesting example of the errors it contains:
"The book teaches perfection by rules as an art is taught and it
teaches it in such a manner that what God is accustomed to
communicate by special favor and privilege to some souls, it
does by ordinary rule and law for all. I will give an
example: it teaches in prayer the path that they call
suspension, which is to put oneself in the presence of God
and be there without thinking about anything (sin pensar en
nada) and without meditating and without making
particular acts with which it could exercise itself in the love
of God and the sorrow for sins…" (22)
Why, Padre Domingo tells us, even the mystical doctors of

the author’s own Order, like Gracián and Santa Teresa
disagree with this, and given all these reasons, the book
ought to be condemned. But nothing happened because,
unknown to Domingo, Basilio de Ponce de León’s defense
had derailed these kinds of accusations. John is now made
the author of a contemplation we can all do, and
condemned on the testimony of Gracián and Teresa.
Further, the leader of the Alumbrados in Sevilla was Juan
de Villalpando who in his youth had been a Discalced
Carmelite, which makes him a likely candidate to spread
about John’s writings, and perhaps even the interpretation
of them that Farfán picked up. It would not have been

impossible, as we have already seen, that a Discalced

Carmelite could have read John’s writings in the context of
acquired contemplation, which was already well on its way
to be established. (23)
A postscript to turmoil in Sevilla can be found in the 1623

publication of a book by our old friend Leandro de Granada
called Resolución de la contemplación sobrenatural, revelaciones,
apariciones, éxtasis y arrobamientos para confundir la falsa
doctrina de los torpes y desvanecidos alumbrados... which turned
out to be nothing more than his Luz de las maravillas
repackaged for a new market as a treatise against the
Alumbrados. (24)
Jorge de San José
Not all the Augustinians were as favorably disposed to John

of the Cross as Agustín Antolínez and Basilio Ponce de
León. In 1615 a Spanish edition of Juan de Jesús María’s (el
Calagurritano) Escuela de la oración had appeared carrying
an approbation by Esteban de San José, then prior of
Zaragoza. Four years later, on June 5, 1619, the Augustinian,
Juan Márquez (1565?-1621) denounced it to the Inquisition.
(25) He was upset by Juan de Jesús María’s comments on
how to deal with certain sensual movements of the soul in
the time of prayer, remarks that, when we read them today,
seem quite balanced, but for which Márquez wanted the
book taken out of circulation. He supported his case against
it by citing, as if it belonged to Teresa of Avila, a Compendio
de los grados de oración, which turns out to be Tomás de
Jesús’ Suma y compendio of Teresa’s teaching. There is a
certain irony here in the fact that Márquez wanted to
condemn Juan de Jesús María’s book by citing Tomás’ who
approved of Juan de Jesús María’s works. In any event, the
censor chosen by the Inquisition did not proceed, claiming
that he could not find a copy of the book.
But Padre Juan was not forgotten by the Inquisition. When,

a little later, the work of Jorge de San José Serrano (1566-
1636) of the Order of Mercy called El Solitario contemplativo y
guía espiritual which had appeared in Lisbon in 1616 was
denounced to the Inquisition, it chose Márquez one of the
three censors to evaluate it. The two other censors could not

find anything wrong with the book, but Márquez’

denunciation of it still carried the day, and it was
withdrawn from circulation. While he was at it, he didn’t
fail to aim some more negative comments at Juan de Jesús
María. Unfortunately, our knowledge of the Solitario
contemplativo is derived from Márquez’ censure, for the
book, itself, has disappeared.
Jorge de San José was the author of another work: Vuelo del
espiritu y escala de la perfección y oración. This, too, is very
difficult if not impossible to come by. He was apparently a
follower of John of the Cross and spoke of the need to leave
discursive prayer, and one of the censors, the Dominican
Tomás de Daoiz, who had written an approbation of the
first edition of St. John’s writings, found El Solitario
contemplativo in accordance with St. John’s teachings as seen
in his newly published edition of his works. Padre Márquez
seems unaware of John of the Cross, and objects that the
book teaches that after the soul has been exercised in
meditation, "God raises it to the state of the spirit which is
an infused contemplation, which is secret, obscure and dark
to the senses, and in which has to cease all images and
knowledge of corporeal things." Jorge de San José also says
that the soul which arrives at contemplation, " has to leave
off exercising a loving attentiveness (se ha de dejar llevar
con una advertencia amorosa)." (26) It sounds as if he is
following John of the Cross closely, and perhaps accurately,
which makes us wish all the more that we would have an
opportunity to look at his two books, one of which, at least,
was published before the first edition, to see what he knew
about John of the Cross.
This is the first of a series of denunciations and defenses we

are going to be confronted with, and they are often difficult
to unravel, for on the one hand, there are people like
Márquez who seem to be objecting to the idea of
contemplation, itself. They can see no reason to leave the
field of meditation. And on the other hand, there are those
who find in St. John a contemplation that everyone can do
whenever they wish.
It is worth noting that Jorge de San José was a member of

the Order of Mercy, and there are any number of links

between the Mercedarians, the Minims and the Carmelites.

Juan Bretón, who was a Minim and who borrowed heavily
from John of the Cross, as we saw, was in contact with
members of the Order of Mercy. His companion in the
Order, Gabriel López Navarro, whom we will meet in a
little while, also availed himself of St. John’s writings and
Quiroga’s, and a number of Carmelites who left the Order
found a home among the Mercedarians. (27)
Nicolás de Jesús María
Another edition of St. John’s writings appeared in 1630 and

it, too, like the first edition, had its detractors and defenders.
In 1631 the Discalced Carmelite Nicolás de Jesús María
Centurión came to St. John’s aid with his Phrasium mysticae
theologiae V.P. Joannis a Cruce… elucidatio. It had been
written by the end of 1627, perhaps in preparation for the
new edition of St. John’s works. It collects an impressive
amount of authorities in order to vindicate St. John, but
suffocates under the weight of them. But what it does
accomplish is to give us a glimpse of the kinds of authorities
closest to home that Centurión turned to. They included St.
Teresa and Gracián, Diego de Jesús Salablanca’s defense of
John that had appeared in the first edition, and Juan de
Jesús María’s School of Prayer and Mystical Theology, and the
defense of Basilio de Ponce de León. Centurión also quotes
Tomás de Jesús’ De contemplatione divina, as well as no. 4
and 20 of Tomás’ Mystical Theology. Last but not least,
Centurión turns to Alvarado’s Arte de bien vivir, including
the place where the Tratado breve is inserted. But Quiroga is
notable by his absence. Perhaps it is too soon after the
appearance of his Historia de la Vida of John of the Cross and
his subsequent disgrace for him to be rehabilitated.
Permission to publish Centurión’s work was first given on

Sept. 22, 1630, and it was probably meant to replace the
Apuntamientos of Salablanca. (28) The idea of acquired
contemplation that cannot be found in Salablanca’s defense
is now going to blossom in Centurión’s. His work went on
to lead an interesting history. It was translated from its
original Latin into French by Cyprien de la Nativité who
was the first Discalced translator of John’s works in France,
not to mention the editor of Antonio Rojas in that country,

and the great Bossuet was later to call Centurión one of the
most erudite interpreters of John of the Cross. This was high
praise, but as we shall see, scarcely warranted. This French
version was to surface again in 1911 in the first issues of the
newly founded Carmelite review, Études Carmélitaines, with
the express purpose of defending the idea of acquired
contemplation.
When we look at Centurión’s defense of St. John’s signs for

the transition from meditation to contemplation, we can see
why Bossuet’s praise was excessive. He cites John’s first
sign of The Ascent of Mt. Carmel rather than the three signs
together, and divides it into three different propositions to
defend: first, if the soul wishes to arrive at the summit of
contemplation it ought to deprive its understanding of
imaginary forms; secondly, it ought to suspend discursive
acts which are made in meditation; and finally, the sign that
one ought to go up to this sublime contemplation is the
inability of the imagination and the distaste for discursive
acts in place of the devotion that one found there before.
Once any discussion of the signs is severed from the actual
presence of infused contemplation, which is the most
important sign, itself, then the door is open for an acquired
contemplation. So Centurión continues: "There are two sorts
of knowledge and of supernatural contemplation; the one
human, which, although it is done with the aid of grace, is
nevertheless proportioned to our natural manner of
operating by means of the discourse that precedes it, and
the imagination which cooperates with it; the other, above
human effort, in which the spirit, aided by a special grace
corresponding to the gift of knowledge, is elevated and
contemplates without the ordinary imperfections…" (29)
Centurión in his initial propositions, and even in this

passage, has hinted at a particular view of our human
faculties which we have seen over and over again and
which he now begins to develop. The legitimate distinctions
that can be made between imagination and the working of
reasoning, or between reasoning and intuition, now are
elevated into separations. "Let us note," Centurión writes,
"that one is able to find in these two sorts of contemplation
the absence of imaginary forms and of discursive
meditation, although diversely." (30) He goes on to

distinguish the kind of cessation of the natural faculties

found in the contemplation that is above our ability from
that which is found in the contemplation that we can do. In
the latter we need this human working, but then he gives
this traditional assertion a new meaning because although
this acquired contemplation supposes the use of reason,
discourse "nonetheless ceases when one has arrived at
contemplation. In its place succeeds a simple regard of the
eternal truths and a tranquil operation." (31) It is only by
this kind of procedure that Centurión can legitimize a
contemplation we can do by making it both distinct from
meditation and from infused contemplation.
Centurión continues his exposition by considering the three

divisions he made of the first sign. He finds a double sense
in which we should understand how to leave aside all
imaginary forms. One sense applies to infused
contemplation, and the other to this contemplation we can
do. In the contemplation we can do we leave aside the
working of the imagination in the actual act of
contemplation, and while the imagination will continue to
work, we center our attention on an obscure and confused
knowledge of God.
When it comes to the second division of the sign he again

finds two senses: one applicable to infused contemplation,
and the other to acquired. In the acquired contemplation we
have made use of reason, but then we lay it aside and go on
to dwell in this simple and uniform regard of the eternal
truths.
When Centurión is discussing the third part of the sign, he

expands his initial treatment and speaks not only of the
inability to use the imagination and discourse and the
distaste for something that we had enjoyed before, but goes
on to add to this sign " the desire the soul has for a simple
and peaceful attention to God united to divine love." (32) In
support of his interpretation he quotes The Institutions,
Chapter 35, ascribed to John Tauler. But once again we have
to assume that he understands this sign in two distinct
senses, one of which applies to infused contemplation, and
to the other to that contemplation that we can do ourselves.
St. John’s original doctrine of contemplation has been split

in half and already at this early date Centurión can point to

the tradition within the Order that supports his
interpretation.
Notes

la Cruz, Vol. I, p. xlviii.
2. Enrique Llamas, "La "Editio princeps"..."
3. Ibid., p. 529.
4. Ibid., p. 531, note 38.
5. Ibid., p. 531.
7. Melquiades Andrés Martín, Los Recogidos, p. 656.
8. Eulogio Pacho, "San Juan de la Cruz y Juan de Santo
Tomás..." p. 358.
9. Ibid., p. 378.
la Cruz, Vol. I, p. xlviii. See also in Peers’ The Complete
Works of St. John of the Cross, the Introduction to The
Ascent of Mt. Carmel by Silverio de Santa Teresa.
12. See my St. John of the Cross and Dr. C.G. Jung, pp. 86-
89.
la Cruz, Vol. III, p. 467.
14. Ibid., p. 469.
15. Ibid., p. 477.
16. Ibid., p. 482.
17. Ibid., p. 478.
18. Álvaro Huerga, Historia de los Alumbrados, Vol. IV.
19. There is some uncertainty about this date. Cf. Eulogio
Pacho, El Cántico Espiritual, p. 48, note 22.
20. It was first published by Silverio de Santa Teresa in
his edition of John of the Cross, and there is an
English translation in Peers’ The Complete Works of St.
John of the Cross, Vol. III.
21. Álvaro Huerga, Historia de los Alumbrados, Vol. IV, p.
497.
22. Ibid., pp. 497-498.
23. Ibid., p. 421.
24. Ibid., p. 344. Peers found a reference to another book
by Leandro called Mystica theologia sobrenatural.

25. Eulogio Pacho, "Juan de Jesús María..."

26. Ibid., p. 203. Peers apparently found a 1632 edition of
Jorge de San José’s Vuelo published in Sevilla in the
library of the University of Barcelona, but he didn't
think highly of it. See Studies of the Spanish Mystics,
Vol. III, p. 245.
27. BNM ms. 2201 is a copy of the writings of John of the
Cross that belong to the Order of Mercy.
28. Eulogio Pacho, El Cántico Espiritual, p. 80.
29. Nicolás Centurión, Eclairissements..., p. 132.
30. Ibid., p. 133.
31. Ibid., p. 134.
32. Ibid., p. 162.
CHAPTER 8:
ANTONIO ROJAS AND JUAN FALCONI
In the years preceding the second edition of St. John’s

writings in 1630 the idea of acquired contemplation was
expounded outside of the Carmelites and presented in a
more and more simplified and one-sided manner.
Antonio Rojas
It was Eulogio Pacho, once again searching through the files

of the Inquisition at the National Historical Archives in
Madrid, who uncovered and brought fully to light the story
of Rojas’ book and its condemnation. (1) Antonio Rojas was
a secular priest and the author of the Vida del espíritu, or
Libro intitulado Vida del espiritu para saber, tener oración y
union con Dios y provecho de las almas, which appeared in
Madrid in 1628, and then again in 1629 and 1630. This is a
very simple book that wanted nothing more than to view
the interior life from the perspective of the practice of
acquired contemplation. After the 1629 edition appeared it
was denounced not once, but twice. The book and the first

denunciation were given by the Supreme Council of the

Inquisition to Gabriel López Navarro, a Minim father and
rigorous censor of the Inquisition who found it wanting.
The judgment of a second censor is missing from this
incomplete file, but López Navarro’s opinion carried the
day.
Around the same time another denunciation of the book

was underway, this time by the Carmelite Agustín de San
José, whom we saw denouncing Bretón’s book. It arrived at
the Inquisition of Granada on March 22, 1630. Agustín de
San José had been professed in February 1611 in Sevilla, and
was renowned as a preacher, and in at least one case he was
called to consult with the Holy Office on a difficult matter of
spirituality, which had perplexed it for several months, and
which, we are told, he resolved in 24 hours with an answer
that covered but two sheets of paper. (2)
His complaints in this case are particularly interesting

because they center on how Rojas makes use of John of the
Cross. Rojas, he says, is teaching an "acquired
contemplation, an interior recollection" to everyone
indiscriminately without paying heed to the other exercises
of the spiritual life, like the exercise of the virtues and
meditation on sins, or the practice of mortification. He is
oversimplifying the spiritual life and creating something
that is like "a staircase without steps, a goal without the
journey, and an end without the means." And Agustín de
San José is not done. John of the Cross is being maligned in
this book because he teaches that the meditation on the
sacred passion and penance and mortification are lifelong
obligations, and he gives by his three signs the indications
of when it can be known that God is raising the soul "from
meditation to infused contemplation." (3) This is the critical
point. Rojas is teaching acquired contemplation while John
of the Cross is teaching an infused one. So Agustín de San
José concludes that if the three signs are not present we
ought to exercise ourselves in meditation because it is a sign
that "God does not want to communicate contemplation
which, as it is not necessary for salvation, God does not give
contemplation to all who exercise themselves in prayer…"
This confusion, to his mind, can deceive the less cautious
and cause them damage, as he has seen in the confessional.

Further, it is not the doctrine of John of the Cross, but of

Juan Bretón. Padre Agustín has put his finger on the real
issue.
When Agustín’s denunciation reached the two Dominicans

who were censors, they confessed that they did not have a
copy of the book, but nonetheless it ought to "be consumed
and blotted out from the memory of mankind." Two Jesuit
censors, however, actually read the book, and found
nothing wrong with it, and with the split vote the
Inquisition of Granada sent the matter to the Supreme
Council of the Inquisition in Madrid, not aware that it
already had the matter in hand. The complaint from
Granada was tabled, but the story in Madrid was not over.
Toward the end of 1631 Rojas mounted his own defense.

His Vida del espíritu had drawn heavily on John of the Cross
both from the first edition and from manuscripts. He cites
John with and without attribution, and summarizes him
without citing him. He also copied some of St. John’s poems
and maxims. Therefore, with good reason, when he writes
his defense he will say that the Vida del espíritu is really "a
compendium and quintessence of what the venerable P. Fr.
Juan de la Cruz wrote in the Dark Night." (meaning the
Ascent and the Dark Night.) And he calls to his support
many classical and modern spiritual writers: for example,
Fernando Caldera and his Mística theologia y dirección de
espíritus, Madrid, 1623; Juan Bretón, Pelayo de San Benito
and his Suma de oración, Burgos, 1626 – who was a follower
of Bretón; Juan de Torres and his Sostento del ánima, Madrid,
1625; Mateo Villarroel, Gregory López, etc. Villarroel was
the teacher and a close associate of Juan Falconi. And
among this crowd of spiritual writers cited by Rojas there
are some even more familiar faces, as well: Antonio
Alvarado and his Arte de bien vivir which, of course,
contains the Tratado breve; Quiroga in his life of John of the
Cross, and Juan de Jesús María whom he calls Gracián. It
was probably el Calagurritano. (4)
What is important to note is that Rojas is right in saying that

he is just following those who blazed the trail before him
and, indeed, he has abundant material to choose from, some
of which, like Alvarado’s Tratado breve, is explaining John of

the Cross in terms of acquired contemplation, just as Rojas

is doing. His intent seemed to be to write a little devotional
manual for those interested in the practice of the
contemplative life. The French edition of 1646, for example,
is a small pocketbook complete with a ribbon to mark the
page. The Lisbon edition of 1645 measures 2¾ inches, by 3
¾ inches by 1 inch. (5) But it is a book of acquired
contemplation, which is a topic that has now taken on a life
of its own and appears to all the world as rooted in many
and weighty spiritual authors. The heading of Chapter 19 in
the French edition of Rojas’ book is going to tell us how
supernatural acquired contemplation is within the power of
all, while Chapter 13, which is on the difference between
meditation and contemplation, will say: "And so when you
regard God by faith and leave aside discourse, and believe
you have Him within you, believing He is in all things,
although you do not see Him, and making that act you keep
silent, and in repose, this is called contemplation." (6) Rojas
will also talk in his defense about leaving discourse for a
"simple intuition of the truth," which reminds us of the first
chapter of the Tratado breve and Quiroga’s pure intuition
akin to the angels.
Rojas’ defense was to be of no avail, but these complicated

proceedings were going to call forth an enduring
contribution to clarifying the history of acquired
contemplation. Padre Pacho discovered in the case file a
final judgment of condemnation on Rojas’ book signed by
Martín de Albiz, and Juan de Santo Tomás, who appeared
to have written the document, and this Juan de Santo Tomás
turned out to be none other than the great Dominican
philosopher and theologian, Juan Poinsot (1589-1644), who
was one of the greatest Thomists of his age, and whose
treatise on the gifts of the Holy Spirit shows the hand of a
superb theologian of mysticism.
Juan de Santo Tomás is not impressed by Rojas’

accumulation of authorities. To his mind, they aren’t saying
the same thing as the author – although some of them, of
course, were – and he goes on to put his finger on the key
issue. Rojas claims that after someone makes an act of faith
he or she ought to leave aside "all the discourses, images,
phantasms, of all created things, keeping the understanding

without discourse or thought, without knowing, like a dead

person in God." But this, according to Juan de Santo Tomás,
is against "well-grounded theology which, in this matter
teaches us that our manner of contemplating in this life is
not able to disengage itself totally from sensible forms and
phantasms upon which our natural mode of knowing
depends."
This is a very important and telling point. This separation of

intuition from reason that we have been seeing is not good
philosophy. It is a valid distinction driven into a separation
by a desire to create a kind of contemplation between
meditation and infused contemplation. And however much
its creators try to bolster their arguments by appealing to
Thomas Aquinas, this is not what he taught. Juan de Santo
Tomás admits that discourse stops as it gives birth to
intuition: "but to understand or to make an act of
understanding without discourse, without sensible forms or
phantasms or imagination is impossible unless the soul
would understand like an angel or out of the body, which is
not a natural way of understanding in this life." (7) It may
happen that God might give some kind of divine
illumination without discourse, but "that is not in our
hands, nor does it depend on our exercises, nor can it be
proposed as the way for ordinary and common
contemplation, which this book speaks of." (8) In short,
Rojas has taken an idea that better fits in the world of
infused contemplation and has applied it to his acquired
contemplation which, in fact, is a part of meditation in the
wide sense of the term, and so needs some kind of discourse
and exercise of the faculties in order to exist.
With its condemnation in Spain, the Vida del espíritu didn’t

simply disappear, but went on to new printings with a
Spanish edition in Lisbon in 1645, and a French edition in
1646. Rojas may have been the author of a book called Espejo
de perfección which appeared in 1604 and was reprinted in
1619. This would make interesting reading for the light it
might shed on the development of Rojas’ ideas and how he
came to the idea of acquired contemplation, but no one has
been able to locate a copy of it, although some
bibliographies describe one as belonging to one of the
universities of Madrid.

Augustine Baker
Augustine Baker (1575-1641) was an English Benedictine

who had converted to Catholicism in 1603 and entered the
Order in Padua two years later. His story, while interesting
in itself, would take us too far afield from our
preoccupation with events in Spain, so we will confine
ourselves to the fact that he made use of Rojas’ Vida del
espíritu. (9)
In 1624 he joined the Benedictines in Douai, and soon

became a spiritual director to the young community of
Benedictine nuns at Cambrai where he remained for nine
years. It was here that he must have known Rojas’ book
through one of its earlier Spanish editions. And it is here,
too, that Baker wrote many of his spiritual treatises. This
kind of contact with Spanish mystical literature was
common at that time in France and the Low Countries, and
Baker also had some acquaintance with the writings of St.
Teresa and John of the Cross. The Prior at his house at
Douai, Rudesind Barlow, for example, had gone to Spain in
1605 to study at Salamanca, and he is listed in the records of
the Order as a graduate of Irache. (10) If this is true, Barlow
might even have come into contact with the work of our old
friend, Antonio Alvarado whose Arte de vivir bien had been
published in Irache in 1608, and who later became the
Benedictine Abbot of the Royal monastery and university
there. Thus, it is not surprising to find Baker reading Rojas’
book, or that he knew the biography of Gregorio López,
whom we will meet in a moment. (11)
Baker places a strong emphasis on the states of prayer that

fall between meditation, taken in a formal discursive sense,
and infused contemplation. In fact, he could even be said to
have misunderstood both meditation and infused
contemplation, and made the summit of the spiritual life a
perfect active contemplation. For him Rojas’ type of prayer
"may be described as a prayer of interior silence, quietness
and repose. There is no meditation, nor even expressed
direct act of the will. It is a virtual, habitual loving attention
to God rather than a formal direct tending to Him." (12)

His fellow Benedictine, Serenus Cressy, compiled some

forty spiritual treatises of Baker into Holy Wisdom which
first appeared in 1657 and contained a section on Rojas.
While this compilation makes it harder for us to see clearly
what Baker actually said, it did go on to influence the
English-speaking world of contemplative prayer to our day.
A new edition of Holy Wisdom appeared in 1876 – perhaps
an indication that mystical studies had begun to revive –
and occasioned by that edition Bishop Hedley, a noted
English theologian, wrote an anonymous article in the
Dublin Review of October 1876 claiming that Baker’s use of
Rojas was sound. (13) Cuthbert Butler, a defender of the
idea of acquired contemplation whom we will meet later, is
said to have read Baker at least once a year for fifty years,
and he drew nourishment from Bishop Hedley’s article for
his own views on acquired contemplation. Closer to our
own day, the reading of Holy Wisdom played a role in the
Benedictine John Main’s development of the Christian
Meditation Movement. (14)
Juan Falconi
While Rojas’ Vida del espíritu was appearing in Madrid, Juan

Falconi, a young priest of the Order of Mercy, was in the
midst of an extensive ministry of spiritual direction in that
city. Years later, after his death, Dona Aldonza de Castilla, a
witness in the process for Falconi’s beatification, described
his ministry this way: "He would set souls upon the road to
perfection, giving them instructions for the practice of
mental prayer. And when he recognized that Our Lord God
desired to raise them from meditation to contemplation of
the Divine mysteries, he had the greatest skill and facility in
dealing with them, although his continual exhortation in the
matter of prayer was that all should place themselves, in
faith, in the presence of God." (15)
Naturally this only whets our appetite to know more about

his doctrine on contemplation. In his Carta a hija espiritual or
Letter to a Spiritual Daughter that he wrote on July 23, 1628 he
advises her to put herself in the presence of God and make
an act of faith and resignation: "This done, do thou, like a
person who no longer possesses anything, remain in repose
and quiet silence, thinking of set purpose upon naught

whatsoever, not even though it be good and sublime, save

that thou hast this pure faith in God and art resigned to His
Divine will." (16)
By now we are quite familiar with this kind of

contemplation by faith, which is supposedly separate from
discursive activity. But Falconi raises it to new heights: "I
would that every day, every week, every year, and all thy
life long thou shouldst make this continuous act of
contemplation in faith and in love in a manner as pure and
as spiritual as possible… and that, having once surrendered
and resigned thyself to the divine will… thy hours of prayer
should not be filled with fresh acts, but should merely
continue that first act of faith and love already made." (17)
And Falconi holds up the example of Gregory López, a lay
contemplative, who lived a singular mystical life in Mexico
as an example of someone who, after attaining this
"continuous act of faith and loving resignation" never had
need even for "brief ejaculatory prayer or anything else that
had to do with the senses." (18)
This letter must have circulated among those interested in

the contemplative life because it came to the attention of a
Discalced Carmelite friar – probably the very Agustín de
San José we saw denouncing Rojas – who complained to
Falconi about it. Wasn’t Falconi teaching people to be idle in
prayer? And even if he were describing a legitimate kind of
contemplation, wasn’t he teaching it to everyone
indiscriminately? Falconi answers him in another letter,
Carta a un religioso, which exists only in a later Italian
translation, and which may not be completely accurate.
Number 26 in Falconi’s Carta a un religioso mentions the
contradictors who Quiroga speaks of in his life of John of
the Cross. They might have been the same people who
complained about Falconi. Indeed, we are told they
preached against him in Madrid without mentioning his
name. (19)
In this letter Falconi responds that he instructs all beginners

to meditate first, then, after they have acquired what is
necessary for meditation, they are ready to pass, little by
little, to contemplation, as José de Jesús María (Quiroga)
taught in his life of John of the Cross. (20) Then Falconi goes

on to cite John of the Cross, himself, on the transition from

meditation to contemplation. "In order to know when this
disposition is in the soul the venerable Father John of the
Cross says that it is when the soul doesn’t find in itself savor
in meditation, but rather aridity, and that it applies itself to
remain in a general knowledge of living faith of the
presence of God." (…in vna notitia general di fede viua
della presenza di Dio) that time being, he says, the time of
the beginning of contemplation: so he writes in the Ascent of
Mt. Carmel, Book II, Chapter 13." (21)
But we have to notice how Falconi has altered St. John’s

thought. We are no longer dealing with a noticia amorosa
general, or infused contemplation, itself, but rather a notitia
generale di fede viua, a general knowledge of lively faith.
This Falconi makes clear as he continues, and ascribes to St.
John his ideas about how these people should act at this
time. They should place themselves in the presence of God,
believing Him present, with a general knowledge or lively
faith and resigning themselves into His hands. Now this,
obviously, has nothing to do with infused contemplation.
And if these people begin to suffer aridity and temptations,
Falconi continues, thinking that they are doing nothing,
they ought to continue in their faith and resignation without
discourse or meditation "for this is contemplation, that is, a
simple and pure view of the object." (22)
A little later he complains that some masters without

experience think that this kind of praying is to do nothing,
but they are deceived because these people may not be
discoursing with the intellect but they are believing in God
with lively faith, and he cites in his support John of the
Cross’ Dark Night, Book I, Chapter 10, but in a strangely
truncated form. Falconi paraphrases St. John here by saying,
"It is not important that they exercise discursive meditation,
although it appears that they are not doing anything and
losing time and that through their laziness they don’t have
the desire to think now of anything; it will be enough that
they have patience and perseverance, leaving the soul free,
unburdened and at rest from all knowledge and thought,
not being solicitous about thinking or meditating." (23)
The actual text reads: "The attitude necessary in the night of

sense is to pay no attention to discursive meditation, since

this is not the time for it. They should allow the soul to
remain in rest and quietude, even though it may seem very
obvious to them that they are doing nothing and wasting
time, and even though they think this disinclination to think
about anything is due to their laxity. Through patience and
perseverance in prayer, they will be doing a great deal
without activity on their part. All that is required of them
here is freedom of soul, that they liberate themselves from
the impediment and fatigue of ideas and thoughts and care
not about thinking and meditating." (24)
This is where Falconi stops. Let us notice that he leaves out

any mention of the soul remaining in rest and quietude, and
even more revealing is that he stops just before this striking
passage: "They must be content simply with a loving and
peaceful attentiveness to God, and live without the concern,
without the effort, and without the desire to taste or feel
Him. All these desires disquiet the soul and distract it from
the peaceful quiet and sweet idleness of the contemplation
which is being communicated to it." Immediately after this
passage Falconi takes up St. John's text again and stays
fairly close to it. Then he goes on and says that St. John is
saying this same thing in all the other chapters of the Dark
Night, namely, when souls have arrived at contemplation
they have to keep themselves in this general loving
knowledge of lively faith, although secret and obscure,
which appears to be idleness. (25)
It is important that we are very clear about what Falconi is

doing. In place of infused contemplation he places an active
exercise of faith in God’s presence, and once he makes this
enormous change, all the rest of his doctrine on
contemplation falls into place. So he goes on and asserts that
everyone who has been exercised in meditation ought to go
on to contemplation because contemplation, for him, is a
simple view of lively faith that has nothing to do with
meditation or reflection, and so if we exercise faith we are in
contemplation. It also follows clearly that this practice of the
presence of God, "averting with faith that He is present, is
something common for all even if they are unlearned." (26)
The objection that people who pray in this fashion are idle is

dismissed by Falconi, for just as when we have our eyes

open, we have to see something, any adult must understand
something with the intellect. So if we put ourselves before
God and empty our minds of all creatures and try to be in
His presence, then since the mind is empty of creatures it
has to be in some way filled with God, since it is not
possible to have a vacuum. It is clear here that Falconi is
again taking up a thought found in John of the Cross in the
Chapter 15 of the Ascent of Mt. Carmel. But while St. John is
talking about the contemplative experience filling the soul,
Falconi has confused this experience with his practice of
faith as if the elimination of all discursive activity really
means that faith is left when, in fact, there is a good
possibility that nothing is left at all.
For Falconi, if we put ourselves in the presence of God by

faith and have the intent to love Him, this intent will endure
until we revoke it, and therefore it would be wrong for
anyone to say that we are being idle. It is also equally
wrong, according to Falconi, to imagine that this kind of
contemplation is not for everyone. He writes that this is the
opinion of Padre Fray Juan de la Cruz who teaches that all
the souls, having passed the stage of beginners in
meditation, have to pass right away to this prayer of pure
faith and contemplation. (27) There is very little give in
Falconi. He is convinced not only about the nature of this
contemplation, but how universally everyone is called to it.
"In short, I say, that either this prayer and road is good and
true, or it is not; if it is not, it should not be taught to
anyone; but if it is, why not teach it to everyone?" (28)
The dangers in Falconi’s teaching should now be evident.

He misunderstands the nature of contemplation and
compounds his error by applying ideas about passivity that
strictly belong only to infused contemplation to his practice
of faith. We can put ourselves in the presence of God by
making acts of faith, but this is an active form of praying,
and part of what St. John would call meditation. But Falconi
separates it from discourse and meditation, so he not only
misunderstands infused contemplation, but makes it more
difficult for people to go ahead and actively pray. He is
attempting to find a third alternative between actively
exercising the faculties and passively receiving with these

faculties, and according to John of the Cross, there is none.
This is the doctrine that Falconi, according to his own

admission, taught to "many in Madrid." (29) The doctrine of
these two letters was expanded in his Camino derecho para el
cielo. And again he draws on John of the Cross on the
transition from meditation to contemplation: "And so I
repeat this rule, that from the day when thou canst no
longer meditate or reason, but canst remain in the presence
of Christ our Redeemer, – though thou be besieged by
thoughts and oppressed by dryness – from that day
continue thy prayer after this manner; for thy very
perseverance in faith, through dryness, is the sign that God
has given thee a gift for contemplation, and desires to lead
thee out of meditation, since thou art ready to go." (30)
In his Camino derecho Falconi mentions Quiroga’s recently

republished life of John of the Cross which had been issued
in 1632. So the date for the Camino can be put somewhere
around 1632-1633. (31) And what is the advice that Falconi
derives from Quiroga, and through Quiroga, he believes,
from John of the Cross? If someone has difficulty in
remaining without discourse in this simple knowledge of
faith, they have to struggle "to persevere in that pure faith
without meditating or discoursing." (32)
Under the heading of "how easy is contemplation" he

writes, "Contemplation consists in nothing more than
making an act of faith, and any Christian will be able to
remain for an hour making an act of faith… without
meditating on aught." (33) In another place he says, "For the
soul to be in true prayer all the time… there is no need for it
to be all the time attentive to God nor to be thinking upon
Him." (34)
For Falconi this is an active contemplation, not an infused

one, and it works no longer by repeated acts, but by simple
apprehension. And from this contemplation, which contains
something of the senses, "...one may rise to another, which
is purer, and which can hardly be said to be felt or
experienced at all." (35) This, too, is an echo of John of the
Cross, but it again misunderstands what St. John is saying
about infused contemplation and applies it to acquired

contemplation. E. Allison Peers, who devoted considerable

energy to Falconi’s story and doctrine and whom I have
been following here, and who can hardly be said to be a foe
of acquired contemplation, finds Falconi’s works to have
deviated from the path of true mysticism. (36) "It is this
contemplation, which he substitutes for the whole extent of
mystic experience higher than meditation, for all St. Teresa’s
inner mansions and the higher slopes of St. John of the
Cross’ Mt. Carmel, and apparently it gives him perfect and
complete satisfaction." (37)
It is interesting to note, however, that Elías Gómez, a

modern member of Falconi’s Order of Mercy, and a leading
expert on Falconi’s work, could find nothing wrong in
Falconi’s writings, and could not understand how Peers
could come to such an opinion. (38) Gómez, in defending
Falconi, makes use of an interesting distinction between
direct knowledge and reflective knowledge when a person
prays. This reflective knowledge, according to Gómez, is
not necessary for prayer and, indeed, breaks the thread of
prayer, and he supports this point of view by citing Jacques
and Raissa Maritain to the effect that it is necessary to flee
from the reflexive spirit and take into account what St.
Anthony, the desert father, meant when he said there is no
perfect prayer if the person praying is aware of praying.
This is an issue that we will come back to when we look at
the work of Jacques and Raissa Maritain.
Falconi’s letters and his Camino derecho were to have

repercussions that their author could not have foreseen.
Falconi died in 1638, and his Carta a hija espiritual saw one
edition in Spanish, which appeared in Madrid in 1657, but it
fell afoul of the Inquisition and was withdrawn. But it had a
more extensive life abroad. It was printed in Italian in a
translation by Nicholas Balducci in 1667. Balducci was a
member of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri and a friend of his
fellow Oratorian, Cardinal Pietro Petrucci. Balducci also
translated Falconi’s Carta a un religioso, which appeared in
1674. The Camino derecho is known now by a single
manuscript BNM ms. 7038. It wasn’t published until 1783 in
Madrid, and then finally in a modern edition by Elías
Gómez in 1960. But it may have led a subterranean life as a
manuscript. After Falconi’s death, it might have been kept

as a relic and did not surface again until the 1660s when it
was examined, probably in preparation for being printed,
by the Franciscans and Carmelites of Salamanca. The
Carmelites who reviewed it were Antonio de Santa María,
Andrés de la Madre de Dios, Alonso de la Madre de Dios,
and Nicolas de Jesús María, who appears to be Nicolás de
Jesús María Centurión whom we have met before penning
his defense for the second edition of St. John’s writings. (39)
Just as Falconi’s two letters had made their way to Rome, -

his Letter to a Religious in manuscript because it had never
been published in Spain - so did in some fashion a
manuscript of the Camino derecho, and it ended up in the
hands of Miguel Molinos.
Where did Falconi get his doctrine? Gómez points to two

proximate sources: Melchor Rodríguez de Torres in his
Agricultura del alma, published in Burgos in 1603, and Mateo
de Villarroel who wrote Reglas muy importantes para en
exercicio de la frecuente oración, published in Madrid in 1630
with an approbation of Falconi but written earlier, and
made use of by Rojas in his defense, as we saw. (40) Falconi
also knew, beyond John and Teresa and Quiroga, Gracián
and the Carmelites of the regular observance, Miguel de la
Fuente and Juan Sanz.
Francisco Pizaño de León
Francisco Pizaño de León belonged to the Order of Mercy

and was one of the chief disciples of Juan Falconi. He was
also the author of a book published in Madrid in 1649 called
Compendium totius mysticae theologiae ex doctrina sanctorum
patrum ex parte concinnatum. Two years later its author was
dead, and the book was not to be found. (41)
Pizaño expounded on the acquired contemplation of his

master Falconi, and goes on to treat infused contemplation,
as well. He calls acquired contemplation a "noticia intuitiva
dei ac divinorum affectuosa, humano labore et industria
comparata," that is, an intuitive and affective notice of God
in divine things acquired by human labor and industry. (42)
This definition is quite close to Tomás’ own definition of

acquired contemplation, which is "suma deitatis adque

effectum ejus affectuosa et sincere cognitio nostra industria
comparata." (43) Elsewhere Pizaño describes two kinds of
contemplation, one which proceeds by the way of oars, or
our proper industry, and the other, which is infused, which
makes use of oars and sails. (44) This, too, echoes Tomás.
(45)
Are we now so sensitized to the influence of Tomás de Jesús

that our imaginations are overheating and we are seeing his
influence everywhere? We have already seen some links
that connect the Carmelites and the Mercederians, so it is
not surprising that Pizaño, himself, was in close relationship
with the Carmelites. But there is much more solid evidence
than that to show the influence of Tomás de Jesús on
Pizaño’s work. Both José del Espíritu Santo of Portugal in
his Cadena mística and his counterpart, José del Espíritu
Santo, el Andaluz, in his famous Cursus theologiae mistico-
scholasticae mention but don’t name someone who borrowed
from Tomás’ De contemplatione divina. In 1931 Anastasio a S.
Paulo, in a new edition of the Cursus, finally tells us the
culprit was Pizaño. (46)
But did Pizaño simply borrow from the printed edition of

De contemplatione divina? Perhaps. But it would be
interesting to compare his book with the published texts of
Tomás’ and see if all his borrowings, both about infused
and acquired contemplation, can be accounted for in this
way. Perhaps he knew something of Tomás in manuscript,
and it is even a remote possibility that he could be working
from something like the lost second part of Tomás’ El
Camino espiritual.
Juan de Lazcano
Juan Arintero, the Spanish Dominican scholar who was

credited with helping to lead the revival of mystical studies
in Spain at the beginning of the 20th century, felt that his
fellow Dominican, Juan de Lazcano, was one of the first to
speak out against the new type of contemplative prayer in
his 1628 Oración y meditación dedicated to St. Teresa. (47)
Each day many books on prayer are being written, Padre

Lazcano tells us, but they forget the traditional ways. Some
instruct people to suspend discourse, and others that it is
only with acts of faith that they should love God without
discourse and the consideration of creatures. St. Thomas,
however, teaches us that to work without discourse is
proper to the gifts of the Holy Spirit. People end up
thinking that they can erroneously suspend discursive
activity, and that prayer without discourse is a very great
thing, and they have a prayer of union, or quietude. It
appears that Padre Lazcano would have found good
company with Agustín de San José and Juan de Santo
Tomás in objecting to the works of Rojas and Falconi.
Notes

Tomás..." See also Elías Gómez, Fr. Juan Falconi... p.
301.
2. HCD, X, p. 589ff.
Tomás..." p. 359.
4. Ibid., p. 379.
5. A copy is in the Hispanic Society in New York. The
Hispanic Society has a small collection of Carmelite
manuscripts: a Miscellánea of the Discalced Sisters of
Avila which includes St. John’s poem, Entréme dónde
no supe, and a thirty-nine verse copy of the Spiritual
Canticle without attribution; a Formulario monástico of
Manuel de Santa María del Carmen; a compilation of
spiritual quotations by Pedro Maldonado including a
section of Gracián’s Anastasio, and poems by Juan de
Jesús María with the dates given as 1560-1632; These
dates don’t fit any of the three Juan de Jesús Marías
we have met: Aravalles, 1549-1609, el Calagurritano,
1564-1615, or Robles, 1566-1644; a Persecución injusta
que los PP. Carmelitas hicieron al P. Gracián.
6. Chapter XIII, p. 102.
Tomás..." p. 383.
8. Ibid., p. 385.
9. See my St. John of the Cross and Dr. C.G. Jung, pp. 96-

98, and the extensive studies of Knowles, Gaffney,

Low, and especially McCann.
10. Justin McCann. Memorias, p. 214.
11. Ibid., p. 127.
12. Augustine Baker, Holy Wisdom, p. 358.
13. Ibid., p. 357, note.
14. Paul Harris, John Main..., p. 69.
15. E.A. Peers, Studies of the Spanish Mystics, Vol. II, p. 275.
16. Ibid., p. 281.
17. Ibid., p. 282.
18. Ibid., p. 283.
19. Elías Gómez, Dos Cartas..., p. 107.
20. Juan Falconi cites Quiroga’s Historia de la vida twice in
his Camino derecho, and twice in his Carta a un
religioso. In the latter these citations serve him well
because he is trying to refute the objections of the
Discalced Carmelite Agustín de San José, and what
better way to do it than to cite another Carmelite, not
to mention John of the Cross, himself. In No. 2 of this
letter he cites no. 67 in Quiroga’s table of places (Dos
Cartas, p. 81) in which Quiroga tries to make a case
about the relatively small amount of time that it is
necessary for someone to become prepared for
contemplation. (Historia de la vida, p. 582). Quiroga
touches on some of the same themes in this life of St.
John that we saw in some of his other writings, and
so Falconi and Rojas could be assured by it that they
were following Carmelite doctrine, and even the
doctrine of John of the Cross, himself. (Cf. Historia de
la vida, p. 188ff.)
22. Ibid.
23. Ibid., p. 83.
24. Dark Night, 1, 10, 4. K. p. 317.
26. Ibid., p. 88.
27. Ibid., p. 99.
28. Ibid., p. 104.
30. Ibid., p. 291.
31. Juan Falconi, Camino Derecho..., p. 87, note 1.
32. Ibid., p. 88.

34. Ibid., p. 296.

35. Ibid., p. 301.
36. Ibid., p. 284.
37. Ibid., p. 286.
39. Juan Falconi, Camino Derecho, p. 14, while the article
on Nicolás de Jesús María in the DS has him dying in
1655.
40. Ibid., p. 42.
41. Elías Gómez, Fr. Juan Falconi... p. 129.
42. Ibid., p. 305.
43. De contemplatione acquisita, p. 76.
44. Melquiades Andrés Martín, Los Recogidos, p. 560.
46. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, "La Obra
Fundamental..." p. 499.
47. Juan Arintero, La verdadera mística tradicional, pp. 258-
260.
Up
Part II, Section 3
Home


Contents:
CHAPTER 9: A WORLD SOON TO VANISH
CHAPTER 10: 1675
CHAPTER 11: THE DARK NIGHT OF THE
MYSTICS
CHAPTER 9:
A WORLD SOON TO VANISH
We have entered deeply now into the world of 17th

century Spanish contemplative spirituality where
acquired contemplation mixed with genuine mystical
experience, and many of the people interested in these
things knew each other in one fashion or another. Let’s
learn some more about this world, for it will prepare us
to understand its collapse in a catastrophe that was to
effect Christian mysticism for centuries.
We should take Tomás de Jesús’ words about seeking

out contemplatives both within and outside the Order
quite literally. A Tomás de Jesús, for example, appears
briefly in the autobiography of Sr. María Vela, a
visionary of Avila, who consulted him about her
spiritual life when he came to town. (1) Is it our Tomás?
The Sobrino Family
Rather more is known about his relationship with the
file:///D|/Letöltés/fromp2c.htm (1 of 50)2012.04.11. 21:18:23

Discalced sister Cecilia del Nacimiento Sobrino (1570-

1646) who wrote extensively about the spiritual life
basing it, it appears, on her own experience. One poem,
Aquella niebla obscura, written after the model of John of
the Cross’ own poetry, was composed around 1600 and
it was Tomás de Jesús, sometime between 1600-1604,
who asked her to write a commentary on it. The result
was her Transformation of the Soul in God, which was
also written in the style of John of the Cross. This poem
appears to have circulated quite widely. It appears, for
example, without attribution in ms. 1114 of the
University of Barcelona, and elsewhere it is attributed
to John of the Cross and even to Juan de Palafox. (2)
Cecilia del Nacimiento wrote a commentary on the
Dark Night, while Quiroga commented on her poem, (3)
as did the Carmelite Antonio de San Bartolomé who
left the Order to become the Corrector of the Minims in
Madrid in 1631. (4) This kind of commenting seems at
times to be almost a cross between a pious exercise and
spiritual recreation, and we will see another example of
it in the work of Agustín Antolínez.
The Sobrino family was a mainstay of the Carmelite

Order. Cecilia’s sister was her companion in the Order
under the name of María de San Alberto, and at least
two of her brothers were Discalced Carmelites,
including Diego de San José (1559-1623) who helped
Tomás found Las Batuecas. Cecilia, in fact, was also to
write a poem about that desert monastery.
We met another of her brothers, Antonio, (1554-1622)

before, seconding the efforts of Gracián and Tomás de
Jesús against the perfectionists in Flanders. Earlier, we
find him writing to Cecilia on July 3, 1605, thanking her
for sharing with him an account of her spiritual life,
which may have been the commentary commissioned
by Tomás. (5) Antonio also annotated a collection of
short spiritual treatises, BNM ms. 12408, which
included a poem of a Discalced Carmelite sister.
By 1597 Antonio was living in Valencia where he was

to hold various positions of authority in the Franciscan
province of San Juan Baptista until his death in 1622.

He was esteemed for his holy life and wrote many

works, most of which have remained in manuscript.
His De la vida espiritual y perfección cristiana, which
appeared in Valencia in 1612, devotes its latter chapters
to refuting the errors of the perfectionists and its
beginning ones to a description of the mystical life,
which is quite unremarkable and, indeed, rather well
put at times, and a cursory examination of it shows no
hint of Tomás’ acquired contemplation. The book,
however, was withdrawn by the Inquisition in 1618,
apparently because of his connection with Francisco
Simó. (6)
Among Sobrino’s manuscripts is a three-volume

Tesoros de Dios revelados a la V.M. Francisca López.
Francisca López was one of the many holy women, or
beatas, of the time who, while not nuns, gave
themselves over to spiritual exercises. She was closely
associated in Valencia with the parish priest, Francisco
Jerónimo Simó whose position at the Church of San
Andrés Miguel Molinos was later to fill, and whose
cause for beatification was one of the principle reasons
why Molinos originally traveled to Rome. Simó’s death
in 1612 was met with great spiritual tumult as various
religious guilds poured out into the streets of the city
and outdid each other in homage. (7)
Juan Sanz
Sobrino was also acquainted with the Calced Carmelite

Juan Sanz (1557-1601?) and with Juan Falconi. Gracián,
himself, had spent time in Valencia around November
1604 as a visitor to the Discalced Augustinian sisters, a
post in which Sanz was to follow him, and with whom
he was acquainted. (8) Sanz had derived part of the
spiritual doctrine from the teaching on affective prayer
of the Jesuit Antonio Cordeses (1518-1601), and Sanz, in
his turn, by means of a letter to Sor Elvira Corella de
Mendoza, was to influence Juan Falconi’s Camino
derecho. Juan Falconi had studied theology in Valencia
at San Juan de la Ribera, and it was in Valencia in 1660
that Falconi’s works were printed without the Camino
derecho. Sanz’s letter to Sor Elvira was probably written

towards the end of his life, and it can be understood,

and was probably meant to be understood by its
author, as a description of how affective prayer, or
what Sanz calls aspirations, can become infused prayer,
or what he calls affective repose, and then suspense. In
short, it can be read as an affective version of St. John’s
transition from meditation to contemplation, but
precisely for that reason it could be misunderstood by
someone like Falconi as another description of acquired
contemplation, especially since Sanz talks of the lack
for need of discourse and reflection, the
uninterruptedness of these advanced affective acts,
how misinformed people call them ocio or idleness, etc.
(9)
Miguel de la Fuente
Juan Sanz also influenced his brother in religion,

Miguel de la Fuente (1573-1625) who is best known for
his Las tres vidas del hombre corporal, racional y espiritual,
which appeared in 1623. But what interests us here is
his Ejercicios de oración mental, published as an
appendix to his 1615 Regla y modo de vida de los terceros y
beatas de Nuestra Señora del Carmen. De la Fuente makes
use of Sanz’s three levels of affective prayer, as well as
describing various grades of recollection, and what was
just said of Sanz could be said of him, as well, that is,
that he produced an orthodox presentation of the
transition from ordinary prayer to infused
contemplation, but this time there is a hint of the
influence of John of the Cross: "When the soul is
recollected and feels God within itself, the first thing it
has to do without force or noise, but gently, is to cut the
threads of discourse of the understanding and remain
with only a general knowledge of God, infinite,
incomprehensible whom it knows by faith (sola una
noticia general de Dios) who is interiorly working in
the depths of the soul…" (10) But this expression can
easily be shifted into the world of acquired
contemplation.
Esteban de San José and Agustín Antolínez

We have already met the Discalced Carmelite Esteban

de San José in various places, for example, when he
was helping Tomás de Jesús write down his Tratado de
oración y contemplación. He had eventually served as the
General of the Order from 1631 to 1636, and at the end
of that period we find him spreading about the
commentaries that Agustín Antolínez had written on
the poems of John of the Cross. He gave them, for
example, to a Calced Carmelite of Tudela who, in turn,
wrote a preface to them in which he praises them as
explaining these poems more clearly than the
commentaries of John of the Cross, and in easier terms,
and went so far as to alter the language of the poems to
avoid offending pious ears. Surprisingly, he seems to
have no knowledge that John of the Cross had, himself,
published a commentary on the Spiritual Canticle. These
commentaries have been dated to the mid 1620s, and
they, indeed, appear as simple sermon-like reflections
on St. John’s poems without the depth of St. John’s own
commentaries. (11)
Esteban had also lent a copy of these same

commentaries to Juan de Palafox. In 1634 Esteban
wrote a pastoral letter to the Carmelites urging them to
have in their libraries not only books about the practice
of prayer, but about its theory, as well. Would he have
had in mind some of the works of his old teacher,
Tomás de Jesús? (12) And sometime before 1633 he
asks Cecilia del Nacimiento to rewrite her commentary
on her poem, Aquella niebla oscura because the one she
had written at Tomás de Jesús’ request had
disappeared.
Juan de Palafox, Juan de Jesús María, and Gregorio

López
Juan de Palafox y Mendoza (1600-1659) was born out of

wedlock to noble parents. When his father inherited the
family title he recognized Juan while his mother
became a Discalced Carmelite in Tarazona. Juan was
entrusted to Diego de Yepes, the bishop of Tarazona,
and went on to have a high profile priestly and political
career. He went to Mexico and became the bishop of

Puebla and the viceroy of New Spain. He wrote

extensively, feuded with the Jesuits, and eventually fell
out of favor. He entrusted his Vida interior to the
Carmelites, telling them to publish it if they saw fit,
which they did in 1691 at the price of having to defend
it. The inventory book of the Carmelite archive has a
whole section devoted to documents about the
proposed beatification of Palafox.
While in Mexico Juan kept up his Carmelite ties. His

confessor was Juan de Jesús María Robles or Sanlucar
(1566?-1644) who had been among the first group of
Carmelite missionaries to go to Mexico in 1585. (13)
There Robles held many important positions and
founded the desert of Santa Fe near Mexico City. He,
too, wrote extensively and his massive Epistolario
espiritual which consisted of letters written to people in
different states of life, stretched to 844 folio pages. All,
however, was not smooth sailing. His autobiography
disappeared and he suspected a confrere when he
found it in a sodden mass in an irrigation ditch. His
Guía interior is in the Biblioteca Nacional in Madrid,
ms.13496, while a second part of it, ms.7037, though
highly praised by Andrés de la Encarnación, probably
belongs to someone else. (14)
As soon as the Carmelites arrived in Mexico City they

were in close contact and spiritual consultation with
Gregory López and his companion and later
biographer, Francisco Losa. Gregory López (1542-1596)
was a fascinating figure who had served as a page to
Philip II, then went on pilgrimage and was inspired to
go to Mexico where he arrived in 1562. He gave all that
he had to the poor and settled as a hermit in the valley
of Amayac near Zacatecas. He became suspect for
failing to have either a rosary or pious image in his hut,
but he was given over to prayer and contemplation and
later, although he was not a priest, he became a
spiritual director. He wrote a commentary on the
Apocalypse, a book on medicinal herbs, and according
to Andrés de la Encarnación a study of the mystical
theology of Dionysius. (15) When his biography
appeared in 1613 it described his life of prayer and

became a favorite of some people like Falconi who

were to later be accused of Quietism.
Gabriel López Navarro
In 1641, in Madrid, we find Gabriel López Navarro

publishing his Theologia mística unión y junta perfecta de
la alma con Dios en este destierro por medio de la oración de
contemplación en vista sencilla de fe recogida de la divina
escritura padres de la iglesia y doctores místicos. The phrase
"en vista sencilla de fe," in the simple light of faith, is
now enough to alert us that López Navarro has placed
himself within the tradition of acquired contemplation.
And so it comes as no real surprise that he calls his
fourth chapter of the seventh treatise: "There are two
kinds of contemplative prayer in the divine light of
faith. One is exercised by our connatural human mode
of working, the other supernaturally, the one acquired
or active, the other infused or passive." We met López
Navarro before writing an approbation of Juan Bretón’s
book, as well as censoring Rojas’. How he reconciled
these two deeds is unknown.
Gerardo de San Juan de la Cruz, editor of the modern

Toledo edition of St. John’s works, accuses López
Navarro of borrowing heavily from Quiroga, just as he
accused Bretón of borrowing from John of the Cross.
López Navarro helped himself to Quiroga’s Tratado de
oración y contemplación sacado de la doctrina de la
bienaventurada Madre Teresa y del Venerable Padre Fray
Juan de la Cruz. This book of Quiroga is known only by
a single fragmentary manuscript in the possession of
the Discalced Carmelites of Consuegra, and Padre
Gerardo found that it matched certain chapters of
López Navarro’s book. Indeed, he felt that almost all of
López Navarro’s book came from Quiroga. And López
Navarro admitted that he had borrowed from Quiroga
after the book was published. (16) How did he acquire
the manuscript? Perhaps through his work with the
Inquisition, and since Quiroga had died out of favor in
his own Order, he might have reasoned, like others
before him, that he was doing the world of spirituality
a favor by publishing his work. BNM ms. 8452 is an

autograph of Quiroga’s Subida which served as the

basis for the published version, and it also contains
part of López Navarro’s Mística teología. López Navarro
also quotes Tomás de Jesús and calls him "a renowned
master of mystical theology" and "one of the most
eminent mystics which the present age has known."
And he calls the Carmelites a "school of continuous
contemplation." (17)
Lopéz Navarro was a disciple of Juan Falconi and a

provincial of the Order of Mercy, Jerónimo de Valderas
who wrote an approbation for his book describing it as
a way to go to God "by means of pure and simple faith
without human discourse..." But López Navarro never
cites Falconi. (18)
Carmelites in the Second Half of the 17th Century
There is no need for us to examine in any detail most of

the Carmelite writers who inhabit the second half of
the 17th century and inquire after their teaching on
acquired contemplation. But it is worth gaining a
nodding acquaintance with some of them.
There is the Frenchman, Philippe de la Sainte Trinité

who went on a long missionary voyage to Persia and
Goa before writing his Suma theologiae misticae, Lyon,
1656.
Sometime between 1660-1670, the Discalced Carmelite,

Antonio de la Cruz, Sánchez de Pavia (1594-1670),
wrote a Libro de la contemplación divina or Book of Divine
Contemplation in which he wanted to explain the
doctrine of John of the Cross. It was never published
except for excerpts in the 20th century, and he, too, felt
the need to describe two kinds of contemplation: "The
one a suspense and an elevation of our mind to God in
the knowledge of His greatness wherein we aid
ourselves by our own efforts, guiding ourselves by
faith, and aiding our love with occasional tender
aspirations and loving interior words which from time
to time are formed in the soul." (19)

Not to be forgotten is Francisco de la Madre de Dios and his

Instruction and method for the practice of ordinary and
extraordinary exercises very useful and advantageous
for everyone (1666) which states that John of the Cross
"taught souls to travel in a brief time to contemplation and
to the most sublime perfection," and "guided souls quickly to
contemplation," (20) and Antonio del Espíritu Santo with
his Directorium misticum, Lyon, 1677. Then there was
Antonio de la Anunciación and his Disceptatio mistica,
1686, composed by the order of the General Chapter of 1670
who somehow managed to list St. Teresa’s prayer of quiet
under the heading of acquired contemplation and make
infused contemplation a charismatic grace, (21) and
Francisco de Santo Tomás and his Medula mística,
published in Madrid in 1695 after his death, which listed a
prayer of acquired quiet, and later, a higher state of acquired
active union. (22) Juan de la Madre de Dios’ Brief
summary of mental prayer and of the practice thereof,
appeared in the 1701 edition of John of the Cross’ Spiritual
Sentences and Maxims, but was written much earlier. He
describes the three ways of prayer, following Tomás de Jesús,
and a third stage of meditation which is a "loving and quiet
attentiveness to God in order to receive His
illuminations." (23)
A little more should be said of Baldassaro di Sta.

Catarina di Sienna (1597-1673) who was born in
Bologna, but who was sent to Rome at the beginning of
his religious life where he met Tomás de Jesús who
made a strong impression on him. He had a
predilection for mystical theology and translated into
Italian the first volume of Quiroga’s Subida which was
published in Rome in 1664. He went on to write his
own massive Splendori riflessi di sapienza celeste vibrati
da’ gloriosi gerachi Tomaso d’Aquino e Teresa de Giesu
sopra il Castello interiore e Mistico Giordino in which, as
the title indicates, he comments on Teresa’s Interior
Castle. He knew the work not only of Tomás and
Quiroga, but Gracián, Nicolás de Jesús María, and so
forth. And so it is not surprising to see him inserting in
his commentary on Teresa’s work at the beginning of
the fourth mansion, acquired contemplation, as taught

by "Quiroga following our venerable Father Fray John

of the Cross." (24) He later talked of a supereminent
contemplation, and acquired contemplation makes its
appearance again at the highest levels of the spiritual
life, which makes us wonder how much his own
conception of the mystical life he owes to Tomás de
Jesús.
Notes
1. Frances Parkinson Keyes, The Third Mystic of

Avila, p. 80.
2. Alfonso Méndez, San Juan de la Cruz..., pp. 35-38.
3. Andrés de la Encarnación, Memorias historiales,
Vol. I, p. 266.
4. Ibid., p. 177.
5. HCD, IX, p. 907.
6. Álvaro Huerga, Historia... p. 353, note 23.
7. Ramón Robres, "En torno a Miguel de Molinos..."
8. Pablo Garrido, "Escritos espirituales del Ven.
Juan Sanz," p. 140.
9. Ibid., p. 187.
10. Pablo Garrido, "Miguel de la Fuente," p. 309.
11. Agustín Antolínez, Amores de Dios y el alma, p. L
ff.
12. Jean Krynen, Le Cantique Spirituel..." p. 335, note
1.
13. St. John of the Cross in Baja California? No. But
John came close to going to Mexico, and the
Carmelites in Mexico came close to going to Baja
California. (Dionisio Victoria Moreno, Los
Carmelitas Descalzos... p. 265.) And I like to think
that John would have enjoyed that rugged, rocky
land.
14. Juan de Jesús María Robles, DS, 282: Andrés de
la Encarnación, Memorias historiales, Vol. II, p. 310
15. Ibid., p. 308.
16. Gerardo de San Juan de la Cruz, Obras de San
Juan de la Cruz, Vol. I, p. xlix.
17. E.A. Peers, Studies of the Spanish Mystics, Vol. III,
p. 124. Ms. 8273 of the Biblioteca Nacional in
Madrid, which we have already met before

because it contains a copy of the first part of

Tomás’ Tratado de oración y contemplación,
contains, as well, Quiroga’s Don que tuvo, and in
the back of this manuscript someone has copied
the part of John of the Cross’ Living Flame of Love
that deals with the transition from meditation to
contemplation, and at the end of this copy is a
half page of notes in which he cites López
Navarro’s Mística theologia, treatises 1, Chapter 4.
And he cites Thomas Aquinas. Part of the text of
this note reads: "Souls do not feel the interior
effects of the divine influence for lack of
disposition to receive them… Other times it is
not perceived because it only acts in the essence
of the soul without touching its powers or
reverberating in the sensitive part." (Folio 157v)
This is just another little indication of the
mixture of acquired and infused contemplation
to be found in these times.
18. Elías Gómez, Fr. Juan Falconi... p. 134. Andrés de
la Encarnación in his Memorias historiales (Vol. II,
p. 318) describes as "long and erudite" a defense
of "the letter of Falconi which has been
withdrawn" by Mercedarian Jerónimo Rodríguez
Valderas, who had gone on to become the
Bishop of Badajoz and Jaen, and whose life and
heroic virtues were described by the Carmelite
Juan de San José. Is this the same Valderas?
p. 41. Alberto de la V.C., "Antonio de la Cruz"
p. 73.
21. Ibid., p. 76.
22. Ibid., pp. 78-79.
23. Ibid., pp. 44ff.
24. Balthazar de Sainte-Catherine de Sienne, DS,
1213.

CHAPTER 10:
1675
1675 was the year John of the Cross was beatified, and
the cause for the beatification of Gregorio López
introduced, and there were four publishing events that
mark it as a high point in the diffusion of the idea of
acquired contemplation. We have already seen one of
them. In Brussels, a French translation of Tomás de
Jesús’ Tratado de oración y contemplación, according to
the manuscript of the first part of the Camino espiritual,
appeared under the auspices of the Discalced
Carmelites.
Pablo Ezquerra
The second event appears at first glance to have no

connection with the first. In Zaragoza, a Carmelite of
the Regular Observance, Pablo Ezquerra, (1626-1696)
published a book called Escuela de perfección. Ezquerra
served as a novice master in Zaragoza for more than 30
years, and his book consisted of two parts, the first of
which was a general manual of the spiritual life, and
the second was devoted to Carmelite novices.
E. Allison Peers in his Studies of the Spanish Mystics

devotes less than a page to it and its author, and we
would think the whole affair of slight moment for our
enterprise except for two things. First of all, Peers tells
us that the School of Perfection’s divisions of the three
ways of the spiritual life are reminiscent of Tomás de
Jesús. Then he goes on and leaves an intriguing
footnote: "The late P. Vicente de Peralta (Estudios
Franciscanos 1920, XXIV, 285-286) remarks that
Ezquerra "según aparece gozó de mucha fama en
nombre de excelente místico en su tiempo (he
apparently enjoyed in his time great fame as a mystic),"
and he goes on to discuss a work of his called Camino
de la vida espiritual. He says that "the whole of this work
is taken literally from P. Alvarado" who, as he aptly

adds, "podía convertirse de acusado en acusador, de

reo en juez (could be changed from the accused to the
accuser and from the guilty party to the judge.") As I
have found no trace of this work in any library or
catalogue, and no other reference to it, I think he may
be referring to the Escuela de Perfección, but in that case
he certainly exaggerates." (1)
Peralta is referring to the controversy that took place

early in the 20th century over whether Alvarado was
the original author of the Tratado breve or not, and
Peer’s footnote contains five points:
1. Ezquerra, according to Peralta, wrote a book

called Camino de la vida espiritual.
2. This book, again according to Peralta, was taken
literally from Alvarado.
3. Peers – who had an intimate acquaintance with
the works of the 17th century mystics – could not
find it.
4. He thinks that Peralta is perhaps referring to the
Escuela de perfección.
5. But if he is, then he is exaggerating.
Let’s look at points two and five first. When we look at

Ezquerra’s Escuela we find that it does, indeed, contain
the Tratado breve, much like the Tratado appeared in
Alvarado. So Ezquerra did take it either from
Alvarado’s book or from a manuscript that contained
that version of the Tratado. Peralta is not exaggerating.
But is Peers correct when he thinks Peralta is referring
to the Escuela, but mistakenly calls it the Camino de la
vida espiritual? This brings us to point one.
We might be inclined to think that Peralta is, indeed,

mistaken, but the very name he gives the unknown
book or manuscript, Camino de la vida espiritual, makes
us think of Tomás’ Camino espiritual. Is this simply a
coincidence? Before we decide, it is worth going to
Peralta’s original article and read his remarks about

Ezquerra:
"...P. Pablo Ezquerra, Carmelite, master of novices in

Zaragoza. His Teología mística, Camino de la vida
espiritual, is very praised by the censors, and
accordingly, he apparently enjoyed in his time great
fame as a mystic. We have made a comparative study
of his work with that of P. Antonio Alvarado,
Benedictine, and what we found causes us true wonder
and even astonishment. To say that the whole work is
taken literally from that of Alvarado with some
difference in the order and the disposition of the matter
and chapters would not be to exaggerate. We haven’t
seen such a lack of scruple in Planes or in Bretón or in
Navarro because they appropriated the unedited or
manuscript and P. Ezquerra the printed and reprinted.
P. Alvarado could be changed from the accused to the
accuser, and from the guilty party to the judge." (2)
Peralta goes on to locate Ezquerra in the 18th century,
which looks like a simple mistake.
What this adds to our knowledge is that, according to

Peralta, Ezquerra wrote a Teología mística, Camino de la
vida espiritual, which was praised by the censors. Does
this mean that since it had the approbations of the
censors Peralta was looking at a published book, or
was he looking at a manuscript which was simply
ready to be printed, and thus had the necessary
approvals? We would imagine that it is a published
book. Otherwise, Peralta would have told us. But the
only book of Ezquerra that we know of that contains
the Tratado breve is his Escuela de perfección.
Is Peralta mistaken after all – and here we come to

points one and four – and by a slip of the pen wrote
Camino de la vida espiritual in place of Escuela de
perfección? The modern editor of Peralta’s Escuela,
however, Rafael María López-Melús, O.Carm., tells us
that Ezquerra did write a tratado completo de la
teología mística:
"We have news of this treatise," he tells us, "only by

way of Latassa. But he (Latassa) adds "...that it

remained in the Library of the Novitiate of that
monastery in whose door under a portrait is found the
most complete eulogy of the merits of this
author." (Biblioteca Antigua y Nueva, pp. 470-471.)
"We find it very strange that his beloved disciple, P.

Blasco, would have deprived us of a notice that we
would have been so grateful for. We have inquired
about the possible location of this manuscript and we
have been told: "Actually the location of this
manuscript is unknown, for no catalogue of
manuscripts talks of it. Perhaps Latassa took his
reference from the index of the Library of Carmen
whose manuscripts for the most part later
perished." (Simeón María Serrano, O.Carm.,
investigator of the Archives and Libraries.)" (3)
This part of the trail seems to have gone cold unless

some enterprising researcher could find some more
information or the manuscript, itself, in some archive.
Or unless Vicente de Peralta, O.M. Cap., left more
information about this matter either in another of his
published works or among his papers.
But what about point three, that is, the fact Peers could
not find a work with the title Camino de la vida
espiritual? In the Library of the University of Barcelona
there is a manuscript called Camino de la vida espiritual,
ms. 522, but since this part of the catalog was not
published until 1958 and Peers died in 1952, he could
not have known about it through this source. (4) The
catalog describes the manuscript as having been
written by a Benedictine abbot – making us think of
Alvarado – and as divided into a Prologue and six
books that treat of mortification, prayer in common,
natural prayer, supernatural prayer which is
contemplation and mystical theology, and the three
ways. Unfortunately, the title page is missing, and so
we don’t know its author. But the title, itself, is on the
cover of the book. Further, the manuscript is listed as
originating in the 18th century.

Could this manuscript have any connection with

Ezquerra and the Tratado breve? Working from only a
copy of the Prologue and the Table of Contents, the
manuscript does not seem to contain the Tratado breve,
but still, some of the chapter titles are suggestive, as we
will see in a moment. The author in his Prologue
mentions "masters of the spiritual life old and new,"
and authors from whom he is taking his teachings for
the benefit of beginners and novices, and he lists
among these sources: B.P. Ignacio de Loyola, Fray Luis
de Granada, Fray Alonzo de Madrid, Subida del Monte
Sion, Fray García de Cisneros, M(aestro) Diego Pérez,
Fray Jerónimo Gracián, Humberto, P. Arias y la Santa
Madre B. Teresa de Jesús.
The heading for Book IV, Chapter VII, reads: "Whether

a man by his efforts can arrive at some grade of
contemplation." Chapter VIII is called: "Concerning
mystical theology." And Chapter IX: "Concerning
intellectual contemplation." These titles are sufficiently
intriguing so that it would be worthwhile to examine
the whole manuscript in detail to see what sources the
author uses.
What remains of this mystery until new information is

turned up is whether Ezquerra was copying the Tratado
breve from Alvarado’s book, or had he come across a
manuscript of the Tratado breve, perhaps in the dust of
the novitiate library in Zaragoza, the very town that
Tomás de Jesús had fled from Spain so many years
before. It appears that he is using or creating an
abridged version of Alvarado’s Tratado breve that
includes Book II, Chapter XXXVIII, and even before
that. But apart from some mentions of Blessed John of
the Cross put into the text to commemorate his
beatification, it is an open question as to whether he
was copying the book or some other manuscript.
In any event, just as Alvarado’s works were required

reading among the Benedictine novices, Ezquerra’s
were circulated far beyond Zaragoza, for we see him
writing to Rome to his brother in religion, Luis Pérez
de Castro in 1676, describing how he has sent copies of

the book to Calced novice masters all over Spain. (5)
Antonio Panes
The third publishing event of 1675 was the appearance

in Valencia of Antonio Panes’ La Escala mística y
estimulo de amor divino. Panes was a Discalced
Franciscan of the Province of San Juan Bautista in
Valencia, a chronicler of its history that appeared in
two volumes in 1665-66, and a novice master at San
Juan de la Ribera in 1666. He also wrote an
unpublished work on Francisco Jerónimo Simó. This
puts him squarely in the current of spirituality in
Valencia that we have already touched upon with
Antonio Sobrino, and we will see again with Molinos.
It also makes us curious about his Escala mística. Will it

be a work of acquired contemplation that is somehow
connected with the Carmelite current that we are
tracing? The book is rather rare, so when Ramón
Robres Lluch, the historian of the spirituality of
Valencia in the 17th century, came across a copy of it in
the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, he thought it might
have been recalled by the Inquisition, and this idea was
reinforced by the fact that the copy he did come across
had been in the possession of the Holy Office, and
came with an inscription written by someone, perhaps
Panes himself, to no one less than Miguel Molinos. (6)
But Robles had not found it in the Index of forbidden
books, and it is not likely that it was ever there because
it was published again in 1743 in Valencia with the
approval of the Order, and with a dedication to the
City of Granada, where Panes apparently had been
born and grew up, by Gil Fabuel. Panes, however, died
in 1676 before the turmoil surrounding Molinos began.
Melquiades Andrés Martín places this work in the

general current of recollection, wide-spread in those
days, especially in Valencia. (7) In his prologue Panes
tells us that his book is divided into two parts: the
Escala mística, and the poetry that comes under the
heading of Estímulo de amor divino. It is the first part

that interests us, and here he goes on to say – as so

many did before him – it is not discourse and
meditation he wants to speak about because there are
many books about that, but rather, about how the soul
has to exercise its powers and about the most difficult
and delicate points of mystical theology, but in a way
that would be succinct and clear to all those using the
saints and the great doctors like St. Dionysius, St.
Thomas, St. Bonaventure, etc.
At first glance the book appears quite inoffensive. But

there are certain places that catch our attention.
Chapter 4, for example, is called "Prayer is divided into
three ways: and concerning the mode of knowing God
affirmatively and negatively." After describing these
three ways Panes tells us: "In order to arrive, then, at
this happy end of the soul going up to the knowledge
of God with natural light and industry aided by faith,
they indicate two modes. The first they call affirmative:
it is when some perfection or attribute is affirmed,
which can be attributed to God like His goodness, His
beauty, His wisdom or power… They call the second
mode negative because it considers God as a being
above every being." (8) Panes goes on to link the
affirmative mode with meditation. But meditation is
limited because it uses images, and therefore it is
necessary to somehow get below this gross and
material surface to a deeper level. We must reach a
universal concept of the truths known, and in this way
the understanding is placed in a passive disposition,
which is the aptitude to receive divine light. Just how
this negative way can be reconciled to the fact that at
the beginning of the chapter Panes seems to be
indicating that these two ways proceed from our
natural light and industry remains unclear. All this
reminds us of the Tratado breve, but this kind of
language stemming from a sort of commentary on
Dionysius and St. Thomas appears very wide-spread,
and is not really the issue. What concerns us is when it
is used as a way to understand John of the Cross, and
so replaces his infused contemplation by a
philosophical sort of contemplation now described as a
way to go to God.

In Chapter 5 Panes tells us that there is a much more

excellent way which does not make use of discourse
and natural light. It is a knowledge exercised by
unknowing, and without affirming or denying, which
gives firm assent to the truth, an assent without change
or transformation. This is contemplation which,
according to St. Thomas, is a simple view of the eternal
truth. Then Panes describes a transcendent act of faith
beyond any image or natural mode of understanding
by which we enter simply and blindly into the divine
darkness by the divine obscurity of living faith. In
describing it this way Panes leaves us with the
impression that we have left all human activity behind.
We should not strive to perceive God or taste Him
(percibirle y gustarle), (9) for that would indicate we
are not working with pure and denuded faith.
In Chapter 10 Panes contrasts universal acts to

particular acts, and goes on to make a distinction, as
well, between interrupted and continual acts.
Naturally, it is towards the universal and continual acts
that we ought to tend. "To exercise ourselves, then, in
the active mode is when, with the acts of our natural
virtue, aided by the common help of grace, we move to
the knowledge and love of God. To exercise ourselves
in a passive mode is when, with simple attention and a
universal act in the light of faith… we dispose
ourselves and adapt ourselves in order to receive the
divine influence." (10) All this might be understood as
a perfectly orthodox, yet perhaps fuzzy, exposition of
the life of prayer, but there are enough points to give us
pause, and if Juan de Santo Tomás had read this book,
he would probably have raised some of the same
objections against it that he raised against Rojas’ book.
In just what way, he might ask, can we exercise
continual and universal acts? In just what way can we
abstract from the senses and imagination in this life?
Did Panes know John of the Cross? He cites him once,

according to Robres, and in Chapter 8, on some
dangers which present themselves in meditation, he
gives a detailed analysis of the dangers of visions and

revelations, and there he seems to be following the

Ascent-Dark Night. He says, for example, we should not
try to decide if they are good or bad, and concludes
that "none of these exterior things are able to be God or
His sanctifying grace." (11) This impression that he is
following St. John is even stronger when Panes goes
on:
"Experts lay down some signs." Later he will talk, as St.

John does, of a bird held down by a delicate thread. (12)
Panes’ book, however, does not seem to have made

much of an impression, and perhaps this and his death
are what saved it from the holocaust of spiritual books
that followed in the wake of Molinos’ condemnation.
What it does do is give us one more indication of the
kind of spiritual writing that abounded in those times,
especially in the kinds of spiritual circles that gave
birth to Miguel Molinos.
Miguel Molinos
The fourth publishing event of 1675 was to far

outweigh the other three. Miguel de Molinos (1628-
1696) published in Rome his Guía espiritual que
desembaraza al alma y la cónduce por el interior camino para
alcançar la perfecta contemplación y el rico tesoro de la
interior paz, prefaced with lavish praise from various
ecclesiastical authorities, including Fray Domingo de la
Santíssima Trinidad, ex-general of the Discalced
Carmelites, now residing in Rome at the monastery of
San Pancrazio.
Molinos had spent the first part of his adult life in

Valencia where we saw him before at the Church of
San Andrés, the former home of Francisco Simó, and it
was the duty to promote Simó’s beatification that was
to bring him to Rome in 1663. Molinos was also a
member of the spiritual fraternity, the Escuela de
Cristo, which was connected with the fathers of the
Oratory. This was an organization which, incidentally,
had links with Juan de Palafox. In Rome Molinos joined

the Escuela de Cristo and developed an extensive

ministry of spiritual direction, and when his attempt to
raise Simó to the altars failed, he stayed on. His Guía
espiritual developed out of his work of spiritual
direction, and such is the infamy that surrounds
Molinos’ name as the chief heretic of the spiritual life
that we expect his Spiritual Guide to depart markedly
from the literature that precedes it. But we have only to
open the book to see that it does not, for this is how the
first advertencia, or admonition, at the head of
Molinos’ book reads: "De dos modos se puede ir a
Dios… Concerning the two ways of going to God: the
first by meditation and discourse; the second by pure
faith and contemplation. There are two ways to go to
God: one by consideration and discourse, and the other
by the purity of faith, indistinct knowledge, general
and confused. The first is called meditation; the second,
interior recollection or acquired contemplation." (13)
The second advertencia is called, "On what

distinguishes meditation from contemplation," and the
third, "On what distinguishes acquired and active
contemplation from the infused and passive. And are
laid down the signs by which it can be known when
God desires the soul to pass from meditation to
contemplation." The third advertencia begins: "There
are two kinds of contemplation: one imperfect, active
and acquired; the other infused and passive. The active
(which has been discussed up until now) is that which
can be attained with our effort aided by divine
grace…" (14)
We are still very much in the world of acquired

contemplation. Indeed, Molinos cites our old friend
Antonio Rojas and his Vida del espíritu. (15) The signs
for the passage from meditation to contemplation that
Molinos gives are worth noting. The first is the inability
to meditate – if it is not born of bodily indisposition,
melancholy, etc. This is the sign of a true contemplative
vocation when it persists for "a day, a month and many
months." (16)
The second sign is that even though sensible

consolation is lacking, the soul flees conversation and

embraces solitude. The third sign is that the reading of
spiritual books produces tedium because they don’t
speak to the soul of the interior sweetness which is
within it without it knowing it. The fourth sign is that
even though the soul is deprived of discourse, it still
finds itself with the firm resolve to persevere in prayer.
In the fifth sign the soul will have self-knowledge, hate
sin and esteem God.
We would have to read a great deal into the second

and third signs in order to come anywhere near John’s
third sign in the Ascent, which is the presence of
infused contemplation. And Molinos, like his
predecessors, is not talking about infused
contemplation at all, but acquired contemplation.
It appears from early historical accounts that after

Molinos had written a preliminary draft of his book in
the form of a practice guide to contemplation, he then
spent several years adding authorities to it before he
allowed it to be published. (17) José Ignacio Tellechea,
who published a critical edition of the Guide in 1976,
presents his readers with a selection of passages that he
feels that anyone acquainted with Molinos would not
find strange. But they are not from Molinos at all, but
from Pablo Ezquerra, and at least one of them comes
from the part of Ezquerra’s Escuela de perfección where
he is copying some source of the Tratado breve. (18)
Tellechea also compares a passage in Molinos to one in
Ezquerra, and shows how both are similar to a third in
Pedro de Alcántara’s Tratado de oración y meditación.
This, in turn, is not considered to be a work of
Alcántara, but of Luis de Granada. (19) Molinos also
makes use of the mystical theology falsely attributed to
St. Bonaventure. This is a text that attracted Gracián, as
we saw, and he is interested in a passage about how
only a short time of meditation is necessary before
beginning contemplation. But this was a passage used
by Falconi and Ezquerra, as well. (20)
In short, Molinos drew on the rich theme of recollection

that flourished in Valencia, and on Carmelite sources

filtered through Falconi. And why wouldn’t he? The

Spiritual Guide is not at all original. Even its more
problematical features, like its insistence on acquired
contemplation to the neglect of infused contemplation
and the prolongation of a single act of contemplation so
that it appears to become a pervasive state, can be
found in Falconi whose Camino derecho was one of the
strongest influences on the Guide. Molinos also cites
Gregorio López and Francisca López, the latter
according to Panes’ chronicles of the Discalced
Franciscans.
Molinos’ book was an immediate best-seller and went

through many editions, and his fame as a spiritual
director seemed secure. But his life in Rome was being
played out against a background of wide-spread
interest in Italy in contemplative spirituality similar to
the one that existed in Spain. (21) It would take us too
far afield to look at the interplay in Italy between
Church authorities, individual spiritual writers, and
small spiritual groups, and it would be surprising if the
overall picture differed markedly from what we have
been seeing in Spain. It is, however, worth noting some
of the events that led up to his condemnation.
Molinos’ ascendancy as a leading teacher on the

spiritual life was not going to go unchallenged. In 1678
the Jesuit Gottardo Belluomo published a book on
prayer that took Molinos to task without mentioning
him. Molinos responded by writing a Defensa de la
contemplación which for some reason remained in
manuscript. In 1679 someone denounced Belluomo’s
book to the Church authorities, and in February of 1680
we find Molinos writing to J.P. Olivas, the General of
the Jesuits, trying to assure him of his esteem for
Ignatius of Loyola’s Spiritual Exercises, as well as to
insist on the truth of his own teachings on
contemplation. But this defense must not have made
much of an impact because another Jesuit, Paolo
Segneri, soon entered the fray with his Concordia tra la
fatica e la quiete nell’orazione, which he published with
the encouragement of Olivas. But Molinos was not
without influential friends. Pier Mateo Petrucci, a priest

of the Oratory, who had become the Bishop of Jesi,

replied to Segneri with his Contemplazione mística
aquisita without mentioning him by name, but talking
about "il meditativo," the man of meditation. Petrucci’s
book is standard fare from the point of view of the
doctrine of acquired contemplation. He talks of the
three signs: stopping discourse, remaining in "sweet
nothing," and being lost in God without seeing or
tasting. He has been influenced by reading Molinos’
Guide, but he was also conversant with Carmelite
spirituality. Indeed, he was in correspondence with the
Carmelites and wanted them in his diocese, and he
read Quiroga’s Subida, and Tomás de Jesús and,
further, was influenced by Juan Falconi.
The struggle widened. Jaime de Palafox, the Bishop of

Palermo, in March of 1681 wrote a letter of praise for
the Palermo edition of Molinos’ Guide, a book which he
had recommended to the contemplative sisters of his
diocese. Jaime Palafox was the nephew of Juan de
Palafox whom we have met before, and he had strong
ties, himself, with the Carmelites and had the Jesuits as
his opponents, much like his uncle.
In August of that same year the Jesuit Dominico

Ottalini wrote to his General: "The Jesuits have
succeeded in making numerous enemies among the
Discaled Carmelites… From their attitude against
acquired contemplation it is inferred that among them
high prayer is unknown." By November, Belluomo’s
and Segneri’s books had been condemned, and we find
Jaime Palafox, now the Archbishop of Seville, once
again writing in favor of the Guide. And Molinos,
sometime around this date, is writing a new defense,
Scioglimento ad alcune obiettioni fate contra il libro della
Guida Spirituale.
Of all the sources that Molinos made use of for his

Guide, one is conspicuously absent, and that is John of
the Cross. Obviously John of the Cross could not have
been unknown to him, for Juan Falconi’s Carta a un
religioso played an important role in Molinos’ Spiritual
Guide and his Defensa. It is possible that Molinos had

received a manuscript copy of the letter from Spain,

along with the Camino derecho, and that he had played a
role in its translation and publication in Italian. The
early biographical sources about Molinos indicate that
he read Falconi’s letters to his disciples and distributed
copies of them. So it is entirely likely, as Eulogio Pacho
suggests, that Molinos first discovered John of the
Cross through Falconi. All the different texts that
Falconi cites of John of the Cross in his letter find a
place in Molinos’ Defensa. (22) The Defensa, itself, has
survived in the form of a single manuscript in the
Vatican Library, VAT.lat.8604. And it is well worth
looking at its content and the subject matter of Molinos’
second defense, or Scioglimiento, which acts like a
summary of it.
John of the Cross not only received the mystical

tradition, but he imprinted upon it his own distinctive
vocabulary. But every time we see him quoted or hear
the particular echoes of his language we cannot
immediately assume, as we have discussed, that he is
being faithfully followed. Molinos writes with a certain
spurious clarity and logic. He is a simplifier rather than
a profound thinker, and when we come to his Defensa
de la contemplación, which at first glance appears more
erudite than his Guide, we read:
"There are two kinds of contemplation: one is ordinary,

active and acquired, which is called prayer of faith and
resignation; the other is extraordinary, supernatural,
infused and passive... (that contemplation which is)
imperfect and active, which is called of faith and of
resignation, works by means of the faculties of the
understanding, memory and will by means of
universal acts of faith and resignation, and it can be
taught with the grace of God..." (23) This active
contemplation is what St. Dionysius taught, according
to Molinos, as well as Augustine, Jerome and so forth,
right down to Blessed Father Juan de la Cruz. And it is
this active contemplation that is the sole matter (el
único asunto) that Molinos is going to treat of in his
Defensa.

We may ask just where did St. John talk about this
active contemplation? And we are right back to those
passages we have been studying all along. St. John's
three signs, according to Molinos, are the way we
know to pass from meditation to active or acquired
contemplation. And Molinos paraphrases the three
signs, but makes some significant alterations in doing
so. Following the order found in the Ascent of Mt.
Carmel he places as the first sign an inability to
meditate, but it is the third sign that we have to
examine with care. The soul "has an inclination to be
quiet in silence with a loving and peaceful attention,"
and this is straight from John of the Cross, but Molinos
adds, "with a universal act," and a little later he
paraphrases this loving knowledge by calling it "this
obscure and universal faith with silence and quietude
(aquella obscura y universal fe con silencio y
quietud)." (24)
In the next chapter he actually quotes long passages

from the Ascent, for example, the one in which St. John
writes, "This loving knowledge is hardly noticed for
two reasons," and he quotes, as well, the place where
John talks about how the end of meditation is to get
some knowledge and love of God. But where St. John
concludes this passage by saying, "De manera que
luego, en poniendose delante de Dios, se pone en acto
de noticia confusa, amorosa, pacifica y sosegada, en
que está el alma viviendo sabiduria y amor y sabor,"
Molinos writes, "De manera que luego que se pone en
la presencia de Dios, se pone en acto universal de fe y
noticia confusa, amorosa, etc." (25) But what is this
universal act of faith that Molinos is insisting upon? It
is no different than what Falconi was talking about
before him. All this has nothing to do with St. John's
infused contemplation. Molinos repeats the words, but
fails to discover their substance. This loving and
universal knowledge of God in obscure faith that
Molinos talks about is an active exercise of our
faculties, as he clearly says in one of the first passages
cited. It works by means of the faculties, "obra
mediante las potencias." (26) If we don't have the desire
to meditate and can apply ourselves to this kind of

active faith, then according to Molinos it is a sign that

God is raising us to contemplation. (27) "It appears to
the soul in this new path that it doesn't do anything
and that it is idle. And truly it is mistaken because the
faculties of the understanding and will work within it
with quietude, with universal and continuous
acts." (28) These universal and continuous acts are
contrasted with those which are particular and
repeated.
But of course, we run into the same difficulties we have

been seeing all along. Either we work with the
faculties, according to John of the Cross, in particular
and distinct acts, or we receive with them. Molinos is
creating some imaginary middle ground. He is taking
qualities that John is giving to infused contemplation
and applying them to his acquired and active
contemplation. He too narrowly conceives the nature of
meditation and totally misconceives the nature of
contemplation. "But this same path in its beginning is
called meditation and afterwards affective and
afterwards purgative, and next it passes to
annihilation, perfection and union, which is called
active contemplation." (29)
It upsets Molinos to hear someone say that

contemplation doesn't last more than a half an hour. He
asks, well, what is someone to do when that half hour
is over? In short, he is engaged in the very real problem
of the dark night of sense, and the answer that these
people ought to meditate if God does not elevate them
to infused contemplation does not please him. There
are many kinds of prayer: meditation, affective prayer,
purgative prayer, prayer of faith and resignation, or
active and acquired contemplation, and after this
comes the passive or infused prayer that doesn't last
more than half an hour. Molinos’ solution is this
"prayer of active and acquired contemplation which
consists in faith and resignation in believing in
conforming oneself with the divine will in which kind
of prayer the servant of God is able to be for an hour, a
day, a week, a month, a year and all his life." (30) As
Molinos insists, "What can keep the soul from faith and

resignation? What could be the cause for it not being

able to exercise itself in these two perfect acts all its
life?" (31) He is partially correct in this, but this has
nothing to do with the kind of contemplation that John
of the Cross is talking about.
When Molinos reads the mystics, and especially St.

John, about the suspension of the faculties, he is forced
by the very logic of his position to read him very
selectively. "But the suspension that is talked about in
the exercise of active and acquired contemplation is not
the suspension of the faculties of the soul because the
understanding is knowing God, the memory is
recalling him and the will is employed in love,
conformity and resignation, all of which is worked
with quietude and suavity by means of universal acts
because although it is true that the soul suspends
distinct and particular acts in acquired contemplation,
the universal acts are not suspended..." (32) "It is true
that the soul suspends on its part images, species,
discourses and distinct and particular acts, but it is in
order to make an obscure and universal and more
perfect act of faith in the presence of God with whom it
is continually occupied." (33)
In his Scioglimento Molinos shows how tightly

connected with John of the Cross are these objections to
his Spiritual Guide. He lists these objections under four
points:
1. that he had applied the signs that Blessed John of

the Cross gave for infused contemplation to
acquired contemplation
2. having said that the object of his book was
acquired contemplation, he wrote, in part, about
infused contemplation
3. that he taught that acquired contemplation
excluded all discursive operations, just like
infused contemplation did
4. that all that was necessary to arrive at
contemplation was to cease meditating.
I believe that these objections did, in fact, puzzle

Molinos. He says, for example, in defense against the

first accusation, "...I say that despite the many times
that I have read the works of this great mystic I have
not been able to see such an opposition." (34) The first
sign is an inability to meditate because we have drawn
what we can through these means, reasons Molinos.
Doesn't the very title of Chapter 13 of this second book
of the Ascent talk about how the spiritual person ought
to purify the intellect of imaginary forms and the
discourse of imagination? Isn't this an active process?
"Therefore... it seems clear that such impotence doesn't
come from infused contemplation as such, and
consequently it will not be a sign of infused
contemplation." (35) Molinos goes on to cite St. John's
passage about how every act of meditation leads to
some kind of loving knowledge, and he fastens
especially on the phrase "so that when they place
themselves in prayer (Si que ponendosi in oratione (si
noti questa parola))," and he comments, "The
contemplation in which the soul can put itself in the
beginning of prayer and that it is able to do whenever
it wishes has to be precisely acquired..." (36) He
supports this line of reasoning with Chapter 35 of the
work of the Institutions attributed to Tauler and on
Quiroga's Ascent of the Soul, and he quotes from
Quiroga's second part of his Ascent: "...in the first part
of the Ascent of the Soul are declared both the substance
and the means of the divine contemplation that we are
able to practice in our mode with the aids of the light of
faith and other common aids of grace." (37) And
Molinos has no hesitation in understanding Quiroga in
this way, for the Carmelite who translated Quiroga's
works into Italian, Padre Baldassaro di Sta. Catarina, he
tells us, has stated the same thing in his introduction to
this work.
It is one thing to talk about infused contemplation, but

it is quite another thing, according to Molinos, to teach
people to put themselves in it. John of the Cross talks
about infused contemplation in some parts of the
Ascent, "but he does not counsel someone to put
himself in it; what he counsels is to put himself in the
acquired and active which is that universal, confused

and loving knowledge of God (noticia universale

confusa ed amorosa di Dio) (which has been acquired
by continual and repeated acts of meditation) quieting
the mind from its discourses and sensible operations
through forms, images, figures and distinct and
particular species." (38) Infused contemplation can't
have rules because it depends uniquely on God.
Molinos returns again to support his arguments with
Padre Baldassaro's Splendori riflessi and Quiroga's
Ascent, Book 2, Ch. 14, where Quiroga asserts that
"Mother Teresa was selected by God to be the grand
mistress of infused contemplation, as the Blessed John
was for the acquired." (39) Molinos creates a whole list
of authors, some of whose names jump out at us:
Antonio di Panes, Gio. Falconi, the Venerable dottore
Rojas, and Navarro.
Molinos will agree that St. John is talking in places of

infused contemplation, and even that in the midst of
the acquired contemplation there is some kind of
infused interior absorption, (40) but even these
admissions do not make up for his wholesale
misinterpretation of the passages from John of the
Cross that he is quoting, and he is, of course, helped in
these misinterpretations by his ability to find texts like
the ones he cites from Quiroga.
In the manuscript of the Defensa someone - perhaps

Molinos himself - has added some marginal notes
about John of the Cross and pasted in a page (17A.v)
which quotes from the Ascent, Book II, Chapter 12,
which deals with the question of imagining God under
any form. Is it possible that Molinos, having known
John of the Cross through Falconi, had now begun to
read him, himself, and to strengthen the references to
him that appear in his Defensa?
But let’s return to our story. The Jesuits, far from

retiring from the field after the condemnation of
Segneri’s and Belluomo’s books, appear goaded to even
greater efforts, and there is a new spate of strokes and
counter strokes. In all of this we are faced with the
same questions in a slightly different fashion that

confronted us before. Are the Jesuits opposed to

Molinos, and what is called "the new contemplation"
because they are too wedded to the way of meditation?
Or is it because they see in these writings on acquired
contemplation a misinterpretation of the Church’s
genuine mystical tradition? Or is it a mixture of both
which, in its turn, is mixed with rivalries among the
different religious orders?
Petrucci, for his part, thinks he is following Teresa of

Avila, and his opponents, in a pamphlet that appears in
1684, turned to her writings to refute him by showing
that for Teresa contemplation cannot be the outcome of
our own efforts. (41) This is the very year when Tomás
de Jesús’ collected works appear in Cologne. Petrucci
imagines that he is following the Carmelite spirituality
of St. Teresa and would be dumbfounded if told that
the mysticism of the two great Carmelite founders
differs markedly from the work of Tomás de Jesús and
Quiroga.
On July 18, 1685 Molinos is arrested. What happened to

tip the scales against him? It is difficult to say exactly
because the process describing his trial has
disappeared, perhaps destroyed to prevent it from
falling into the hands of French troops when they were
menacing Rome in 1777-79. But we do know that an
enormous collection of letters, supposedly numbering
some 12,000, and written to the people he was
directing, was seized. Witnesses also came forward to
describe his alleged lewd behavior. In 1687 Molinos
was condemned and sentenced to prison for life, and
he retracted his errors, which were summed up in 68
propositions in the papal bull Caelestis Pastor. But
interestingly, none of these propositions were taken as
direct quotes from the Spiritual Guide, though all of his
writings were put on the Index. If evidence hadn’t
existed pointing to Molinos’ immoral behavior, would
his opponents have been able to have him condemned
on the strength of the Spiritual Guide? It does not seem
likely. Petrucci had been made a Cardinal in 1685, but
this didn’t prevent propositions drawn from his
writings being condemned in the same year. But his

own retraction and punishment was to be much

milder. Eventually he was restricted to his diocese.
Among the members of the Commission appointed by

Innocent XI to examine the writings of Molinos and
Petrucci was Calced Carmelite Luis Pérez de Castro
whom we saw Pablo Ezquerra writing to. He knew
Petrucci through the Bishop’s efforts to establish the
Carmelites at Jesi, and he knew the writings of John of
the Cross, and perhaps even the doctrine of the Tratado
breve because it was in Ezquerra’s book. Therefore, it is
not surprising that he would be a more nuanced and, at
least in the case of Petrucci, a more sympathetic critic of
acquired contemplation, and in his writings for the
processes of Molinos and Petrucci he has recourse to
John of the Cross, and on occasion to Nicolás de Jesús
María’s Elucidatio, and even to Tomás de Jesús at least
once. (42)
And among the 68 propositions of Molinos

condemned, numbers 41 through 53 played a special
role. They were taken from his own private writings as
a spiritual director, which circulated among his
directees, and were included by his own request, and
they deal with diabolical temptations. Even in perfect
souls, Molinos claimed, the devil can take control of the
body, and without the mind being muddled, the hands
and other members of the body can do things that
would be immoral, but which cannot be imputed as
sins because they are not voluntary. This can even
happen between two people, and the same thing can
happen in terms of blasphemy. These kinds of events
are ways in which God perfects souls by making them
grow in resignation, and they should not be inquieted
about them. It is easy to see what kind of impression
this would make on Molinos’ ecclesiastical judges, and
it would not be surprising if it was these kinds of
statements, coupled with the accusations that he lived
them out, that led to Molinos’ condemnation. Further,
it is easy to understand why at Molinos’ public
retraction at the Church of Santa María sobra Minerva,
the crowds shouted, "Fire! Fire!" to indicate their
preference for his punishment.

But two important points ought not to be lost among

the cries and condemnations. The propositions on
diabolical temptations could shed light on Molinos’
personality in terms of the dynamics between his
conscious and unconscious. And although Molinos
embellishes these temptations with the gilding of
theological self-justifications, they point to the
existence of quasi-autonomous motions coming from
the unconscious that deserve our careful attention.
Further, and this is more to the point we are pursuing,
we could ask whether there is a connection between
these motions and the kind of acquired contemplation
he promoted with its deliberate reduction of conscious
activity. Where does this conscious energy go when it
has been banished? This is not the place to go into these
kinds of questions. I have looked at them in some detail
in St. John of the Cross and Dr. C.G. Jung.
The second point is more in line with our story. It is

unfortunate, as I mentioned before, that the issue of
immorality played such an important role in Molinos’
condemnation. It would have been better for the
subsequent history of Christian mysticism if the central
issue had been Molinos’ Spiritual Guide and his various
defenses of it. Then the question of acquired
contemplation might have come into sharper focus. As
it was, it was but one element in a much more
complicated picture, and as the history of Christian
spirituality subsequent to Molinos’ condemnation
unfolds it is going to remain as contentious an issue as
ever.
In Spain as early as the end of 1682 the Discalced

Carmelite Antonio de Jesús María had been thinking of
refuting Molinos’ Guide. He went on to write four
volumes, one of which was called Antidote Against the
Poison of Molinos, and none of which were printed. (43)
It didn’t take long after Molinos’ arrest in July of 1685
before the local Inquisitions in Spain began to act.
Zaragoza condemned the Guide that September. Jaime
Palafox is not going to escape censure either. The
Inquisition of Palermo writes to the Supreme Council

in Madrid about the Guide and Palafox. Palafox had

taken possession of the Archdiocese of Sevilla in the
spring of 1685, and had written a pastoral letter for a
new edition of the Guide. By that fall the Inquisition
was seizing the edition, and a bitter struggle sprung up
around the Archbishop. Palafox is pictured as standing
with the Guide in one hand, and St. John’s Dark Night in
the other, and declaring that they are twins. In a
pastoral letter of November 1687 he rejects the errors of
Molinos who had, he says, deceived him, but claims
that his own teaching follows Teresa of Avila and John
of the Cross. The Jesuits, however, are still on duty, and
one of them writes a Reflexiones sobre una carta pastoral,
which wants the very notion of acquired contemplation
to be rejected. Palafox turns to the Discalced Carmelites
for help, and receives it from Gabriel de San José and
Juan de la Anunciación.
Gabriel de San José
The efforts of Gabriel de San José (Sánchez Escudero)

(1619?-1690) were undertaken at the end of his life, and
have come down to us in the form of a book-length
manuscript, BNM ms. 13430, called Compendio místico
apologético which he dedicated to the Archbishop. Since
the whole issue hinges on the legitimacy of the idea of
acquired contemplation, Padre Gabriel is at pains to
vindicate this traditional doctrine of the Order. He is
upset that the author of the Reflexiones dares to affirm
that John of the Cross never spoke of acquired
contemplation, and that his signs of when to pass from
meditation to contemplation refer to infused
contemplation. For Padre Gabriel this is unreasonable
because if infused contemplation doesn’t depend on
our own initiative, then there is no point giving rules
about it.
"It is so clear that our Holy Father taught this active

contemplation acquired by our industry," he writes,
"that nothing more is necessary than to read his words
in order to see it…" (44) Then he goes on to cite the by
now typical justification which is the passage where St.
John talks about how many acts of loving knowledge in

meditation leads to a habit of loving knowledge. For

Padre Gabriel since the person praying has been
actively acquiring loving knowledge in meditation, he
or she will continue to do so when it comes to the
confused and loving knowledge St. John is talking
about in this passage in the Ascent: "At the moment it
recollects itself in the presence of God, it enters upon
an act of general, loving, peaceful and tranquil
knowledge, drinking wisdom, love and
delight." (Ascent, 2, 14, 2). Gabriel reasons that St. John
says the soul enters upon (se pone) this act of loving
and general knowledge, which is acquired
contemplation, not that it is placed in it (la ponen) as if
it were infused prayer. (45) But the point that St. John is
making is that because the infused contemplation is
being given, then the soul can recollect itself and enter
into this loving and peaceful knowledge.
Padre Gabriel next amasses his Carmelite authorities,

claiming that their testimony forms an unanswerable
argument that St. John taught acquired contemplation.
He cites Juan de Jesús María, Tomás de Jesús, Antonio
del Espíritu Santo, José del Espíritu Santo, Quiroga and
Felipe de la Santíssima Trinidad.
Juan de la Anunciación
In 1926 Florentio del Niño Jesús found a manuscript in

a public market which his confrere Claudio de Jesús
Crucificado soon published. It was the Consultatio et
responsio de contemplatione acquisita of Juan de la
Anunciación. (46) This work was another response to
the anonymous Jesuit who had attacked the Carta
pastoral of Jaime Palafox. Fr. Juan was a famous
theologian and author of the Cursus theologicus of the
Discalced College at Salamanca. This gained him the
nickname Salamanticensis, and his prowess was such
that he was called "the right eye of the Church," and
when he died the Bishop of Salamanca is said to have
exclaimed, "And who, now, will defend the Church
from heretics?" (47)
In proper scholastic fashion he sets out to demolish his

opponent. First he sets forth the assertions of this

anonymous theologian: there is no kind of
contemplation to be found between meditation and
infused contemplation. Any contemplation that is not
infused is a certain kind of meditation; the Fathers and
doctors never taught active contemplation; John of the
Cross never did, either; active contemplation pertains
to the errors of the Quietists.
Then he amasses his authorities. Pride of place goes to

Antonio Alvarado’s Arte de bien vivir where he has
inserted the Tratado breve: "Duplex est via adeundi hanc
mysticam theologiam, alia activa, alia passiva. There is
a two-fold way of drawing near to this mystical
theology, one active and the other passive." (48)
Alvarado is followed by Antonio de Molina, and Juan

de Jesús María’s Theologia mystica, Tomás de Jesús’ De
contemplatione divina, Andrés de Guadalupe, Quiroga’s
Subida, Vallgornera, Antonio del Espíritu Santo, Luis de
la Puente, Felipe de Santíssima Trinidad, Joseph
Méndez, José del Espíritu Santo, Melchior de
Villanueva, the anonymous author of the Breve práctica
de la oración, Francisco Arias, Alvarez de Paz, Nicolás
de Jesús María, Blasius Francus, and Pedro de
Villalobes.
Quite a list, and I have skipped over two people who

demand special attention. One is Juan de Lezcano
whom we met at the end of Chapter 6 when Juan
Arintero presented him as one of the first public critics
of acquired contemplation. But here he is cited as in
favor of it. (49)
The second the editor leaves unidentified. The text

reads: "Andreas la Carra, in Theologia mystica," which is
our old friend Inocencio de San Andrés in disguise.
And Juan de la Anunciación feels it is enough to cite
one of the chapter headings of this book where it
speaks about the signs to pass from meditation to
contemplation to show that its author is in favor of
acquired contemplation. But it appears that he is citing

the part of Inocencio’s book, Tract 3, Chapter 19, where

Inocencio has transcribed Chapter 13 of John of the
Cross’ Ascent. (50) Certainly, he reasons, it is better to
believe so many doctors and theologians than the
assertions of some unknown theologian.
He goes on to cite John of the Cross at length,

especially in his Ascent of Mt. Carmel. For example, he
quotes St. John's prologue to the Ascent, "Even though
these souls have begun to walk along the road of
virtue, and our Lord desires to place them in the dark
night so they may move on to the divine union, they do
not advance. Sometimes, the reason is, they do not
want to enter the dark night or allow themselves to be
placed in it..." (51) Fr. Juan takes this last phrase as an
indication that St. John is going to speak of two kinds
of contemplation because there are those who don't
want to enter, a reference, he thinks, to acquired
contemplation, and those who don't allow themselves
to be placed, in which he sees a reference to infused
contemplation.
Then he turns to Book 2, Ch. 13 on the signs and cites

the title of the chapter, which in the edition he had
before him reads, "Sets down the signs which the
spiritual person may recognize in himself, in order that
he may begin to detach the understanding from the
imaginary forms and reasonings of meditation." From
this he concludes that the business of the soul is to act
in simple contemplation which takes place after
imaginary forms and discursive meditations. With the
actual heading of the chapter it would have been
harder for him to come to this conclusion, for it reads,
"The signs for recognizing in spiritual persons when
they should discontinue discursive meditation and
pass on to the state of contemplation." (52) Or another
rendering, "Wherein are set down the signs which the
spiritual person will find in himself whereby he will
know at what season it behooves him to leave
meditation and reasoning and pass to the state of
contemplation." (53) Given this perspective he will see
the Quietists at fault for acting like dead men in the
time of contemplation, but John of the Cross, free of

their errors because in the exercise of contemplation, he

recommends, "excellent acts of intellect and will." (54)
Chief among the acts must be counted St. John's
advertence or attention to God. (55)
Juan de la Anunciación goes on at length to contrast the

teaching of the Quietists to that of John of the Cross,
and he ends his treatise with a standard statement of
how he submits his thought to the judgment of the
Church, and interestingly adds, although it may be pro
forma, "I profess my lack of experience in those things
which pertain to mystical theology." (56) He also
responded to a book of Segneri written against Juan
Palafox’s De la vida interior which the latter had
entrusted to the Carmelites before his death with the
instructions to print it if they saw fit. The ensuing
struggle over the book lasted well into the next century
before it was resolved in favor of the Carmelites in
1771. (57)
Between 1687-1690 many spiritual works were put on

the Roman Index. They included Falconi’s Letter to a
Spiritual Daughter, supposedly because a copy was
found in Molinos’ library, and Rojas’ Vida del espíritu.
In a letter from Sevilla on June 22, 1688, its Archbishop
Adolfo Spínola wrote to Marcos de Ostos that the
works of Falconi had been prohibited and that he had
been informed that the works of John of the Cross were
to be prohibited in the vulgar tongue, although this
never happened. (58) On Nov. 12, 1688 the Holy Office
reserved for itself the permission necessary for the
publication of spiritual books, and this was a decree
that was to remain in effect for the first decades of the
next century.
In that same year someone denounced to Rome twenty-

seven spiritual books as contaminated with the errors
of Molinos. They included John of the Cross and
Quiroga. Although the history surrounding this
denunciation appears somewhat murky, it has been
linked with the Capuchin Félix de Alamín who in 1695
was to publish Espejo de verdadera y falsa contemplación.

Félix de Alamín, however, exhibited great admiration

in this book for John of the Cross, and realized that
both John and Teresa speak in many places of the
faculties of the soul not working. But this does not
mean that the soul intentionally suspends its
operations. Rather, it should be understood that when
God raises the soul to supernatural contemplation, He,
Himself suspends these operations by supernatural
means, and obviously this is quite a different thing. (59)
But in 1695 and again in 1700 Alamín, himself, is said
to have denounced Quiroga’s Subida to the Spanish
Inquisition. This attack was not to go unanswered by
the Carmelites, especially Quentino di S. Carlo, who
wrote a Delatio delationis which succeeded in having the
Espejo condemned in 1709. (60) The Discalced
Carmelite Cristóbal de San José who took part in this
struggle later commented, perhaps with a bit of glee,
that Alamín "incidit in foveam quam fecit," that is, he
fell in the fire that he had made. The Jesuit Juan Casini,
however, continued the battle against Quiroga’s Subida
by trying to show the similarities between Quiroga’s
book and the teachings of Molinos. In 1750 the Subida
was finally condemned on the grounds that acquired
contemplation could lead to the errors of the Quietists.
But in 1771, after the Jesuits had been expelled from
Spain, the condemnation was reversed. This debate
also contained extraneous matters about whether the
printed copy of the Subida conformed to the original
manuscript. (61)
These interminable struggles in the aftermath of

Molinos’ condemnation were to have a chilling effect
on the mystical fervor that was so wide-spread during
the 17th century. A night of mysticism is beginning that
will last until the last part of the 19th century. There
will continue to be genuine contemplatives, but wide-
spread popular interest in contemplation will diminish.
The fires of mysticism will not be extinguished, but
they will smolder away underground, waiting for a
new day, and buried with them will be the unresolved
questions surrounding acquired contemplation.
A new kind of literature is born which no longer

purports to show the sure and rapid way to scale the

heights of contemplation but is devoted to
distinguishing genuine contemplation from the errors
of Quietism as codified in the 68 condemned
propositions of Molinos. It is enough to list them:
Francisco Posadas, Triunfos de la castidad contra la lujuria
diabólica de Molinos, Cordova 1698, which deals with
propositions 41-53; Pedro Sánchez, Quodlibeta divi
Thomae… ad mysticas doctrinas applicata, Seville 1719;
and Vincente Calatayud, Divus Thomas… spurcissimas
tenebrae mysticam theologiam obscurae Molientes angelice
dissipans, Valencia in 5 volumes between 1744-1753.
More interesting are the writings of the Franciscan

Antonio Arbiol (died 1726) with his Desenganos místicos
(1706) and his Mística fundamental del Cristo Señor
nuestro explicada por el glorioso y beato padre San Juan de la
Cruz (1723) that comments on the cautions of St. John.
Arbiol admired John of the Cross, but I think an
examination of his book would show that he admired
active contemplation, as well. Molinos’ use of acquired
contemplation did not mark a turning away from it.
The Carmelites, as we have seen, still championed it. So
many years had passed since Tomás’ sojourn at
Batuecas, and so many talented men of the Order had
approved it that it had long since become unthinkable
that it could be wrong.
This time of decline could not have been easy on the

Carmelites known for their mission of expounding the
higher reaches of the life of prayer. In 1688, the
Definitory General, led by Alonso de la Madre de Dios,
resolved not to permit the publication of any books on
mysticism and prayer because of the dangers of the
time. (62) And in 1759 we find the General of the
Order, Pablo de la Concepción, addressing to Pope
Clement XIII a Lamento Teresianum in which he
complains that their school has been labeled "an
abominable plague on the Church."
If after the condemnation of Molinos we have seen how

a whole genre of anti-Molinos literature sprang up, the
20th century, in its turn, has seen a re-evaluation of

Molinos and of the so-called pre-Quietists, especially

Falconi. We can find it in the work of men like Elías
Gómez, José Tellecea, M. Andrés Martín, and Eulogio
Pacho. They saw that if one were to carefully read the
works of Molinos and Falconi, they are representative
of a certain spiritual current of those times. We could
say that they are simply exponents of the doctrine of
acquired contemplation, and as far as this judgment
goes, it is a corrective to former attitudes. Indeed, the
only way we can understand the praise that gilded
Molinos’ Spiritual Guide when it appeared in 1675 is by
realizing that to even educated spiritual readers it did
not appear as a departure from the flood of spiritual
literature in the 17th century about the path to
contemplation.
Eulogio Pacho takes a necessary further step, and

shows how Molinos’ work had certain characteristics
that distinguish it from the best spiritual writers of his
time. His over-insistence on the way of acquired
contemplation in relationship to both meditation and
infused contemplation is one example, and his ideas on
how the active acquired contemplation lasted until
formally revoked is another. Much the same criticisms
could be leveled against Falconi as E. Allison Peers has
done. But in substance, and especially when it comes to
acquired contemplation, as a simple and loving
attentiveness Molinos, to Pacho’s mind, is teaching the
same doctrine of John of the Cross and the early
Carmelites. And there is a certain truth to this, as well,
if we understand it to mean teaching a doctrine that is
very close to how the early Carmelites understood John
of the Cross. But it is important to take a third step and
realize that John of the Cross never taught an active or
acquired contemplation, and the doctrines of Falconi
and Molinos are guilty not only of exaggeration, but
suffer from fundamental structural flaws.
Notes


p. 74, note 5.
2. Vicente de Peralta, "Místicos Franciscanos" pp.
285-286.
3. Rafael López-Melús, Escuela de perfección, p. 21.
4. Francisco Miguel Rosell, Inventario General, Vol.
II.
5. Rafael López-Melús, Escuela de perfección, p. 64.
6. Ramón Robres, "En torno de Miguel de
Molinos," p. 424, 432. Panes’ book at the Vatican:
Bibl. Apost. Vat. S. Offizio, 198.
7. See the Panes section in Melquiades Andrés
Martín, Los Recogidos.
8. Antonio Panes, La escala mística, p. 32.
9. Ibid., p. 40.
10. Ibid., pp. 71-72; Jean Krynen, Saint Jean de la
Croix..., p. 340, note 7 following Robres, "En
torno..." p. 429, thinks that Panes is copying
Quiroga, perhaps with this passage.
11. Ibid., p. 62.
12. Ibid., p. 140.
13. Miguel de Molinos, Guía espiritual, Tellechea
edition, p. 108.
14. Ibid., p. 114.
15. Ibid., p. 381ff.
16. Ibid., p. 115.
17. Ibid., p. 66.
18. Ibid., p. 81.
20. Miguel de Molinos, Guía espiritual, Tellechea
edition, pp. 389-390.
21. For the history of Quietism in Spain and Italy,
see Eulogio Pacho, "Quiétisme," in the
Dictionnaire de spiritualité.
22. Miguel de Molinos, Defensa de la contemplación,
edition of Eulogio Pacho, p. 35.
23. Ibid., p. 68.
24. Ibid., p. 124.
25. Ibid., p. 131.
26. Ibid., p. 68.
27. Ibid., p. 136.
28. Ibid., p. 140.
29. Ibid., p. 178.

30. Ibid., p. 179.

31. Ibid.
32. Ibid., p. 182.
33. Ibid.
34. Ibid., p. 282.
35. Ibid.
36. Ibid., p. 283.
37. Ibid., p. 284.
38. Ibid., pp. 284-285.
39. Ibid., p. 286.
40. Ibid., p. 279.
41. "Pierre Matthieu Petrucci," DS, 2772.
42. Pablo Garrido, "San Juan de la Cruz..." p. 93.
43. Matías del Niño Jesús, "El P. Antonio de Jesús
María..."
44. Matías del Niño Jesús, "Una obra interesante..."
p. 65
45. Ibid., p. 66.
46. Juan de la Anunciación, Consultatio et responsio.
47. Ibid., p. 16.
48. Ibid., p. 53
49. Ibid., p. 56.
50. Fortunado Antolín, "Inocencio de San Andrés..."
p. 126.
51. Ascent, Prologue, 3. K. p. 70.
52. Ascent, Book 2, Chapter 13. K. p. 140.
53. Ascent, Book 2, Chapter 13. P. p. 132.
54. Juan de la Anunciación, Consultatio et responsio,
p. 92.
55. Ibid., p. 109.
56. Ibid., p. 128.
57. HCD, IX, p. 91.
58. Elías Gómez, Juan de Falconi, p. 156.
p. 139.
60. Valentino di Santa María, "Una apologia..."
61. Ibid., p. 434.
62. HCD, IX, p. 78.

CHAPTER 11:
THE DARK NIGHT OF THE MYSTICS
As the echoes of the Quietist controversies died down

in the first decades of the 18th century, a long, dark
night of the mystics began to set in. As Gabriel de
Sainte-Marie-Magdeleine characterized it: "a wind of
death blew on the whole second half of the eighteenth
century until the end of the nineteenth century.
Mystical theology gave no sign of life."
This decline is reflected in the frequency with which

John of the Cross’ Collected Works appeared in Spanish:
In the period of mystical fervor: 1618, 1619, 1630, 1635,

1649, 1672, 1679, 1693, 1694, 1700, 1701, 1703.
Then the pace slows dramatically as the night takes

hold: 1724, 1774, 1847, 1872.
After which the renewal of mystical theology begins:

another edition in 1872, then 1883, 1906, 1906, 1912-
1914, 1925, 1926, 1929-1931, and so forth.
Another example illustrates the same trend. The Jesuit

Jean Pierre de Caussade, 1675-1751, saw his Instructions
spirituels appear in 1741, but the meditation that made
up his L’Abandon à providence divine passed secretly
from hand to hand and did not appear until 1861. As
tempting as it might be to skip over this period, and go
straight to the 20th century, it was not a total black hole,
and we should make some effort to bridge this gap.
Jean-Nicolas Grou
The Jesuit, Jean-Nicolas Grou (1731-1803) in his Manual

For Interior Souls, knows of a prayer that he calls "the
dark way of pure faith," (1) but this is not an acquired
contemplation. "We cannot enter of ourselves upon this

way," he tells us, and a little while later he writes: "...

the chief sign by which we may know that God wishes
to lead a soul into it is when that soul has no longer the
same liberty of using its faculties in prayer that it
formerly had; when it is able no longer to apply itself to
a particular subject, to draw from it reflections and
affections; but when it feels within itself, instead, a
certain delicious peace which is above all expression,
which takes the place of everything else and which
forces it, so to speak, to keep itself in quiet and in
silence." This passage contains the essential elements of
St. John’s transition from meditation to contemplation.
Giovanni Battista Scaramelli
Another Jesuit, Giovanni Battista Scaramelli (1687-

1752), wrote a Il direttorio mistico which appeared in
Venice in 1754. It had been written by 1743 but had
undergone revisions demanded by the censors. He
makes use of the words acquired contemplation, but
this contemplation is not truly acquired. It is infused.
And according to Scaramelli it takes more than the
habit of the gifts of the Holy Spirit to be a
contemplative. Their activation is necessary, as well, or
otherwise every Christian would be a contemplative.
Further, even though contemplation may appear to be
born out of meditation, it is never, strictly speaking, the
result of our own efforts. The words acquired
contemplation in Scaramelli, Roland Dalbiez tells us in
his masterful study on acquired contemplation, can
only be used with a "limitation and restriction of
terms." (2)
Dominicus Schram
The Benedictine Dominicus Schram in his Institutionis

theologiae misticae of 1774 realizes "that the very word
mystic arouses nausea and fear in many believers." (3)
Following the Jesuit Manuel-Ignacio de la Reguera
(1668-1747), he divides contemplation into ordinary
and extraordinary, and while he says that one might
call this ordinary contemplation acquired, he
immediately restricts this term so as to make it

virtually meaningless. It requires a "new grace," (4) and

while it might be called natural in comparison to
extraordinary contemplation, "nevertheless ordinary
contemplation is essentially supernatural and
infused." (5)
Alphonsus Liguori
The great moralist, St. Alphonsus Liguori (1696-1787)

was not unaware of the debate over Quietism; in fact,
his mother had been accused of being one. In his Praxis
confessarii, a Practical Guide for Confessors, he talked
about acquired contemplation, but he uses this term,
not to designate a true contemplative prayer, but
rather, one that can be genuinely acquired and which is
identical to what we know as affective prayer.
Following Segneri, he admits that this is an acquired
contemplation in the sense that the practice of
meditation can lead someone to grasp quickly and
synthetically truths that were formerly laboriously
sought after. But he cannot see any reason why this
kind of contemplation should lead to a cessation of the
acts of the will. Indeed, this kind of recollection of the
intellect is the ideal climate for the exercise of the will.
All these authors found a way to resolve the thorny

issue of acquired contemplation. St. Alphonsus, as we
just saw, turns it into affective prayer, so it is
contemplative only in a very general sense. Scaramelli
and Schram make it into infused contemplation so it is
not really acquired at all, and for Grou the dark way of
faith is no different than infused contemplation.
José del Espíritu Santo
But let’s return to the Carmelites. We can look to José

del Espíritu Santo, el Andalou (1667-1736) and his
Cursus theologiae mistico-scholasticae, which appeared in
six volumes between 1710 and 1740 and was still
incomplete, for the culmination of the teaching of the
Carmelite School on acquired contemplation. Since he
was writing using the strict logical forms of scholastic

debate we would expect his formulation of the doctrine

of acquired contemplation to be particularly clear. But
as Roland Dalbiez has shown in detail, he ends up
contradicting himself. He claims in different places that
acquired contemplation is both acquired and not
acquired, and that it is, and is not, a contemplation. (6)
He describes it as a contemplation we can do with our
own efforts whenever we wish, but in order to avoid
the problems that would arise if he claimed that a
contemplative can always be in a state of
contemplation and never have the need of meditation –
a proposition that had already been condemned by
Pope Innocent XII against Fenelón – he modified his
view concerning the acquirability of this contemplation
and states that what we can obtain by our own
industry is not the same as saying we can do it
whenever we want. (7)
He runs into similar difficulties when he tries to

reconcile the commonly accepted opinion that
contemplation comes about through an activation of
the gifts of the Holy Spirit so that the contemplative is
disposed to be moved in a higher way. But to
distinguish acquired contemplation from infused
contemplation, he says that the gifts operate in both,
but in different ways. They operate fully in infused
contemplation, while in acquired contemplation their
activation is tempered by the human condition. He
follows Quiroga in calling Teresa the mistress of
infused contemplation and John the master of acquired
contemplation, and he calls Tomás de Jesús the
"prodigy of the century." The constant difficulties that
José del Espíritu Santo fell into can serve as a fitting
culmination to this first phase of the story of acquired
contemplation.
Andrés de la Encarnación
There is only one person left to hear from on this

matter, and that is the great Carmelite historian,
Andrés de la Encarnación (1716-1795). In the 1750s he
was given the job of preparing a new edition of the
works of John of the Cross, as well as reorganizing the

general archives of the Order. We have already met

him hesitating about the attribution of the Tratado breve
to John of the Cross, about which he finally arrived at a
positive conclusion. "Also I change now my opinion
that the work should be published as doubtful; because
each day it seems to me more clearly that of the saint…
Others, not us, ought to render a verdict about it." (8)
And others apparently attempted to come to a verdict,

for we find in the inventory book of the general
archives a notice about a commission that was
established, in part, to examine the authenticity of the
work. (9) Andrés’ edition of John of the Cross, which
he worked upon so assiduously and in a more critical
manner than his predecessors, was never published,
but a large part of his preparatory work survived in the
form of his Memorias historiales, and these manuscripts,
which are to be found in the Biblioteca Nacional in
Madrid, have provided a rich trove of information for
Carmelite scholars of the 20th century, and were finally
published in 1993.
What did Andrés think about the idea of acquired

contemplation? Given his enthusiasm for the Tratado
breve, we would imagine that he strongly favored it,
and in fact, his Memorias historiales show this to be true.
He agrees with the opinion that Carmelites, according
to their very vocation, are gravely obligated not only to
meditation and discursive prayer, but to "acquired
contemplation which, we will see, is that which our
saint teaches us." (10) And this is an "amorosa atencion"
towards God. (11) Andrés also cites approvingly
Tomás de Jesús’ work in the context of acquired
contemplation when talking about the ladder of
contemplation which is made up of acquired, infused
and seraphic contemplation, and which follows Tomás
de Jesús who teaches it in his six books of De
contemplatio divina. "And in the other mystical works of
this author are to be found most useful and superb
things for the end we are talking about." (12)
According to Andrés, John of the Cross is treating of a

contemplación de fe adquirida, while Teresa treats of

infused contemplation, and if there is any opposition

between Teresa and other mystics, and John of the
Cross, we must be sure not to do anything that would
harm St. John’s doctrine of acquired contemplation.
God gave John of the Cross this "most particular light
and gift," (13) which phrase makes us think of Quiroga
who is cited elsewhere in this section.
Andrés includes in his pleadings to his superiors for a

new edition of St. John’s writings a similar request
from José de Jesús María, a Definitor General written in
Madrid in 1760, who finds a wonderful conformity
between Teresa and John. Both guide us in the path of
prayer by meditation and "both teach us acquired
recollection either by means of meditation or by means
of the contemplation they call acquired." (14) And both
mention supernatural recollection, and say much more
on the prayer of quiet. But for José de Jesús María, the
three signs of John of the Cross "only serve for infused
contemplation and not for an acquired
contemplation." (15) This is a very grave and practical
matter, according to Padre José, and ought to be the
subject for some notes in the proposed edition. This
particular point does not please Andrés who claims
that for José de Jesús María this infused contemplation
is not the regular infused contemplation given to many,
but a more extraordinary one. (16) It appears, however,
that this José de Jesús María would fall in the company
of Agustín de San José in the 17th century and Jérome
de la Mère de Dieu (1870-1954) in the 20th century as
Discalced Carmelites who opposed the idea of acquired
contemplation.
Notes
1. John Grou, Manual for Interior Souls, p. 249.

2. Roland Dalbiez, "La Controverse..." p. 131.
3. Henri Daniel-Rops, The Church in the Eighteenth
Century, p. 363.
4. Dominicus Schram, Théologie Mystique, p. 505.
5. Ibid., p. 506.
7. Ibid., p. 90.

8. Simeón de la Sagrada Familia, Inventario..., p. 5.

9. Andrés de la Encarnación, Memorias historiales,
Vol. III, p. 19.
10. Ibid., p. 120.
11. Ibid., p. 20.
12. Ibid., p. 31.
13. Ibid., p. 43.
14. Ibid., p. 413.
15. Ibid., p. 420.
16. Ibid., pp. 386, 389, 398. Ms. 1360 of the Library of
the University of Barcelona is the catalog of the
library of the Carmelite Monastery of San José in
that city, and it dates from 1834, which is just
before the suppression of the Order. It shows
that the library contained both Alvarado’s Arte
de bien vivir, as well as Juan Bretón’s book, as
well. Ms. 1361, another catalog of the library,
shows the presence of Quiroga’s Subida, and
some of the works of Tomás de Jesús.
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From St. John of the Cross to Us, Part III
Part III: THE MYSTICAL REVIVALS

OF THE 20TH CENTURY
Chapter 12: The First Revival
CHAPTER 12:
THE FIRST REVIVAL
During the last decades of the 19th century mystical

studies began to revive, perhaps under the impetus
of the Thomist renaissance that was renewing
theology and philosophy. In 1885, for example,
André-Marie Meynard wrote his Traité de la vie
intérieur, and during the following year the Carmelite
Berthold-Ignace de Sainte Anne published his version
of Tomás de Jesús’ De contemplatione acquisita. The
Carmelite Order was restored in Spain in 1868 and
the Revista San Juan de la Cruz was founded in 1890,
and another Carmelite review, El Monte Carmelo, was
created in 1900. And with this revival the unresolved
issue of acquired contemplation came back to life
again.
Augustín François Poulain
One of the leaders of this revival was Augustín

François Poulain (1836-1919) who had joined the
Jesuits and taught mathematics for many years. But
he had a deep practical interest in mysticism which
first showed itself in articles on John of the Cross
which were collected in a booklet and published in
1893. In 1901 he wrote in the Preface of his just
published Grâces d’oraison: "In thirty years I have

come to know 33 persons who seem to have real

supernatural graces, and nine who have false
visions." (1) It saw many editions in French and was
translated into English, German, Italian and Spanish.
It was a wide-ranging description of the various
states in the life of prayer fortified by many
quotations from the saints and spiritual writers.
There were those who thought that such a book was
imprudent, but it was credited with popularizing
mysticism and helping to spark a revival of mystical
studies. "He opened, or rather reopened, a road
almost closed to the great majority since the 17th
century." (2)
But Poulain’s book also raised many questions about

the nature of mystical experience: Who was called to
contemplation? How did mystical experience relate
to the rest of the spiritual life? What was the role of
the gifts of the Holy Spirit? And so forth. But what
interests us about this revival is the issue of acquired
contemplation. Poulain had championed the idea of
acquired contemplation in his study of John of the
Cross, and was to do so again here, and he had
revived it under the heading of the prayer of
simplicity.
The dark night of sense is a kind of prayer of

simplicity as far as its outer appearances go. It is a
state of either sweet or bitter aridity, and a simple
gaze directed towards God. But there is a hidden
element, as well. "God begins to exercise upon the
soul the action that characterizes the prayer of quiet,
but He does this in too slight a degree for us to be
conscious of it." (3) We are faced with "an "incomplete"
or "sub-mystic union." (4) But Poulain is not content
with this rather good reading of John of the Cross. He
believes that there is another prayer of simplicity that
is equivalent to acquired contemplation. It is a
simplification of affective prayer in which intuition
largely replaces reason, and "affections and
resolutions show little variety." (5) This description
would be unremarkable and unobjectionable if what
Poulain had in mind was to describe those

culminating moments when normal discursive

activity ends in intuition and a loving gaze at God.
But he goes on to describe a kind of prayer of
simplicity that approaches the mystic state which he
calls the prayer of loving attention to God. (6) This is
the often recommended exercise of the presence of
God, but one which is "confused and with few or no
reasonings." (7) The soul is not idle, but works, he
tells us, "only more simply, more gently…" (8) But we
are left with the impression that discourse and reason
have somehow yielded to intuition, and the normal
working of the faculties to something else: "There are
many moments when the faculties are employed as
in ordinary meditation, and where they work,
therefore, in the usual way." (9) But often, the soul
feels distaste for meditation. "This, as we shall shortly
see, is an unequivocal sign that the prayer of simple
regard is the result of a divine action." Nor should we
"make any efforts to introduce ourselves into the
prayer of simplicity." (10) We should not say to
ourselves "I will try systematically to suppress all
distinctive acts… and I will compel myself to be
content with the simple attention to God with a gaze
of love." If we did this prayer solely by our own
efforts, it would be "of no advantage to us." (11)
In one form or another the prayer of simplicity as

Poulain describes it is drawing to itself the qualities
that he had given to the special prayer of simplicity
that appeared in the dark night of sense. He asserts
that John of the Cross teaches us that the signs he has
given us concerning the transition from meditation to
contemplation can be applied to another less elevated
situation, that is, "to the whole of that time in which
Our Lord communicates the simple, general, and
loving attention." (12) He bolsters this argument by
quoting John of the Cross from The Living Flame of
Love where he says, "He (God) is now secretly and
quietly infusing wisdom into the soul, together with
the loving knowledge of Himself, independently of
these divers acts, without their being multiplied or
elicited." (13) By now it is clear that what starts off as a
sort of simplified affective prayer has become an

acquired contemplation which is clothing itself with

the characteristics of infused contemplation.
Poulain’s work was not to go unchallenged. In 1893

the Capuchin Ludovic de Besse, in his Éclairissements
sur les oeuvres de Saint Jean de la Croix – which had
been written in 1860 and had circulated in
manuscript – claimed that the prayer of simple
regard that Poulain was calling acquired
contemplation was, in fact, a mystic state. And in
1896, Auguste Saudreau in his Les Degrees de la vie
spirituelle asserted that the prayer of simple regard
was an aspect of the prayer of quiet. Émile Lamballe
in his 1912 Mystical Contemplation devoted an
appendix to showing that for him loving attention is
contemplation itself. (14) Thus started the second
debate over acquired contemplation that was going
to last through the first half of the 20th century.
J.V. Bainvel, who in 1922 thought it necessary to add

an introduction to the 10th French edition of Poulain’s
Graces of Interior Prayer that stretched over 100 pages,
left us a schema that can help us begin to decipher
the various currents in this renewed debate over
acquired contemplation. He finds three schools in the
loose sense of the term in the field of mystical studies
in general. The first had formed around Poulain and
included Dom Vital Lehoedy and Adolph Tanquerey,
and believed in a distinction between acquired and
infused contemplation. The second school of
Saudreau included Ludovic de Besse and Père
Lamballe, and rejected that distinction. (15) And
there was a third Dominican school led by Juan
Arintero and Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange. It is
worth looking at the views of Saudreau in more
detail to get used to the new language that is now
going to be used to deal with the old and vexing
problem of acquired contemplation.
Auguste Saudreau
Auguste Saudreau (1859-1946) who was a diocesan

priest, spent many years as the chaplain of the Sisters

of the Bon Pasteur in Angers. In 1896 he published
his Les degrés de la vie spirituelle. For Saudreau the
great masters of the mystical life know only mystical
contemplation. They include John of the Cross,
Teresa of Avila, and Francis de Sales. The loving
attention that John of the Cross talks about "out of
which certain authors have tried to make a non-
mystic contemplation, is absolutely the same as
quietude or mystical contemplation." (16) While it is
true that meditation leads to a certain kind of
contemplation, this is a state that lasts only
momentarily. If acquired contemplation did not come
from the great saints like John of the Cross, where
did it come from? Saudreau, following Arintero,
finds the first mention of it in Antonio Alvarado’s
book, and he thinks that Tomás de Jesús was the first
Carmelite to speak of these two kinds of
contemplation. But he feels that it is not useful to
bring into the discussion Tomás’ work on acquired
contemplation that first appeared in 1886 since it
could not have influenced the early emergence of the
term acquired contemplation. (17)
Saudreau believed that a doctrine similar to his own

can be found in the work of Pierre de Clorivière in his
Manuel sur la prière et l’oraison ready for publication in
1778, but delayed to the early years of the 19th
century. Among modern authors he feels a special
kinship with E. Lamballe who died in March of 1914,
Ludovic de Besse, who died in 1910, and Père Jean de
la Croix, who died in 1919. He applauds Dom Vital
Lehoedy’s criticism of those who created parallel
paths of acquired and infused contemplation, but he
is unhappy with the use that he has made of the
words acquired contemplation even though he saw it
as the "second phase of affective prayer" in which
God is secretly pouring into the soul His light and
warmth. (18)
Juan Arintero, OP
Juan Gonzalez-Arintero (1860-1928) is credited with

leading the revival of mystical studies in Spain. He

carried on a correspondence with August Saudreau
and Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange. In the wake of the
Teresan Congress of 1923 that had promoted
acquired contemplation he published a series of
articles in La Ciencia Tomista vehemently opposing
the whole idea which were collected in 1925 in his La
Veredera mystica tradicional. He soon regretted its
polemical tone, but died before he could publish a
revised edition. This second edition did not appear
until 1980 under the direction of Arturo Alonso Lobo.
After Padre Arintero’s articles began to appear, the

Discalced Carmelites quickly responded. Juan
Vicente de Jesús María wrote a Carta abierta al Rdo.
Padre Arintero, OP, sobre la contemplación adquirida,
couching his outrage in flowery terms which ran on
for 75 pages and ended with the evocation of his
Carmelite brother of centuries ago in regard to the
work of Arbiol "Incidit in foviam quam fecit." He
begins by focusing on Arintero’s translation of the
phrase from Tomás de Jesús’ De contemplatione
acquisita: "Nullum esse contemplationem, quae
supernaturale et divino modo contingen posit, quae
non itiam posit nostra industria comparare." Arintero
renders this as: "There is no manner of supernatural
contemplation that cannot also be acquired," while
Padre Vicente insists it should read: "There is no
contemplation that can be had in a divine and
supernatural way that cannot also be arrived at by
our own industry." And he goes on to try to illustrate
the difference between meditation, acquired
contemplation, and infused contemplation. Let’s
imagine, he supposes, that we are in a dark room
with the sun shining outside, and that there are three
ways to illuminate the objects within: a candle
(meditation), a skylight which is beyond our reach
through which the sun streams in and falls upon the
objects (infused contemplation), and a window which
we can open (acquired contemplation). (19) We need
not follow Padre Vicente on to this terrain except to
note that his foray was quickly met by an equally
flowery and vehement response on the part of

Ignacio Menéndez-Reigada, a disciple of Arintero, in

a broadside that he called La Contemplación adquirida y
la escuela pseudo-Teresiana.
These kind of debates were to go on for years. In

1928, for example, not long after St. John was
declared a doctor of the Church, the Carmelites held
a congress in Madrid in his honor. In the first of its
private sessions it solemnly proclaimed over some
objection that it was acquired contemplation that
John was writing about in the Ascent and that the
three signs of the Ascent indicated the time for the
soul to place itself in this contemplation. (20)
In 1942 the Discalced Carmelite, Doroteo de la

Sagrada Familia, wrote a Guía espiritual de la
contemplación adquirida según la doctrina del místico
doctor de la iglesia, San Juan de la Cruz y sus discípulos,
which he intended to be a practical guide to acquired
contemplation, and to that end he arranged his work
in a series of questions and answers. He cites the 1928
Congress on mysticism held in Madrid to the effect
that "this active or acquired contemplation is,
according to St. John of the Cross, most advantageous
for the soul since with it it truly leaves the life of
sense and places itself in the true life of the spirit,
uniting itself to God in perfect union, and is the final
term of progress and prayer for the larger part of
those who exercise themselves in the life of the spirit
since not all, nor even half of them God raises to
infused contemplation. Why? He alone knows." (21)
Chapters 11 through 13 of Book II of the Ascent
demonstrate that St. John is the master of acquired
contemplation. He had a special gift to take
contemplative souls quickly from discursive prayer
and put them in contemplation. (22) Indeed, it is John
of the Cross who instructed St. Teresa in this form of
prayer. (23) Acquired contemplation comes in two
forms: that of pure faith taught by John of the Cross,
and that of simple and loving recollection found in
St. Teresa. Pure faith is brought about by the
emptying of images and particular kinds of
knowledge. What remains is a general, confused and

universal knowledge of God. (24) Once discourse

ceases St. John teaches souls to remain in this
attentive and loving quietude "without working
actively, but not being idle; because according to St.
John of the Cross not working is not the same as
being idle." (25) John of the Cross talks of acquired,
loving knowledge in The Ascent but infused loving
knowledge in The Dark Night. There is no need to
analyze all this. The departure it makes from John of
the Cross’ doctrine is clear enough.
Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, OP
Many of the articles of Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange

(1877-1964) on contemplation had appeared in the Vie
Spirituelle and were collected and published in 1923
as Perfection chrétienne et Contemplation selon St.
Thomas d’Aquin et St. Jean de la Croix. For him
acquired contemplation is the same as simplified
affective prayer, (26) and it is equivalent to St.
Teresa’s active recollection. If it is called
contemplation, it then departs from the customary
terminology in which contemplation means infused
contemplation. John of the Cross is speaking of
infused contemplation in the Dark Night, and the
"contemplation he describes in his earlier work, The
Ascent of Mount Carmel, is not specifically
different." (27) "To acquired contemplation, which the
quietists continually recommended to everybody,
they applied what the saints say about infused
contemplation… As Fr. Dudon, S.J., has justly
observed, Molinos believed that St. John of the Cross,
in The Ascent of Mount Carmel, spoke only of acquired
contemplation." (28)
In 1922 Dom Cuthbert Butler published his Western

Mysticism which dealt with the teachings of
Augustine, Gregory and Bernard on the
contemplative life, and he profited from the
questions and criticisms that the appearance of the
book raised to add a long section of afterthoughts to
the second edition of 1926. These afterthoughts
centered on the renewal of mysticism and the

question of acquired contemplation. First he sets the

scene: "During the eighteenth and the nineteenth
centuries the idea had come to be accepted as well
established, that, apart from special and unusual
calls, the normal mental prayer for all was systematic
discursive meditation according to fixed method: this
was taken to be the lifelong exercise of mental prayer
for those embarked on a spiritual life – priests,
religious, nuns, devout layfolk. Contemplation was
looked on as something extraordinary, almost
identified with visions, revelations, raptures, even
stigmatization and levitation, and other such psycho-
physical phenomena. Thus contemplation and
mystical theology had come to be regarded as
wonderful, even miraculous; to be admired from a
safe distance, and left alone as dangerous and full of
pitfalls. Such was the common view, such the
common practice, almost taken for granted at the end
of the nineteenth century." )29)
Butler goes on to trace the revival of mystical studies

we have just been looking at through the work of
Poulain, Saudreau, etc., and he insists on the
importance of Farges’ The Mystical Phenomena and the
work of Bishop Hedley who wrote an article, as we
have seen, on prayer and contemplation in 1876 on
the occasion of the reissuing of Augustine Baker’s
Sancta Sophia. But when we get to his evaluation of
John of the Cross we find that he is a partisan of the
doctrine of acquired contemplation. St. Teresa, he
feels, recommends that we should not try to silence
the faculties, but this "is entirely counter to St. John’s
attitude," for the whole of The Ascent is given over to
an active emptying. (30) Her contemplation is
conscious and perceptible, while his is not. And
while he recognizes that St. John calls his loving
attention infused contemplation, he still finds it close
to Baker’s aspirations, and something which by
practice "can come to be secured more or less at
will." (31) The prayer of loving attention, or as it is
called, the prayer of faith or simplicity or simple
regard is "according to St. John of the Cross, infused
contemplation; and it ought to be, and is, ordinarily

within the reach of men of good will…" (32) We are

back at the paradoxes we have seen before, and there
is no need to explore Butler’s views further.
E. Allison Peers
Among the English speaking scholars of Carmelite

mysticism a special place should be given to E.
Allison Peers who translated Silverio de Santa
Teresa’s editions of St. Teresa and St. John and wrote
his own extensive three volume Studies of the Spanish
Mystics. Peers, a professor of languages at the
University of Liverpool, spent many of his vacations
in the libraries of Spain making meticulous
bibliographical notes on the often rare volumes of
16th and 17th century spirituality that they contained.
He had also thought to do another volume for his
studies of the Spanish mystics, but his death in 1952
prevented him. Among his papers in the archives of
the University of Liverpool are to be found many
bibliographical notes but hardly anything relating to
this proposed volume. Peers exhibits no real aversion
to the idea of acquired contemplation despite his
criticisms of Juan Falconi.
Gabriel de Sainte-Marie-Magdeleine
Gabriel de Sainte-Marie-Magdeleine (1893-1953)

sums up these years of often impassioned arguments:
"The fact is that, after some years of wrangling, the
struggle died down, leaving both parties, however, in
their respective positions. Neither could claim the
victory, but both were tired of repeating the same
arguments. And the combat finished for want of
combatants!" (33) Père Gabriel, himself, was always
of a more irenic disposition and believed that a true
reconciliation of views was possible. His own work
provides us with a summary, if not of the Carmelite
position, at least of a well thought-out Carmelite
viewpoint towards the end of this renewed debate
over acquired contemplation. After long historical
researches, he believed that what the Carmelite
School calls acquired contemplation is what John of

the Cross describes in Book II of The Ascent and Book

I of The Dark Night. "Such was the practically
unanimous interpretation of the Saint’s doctrine
during the whole of the first century of the
School." (34) It contains both an active and a passive
element. The passive is the beginning of divine
infusion and the working of the gifts of the Holy
Spirit, while the active is a simplified activity of the
soul which is "loving attention to the presence of
God, with a gaze of faith…" (35) But the infused
element is hidden and usually remains unperceived.
When aridity makes us unable to meditate, we may
well be being invited to exercise ourselves in looking
lovingly at God. Indeed, it is this loving infusion
hidden from the soul that facilitates this loving gaze.
Besides infused contemplation that makes the soul
conscious of the divine activity within it, there is a
much lower yet real contemplation "wherein a
hidden divine inflowing comes to help the formation
of a ‘habit’ of looking lovingly at God…" (36)
This contemplation is much more common, but

because it is hidden, it often remains unrecognized,
yet is "offered to practically all those who are willing
to fit themselves for it, as they should." (37) All this is
derived from the teaching of John of the Cross. "It is
simply obvious the prayer described by him the
second book of The Ascent and called contemplation
cannot be identified with the prayer of quiet." It is a
contemplation "in which God does not make Himself
felt." (38) And so it has been called by the Carmelite
School common, ordinary, active, or acquired
contemplation.
The perspective of Père Gabriel and many writers

like him is important to grasp. They are spiritual
directors interested in the proper guidance to give to
people in the life of prayer, and this perspective takes
priority over an analysis of the intimate nature of
contemplation, itself. Père Gabriel gives us an
interesting story that will make this important point
clear. There is a young cleric in the senior seminary
and he has learned to meditate, and because he is

fervent, he is inclined to more affective kinds of

prayer than to methodical discourse. He experiences
sensible consolation and his joy is in conversing with
God. "But one fine day, lo and behold, the whole
scene is changed!" (39) God seems to have
withdrawn. Our young cleric’s former way of
praying does not work any more. He has fallen into
aridity. If he has an uneducated spiritual director
who demands he return to meditation, he will be in
serious trouble. What he needs, according to Père
Gabriel, is St. John’s teaching. He must exercise
himself in a general and loving attention to God, (40)
that is, "in the practice of a simple, loving attention to
the presence of God." (41) There is an infusion of
divine light going on, but it remains hidden, and that
is why St. John has given his three signs. It is
necessary to show our poor cleric that he is being
acted upon from within. "Moreover, even when,
helped by St. John’s teaching, it (the soul) passes this
crisis of aridity and attains to a prayer of continuous,
loving attention to the presence of God, a prayer that
is peaceful and sweet if not for the senses at least for
the spirit, not even then does it experience the divine
action directly, and therefore, again, the Saint gives
us three signs whereby to distinguish it." (42)
There is a "sufficiently lengthy period" in which the

divine action remains hidden – an "intermediate
state" between affective prayer and infused
contemplation in which the soul "feels nothing" and
must maintain itself in loving attention. "But as this
state is sometimes prolonged for years the soul, even
if used to lovingly attending to God, has at times the
impression of being ‘in a void’." (43) The soul has a
very simple activity to do, which is to lovingly look
upon God with a gaze of faith. "It is not to make
reflections; it is not to form distinct concepts." (44)
There is no question of doing nothing or suppressing
all intellectual activity. "Discursive activity, yes; yet
on no account may it omit the general attention to
God." (45)
This loving attention would not be possible without

the infusion of divine light. (46) Those who profit

from the hidden light, God is wont to bring to a fuller
infusion. (47) "Perhaps" one day the hidden infusion
will "become so intense that the soul will become
fully aware of it." (48) If the soul could not maintain
contact with God, this would be a sign that God is
not bestowing His infused light, and that it would
have to return to meditation. (49) Thus, John of the
Cross has shown us that there is "a form of
contemplation more within our reach than the
contemplation that is experimentally infused." (50)
The "whole teaching of the Teresan School upon
acquired contemplation is set forth as a commentary
on the teaching of St. John. St. John is, according to
José del Espíritu Santo, the master of active
contemplation." And according to Père Gabriel, John
of the Cross should be called the Doctor of Active
Contemplation, as well.
One of the greatest difficulties for the spiritual

director is to convince people undergoing this
experience that this way of praying is "very good."
"They seem unable to believe it." (51) After having
been reassured, "they return again with the same
doubts." They can get on the director’s nerves. (52)
"And yet, there is nothing else to say…" There is a
gentle hidden infusion which does not impose itself
on the soul as it does in infused prayer, but "does
nothing more than help to maintain the state of
simple attention in which the soul has placed itself by
its own action." (53) The soul is not aware of this
infusion. "Only from the fact that it is able to remain
for a considerable time occupied in an exercise which
by means of its personal initiative alone could with
difficulty be prolonged, does it conclude it is really
being assisted by God. If, instead, it perceives that it
does not remain in contact with God, this would be a
sign that God is not bestowing His infused light." (54)
And then it would have to return to meditation.
Roland Dalbiez
In 1948 under Carmelite auspices, a group of

specialists met in France at Avon-Fontainebleau.

Among the participants was Roland Dalbiez, a
Thomist philosopher and friend of Maritain, well
versed in Freudian psychology. Dalbiez had gone to
Bruno de Jesus-Marie, one of the organizers of the
conference, with a proposed paper on acquired
contemplation in José del Espíritu Santo, the
substance of which we have already seen. Père Bruno
and others had urged him to add a psychological part
to it. This second part drew a positive response from
Gabriel de Sainte-Marie-Magdeleine: "This last part
of the position of M. Dalbiez constitutes precisely the
thesis that we have for a long time defended in our
book Acquired Contemplation, published in Italy in
1938, and whose English translation published in
1946 is actually its third edition. We can only applaud
this aspect of M. Dalbiez’s work." (55) He goes on to
say that he is less happy with the analysis of the work
of José del Espíritu Santo, which is only to be
expected when faced with such a critical assault on
the author who closes out the golden age of
Carmelite studies. The conference’s sponsors were
even less happy with Dalbiez’s espousal of the
historical judgment of Arintero and Menéndez-
Reigada: "It is the notion of acquired contemplation
which has created the psychological climate without
which the blossoming of quietism would have been
impossible." (56)
Dalbiez’s historical studies remain one of the most

telling critiques of the very notion of acquired
contemplation. We have followed his remarks in
regard not only to José del Espíritu Santo, but
Aphonsus Liguori and Scaramelli, as well. But what
of his psychological analysis applauded by Père
Gabriel? Does it actually represent a solution to the
debate over acquired contemplation? The heart of
Dalbiez’s thesis runs like this: "Metaphysically, there
is only one contemplation, which is infused.
Psychologically, there are two, one in which the
infused character is conscious for the subject, and one
in which the infused character is unconscious for the
subject." (57) We are faced with an "ontological unity

and an empirical duality." (58) "It is necessary, then,

to carefully distinguish the intervention of the gifts of
the Holy Spirit and the consciousness of this
intervention." (59) All contemplation is ontologically
passive, but it is not consciously passive. This is the
distinction that is hidden in the unfortunate words
acquired contemplation, and it allows us to deal with
a contemplation whose passive character is
unconscious.
This is a valuable milestone in the debate on acquired

contemplation, and we will return to it, especially in
regard to the work of Jacques and Raissa Maritain,
but it certainly doesn’t appear to be the same thing
Père Gabriel was saying. Nor does it answer certain
critical questions. There is a world of difference
between a psychologically unconscious
contemplation of the sort that St. John describes, and
the psychologically unconscious contemplation that
Père Gabriel talks about, which in actual fact may or
may not be there. Thus, Dalbiez’s empirical duality
ought to be extended to three distinct states:
conscious infused contemplation, unconscious
infused contemplation, and the lack of infused
contemplation. Further, St. John makes it abundantly
clear that infused contemplation does not come into
the soul by way of the natural faculties. One of the
greatest difficulties, indeed, an intrinsic contradiction
in acquired contemplation, is that it is based on the
use of the faculties. We are being told to be active in
order to be passive.
Dalbiez’s study marks the end of the second stage of

the debate over acquired contemplation. The issue
remained unresolved, but the often bitter
controversies that we have been seeing left a bad
taste in the mouths of the next generation, who then
turned away from the question. After a while the
whole issue began to be forgotten, and both
viewpoints continue to exist side by side.
While this is an advance on some of the more

unilateral Carmelite positions earlier in the century, it

still suffers from serious difficulties. What Père

Gabriel calls the passive element, that is, the
beginning of the divine infusion and the activation of
the gifts of the Holy Spirit, is simply another way of
saying that infused contemplation has begun. But the
active element he describes is blown out of
proportion. For John of the Cross loving attention is
simply the receptivity to the contemplative
experience. For Père Gabriel loving attention
becomes a distinct exercise in which we look lovingly
at God. It is this exercise that is then described as a
much lower level yet real form of contemplation
offered to almost anyone who will prepare him or
herself.
The key in order to understand this kind of

contemplation is to realize that God does not make
Himself felt. The young cleric has to exercise himself
in loving and general attention towards God, but
now these words do not describe infused
contemplation itself, or the proximate responsive
receptivity to this infusion, but a separate exercise in
response to aridity and the inability to meditate. St.
John’s three signs are no longer a description of the
beginning of infused contemplation itself, but a way
to decide whether something is going on within
ourselves that is not experienced so that loving
attention can be taken up as an active attitude of the
faculties. And the ability to take up this attitude is
used as a proof that the infusion is taking place.
Acquired contemplation then becomes the guarantee
of infused contemplation, for if we did not have this
hidden infusion, Père Gabriel reasons, we would not
be able to maintain ourselves in this attitude of
loving attention.
All this keeps the words of John of the Cross, but

changes their meaning. The transition from the
beginning of infused contemplation to its fuller
experience, which John is describing, becomes
something else, that is, a long period in which we are
called to practice acquired contemplation. We are
being told to be attentive to an experience that may

or may not be present. Little wonder that people

would return with the same doubts over and over
again and get on the director’s nerves, and little
wonder, as well, that they would end up feeling like
they were in a void.
The reason why John of the Cross’ infused

contemplation has been interpreted over and over
again in terms of acquired contemplation does not
really lie with his texts, themselves, but rather in the
concrete situations of his interpreters. They are, for
the most part, experiencing something different than
what he experienced.
By the early 1950s the energy that had animated the

debate about the nature of and call to contemplation
and the existence of an acquired contemplation had
ebbed away. A long article on contemplation in the
Dictionnaire de spiritualité by eminent writers summed
up the state of the question.
Gabriel de Sainte-Marie-Magdeleine led off with the

views of the Carmelite School, sending his readers to
his earlier article in the Dictionnaire on the Carmelites.
We have just seen his views about John of the Cross
and contemplation, and we have seen historically, as
well, how he believed that Tomás de Jesús knew John
of the Cross through the Tratado breve. Further, he felt
there were two currents in the Carmelite
interpretation of acquired contemplation, one which
owed its origin to Tomás de Jesús, and the other to
Quiroga, and he attempted to follow them both until
they finally came together.
Next, Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange gave the

Dominican position. The great mystics and saints like
Teresa and John, Francis de Sales and Jane Frances de
Chantal knew only an infused contemplation.
Acquired contemplation is really a simplified
affective meditation (60) in which someone might
momentarily pause caught up in a simple view of the
things of God before resuming their considerations
and acts of affection. It would be like St. Teresa’s

prayer of active recollection, and to go beyond this in

our way of conceiving acquired contemplation would
be to go against the formal teaching of both St. John
and St. Teresa.
Ephrem Longpré, charged with the task of presenting

the Franciscan School, comes to a similar conclusion
by examining the teachings of St. Bonaventure.
Bonaventure only knows an infused contemplation,
(61) and an acquired contemplation would contradict
his view of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. (62) Longpré is
not happy, either, with Roland Dalbiez’s attempt to
resolve the issue by talking of an ontological unity
and an empirical duality. (63)
Among the Jesuits Joseph de Guibert, long-time

professor of spirituality at the Gregorian University
in Rome, defended the idea of an acquired
contemplation, while at the same time he looks with
favor on Jacques Maritain’s remarks on the different
ways the gifts of the Holy Spirit operate in people
called to the active and to the contemplative ways of
life – an issue which we will look at in detail later.
(64)
Among the Benedictines Cuthbert Butler champions

acquired contemplation as the normal end of the
spiritual life. (65) John of the Cross’ loving attention
is the lowest degree of infused contemplation, yet
accessible to all Christians who seriously pray. (66)
G.J. Waffelaert admits of an acquired contemplation

that depends on the gifts of the Holy Spirit exercised
in a human mode, and also distinguishes infused
contemplation from extraordinary contemplation.
The first belongs to the virtues and the gifts of the
Holy Spirit, while the second belongs to the charisms.
Others call this latter kind of contemplation
supereminent contemplation and connect it to the
light of prophecy. This makes us wonder if the good
bishop of Bruges has been reading Tomás de Jesús.
(67)

Pierre Pourrat, noted for his history of spirituality,

answers the question "whether an acquired or active
contemplation exists" by saying "assuredly," and he
goes on to demonstrate its existence both before and
after John of the Cross.
It is Auguste Saudreau whom we saw playing a

critical role in the reopening of this controversy at the
beginning of this century who is fittingly given the
last word in this marshalling of the schools. While he
admits that affective prayer can end in moments of
repose, which might be called acquired
contemplation, he is unhappy with the efforts of
Gabriel de Sainte-Marie-Magdeleine to find an
acquired contemplation in John of the Cross. He
would call it infused contemplation.
But Saudreau is not to have the last word after all,

which is perhaps fitting in this interminable
controversy. The author of the general conclusion
tells us that a more objective knowledge of John of
the Cross will lead to increased support for the
notion of acquired contemplation, and he rallies to
the position of Père Gabriel. (68)
Clearly, this grand review had not led to any sort of

consensus, and the curtain began to descend a second
time on the drama of acquired contemplation. This
time the decline of interest was not due to any
condemnation of mystical heresies, like the crisis of
Quietism, but to a deadlocked discussion that had
seen too many emotionally laden polemics, and
which had run out of creative energy, as well as to
the death of the great protagonists, as well. Saudreau
died in 1946, and Père Gabriel in 1953. Vast sea
changes had begun, as well, in the world of theology,
that were eventually to manifest themselves in the
Second Vatican Council. The debate over acquired
contemplation began to be looked at as a distasteful
legacy of an outmoded theological world. This whole
second world of acquired contemplation that had
attracted so much attention during the first half of the

20th century began to recede into the mists of time

much more quickly than the passage of a few years
could account for. When the new attempts to renew
the contemplative life began to surface after the
Second Vatican Council, they were to show very little
knowledge or interest in what had transpired not that
many years before.
Notes
1. Augustín Poulain, The Graces of Interior Prayer,

p. xxxv.
2. Ibid., p. lxvii.
3. Ibid., p. 207.
4. Ibid., p. 208.
5. Ibid., p. 8
6. Ibid., p. 13.
7. Ibid., pp. 13-14.
8. Ibid., p. 24.
9. Ibid., p. 27.
10. Ibid., p. 33.
11. Ibid.
12. Ibid., p. 34, note
13. Ibid., p. 48.
14. Émile Lamballe, Mystical Theology, p. 118.
15. Augustín Poulain, The Graces of Interior Prayer,
p. lxviii.
16. Auguste Saudreau, The Mystical State, p. 113.
17. Ibid., p. 119, note 2.
18. Ibid., p. 193.
19. Juan Vicente de Jesús María, Carta abierta..., p.
13.
20. Crisógono de Jesús, La Escuela Mística, p. 329.
21. Doroteo de la Sagrada Familia, Guía
espiritual..., p. 11.
22. Ibid., p. 13.
23. Ibid., p. 14.
24. Ibid., p. 18.
25. Ibid., p. 24.
26. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, Christian
Perfection and Contemplation, p. 225.

27. Ibid., p. 231.

28. Ibid., pp. 234-235.
29. Cuthbert Butler, Western Mysticism, p. 10.
30. Ibid., p. 19.
31. Ibid., p. 26.
32. Ibid., p. 55.
33. Gabriel de Sainte Marie-Magdeleine, St. John of
the Cross, p. 106.
34. Ibid., p. 92.
35. Ibid., pp. 92-93.
36. Ibid., p. 94.
37. Ibid.
38. Ibid., p. 112.
39. Ibid., p. 116.
40. Ibid., p. 119.
41. Ibid., p.120.
42. Ibid., p. 121.
43. Ibid., pp. 121-122.
44. Ibid., p. 142.
45. Ibid., p.144.
46. Ibid., p. 153.
47. Ibid., p. 175.
48. Ibid., p. 158.
49. Ibid., pp. 166-167.
50. Ibid., p. 176.
51. Ibid., p. 160.
52. Ibid.
53. Ibid., p. 166.
54. Ibid.
56. Ibid., p. 78.
57. Ibid., p. 132.
58. Ibid., p. 133.
59. Ibid., p. 134.
60. "Contemplation," DS, 2069.
61. Ibid., 2091.
62. Ibid., 2094.
63. Ibid., 2095.
64. Ibid., 2117.
65. Ibid., 2130.
66. Ibid., 2131.
67. Ibid., 2139.
68. Ibid., 2178.

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Chapter 13
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From St. John of the Cross to Us, Part IV
Part IV: TOWARDS A

THEOLOGY OF MYSTICISM
Contents:
CHAPTER 14: Jacques and Raissa Maritain,
Theologians of Mysticism
CHAPTER 15: Contemplation and the Spiritual
Unconscious
A Research Balance Sheet
CHAPTER 14:
JACQUES AND RAISSA MARITAIN,
THEOLOGIANS OF MYSTICISM
It is time to make a transition from the past and the

current attempts to renew the contemplative life to the
future, and from the history of mysticism to its theology.
Jacques (1882-1973) and Raissa (1883-1960) Maritain can
help us do this. They were firmly rooted in the revival of
mystical theology that took place in the first half of the
20th century – so we can look to their works to give us a
summary of its basic principles – but they also made some
important, yet often overlooked breakthroughs that could
shape the mystical theology of the future.
The Maritains were both converts to Catholicism in the

first years of the century, and Leon Bloy, the man who
was instrumental in their conversion, never argued with
them about the truths of the Catholic faith, but rather,
gave them the writings of the mystics to read. Thus, with
this kind of formation, it was entirely in character for
Raissa, immediately after Baptism, to go off to rest, taking

the writings with her of Teresa of Avila. After their

conversion the Maritains soon moved to Heidelberg
where they were joined by Raissa’s sister, Vera. Jacques
pursued his scientific and philosophical studies, while the
three of them turned their home into a novitiate in which
they tried to cultivate the interior life.
Soon Raissa began to receive contemplative graces that

she and Jacques later described under the headings of
oraison or silent prayer, and recueillement or quiet
absorption. Silent prayer meant, "...not meditation in
which the soul is occupied in considering ideas, con-cepts
and images, but a wordless, intuitive, and quite simple
prayer, a loving attention to God in which the soul is
primarily occupied in letting God having His way with it
and which, as St. Thomas ex-presses it, it suffers divine
things in a silence void of words, concepts and images."
And recueillement meant "an inner state which, far from
being ‘concentration’ due to voluntary effort, is rather a
gift received, a quiet absorption of the soul which, far
from being inertia, is a secret and unifying activity too
deep to be perceived." (1)
Nor could they help wondering about their own

conversions and those of some of their close friends like
Ernest Psichari who had come to the faith as he wandered
in the Sahara as a French soldier. By the early 1920s when
the great debates about contemplation began to reach
their climax, the Maritains were ready to take part. They
created a Thomist study circle which embraced not only
the study of Thomas Aquinas, but the life of prayer, as
well, and they wrote a guidebook for their members
called De la vie d’oraison. Their description of
contemplation there shows how deeply immersed they
had become in the best of the Christian mystical tradition.
"Christian contemplation is the fruit of the gift of Wisdom;
and this gift, although a habitus of the intelligence…
depends essentially on charity, and consequently on
sanctifying grace, and causes us to know God by a sort of
connatur-ality – in an affective, experimental and obscure
manner, because superior to every concept and image." (2)
Then they cite their favorite commentator on mystical

matters, John of St. Thomas whose treatise on the gifts of

the Holy Spirit Raissa was to later translate into French: "It
is in virtue of the gift which God makes of himself and of
the experimental union of love that mystical wisdom
attains the knowledge of divine things, which are united
more closely to us, more immediately felt and tasted by us
by means of love, and make us perceive that what is thus
felt in the affection is higher and more excellent than all
considerations based on the knowing faculties alone." (3)
On January 23, 1923, Jacques wrote an open letter to the

Vie Spirituelle, which was probably his first original piece
of work in the field of mystical theology, and he later
called "Sur l’appelle a la vie mystique et a la contemplation." In
this study on the call to the mystical life and to
contemplation he commented on a thesis by Reginald
Garrigou-Lagrange whom the Maritains had been
consulting on spiritual matters and whom they had asked
to be the spiritual director of the Thomist Circle.
Père Garrigou-Lagrange had stated that all Christians are

called to mystical contemplation in a remote sense, as a
natural flowering of the virtues and the gifts of the Holy
Spirit. And Maritain, along with others, had accepted this
thesis as a good summary of the tradition, but he wanted
to bring to it certain qualifications and refinements, and
these refinements allow us to begin to clarify some of the
issues surrounding the intractable debate on acquired
contemplation. It would be wrong, Maritain felt, to draw
from this statement the conclusion that the perfection of
charity is "reserved to only those souls who enjoy infused
contemplation under its typical and normal form." (4)
And it is wrong to say that if someone does not arrive at
this manifest contemplation, it is always due to his or her
faults.
To say that infused contemplation is the normal outcome

of the life of prayer can take two distinct meanings
depending on how we understand the word normal. If by
normal we mean that it is of the nature of the virtues and
the gifts to find their fullness in contemplation, then we
can say that contemplation is the normal outcome of the
life of prayer. But if by normal we mean that most people

are generally observed to live lives of infused

contemplation, then this statement is false. If the very
organism of the spiritual life is geared to contemplation,
why do so few arrive at it? When we look at
contemplation no longer according to the essence or
nature of the spiritual life but according to the concrete
subject who receives it, our whole perspective is
transformed. Then contemplation is not normal, but
exceptional, and there are many reasons why someone
might not arrive at contemplation, or more precisely, as
Maritain puts it, "infused contemplation in its typical and
normal form." It may, indeed, be due to our personal
faults, but it could also be due to a variety of other factors
which we have little or no control over: temperament, the
calling to an active ministry, absorbing studies, poor
spiritual direction, a slow ascent to contemplation, which
is simply longer than our life span, and so forth. In this
fashion Maritain understands the famous passage in the
Dark Night where St. John says that not even half of those
who exercise themselves in the way of the spirit arrive at
contemplation. "God alone knows why."
But Maritain is not done. The mystical order, which is a

life in which a person acts habitually under the influence
of the gifts of the Holy Spirit, should not be identified
with contemplation in its typical and manifest form as
experienced in John of the Cross or Teresa of Avila. While
the activation of the gifts of wisdom, understanding and
knowledge leads to this kind of contemplation, it is
possible to imagine another situation in which the more
active gifts like counsel, fortitude, piety and fear are
activated. Then, even though all the gifts are
interconnected and rooted in charity, two distinct cases
emerge. The first is a typical and manifest contemplation
coming through the gifts of wisdom, understanding and
knowledge, and the second is a masked contemplation
brought about by the other gifts. In the second case, the
gifts of wisdom, understanding and knowledge only
manifest themselves in a tempered way. Contemplation
remains immersed and hidden in the activities of the
active life.
This kind of reasoning allows Maritain to distinguish

three meanings that can be given to the word

contemplation. In the first, meditation can lead to a
contemplation which is the term of this exercise of the
faculties, and this kind of contemplation, in turn, should
lead to the exercise of the will in affective aspirations. This
kind of contemplation, or recollection, even when it takes
place in the context of grace, is the result of the natural
exercise of the faculties. While it is supernatural as far as
its object is concerned, and even, for that matter, because
the faculties of intellect, memory and will have been
elevated by the supernatural virtues of faith, hope and
charity, it is natural in its way of proceeding and does not
demand that we have entered into the mystical order that
comes about by the habitual activation of the gifts of the
Holy Spirit. It is a distant predisposition for infused
contemplation. We can call this an acquired
contemplation, for it is truly acquired, but it is not the
kind of contemplation that St. John is talking about.
In the second case, it is the active gifts of the Holy Spirit

which predominate, and the other gifts like wisdom are
activated only in a tempered way. Then the first kind of
contemplation which is the result of our own acts can take
on a certain savor. It will be suffused with the warmth of
this masked contemplation, as will its affective responses.
This kind of contemplation Maritain called a proximate
disposition for infused contemplation. We have a
contemplation which is properly acquired as the term of
the exercise of the faculties, but which is secretly being
aided by the active gifts of the Holy Spirit.
If the gifts of wisdom, understanding and knowledge now

begin to become active, and spread their effects
throughout this contemplation acquired in a natural way,
then we have a third and final case, which is an ultimate
disposition for infused contemplation, and indeed,
already an anticipation or beginning of it. Clearly, it is this
last case that we see in St. John’s descriptions from the
transition from meditation to contemplation, and it is how
we ought to understand the often quoted passage in the
Ascent that many acts of loving knowledge lead to a habit
of loving knowledge.

With these three distinct meanings of contemplation

firmly in mind, it becomes clear that St. John’s advice
about how to respond in the dark night fits only the third
case. We cannot take on an attitude of passivity in the first
case because it is the fruit of the natural working of the
faculties, and when that active working ceases this
contemplation will disappear, and so if we try to take up a
passive attitude towards it, we would be left in a void
because there is no infusion nor activation of the gifts.
But even in the second case St. John’s loving attentiveness

is not the proper response because a general loving
knowledge is not being given, for that loving knowledge
is infused contemplation that comes through the
activation of the gifts of wisdom, understanding and
knowledge. But this second case could easily lead to St.
John’s loving attentiveness being understood as acquired
contemplation. Let us imagine that the first sort of
contemplation, which is the momentary fruit of discursive
activity, has become very simplified, and now, when it is
aided by the activation of the active gifts of the Holy
Spirit, it takes on a depth and savor that goes beyond how
it is experienced in this first case. The contemplation of the
first case, which is truly acquired, could seem to call for an
attitude of passivity, for that contemplation is now being
secretly aided by the gifts. In such a situation it would be
very easy to misunderstand what St. John is saying and
create an acquired contemplation that would mimic his
infused contemplation, and this may well have been the
case for Tomás de Jesús. But without the full activation of
the gifts of wisdom, understanding and knowledge this
contemplation will not lead to infused contemplation, but
rather, to a false passivity that would be even more acute
and detrimental if it were to be imitated by those who
have not even received the activation of the active gifts of
the Holy Spirit and try to be passive in regard to a
contemplation which is simply the fruit of the faculties.
This is an issue we will have to return to later.
Jacques and Raissa don’t seem to have gotten caught up in

the increasingly partisan and bitter controversies over
acquired contemplation, nor do they return to this theme
except for a footnote in Jacques’ Degrees of Knowledge:

"From the practical, descriptive, concrete point of view,

we might call "acquired" contemplation that which is
gained progressively by the development and growth of
the grace of the virtues and gifts, and "infused"
contemplation that which is received by means of
extraordinary graces. But from the speculative and
ontological point of view, it is evident that the first type is
no less "infused" than the second since, after a transitional
period which is the fruit of all preceding activity (in which
the soul induces recollection by its own initiative but in
which the gifts begin to exert their influence
predominantly – a period which corresponds to Bossuet’s
"prayer of simplicity" and the "habit" engendered by
meditation of which St. John of the Cross speaks in the
Ascent of Mount Carmel, Bk. II, Ch. XIV (xii)..., this
contemplation is "acquired" only at the moment when the
Holy Spirit acts in the soul as principal agent and when
the soul, far from acting by itself, has only to receive the
supernatural knowledge of love thus infused within it. Cf.
the Question cited in the preceding note (Vie Spirituelle,
March 1923, pp. 641-642). As for admitting with some that
the three signs of the Ascent of Mount Carmel (Bk. II, Ch.
XIII (xi)..., and the Dark Night (Bk. I, Ch. IX...) mark the
passing either to infused contemplation or to a so-called
acquired contemplation developing parallel to infused
contemplation – this to our mind would be to dismember
the whole doctrinal synthesis and thought of the Saint." (5)
In the mid 1940s Jacques wrote an essay called, "The

Immanent Dialectic of the First Act of Freedom" which
opened the way for understanding how mystical theology
might develop in the future. In this essay he imagines a
child who makes his first free act in choosing something
inasmuch as it is good. Even though the content of this act
may be of small moment, the act, itself, has far-reaching
repercussions. This act chooses not only the particular
good that the child desires to choose, but in and through
that good the Good, itself. And because we are all called
to a supernatural end, this Good is not different from God
who is calling all of us to himself. In short, the first simple
act of choosing the good is a supernatural act of faith in
which we choose God who is our final end.

But how can this be? How can a child make this kind of
act of faith when he or she might not even know about
God? Obviously, it cannot be a question of making a
decision through explicit and articulated knowledge, but
rather, through another kind of knowledge that "reaches
its object within the unconscious recesses of the spirit’s
activity." Somehow the will, in choosing the good, "
"passes in conditionem objecti" (into the sphere of
objective actualization) and becomes in the stead of any
concept the means of a knowledge which is speculative
though escaping formulation and reflective
consciousness… It is the movement of the will which,
reaching beyond this good to the mysterious Existent it
implies, makes this Existent become an object of the
speculative intellect." (6)
This knowledge coming through the first act of freedom

"remains preconscious, or else hardly reaches the most
obscure limits of consciousness, because, for one thing, it
possesses no conceptual sign, and, for another, the
movement of the will which brings it about is itself
neither felt nor experienced, nor illumined and highly
conscious as is love in the exercise of the gift of
wisdom." (7)
Maritain, as the conclusion of this quotation indicates, was

aware that his reflections on this knowledge in what he is
calling the preconscious can be applied to the gift of
wisdom, and thus to the mystical experience. In this case,
however, knowledge through connaturality finds a much
fuller expression and overflows into consciousness in the
general loving knowledge or infused contemplation that
St. John talks about. Jacques has opened up a road that is
slowly going to lead both him and Raissa to explore the
nature of contemplation in the light of the preconscious of
the spirit, or what he was to later call the spiritual
unconscious. (8)
The Spiritual Unconscious
The 20th century has been the century of depth

psychology and the unconscious, and the Maritains could

not help but be influenced by that fact. It wasn’t that they

were big fans of Freud or Jung. Far from it. But the
discovery of the psychological unconscious inspired them
to look at certain topics like the creative intuition that
operates in the arts and the idea of connatural knowledge
in the contemplative life in a new way. The Christian
spiritual tradition has long made a distinction between
consciousness and the depths of the soul, or its center, or
the heart, in which God dwells. But it was an implicit
distinction. There was no clear comparison made between
the ego and the unconscious. The Maritains, however,
under the impetus of the discovery of the psychological
unconscious and their researches into the nature of faith
and mystical experience began, as we have just seen, to
see that the various kinds of knowledge by connaturality
are rooted in the unconscious. This unconscious, however,
was no longer the psychological unconscious, but what
could be called a spiritual, or even a metaphysical
unconscious, that is, the natural spiritual depths of the
soul which become transformed by grace into what could
be called a supernatural unconscious. The spiritual
unconscious in this sense is not less spiritual than ego
consciousness, but more. It is the depths of the soul out of
which are born insights and intuitions that give rise to the
creative processes in art, as well as in metaphysics, and
where, when transformed by grace, contemplation is
born.
In 1960 Jacques and Raissa wrote a book called Liturgy and

Contemplation which, for the most part, dealt with the
topic indicated by its title. But it also contained some
interesting remarks on the masked and typical forms of
contemplation found in Jacques’ 1923 essay. Speaking of
masked contemplation they write: "We have just insisted
on the diffuse or disguised forms of infused
contemplation. There is nothing more secret – nor more
important – than what Father Osende, in a remarkable
page of his book Contemplata, calls the prayer of the heart.
It is through this sort of prayer or contemplation, so silent
and so rooted in the depths of the spirit that he describes
it as "unconscious," that we can truly put into practice the
precept to pray always. And is it not to it that Saint
Anthony the hermit alluded when he said that "there is no

perfect prayer if the religious perceives that he is

praying?" " (9)
There is a deeper significance to this passage than first

appears. The Maritains are telling us that the prayer of the
heart, which they understand as a kind of masked
contemplation, takes place in the unconscious. But the
deeper meaning of the passage resides in the fact that for
the first time the Maritains have begun to bring together
two important aspects of their thought: their ideas on
contemplation and their reflections on the spiritual
unconscious. But because they have just begun to do this,
the full implications of what they are doing does not strike
them.
In 1966 Jacques, in The Peasant of the Garonne – Raissa

having died in 1960 – writes: "I would like to point out
here that the pages in Liturgy and Contemplation that deal
with the prayer of the heart and with Father Osende stand
in need of correction. In writing these pages I
inadvertently spoke (probably because of the
"unconscious" character of this prayer) of "atypical" or
"masked" contemplation, which we will discuss later. This
was a serious error. The prayer of the heart springs from
the supra-conscious of the spirit, but it is not at all
"masked" contemplation; it is a typical form of
contemplation, and one of the most precious." (10)
Now Jacques has taken another step, and wants to see that
the prayer of the heart is a typical form of contemplation,
and as such is rooted in the spiritual unconscious. Just
what he means by the prayer of the heart he indicates in
the following footnote:
"The idea of perpetual or uninterrupted prayer which is

carried on even in sleep by a mental activity inaccessible
to the consciousness, plays a central role with Cassian.
(Cf. Dict. de Spiritualité, art. Contemplation, col. 1924 and
1926.) Père Grou in the eighteenth century also notes
(Manuel, p. 224 ff.) that uninterrupted prayer is a prayer
that escapes the consciousness. Cf. Arintero, The Mystical
Evolution in the Development and Vitality of the Church (St.
Louis, Mo.: Herder, 1951), p. 45." (11)

The Christian mystical tradition was, in some way more

implicit than explicit, aware that contemplation was
rooted in the depths, or as we could say now, in the
spiritual unconscious, as we saw, but it is the task of
mystical theology to articulate what that means following
the path that Jacques and Raissa have opened up in these
passages.
Jacques tries to do this in the Peasant of the Garonne. He

sees that the entry into the life of the spirit, or crossing the
threshold of the mystical life by entering under the
habitual regime of the gifts of the Holy Spirit, takes place
"in a manner inaccessible to consciousness (in the depths
of the supra-unconscious of the spirit)." (12) And this
leads to contemplation in its typical form, whether arid or
consoling, or in its masked form. But even in people who
do not experience contemplation in its typical form, are in
some way, Jacques tells us, contemplatives.
"It is not, however, that they are deprived of

contemplation, of the loving experience of things divine;
for according to the teaching of St. Thomas, all the gifts of
the Holy Spirit are linked to one another; they cannot,
therefore, exist in the soul without the gift of Wisdom,
which, in the case we are discussing, is at work, though in
a less apparent way. These souls whose style of life is an
active one will have the grace of contemplation, but of a
masked, not apparent contemplation. Perhaps they will
only be able to recite rosaries, and wordless oraison will
give them a headache or make them sleepy. Mysterious
contemplation will not be in their conscious prayer, but
perhaps in the glance with which they will look at a poor
man, or will look at suffering." (13)
Now we have returned to our question of what response

should be made to this masked contemplation. Does it
demand an attitude of passivity to the contemplation that
is already being given? How could it if the contemplation
is hidden in the depths of the unconscious? What sense
can we make out of Jacques saying that those who
experience masked contemplation are not "deprived of
contemplation or the loving experience of things divine?"

How can we talk about a contemplation that is truly

masked, for isn’t that equivalent to trying to talk about a
contemplation we do not experience?
This problem becomes even more acute as Jacques

continues:
"Unlike souls dedicated to action, who, if they advance in

the ways of God as is demanded of them, partake in the
"masked" contemplation I discussed earlier, the souls I am
now referring to partake in "open" contemplation. But
their path is a very humble one; it demands nothing but
charity and humility, and contemplative prayer without
apparent graces. This is the path of simple people, it is the
"little way" (La petite voie) that St. Therese of Lisieux was
in charge of teaching us: a kind of short-cut – singularly
abrupt, to tell the truth – where all the great things
described by St. John of the Cross can be found divinely
simplified and reduced to the pure essentials, but without
loving any of their exigence. The soul is laid bare, and its
very love-prayer as well – so arid at times that it seems to
fly into distractions and emptiness." (14)
Later, he will amplify this last sentence by saying: "But it

is an arid love-prayer, almost too pure for our feeble
heart, because, being much more unconscious than
conscious, it comes about in the tiredness of our members
and of our conscious faculties, rather than in the repose
where we can taste "how sweet the Lord is." (15)
Jacques goes on to quote Raissa in Liturgy and

Contemplation:
"Indeed contemplation is not given only to the

Carthusians, the Poor Clares, the Carmelites… It is
frequently the treasure of persons hidden to the world –
known only to some few – to their directors, to a few
friends. Sometimes, in a certain manner, this treasure is
hidden from the souls themselves that possess it – souls
who live by it in all simplicity, without visions, without
miracles…

"Saint Therese of Lisieux has shown that the soul can tend
to the perfection of charity by a way in which the great
signs that Saint John of the Cross and Saint Teresa of
Avila have described do not appear… By the same token,
I believe, Saint Therese in her Carmel prepared in an
eminent way that diffusion wider than ever, of the life of
union with God which the world requires if it is not to
perish.
"Let us add that in this contemplation on the roads whose

development the future will doubtless see, it seems that
constant attention to the presence of Jesus and fraternal
charity are called to play a major role, as regards even the
way of infused contemplative prayer." (16)
There is a problem in all this. Jacques is not talking about

masked contemplation, but what he is calling now open
contemplation which is the same as typical or manifest
contemplation. But if we do this we seem to be back to the
paradoxical situation we saw so many times in the history
of acquired contemplation of a manifest contemplation
which is not manifest, an open contemplation which is, in
fact, hidden, and the way of John of the Cross that is not,
in fact, his way, in short, a contemplation that is not
experienced. Raissa’s remarks on St. Therese pose no
difficulty if we understand them as saying that someone
can reach the perfection of charity without manifest
contemplation. We might even say that someone could be
on the way to the perfection of charity and be receiving
masked contemplation, that is, the activation of the active
gifts of the Holy Spirit. But even here we begin to tend
into dangerous territory. Is it really proper to call masked
contemplation contemplation if it does not become
manifest? And when we come to Jacques’ open
contemplation, it appears as another attempt to describe a
path of contemplation that is neither typical nor masked, a
contemplation, as I said, without the experience of
contemplation.
The underlying movement of Jacques and Raissa’s

thought, which is to bring contemplation into relationship
with the spiritual unconscious is of the greatest
importance, but it remained undeveloped, and this lack of

development led to the problems we are now seeing.

What could have led Jacques and Raissa to speak in this
way? We imagine a variety of reasons: the lack of
development of this line of thought and the late stage in
their lives when they came to this issue, the fact that
Raissa’s remarks are taken from Liturgy and Contemplation
where they might have been formulated in view of
masked contemplation and now have been transferred to
a new context, the practical issues surrounding Raissa’s
contemplative life and whether she experienced manifest
contemplation in her later years, and finally, the
fundamental problem of the spiritual life which is what
should we do if we can no longer pray with the faculties
like we did before, or even if we have received manifest
contemplation in the past, but now no longer do so? But
whatever the mitigating factors, we need to carefully
distinguish the fundamental thrust of their thought which
is to root contemplation in the spiritual unconscious from
their ideas on masked contemplation and the hidden
nature of open contemplation.
Still and all, Jacques and Raissa have put us firmly on the
path that mystical theology in the future should follow.
We need to understand how contemplation is rooted in
the spiritual unconscious, and how it makes its way into
consciousness if it is truly to be given the name of
contemplation. And finally, on the practical order, what
does it mean when we are not given the grace of
contemplation? It is to these issues we will turn in the next
chapter.
Notes
1. Raissa Maritain, Raissa’s Journal, p. 31.

2. Jacques and Raissa Maritain, Prayer and Intelligence,
p. 22.
3. Ibid., p. 23.
4. Jacques Maritain, "Sur l’appelle..." p. 73.

5. Jacques Maritain, The Degrees... pp. 346-347.

6. Jacques Maritain, "The Immanent..." p. 77.
7. Ibid., p. 78.
8. For the evolution of Maritain’s thought that led to
his formulation of the spiritual unconscious see my
Mysticism, Metaphysics and Maritain: On the Road to
the Spiritual Unconscious.
9. Jacques and Raissa Maritain, Liturgy and
Contemplation, p. 37.
10. Jacques Maritain, The Peasant... p. 228.
11. Ibid.
12. Ibid., p. 230.
13. Ibid., p. 231.
14. Ibid., p. 234.
15. Ibid., p. 238.
16. Ibid., pp. 234-235.
CHAPTER 15:
CONTEMPLATION AND THE SPIRITUAL
UNCONSCIOUS
Our goal was straightforward. We wanted to read what

John of the Cross had to say about the transition from
meditation to contemplation and see what light it could
shed on our contemporary attempts to renew the mystical
life. But reaching that goal has been difficult, and the
difficulty did not lie with St. John. This matter had such
weight with him that he treated it three times in great
detail. It is one of the foundations of his whole work; we
could even say that a proper understanding of this
beginning of the mystical life opens the way to
understanding his description of the higher reaches of
contemplation.
But the witness of history has been constant and

impressive. His teaching about this transition has been

distorted again and again. We just saw it in the post-

Vatican II spiritual writers, and this in a context where the
history of spirituality in the first part of this century was
largely ignored so they could hardly be said to be
continuing the polemics of earlier years.
And we saw in the first fifty years of this century when,

no sooner had mystical studies had revived after a long
night, an acrimonious debate broke out about this very
teaching of St. John on the beginning of contemplation.
This debate continued not to a resolution, but to the
exhaustion of its combatants, and produced a distaste on
the part of its spectators, which is part of the reason why
the writers of the second half of this century wanted little
to do with the issue.
Before this revival of mystical study we saw that a long

dark night had stretched from at least the middle of the
18th century to the close of the 19th century. Yet even this
gathering night did not prevent someone like José del
Espíritu Santo or Andrés de la Encarnación from
upholding with vigor the Order’s teaching on acquired
contemplation.
Finally we saw that the whole idea of acquired

contemplation was a misunderstanding of St. John’s ideas
on the beginning of the contemplative life, and had its
roots in the years just before and after John’s writings
were published and colored a wide slice of the history of
contemplation in the 17th century. As we followed its
many twists and turns, the conclusion was slowly forced
upon us that this misunderstanding was intimately
connected to the birth and growth of Quietism, and thus,
to the decline of the practical interest in mysticism that
darkened these last centuries and from which we are still
trying to recover.
Thus, when we look back at St. John’s writings through

the centuries, it is as if the air is distorted by the heat
waves given off by this history which tend to distort what
is really there. This distortion arose for two interconnected
reasons. The first was the weight of the history of

acquired contemplation that rapidly accumulated from

the time of Tomás de Jesús, and quickly insinuated and
diffused itself in the early years of the 17th century. It
became more and more unthinkable for Carmelite authors
and others that the whole idea of acquired contemplation
could be misdirected.
The second reason is more important. There is something

that makes the problem of the transition from meditation
to contemplation come back again and again and to
pressure people to find an answer in the direction of
acquired contemplation. This problem is the real and
perennial issue of what to do when we can no longer pray
like we did before, and it has always had the strength to
distort how St. John was read. The problem is very real
and very important, but it should read: What should we
do when we cannot meditate like we did before and yet
are not called in a proximate way to infused
contemplation? This is not an issue that captured St.
John’s attention, and it has been disastrous to make him
the father of acquired contemplation, for then the qualities
that he gives to infused contemplation begin to migrate to
this acquired contemplation with the unfortunate results
that we have seen.
What, then, do we have to show for our 400-year-long

journey from St. John of the Cross to us? First and
foremost, we can see the importance of clearing away the
underbrush that has grown up during that time around
his profound doctrine of infused contemplation. We need
to inspire ourselves with that doctrine if we are to renew
the Christian mystical tradition. It is much better to admit
the misunderstandings that have obscured his writings
than to run the risk of repeating these mistakes over and
over again.
But even more, we need a new framework for the

theology of mysticism in order to try to understand the
nature of infused contemplation, and what to do or not do
with our natural faculties when we find ourselves
entering the dark night of sense in the wide sense of the
term. The idea of the spiritual unconscious promises to
provide that framework, and it is to that we now turn.

Contemplation and the Spiritual Unconscious
Let’s review for a moment some of the foundations for

mystical theology that were developed during the first
half of this century. We can do that in a very brief form by
seeing what Jacques Maritain had to say about them in his
masterpiece The Degrees of Knowledge.
What is mystical experience? It is "an experimental

knowledge of the deep things of God," a knowledge of
God "in his inwardness." (1) As such it should be
distinguished from the natural knowledge we can have of
God on the one hand, and the beatific vision of God on the
other, which is reserved for the life to come. The
knowledge of mystical experience is a knowledge that
comes through faith.
What is the foundation of this mystical knowledge? It

rests on the indwelling of God in our souls by grace by
which we are called to live the very life of God. But how
can this be? We certainly can’t become God by nature as if
our creaturely being would become divine. Rather, we
participate in the divine nature by knowledge and love.
What is the special character of mystical experience? It is a

knowledge that comes from that loving union, itself. Thus,
it is called a knowledge through love, or a knowledge by
connaturality, i.e., we share in the divine nature by love,
and this gives rise to a special knowledge and experience
of God’s presence within us. "Contemplation is the very
experience of union." (2)
But where do the gifts of the Holy Spirit come in? The
gifts are the proximate disposition for mystical
experience. They "make the soul thoroughly mobile under
divine inspiration." (3) They are "sails set to receive the
wind of heaven." (4) Loving union must reach a certain
level of intensity in order that it can begin to overflow into
contemplative knowledge. It is the gifts of the Holy Spirit,
especially the gift of wisdom, that give us the
supernatural dispositions for receiving this kind of
knowledge.

Contemplation is rooted in the heart, in the center of the

soul, in the depths of the spiritual unconscious. The
human spirit is much more than ego-consciousness and
our everyday awareness. It has ontological depths that are
like a deep sea underlying the wave-tossed thoughts and
feelings that make up our reflexive self-awareness. It is in
these depths, at the very root of the spirit, that we receive
and continue to receive moment by moment our existence
from God, which creative act remains unknown to our
ego-awareness. This gift of existence is intimately
connected with the enlightenment found in Eastern
religions like Advaitan Hinduism and Zen Buddhism, but
infused contemplation is not that mysterious and
beautiful experience. Within those depths exists the
possibility of a deeper experience of God in which the
limits of human nature are transcended, and by a free gift
of God we share in God’s nature through the humanity of
Jesus. This gift transcends the deepest natural ontological
density of the soul and appears in those depths as the
indwelling presence of the Holy Trinity. The very One
who gives us existence and sustains us in existence
moment by moment wishes to give us a superexistence,
which is a share in God’s own life. This gift of the divine
presence deepens the soul at its metaphysical center and
gives it a new goal. Now it is not only oriented to God by
the weight of its whole being, but in virtue of this gift the
inner life of God is the inmost life of the soul. We are
called to divine union.
This orientation to union, which is now the ultimate

center of the human spirit, exerts a powerful gravity over
all the dimensions of the soul. Our natural faculties are
remote means by which we try to draw near and embrace
more fully that union which has already begun. Why are
they remote? It is because, even though they have been
altered by the fact of that union so that they no longer
have purely natural goals, they still operate in a natural
piecemeal way, which is the normal way of ego-
consciousness. The intellect, for example, in its very root
has been transformed by the virtue of faith so that its
highest goal is no longer God as the author of being, but
God as the Trinity. But it still operates in a discursive

fashion in which it has insights and composes and divides

the ideas these insights have given birth to in order to
come to further insights, and so forth. But its whole way
of proceeding which is entirely natural and normal to
human nature is inadequate to grasp the nature of God.
This is why St. John talks so emphatically about faith
being the only proximate means of divine union. It is only
faith animated by charity and illuminated by the gifts of
the Holy Spirit, and thus transforming the intellect and
will, that can lead us to divine union. But this
transformation of the ego often appears to us as suffering
and death. Ego-consciousness wants to proceed as it did
before, which is to use its natural activities to proceed on
its way to divine union. It can understand leaving the
things of the world for the things of God, but it cannot
understand leaving its own connatural way of knowing
and working.
The dark night of sense is not ultimately about working

with the faculties in ever more refined ways in exercising
intuition and affect. It is about the faculties, themselves,
radically failing in regard to the things of God when it is a
case of the call to infused contemplation. Particular acts
and particular kinds of knowledge are no longer adequate
means of union with God as the spirit is drawn ever
deeper. Once we take the perspective that divine union is
rooted in the depths of the spiritual unconscious, this
failure of the faculties appears inevitable, and the conduct
that St. John urges us to adopt much more reasonable. If
we are being drawn into the depths by the gravity of
God’s presence, we must allow this to happen and meet
this loving presence with our own loving attentiveness
and receptivity. If we are not being drawn into those
depths, we cannot abandon the working of the faculties.
What is at stake is not whether we believe that God dwells
in the depths of our hearts, and not even our desire to
open ourselves as much as possible to union with God.
What St. John is talking about is the experience of actually
being drawn into those depths by God’s action. Or put in
another way, it is the experience of divine union, and not
only our belief in it. This experience, because of its divine
nature and its location in the depths, cannot be accessed
by anything we can do with the faculties. We can only

prepare ourselves for it, receive it if it comes, and go on

loving God as much as possible if it doesn’t.
It is love that makes our union with God grow deeper,

and love is something we can always do. Contemplation
experience, or wisdom, is quite another matter. It is born
out of that loving union, in that moment in which our
wills become transformed by love and the gifts of the
Holy Spirit, and communicate to consciousness in some
mysterious fashion a general and loving knowledge of
that experience of union, itself. God has given us the
ability to love. That is enough. We cannot coerce or
compel the Holy Spirit into giving us the experience of
that union, which is infused contemplation. And it is
beyond our competence to answer the question why one
person receives contemplation and another does not. Still
less can we judge a person’s holiness by their
contemplative experiences.
But this does not mean that infused contemplation is some

sort of accidental grace on the road to divine union. It is
not. It is an integral part of that union which is a loving
knowledge which radiates out from the center of the soul
and should touch the natural faculties, themselves, and let
them share in some way in that union which is the highest
good of the whole soul. If we have not been given that
gift, all well and good. We have been given the essentials,
and we can hope in the vision of God of which
contemplation is a foretaste. We can’t demand infused
contemplation, but neither should we downgrade its
beauty and value as an integral aspect of divine union,
itself. Still less should we give in to the understandable
impulse to replace infused contemplation with a host of
active or acquired contemplations so that in some way we
can call ourselves contemplatives.
We often can, and should, lessen the activity of our

faculties and give ourselves over to loving God and being
in God’s presence by faith. But that process of
simplification should be carefully distinguished from
imagining that we can bridge the gap between the active
working of the faculties and their passive reception of
infused contemplation. Active loving attentiveness and

receptivity to God whom we believe to be present is still

an active working of the faculties. A deliberate lessening
of this active working, if carried too far, can leave us in a
nothingness which has no guarantee that it is the nothing
that is the prelude to infused contemplation. Even the
assiduous practice of Eastern forms of meditation, which
hold out the possibility of helping us enter into the depths
of the spiritual unconscious cannot guarantee us that we
are in some way closer to the gift of contemplation.
From the perspective of infused contemplation taking

place in the depths of the spiritual unconscious, let’s look
one final time at St. John’s beginning of contemplation.
The life of grace which is meant to lead to divine union
has been growing in intensity as a person turns from the
things of the world to the things of God and exercises him
or herself in the life of prayer by the ordinary use of the
faculties. As this loving union increases by love, this love
begins to radiate out from this innermost center and strike
the natural faculties in their root. The will is transformed
by this loving union, and the tremors of this
transformation, with its warmth and attractive power,
begin to make themselves felt in consciousness. Initially,
as St. John said, they can scarcely be noticed amidst the
noise and the natural working of the faculties, especially
if, as the faculties begin to feel a diminishment of their
normal energy, they have intensified their activities. But
as the faculties lose energy, and this energy drains into the
unconscious, and the warmth of the will increases under
the impact of this loving union with God, and the soul lets
itself be quiet and be drawn into the depths to try to
embrace this mystery of divine love, then a general, loving
knowledge begins to express itself in some mysterious
way in consciousness.
This happens through the intellect, for the intellect is

intimately bound to the will, and it, too, begins to share in
the will’s transformation. The love in the will begins to
become a means of knowledge, not in the form of
particular acts of knowledge, but as a general, loving
knowledge. This knowledge, as I just said, can easily be
lost in the noise of the faculties hammering out their
particular kinds of knowledge, and can tend to blend into

the background of consciousness, the horizon of

consciousness in which the normal working of the
faculties takes place. But it can also become conscious as a
general, loving knowledge.
If for some reason this knowledge, which is both

knowledge and love, recedes back into the depths of the
spiritual unconscious, what are we to do? This is a
delicate question. Certainly we can say that the divine
union continues. But if its repercussions in the sphere of
knowledge and love are no longer perceptible even to a
receptive consciousness, St. John recommends that we
return to the working of the faculties.
Let’s take, finally, the situation of acquired contemplation.

Here the ego tries to take up an attitude of loving
attentiveness, not in response to the presence of this
loving knowledge, but with the hope that this receptivity
will make this loving knowledge visible. In short, it
believes God to be present and is receptive to God’s
manifestation in some new way. In acquired
contemplation the use of the faculties to make particular
acts of loving attentiveness take the place of being
receptive to an experience of loving knowledge. But acts
of the faculties, no matter how refined, don’t lead to
contemplation. Neither do attempts at stopping the
faculties.
Divine union can be present in the depths of the soul

without it being perceptible to consciousness. This is the
normal state of affairs. This does not mean that it in no
way effects consciousness. The very possibility of making
an act of faith, for example, rests on a drawing of the
heart. (5) But this act of faith is not the same as faith
illuminated by charity and the gifts of the Holy Spirit.
Contemplation, itself, should not be thought of as

imperceptible to consciousness by nature however
difficult it may be to experience it in its delicate
beginnings. This would make it incomprehensible. It is
difficult to experience because of its origin in the depths of
the spiritual unconscious and because of the way it makes
its way up from these depths from inside the faculties, as

it were. But it is not imperceptible by nature, for then it

would not be any kind of knowledge at all.
Notes
1. Jacques Maritain, The Degrees of Knowledge, p. 249.

2. Ibid., p. 338.
3. Ibid., p. 260.
4. Ibid., p. 259.
5. See my The Inner Nature of Faith.
A Research Balance Sheet
This book can be complemented by my books St. John of

the Cross and Dr. C.G. Jung which, while it has some
historical material, deals more directly with John of the
Cross and the psychological aspects of his doctrine on
contemplation, Mysticism, Metaphy-sics and Maritain
which examines the origin and development of Maritain’s
ideas on mystical theology and the spiritual unconscious,
and The Inner Nature of Faith, which explores knowledge
by connaturality.
It would take a whole volume to examine the modern

literature on John of the Cross. In North America, for
example, there are the works of Kieran Kavanaugh, Ernest
Larkin, Francis Kelly Nemeck, David Perrin, John Welch,
and many others. But what I would like to do here is to
give some brief indications about the current state of the
history we have been looking at.
We have managed to piece together our puzzle in order to

see the picture of the long history of interpretation that

surrounds St. John’s writings on the beginning of

contemplation. But this history, perhaps like most history,
is a history assembled out of the fragments of the past.
Where, for example, are St. John’s major writings in his

own hand? Gone. Did he destroy them himself after he
had copies made so that his followers would not become
attached to them? Perhaps. Were they destroyed during
the persecution he underwent at the end of his life?
Perhaps, again. And how many manuscript copies of his
writings that circulated in the days before 1618 have
survived?
But despite those losses and the abrupt breaking off of the
Ascent, and even the possible disappearance of some of
St. John’s writings, the substance of what he had to say
has come down and is widely available to us. In English
we have been blessed with the still durable translation of
E.A. Peers and the more modern work of Kieran
Kavanaugh and Otilio Rodriguez.
It is a judgment of history that the writings of Tomás de

Jesús are no longer read and have not seen any new
editions. But it is regrettable that Simeón de la Sagrada
Familia’s critical edition of the Camino espiritual was
never published, a victim, perhaps, of the loss of interest
in the 1950s over the debate about acquired
contemplation. This is a loss that should be repaired. It is
Padre Simeón, along with José de Jesús Crucificado,
Miguel Ángel Díez, and others who have opened the way
for a deeper appreciation of the role Tomás de Jesús
played in the history of modern Christian mysticism.
History has been rather kind to Tomás’ manuscripts,
given the ones that exist in the Biblioteca Nacional and in
the Roman Archives of the Discalced Carmelites.
However, some of them are well protected from curious
eyes by their often difficult handwriting. But what we do
need is a theological study of Tomás’ doctrine on
contemplation, its sources, and his relationships with
people like el Calagurritano and Gracián. The same could
be said of the need for a similar work on Quiroga.
Modern scholarship has provided us with good editions

of Molinos’ Guide (Tellechea) and his Defense (Pacho), as

well as Falconi’s Camino derecho (Gómez) and Ezquerra’s
Escuela de oración (López-Melús). We also have sound
studies on Rojas (Pacho and López Santidran). But we
could use them on Antonio Sobrino, Gabriel López
Navarro, Antonio Panes, Juan Bretón, and others.
Andrés de la Encarnación leaves us an extensive list of the

manuscripts and books he found in the General Archive
and the houses of the Order. This can be complemented
by the Inventory Book of the General Archive, modern
lists of manuscripts in the Biblioteca Nacional in Madrid,
the University of Barcelona, the collection of the Roman
Archive of the Discalced Carmelites, and so forth. But
there seems to be no general index to the holdings of
individual Carmelite houses, still less a Carmelite master
index that would embrace this far-flung Carmelite
literature.
This rich treasure of Carmelite books and manuscripts

starting at the time of John of the Cross and Teresa of
Avila has suffered the insults and injuries of history.
Andrés de la Encarnación, for example, leaves some
reports of these losses: at the convent of the Discalced
Sisters in Toledo, those religious affirm that the Archive
burned and many important manuscripts perished
(Memorias historiales, Vol. II, p. 295); at the convent of the
Discalced Sisters of Lueches, perished by a lack of
consideration various originals of our father Fray José de
Jesús María (p. 297). But the worst blows that this treasure
trove ever took were the losses of both the General
Archive of San Hermenegildo and the Roman Archive of
the Spanish congregation. But if these losses had not
occurred, would that have altered the picture of the
development of Carmelite mysticism that we have been
assembling? In details, certainly. In substance, probably
not. Some 400 Carmelite related manuscripts finally made
their way to the Biblioteca Nacional in Madrid, and the
overall impression, when looking at this list and others is
that enough of the vital material has come down to us in
order to arrive at some well-founded historical positions.
What is more difficult is to reach some sort of consensus
in terms of a theological evaluation of these events. I have

tried to show how the judgment of history indicates that

John of the Cross’ writings on the beginning of
contemplation were misinterpreted both within the Order
and then outside it, starting from before the publication of
his writings and continuing over the centuries until today.
This, of course, is not a judgment that will be universally
shared, to say the least.
Is it possible that there will be new finds of books and

manuscripts? I hope so. But the material that appears
most often in the world of rare books and manuscripts is
quite peripheral to our concerns, and quite expensive, as
well. The days are long gone when Juan de la
Anunciación’s Consultorio et responsio could be found in
a Spanish marketplace, or the books and manuscripts of
the Carmelite monasteries of Mexico were sold on the
sidewalks of Mexico City. In 1971, however, in a
bookstore in Toledo I found a copy of Antonio Panes’
Escala mística which at that time I had no idea was part of
this story, and which I bought for $2.
The bibliography that follows is quite selective, despite its

length. It took considerable good will on the part of many
librarians to allow me to assemble this material at my
mountaintop home in a forest in Oregon. A special thank
you goes to the long-suffering interlibrary loan librarians
of Klamath County, Oregon, and librarians in Madrid,
Barcelona, Burgos, Rome, Washington D.C., New York
and elsewhere who either sent material, or else made us
welcome to see their collections.
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Part III: THE MYSTICAL REVIVALS

OF THE 20TH CENTURY
Chapter 13: The Second Revival
Thomas Keating
Ruth Burrows
There are two men who link the two halves of the
century and its very different kind of attempts to
renew the contemplative life, and though of
markedly different temperaments, they were bound
in friendship: Thomas Merton and Jacques Maritain.
We will look at Maritain’s contribution in the next
chapter.
Thomas Merton
The article on contemplation that had appeared in the

Dictionnaire de spiritualité had summed up a world
that was rapidly disappearing, but it does mention
Thomas Merton and characterized his Seeds of
Contemplation as classical in content, yet modern in
presentation, and these two aspects were to become
the poles around which Merton’s writings on
contemplation were to revolve in the years to come.
Seeds of Contemplation, which appeared in 1949, was

Merton at his best. He had absorbed the tradition and
in his writing made it personal and accessible, and
thus initiated many people into the world of
Christian mysticism. A little later he attempted a
formal theology of mysticism in what was to become

his Ascent to Truth, which was a study of Christian

mysticism in the light of Thomas Aquinas and John
of the Cross. He found this less satisfying, and so did
his readers. (1) It had cost him a great deal of effort to
try to master the massive amounts of material he had
collected, and in the end he felt he had only partially
succeeded. Years later, when he heard Zen monks
were reading this book, it made him uneasy. But this
uneasiness should not be attributed to a
disenchantment with the essentials of the mystical
theology he had embraced, but rather, to a realization
that he had attempted a style of writing that did not
really suit him.
Merton was firmly rooted in the best of the mystical

theology of the first half of the century, and one of his
chief sources of inspiration for his Ascent to Truth was
Jacques Maritain’s Degrees of Knowledge. Merton had
studied Maritain’s Art and Scholasticism before his
conversion, and had briefly met him when Maritain
had lectured in New York. Later, after the
appearance of his Seven Story Mountain, they were to
begin corresponding, and it is possible to see various
reflections of Maritain’s ideas in Merton’s writing.
Merton had, for example, attempted to clarify the
relationship between the classical forms of infused
contemplation and the contemplation found in more
active people, a notion which led him to study
Maritain’s idea of masked contemplation that we will
look at later in detail. (2) It is also possible that
Merton’s distinction between the ego and the
existential depths of the personality owes something
to Maritain’s ideas on the person, and perhaps even
something to Maritain’s notion of the spiritual
unconscious.
When Merton began to write on the spiritual life, the

question of acquired contemplation was quickly
fading from view, and so it is not surprising that he
largely sidestepped the whole issue. On the other
hand, he makes it clear that there is only one kind of
Christian contemplation, the passive, infused
contemplation of John of the Cross. He tells us, for

example, that "the man of prayer who has so

familiarized himself with the truths of faith in study
and meditation that he can call them to mind in a
simple intuition does not automatically become a
contemplative by this mere fact alone. " (3) This kind of
intuition does not last. It doesn’t absorb the will, and
since the soul is "not in a passive contemplative state,
it will either become distracted or go to sleep." (4) In
another place he has been commenting on Maritain,
and when he turns to contemplation as a loving
knowledge, he says: "The exact teaching of modern
Thomists, Garrigou-Lagrange, Gardeil, and Maritain,
on this point, tells us that intense supernatural love
for God, directed by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost
through His Gifts, becomes a supraconceptual means
of knowing God as He is in Himself. The precise
distinction is important." (5) He distinguishes this
from a state in which we "rejoice in the knowledge
we love and are loved" in a kind of reflective
intuition. But "this is not, strictly speaking, infused
contemplation, at least in my opinion. It is rather
what some writers call "acquired" contemplation,
although the validity of such a term is disputed and I
have no intention of discussing the question here." (6)
If the renewal of philosophy and theology that had

been blessed and sanctioned by Pope Leo XIII in the
1890s had had a galvanizing effect on mystical
theology, this impetus was now gone. The
contemplative movement of the first half of the
century had asserted the normalcy of contemplation
as the flowering of the theological virtues and the
gifts of the Holy Spirit given in Baptism, and the call,
at least remotely, of all Christians to contemplation.
But it had never truly overcome the practical mistrust
of mysticism that was the lingering effect of the crisis
of Quietism. Undoubtedly, there were religious and
lay people who devoted themselves with great
intensity to the contemplative life, but they were a
small minority surrounded by a sea of common
Christian sentiment that failed to comprehend their
interest, or even actively distrusted it. This situation
existed not only in the parishes, but in religious

communities, even in some of those communities

where it would have been most expected that an
interest in contemplation would flourish.
The Thomist philosophy and theology of Pope Leo

XIII renewal had seen a time of great creativity
within an often repressive ecclesiastical structure. But
Thomism had made its way to the seminary and
college classrooms all too often not in the lively give
and take of a genuine process of discovery, but in the
form of the soul-deadening manuals. The then new
mystical theology was often communicated in the
same way. It was an esoteric course tacked on to the
study of dogmatic and moral theology, and served
up with implied warnings that it would be well not
to meddle too deeply in it. Once the fresh air of the
Council swept through the Church, this old style of
teaching was quickly put aside, but often put aside
with it was an understanding of the creative work
that had taken place in these earlier times in the field
of mystical theology. The post-conciliar
contemplative scene that was soon going to appear
would be marked by a large gap between the two
halves of the century, a gap that the years alone could
not explain.
Thomas Keating
In the late 1960s and early 1970s Thomas Keating,

who was then the abbot of the Trappist monastery of
St. Joseph in Spencer, Massachusetts, saw many
young Catholics who had a thirst for spirituality, and
not finding what they desired in the Catholic Church,
turned to Buddhism and Hinduism. They had no
idea about the existence of a Christian mystical
tradition. The monastery, itself, had a Zen Buddhist
teacher coming to lead intensive retreats, and
William Meninger, a monk of the monastery, was
giving retreats on the Cloud of Unknowing, the 14th
century treatise on contemplative prayer by an
unknown English hermit. His fellow monk, Basil
Pennington, had developed a deep interest in
transcendental meditation. And all these elements

began to coalesce around the idea of presenting anew

the Christian contemplative tradition so that
Christians could come in contact with their own
heritage while being open to what could be learned
from Eastern meditation and depth psychology. This
was the birth of centering prayer.
The mechanics of it were simple: a sacred word was

chosen to symbolize consenting to God’s presence
and action within, and the word was returned to
whenever the person praying became aware of being
distracted from the simple activity of waiting upon
God. Centering prayer was to spread widely by
means of parish workshops and retreats, as well as
intensive retreats reminiscent of Zen Buddhist ones.
And this intensive effort to spread it became formally
organized as Contemplative Outreach.
This brief history is enough to show us three vital

elements in centering prayer’s makeup: an attempt to
reconnect with the Christian mystical tradition, an
openness to Eastern forms of meditation, and an
appreciation for depth psychology. These last two
elements, while not directly in our line of inquiry,
ought to be looked at at least briefly before we go on
to examine the first. They are vital aspects of the
reemergence of a renewed Christian contemplative
tradition today. Or to put it in another way, it is
becoming increasingly difficult to imagine a renewal
of the Christian contemplative life which would not
be influenced by them. But each of them poses its
own distinctive challenge.
Centering Prayer and Depth Psychology
Fr. Keating deliberately uses the language of depth

psychology to make centering prayer more accessible
to people today. God is pictured as dwelling in the
depths of the unconscious, but buried under the
emotional debris of a lifetime. Our connectedness to
God was "repressed somewhere in early
childhood." (7) Centering prayer makes us vulnerable
to the unconscious and allows us to unload and

empty the debris that it is filled with so that the

divine presence can manifest itself in divine union.
We are in therapy with the divine therapist.
"To use a clumsy simile, in tenement houses where

the garbage collection is unreliable, some tenants use
the bathroom to store the garbage. If you want to take
a bath, the first thing you have to do is empty out the
junk. A similar procedure holds in this prayer. When
we commit ourselves to the spiritual journey, the first
thing the Spirit does is start removing the emotional
junk inside of us. He wishes to fill us completely and
to transform our entire body-spirit organism into a
flexible instrument of divine love. But as long as we
have obstacles in us, some of which we are not even
aware, he can’t fill us to capacity. In his love and zeal
he begins to clean out the tub. One means by which
he does this is by means of the passive purification
initiated by the dynamic of contemplative prayer." (8)
This therapeutic process is likened to or even

identified with the nights of John of the Cross: "The
night of sense is designed to bring about the
dismantling of the emotional programs and the death
of the false self." (9) The basic goal of bringing the
contemplative journey into relationship with the
unconscious is an eminently valuable one. But here,
like in many pioneering attempts, the execution of
the plan is less than perfect. The unconscious of
depth psychology, that is, the psychological
unconscious, tends to be equated with the
unconscious in which God dwells, and thus the
process of psychological development is identified,
without sufficient reflection, with growth in union
with God. "What happens when we hit the Center?
Since there is no more junk left to hide the divine
presence, I presume we are in divine union." (10) This
is a position which, if brought out formally, would be
very difficult to defend. While it is undoubtedly true
that the spiritual journey takes place in the depths of
the soul, of which the psychological unconscious is a
dimension, and this spiritual journey often vitally
interacts with the psychological unconscious, that

does not mean that the contemplative and

psychological processes are not distinct. The passive
purification of John of the Cross has deep
repercussions on the psychological unconscious, but
that does not make it an essentially psychological
process. To speak of the emptying or unloading of
the debris of the unconscious is to use a Freudian-
style language which has questionable validity. It
does not take into account, as would a more Jungian
view, that the unconscious is not just repressed junk,
but contains deep, enduring structures, or
archetypes, which speak to us of the nature of the
soul, itself, as a creation of God, and which interact
with the contemplative journey.
Further, on a practical level, it is possible that the

unloading of the unconscious is brought about
precisely by the reduction of conscious activity that
the practice of centering prayer teaches. A conscious
attempt not to make use of the faculties leads to a loss
of energy in the ego and a corresponding increase of
energy in the unconscious, and thus, to the unloading
of the unconscious as this increase in energy
manifests itself. If this is so, then it is fair to look at
the psychological reasons for this unloading, and not
to consider it a directly spiritual consequence of the
life of prayer. Finally, although good psychological
effects can, and often do, result from the practice of
the life of prayer, it should be made clear that the
divine therapist is not meant to substitute for direct
psychological work with a human therapist.
Centering Prayer and Eastern Forms of Meditation
Here the critical question is whether Christian

contemplation aims at the same goal as various forms
of Buddhist and Hindu meditation. In response to a
question about centering prayer: "Sometimes there
are no thoughts. There is only my self-awareness. I
don’t know whether to let go of it or be aware of it."
Fr. Keating responds: "That is a crucial question. If
you are aware of no thoughts, you are aware of
something and that is a thought. If at that point you

can lose the awareness that you are aware of no

thoughts, you will move into pure consciousness. In
that state there is no consciousness of self. When your
ordinary faculties come back together again, there
may be a sense of peaceful delight, a good sign that
you were not asleep. It is important to realize that the
place to which we are going is one in which the
knower, the knowing, and that which is known are
all one. Awareness alone remains. The one who is
aware disappears along with whatever was the object
of consciousness. This is what divine union is. There
is no reflection of self. The experience is temporary,
but it orients you toward the contemplative state. So
long as you feel united with God, it cannot be full
union." (11)
It is to be doubted whether this no consciousness of

self is an adequate way to describe Christian
contemplation, and this kind of language seems to
imply an affirmative answer to the question of
whether contemplation and Eastern forms of
meditation are aiming at the same goal. (12)
Centering Prayer and the Christian Mystical

Tradition
While it is important to raise these kinds of questions,

our principle interest is in how centering prayer is
reconnecting with the Christian mystical tradition,
especially John of the Cross. And John of the Cross
has, in fact, played a significant role in Fr. Keating’s
formulation of centering prayer, especially St. John’s
description of the transition from meditation to
contemplation in The Living Flame of Love.
But when we examine centering prayer in the light of

the history we have been following, we are left with
the impression that it is, indeed, renewing the
Christian mystical tradition, but that tradition is still
bound up with unresolved issues about acquired
contemplation. By this I do not mean to say that Fr.
Keating and the other developers of centering prayer
intended to do this, or even that they were not

inspired by earlier parts of the Christian mystical

tradition like The Cloud of Unknowing and Cassian.
But when faced with the dilemma of the dark night of
sense in the wide sense of the term, it was almost
inevitable they would recreate another form of
The centering prayer movement, itself, does not

hesitate to identify centering prayer with the prayer
of simplicity, or simple regard, or active recollection,
or even active quiet, or acquired contemplation.
Centering prayer is routinely described as a prayer in
which we develop our relationship with Christ
beyond words, thoughts, feelings, and the
multiplicity of particular acts. It is a prayer that tries
to reach the level of pure faith, a "faith that is moving
beyond the mental egoic level of discursive
meditation and particular acts to the intuitive level of
contemplation." (13) These are all ideas we have seen
before, and they are ideas that naturally come to
mind when we face the practical issue of the dark
night.
Fr. Keating had met people who had devoted

themselves to the life of prayer, even for many years,
and yet did not seem to have ever experienced
mystical graces, that is, the kinds of infused prayer
that Teresa and John talk about. They might even
have spent their lives in contemplative religious
communities, and not had the experience of
contemplation. In fact, "less than five percent of
cloistered contemplatives that I know have the
mystical experiences that Teresa or John of the Cross
describe. They generally experience the night of
sense, and a few experience the night of spirit. Their
consolations are few and far between." (14) We are
back to the familiar subject of the night of sense in the
wide sense of the term, which is the dilemma that
Tomás de Jesús faced so many years before, and it
goes like this: "I have given myself to a life dedicated
to contemplation, and yet I don’t experience it." What
is Fr. Keating’s solution? It is much like that of Tomás
de Jesús. He will distinguish mystical graces from the

essence of mystical prayer. A mystical grace is the

"inflowing of God’s presence into our faculties or the
radiance of His presence when it spontaneously
overtakes us." (15) "I am convinced that it is a mistake
to identify the experience of contemplative prayer
with contemplative prayer itself, which transcends
any impression of God’s radiating or inflowing
presence." (16) So we are back, as well, to
contemplation without the experience of
contemplation. The essence of contemplative prayer
is the "way of pure faith," which no faculty can
perceive. "One can be having this "experience" on the
deepest level beyond the power of any faculty to
perceive it." (17)
There are two distinct spiritual paths. The one

embodied by Teresa in which we have mystical
graces, and the felt presence of God. We enter God’s
presence by the front stairs. It is an exuberant or
"light on" mysticism. Then there is the path of John of
the Cross that also leads to the highest state of
mystical union, but by way of pure faith. It is the
back stairs, a hidden staircase, it is a "light off"
mysticism without mystical graces.
As I said, this way of understanding John of the

Cross is driven by the practical issue of the dark
night, and so it deals with a very real and pressing
problem. But the solution it presents is untenable. We
cannot drive a wedge between St. Teresa and St.
John. They are talking about the same contemplative
life, and both of them are talking about infused
contemplation. John does, indeed, call faith the
proximate means of union with God. But it is a faith
that is animated by charity and illuminated by the
gifts of the Holy Spirit, especially the gift of wisdom
which gives rise to the experience of contemplation.
Infused contemplation is not some sort of accidental
consolation or some sort of particular knowledge. It
is a knowledge of divine union that is coming
through love, and that is why St. John calls it a
general knowledge, and as such it is a knowledge
that is to be hoped for and wished for. Pure faith is

not meant to be separated from this kind of

knowledge.
The distinction to be drawn is not between mystical

graces in the sense of infused contemplation itself,
and the essence of mystical prayer, but between
charity and the indwelling of God and
contemplation. We can grow in charity and in divine
union even to a very high degree and not receive
contemplative graces. Why don’t we receive them?
"God alone knows," John of the Cross responds, and
this is an issue we will have to return to in the next
chapter. But it makes no sense to try to separate the
experience of contemplation from contemplative
prayer, for then we end up reinventing a new sort of
acquired contemplation so that we can be
contemplatives without the experience of
contemplation, and all this leads to a reinterpretation
of John of the Cross that is not faithful to his doctrine.
Once contemplation becomes the quest for pure faith,
St. John’s three signs lose their meaning. Then there
are no weighty reasons why we should not introduce
everyone into contemplative prayer. We no longer
see why the life of prayer is traditionally said to
begin with meditation, or how it is possible to know
if God is calling us to contemplation, or why it even
matters.
"Can we begin a life of prayer with centering prayer?

Tradition says that we should normally begin with
discursive meditation, and that we should not move
beyond affective prayer unless we know God is
calling us to contemplation. But nobody explains
what that really means, or how we are to know when
God is calling us. The usual signs given by St. John of
the Cross are not easy to verify in concrete cases…
My question is why do we need to know." (18)
There seems to be no reason to start with words and

concepts, and taking inspiration, perhaps, from
Eastern forms of meditation, beginners are
encouraged to leave words and concepts behind and
start right in on contemplative prayer. In this kind of

world there is no need to worry if contemplation is

being received because the reception of infused
contemplation has already been put to one side as an
accessory consolation. Paradoxically we then
presume that if we persevere in our practice of
contemplative prayer, somewhere in the depths of
our souls our intention meets the action of the Holy
Spirit and we are, indeed, contemplatives. Then, in
those who have been faithful in practicing centering
prayer with some seriousness and for a sufficient
length of time, we can presume that they are, indeed,
contemplatives, even in the sense that St. John of the
Cross and Teresa describe, i.e., that they are in some
way receiving the prayer of quiet even though they
are not experiencing it. St. John’s general loving
attentiveness is no longer the reception of infused
contemplation, but a purity of intention that comes
from pure faith. "If thoughts are going by and you
feel no attraction for them, you can be confident that
you are in the prayer of quiet." (19) Apparently, there
is an inverse proportion between our experience of
union and its purity. "Let go of sensible and spiritual
consolation. When you feel the love of God flowing
into you, it is a kind of union, but it is a union of
which you are aware. Therefore, it is not pure union,
not full union." (20) "There is no greater way in which
God can communicate with us than on the level of
pure faith. This level does not register directly on our
psychic faculties because it is too deep." (21)
Ruth Burrows
Thomas Keating’s understanding of John of the Cross

was inspired, in part, by Ruth Burrows, a Discalced
Carmelite sister in England in her book Guidelines for
Mystical Prayer. There she tells us that although she
was sure she had received no mystical graces and
had no particular desire for them, her reading about
them had left a bad taste, for it seemed to say that
anyone who didn’t receive these graces was a second-
class citizen in the kingdom of God.
Then she met two sisters, one of whom she calls

Claire whom she felt was gifted with mystical graces,

and another, Petra, who was very holy but without
these graces. And out of these encounters arose what
she felt were revolutionary conclusions: the feeling or
experience of God’s presence, which is described by
the mystical writers as the hallmark of mystical
experience, or contemplation, is really accidental to it.
"Not only is this ‘sensation’ or similar experience not
the mystical grace but is not even a criterion of its
presence." (22) This is an error, we are told, that
Teresa of Avila fell into. She felt that the more intense
the emotional experience, the more advanced the
state of prayer, and on that basis she distinguished
the prayer of quiet from the prayer of union. If only
she had known about the psychological unconscious,
she would have avoided this mistake.
There are "two ways of experiencing mystical union,"

or of experiencing the contemplative journey in all its
stages. (23) One is "light on," and this way is
exemplified by Teresa and John of the Cross, and
which is found in Sr. Claire. Somehow God turns on
a light so we can see what is happening in the
mystical experience, but this is so rare as to be found
only once or twice in an era. It has a prophetic
character given so its recipient can help others. The
other way is "light off." This is the normal way, the
way of Sr. Petra. Contemplation is happening in the
depths of the soul, but we don't experience it. The
essence of this state at its highest level is when God
has replaced the ego, and the effect in consciousness
is emptiness. Light on adds nothing to the basic
grace. Both Claire and Petra feel that they are in
transforming union, that is, in the highest state of the
mystical life. Neither light on nor light off is to be
confused with favours that is Teresa’s prayer of quiet,
union, rapture or ecstasy. The heart of both light on
and light off is a non-conceptual reality inaccessible
to ordinary awareness. "By the very nature of things
it must be secret, hidden." (24)
John of the Cross knew the psychic character of those

favors, that is, how there are repercussions in the

psyche from certain stimuli, and so he urges

detachment from them, "yet his own channel allowed
an exuberant overflow, a fountain rapturously
leaping upwards, a cataract hurling into the dark
abyss: but no matter how sublime, not the grace
itself." (25) Spiritual experience cannot be judged on
its transient emotional impact. Rather, it is our beliefs
"becoming principles of action." What we "experience
of mind and will is more or less physical." (26) The
self "can be immersed in profound prayer, can be
living intensely in God with no repercussions in the
conscious mind and no conscious desire for
Him." (27) What, then, can be known of the highest
reaches of the mystical life? "Teresa expresses it in
terms of a vision of the Trinity dwelling within her,
and similarly, John." But this is light on. Petra has her
own experience:
"It was my ‘hermit day’ and I had an extraordinary

sense of peace, as though nothing could ever touch
me again. This peace had been growing for some
weeks but, being occupied with the community and
other things, I hadn’t stopped to taste it. This day,
completely free from everything, it flooded into my
consciousness and wrapped me round. I was in the
garden, and for a moment I seemed to be looking
within and I saw or realized in a mysterious way that
I was not there. There was no ‘I’. I can’t say more
than that. I had gone. It wasn’t that I saw or felt God,
but it was as if I were in a vast and lonely plain far
removed from everything." (28) This emptiness and
loss of self is, we are told, "fundamentally the same
grace" as Teresa’s vision of the glorious Christ
celebrating His nuptials with her. (29)
Ruth Burrows was to go on to write books both on

Teresa and John, but her view of mysticism remains
substantially the same. In her Fire Upon the Earth, her
work on Teresa’s Interior Castle, she tells us that her
revolutionary conclusion is in line with tradition, but
is a "bold break" with the "popular, even
‘professional’ interpretation of the tradition." (30) The
mystical tradition has at its heart a contradiction. But

there is a simple answer to it. Don’t confuse the

feeling of God’s presence with the mystical grace,
itself. Mystical infused contemplation is not a psychic
experience, but rather, it is living in total conformity
with Jesus. Better to substitute the kingdom for the
"strange and unlovely terms infused contemplation
and mystical contemplation." (31) Light on is not the
mystical grace, itself, but reveals it; nor should it be
identified with spiritual favors. (32) It is
supernatural, but it is "wiser to leave it in its mystery"
than to delve into its nature. Somehow it is
"abnormal" and not the mystic grace, itself. St. Teresa
was light on but it is not certain John of the Cross
was. (33) St. Teresa constantly confused the mystical
grace, light on, and the psychic response. John,
indeed, tried to correct her. (34) He "hammers home
time and time again that infused contemplation of its
very nature is hidden, most secret to the one
receiving it. He counsels ruthless detachment from
‘impressions, images, representations in which
spiritual communications are involved’ (or might be
involved)." (35)
Teresa’s experience will be "totally different from

ours." (36) But what is the normal experience, that is,
light off? That "experience will be precisely
non–experience…" (37) Mystical experience takes place
in the depths, and human consciousness, "essentially
material can know nothing of it directly." But non-
experience is not no experience, but a sort of
experience. Looking back, people who have traveled
the contemplative path know that something has
happened.
In Ascent to Love, the same kind of analysis is applied

to John of the Cross. There is a "disturbing
contradiction" in John’s writings between his Ascent
and Dark Night on the one hand, and Spiritual Canticle
and Living Flame on the other. In the latter he seems
to be saying that we should detach ourselves from
crude consolations in order to enjoy something
immensely superior, but "I deliberately say ‘seems’. It
is tempting to speculate, to advance theories for this

apparently blatant inconsistency but that would not

serve the purpose of this book. It is enough to remark
that for the majority of readers the impression is such
as I have given. If John is really saying what these
people think he is then we are justified in
disregarding him in given instances." (38)
John’s Dark Night is highly descriptive, but "nothing

can be said of the heart of the experience, the contact
with the divine reality; this must, of its nature, escape
detection." (39) Just because John gives us three signs
to discern the beginning of contemplation, it is a
mistake that it important for us to know. (40) They
are ambiguous. We must rely only on faith. Spiritual
light is purest when it is unperceived. (41) "Whatever
is perceived, ‘tasted,’ ‘felt,’ and so on, is not the pure
light itself – not God." (42) At the summit of the
mountain egotism is burned away leaving a pure
receptivity for God "whether this is experienced as a
vast emptiness and longing for him or as fulness and
possession makes no difference." (43) And this
quotation brings us back to Sr. Petra's experience of
transforming union.
What are we to make of all this? Are we actually face-

to-face with a revolutionary breakthrough in the
understanding of the Christian mystical tradition?
Unfortunately not. We have returned again to the
dilemma of Tomás de Jesús, which is what shall we
do when confronted with the fact that most people,
even those who are seen to experience the dark night
of sense in the wide sense of the term, do not
experience infused contemplation. Ruth Burrows
attempts to solve it by reinterpreting what John and
Teresa have said about contemplation. Then we are
back to there being two ways of being a
contemplative, one by experience – the way of St.
Teresa – and the other by non-experience – the way
of John of the Cross, at least in the Ascent and Dark
Night. But while the problem is a very real one, her
solution is untenable. Despite differences in
temperament and expression, you cannot really
separate John and Teresa on the subject of infused

contemplation. Ruth Burrows wants us to accept the

testimony of Sr. Petra and Sr. Claire that they are in
transforming union and can resolve the disturbing
contradictions that she finds in the mystical tradition,
while, at the same time, we are asked to put in
brackets St. Teresa and St. John, the Church’s
mystical doctors. Her revolution is marred by a series
of fundamental and interlocking misunderstandings:
1. She identifies infused contemplation with the

divine indwelling, that is, with the presence of
God in the depths of the soul by love. This
presence is the bedrock of the life of grace, and
grows by love whether we experience it or not.
The theologians of contemplation of the first
part of the century admitted that someone
could reach a high degree of sanctity without
infused contemplation, but the divine
indwelling is not identical to infused
contemplation. Contemplation is a mysterious
experience of that indwelling that makes its
way into consciousness.
2. Once she has made that identification, then she
has to insist contemplation is by nature
imperceptible. It is not. Otherwise, we have to
reduce the writings of Teresa and John to a
giant misunderstanding on their part. St. John,
himself, in the Ascent and Dark Night takes
great pains to explore in subtle detail just how
contemplation becomes an experience.
3. St. Teresa’s prayer of quiet and prayer of union
are experiences of infused contemplation, just
as are those states of prayer that St. John is
describing in the Ascent and Dark Night. They
cannot be identified with spiritual favors or
psychic repercussions. When St. John is
detaching the soul from all particular kinds of
knowledge that comes through the natural
workings of the faculties, he is not trying to
take from it that general loving knowledge,
which is contemplation itself, or to say that it is
by nature imperceptible. This general loving
knowledge is an experience of the divine

indwelling, which does not come through the

faculties, but wells up from the depths of the
soul. But that does not make it no kind of
experience at all. Infused contemplation, as it
travels through the
psychological unconscious, can set off all sorts

of psychic reper-cussions, but it cannot be
identified with them.
4. Consciousness is neither physical nor material

even though the natural working of the
faculties cannot grasp contemplation.
Consciousness, rather, is a dimension of the
spiritual soul which embraces, as well, those
depths where God dwells, and in its own way,
though not through the faculties, it can have
some sort of knowledge of experience of God’s
presence.
5. Sr. Petra’s account of transforming union is
well worth pondering, but it is not
immediately clear that it cannot have other
interpretations. Not every dark night or loss of
ego leads in a proximate way to infused
contemplation. There are, for example, losses
of self that make up part of the world of
Eastern religious experience, and spontaneous
versions of these same experiences have
happened to Westerners.
In summary, the problem that Ruth Burrows is trying

to deal with is real, that is, what can be done about
the fact that many people, even in cloistered
convents, do not experience contemplation. But it
only muddies the waters to try to make John and
Teresa say something other than what they are
actually saying. It is better to accept what they are
saying, and deal with the problem of the dark night
of sense in the wide sense of the term directly.
Thomas Green

The central problem is clear. Just as in the time of

Tomás de Jesús, what is driving interpretations of
John of the Cross like Ruth Burrows is what I have
been calling the experience of the dark night in the
wide sense of the term. It is much the same story with
Thomas Green, S.J. In 1979 he wrote Drinking from a
Dry Well which had its goal to help himself and
others "understand and accept the challenge of living
with dryness as the normal goal of a life of
prayer." (44) And he received hundreds of letters in
response from people who felt themselves to be in
the predicament he described. This critical experience
of dryness or darkness led him to reinterpret John of
the Cross, as well. He tells us that at the beginning of
the transition from meditation to contemplation,
loving attentiveness is both easy and difficult. We are
drawn to be still, but think we should be doing
something. Later, the darkness becomes dry, "that is,
when God seems to be absent – how can we be
"lovingly attentive" to him? This question long
tormented me in my own prayer life. John gives the
same advice ("be content simply with a loving and
peaceful attentiveness to God") when speaking of the
aridity of the dry well (Dark Night I, 10, #4). To me at
that time such advice seemed like a cruel joke. How
could I be lovingly attentive to Someone who seemed
to be completely absent?" (45)
As an interpretation of John of the Cross, it labors

under the same difficulties we have been seeing, that
is, loving attentiveness as an activity we exercise, the
lack of contemplation, itself, and so forth. But
Thomas Green’s grateful readers are not directly
concerned with John of the Cross, but rather, the
problem of the dark night and how to deal with it.
When we look at the attempts of Thomas Keating

and Ruth Burrows – and they are not alone here – to
renew the contemplative life we see that they have a
practical grasp of the problem of the dark night of
sense in the wide sense of the term, that is, the failure
of most of us to arrive at infused contemplation. But
their solutions are much like those proposed for

nearly 400 years. What we need to do is to try to

come to grips, not so much with the idea of
contemplation, as if it could somehow be
rehabilitated, but with the underlying principles and
the concrete problems that have shaped this struggle
from the beginning. It is only then we will have a
chance to look at Christian mysticism afresh.
Notes
1. William Shannon, Thomas Merton’s... pp. 51-53.

2. Ibid., p. 22.
3. Thomas Merton, The Ascent to Truth, p. 208.
4. Ibid., p. 209.
5. Ibid., p. 277.
6. Ibid.
7. Thomas Keating, Invitation to Love, p. 41.
8. Thomas Keating, Open Mind, Open Heart, p. 96.
9. Thomas Keating, Invitation to Love, p. 85.
10. Ibid., p. 82.
11. Thomas Keating, Open Mind, Open Heart, pp.
73-74.
12. This kind of language calls to mind Fr.
Keating’s rather lavish praise of the writings of
Bernadette Roberts in his preface to her book
The Experience of No-Self. Her work, while
deserving attention, raises serious questions
from the point of view of Christian mysticism
because of her claim that her no-self
experiences constitute a stage of the spiritual
life beyond that of the transforming union of
John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila. Various
criticisms of centering prayer have been
launched in recent years, but in a rather
unilateral and non-dialogical way. Among
them can be numbered the criticisms of Mother
Angelica and a program on her Eternal Word
Television Network called "The New Age:
Satan’s Counterfeit, No. 3, Meditation and
Centering Prayer." These criticisms were
responded to by Fr. Keating and the

Contemplative Outreach staff in a dossier

dated August 21, 1992. More developed
criticisms are to be found in "Centering Prayer:
Transcendental Meditation for the Christian
Market" by Finbarr Flanagan in Faith and
Renewal, May, June 1991, and in a privately
circulated paper, "Christian Contemplation
and Centering Prayer" by Chris Noble. But
what is needed is a less polemical discussion
with the centering prayer movement. A more
irenic note is hopefully struck in the ongoing
discussion on Centering Prayer at www.
innerexplorations.com/chmystext/cm1.htm
13. Thomas Keating, Open Mind, Open Heart, p. 5.
14. Ibid., p. 11.
15. Ibid., p. 10.
16. Ibid., pp. 10-11.
17. Ibid., p. 11.
18. Ibid., p. 122.
19. Ibid., p. 75.
20. Ibid., p. 76.
21. Ibid., p. 83.
22. Ruth Burrows, Guidelines for Mystical Prayer, p.
11.
23. Ibid., p. 45.
24. Ibid., pp. 45-46.
25. Ibid., p. 51.
26. Ibid., p. 95.
27. Ibid.
28. Ibid., p. 121.
29. Ibid., p. 125.
30. Ruth Burrows, Fire Upon the Earth, p. 36.
31. Ibid., p. 48.
32. Ibid.
33. Ibid., p. 49.
34. Ibid., p. 52.
35. Ibid., p. 53.
36. Ibid., p. 56.
37. Ibid., p. 59.
38. Ruth Burrows, Ascent to Love, p. 3.
39. Ibid., pp. 50-51.
40. Ibid., p. 51.
41. Ibid., p. 92.

42. Ibid.
43. Ibid., p. 114.
44. Thomas Green, Drinking from a Dry Well, p. 8.
45. Ibid., p. 64.
Up
Part IV
Home

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From St.

John of the Cross to Us, Part I

From St. John of the Cross to Us

Chapter 1: Christian Contemplation Today

The Current Situation

We are at the beginning of the first sustained and

Today’s revival of practical interest in contemplative

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Prayer and meditation groups following the teach-ing of

Increasing numbers of Christians today are searching

Today’s practical interest in mysticism, inasmuch as it is

I don’t propose to write a detailed history of Christian

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mysticism or a comprehensive treatise on mystical

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degrees, in all of them it was a prayer that was beyond

Two Views of the History of Christian Mysticism

The second way of looking at this same history is a lot

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commentary and development that transmits their

Back to Christian Mysticism

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From St. John of the Cross to Us

Chapter 2: John of the Cross' Teaching of Contemplation

There is no substitute for reading John of the Cross

The story that begins in Chapter 3 is the story of how

In order to help us grasp St. John’s ideas on

The story of Teresa of Avila (1515-1582) and John of the

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mention a large dose of common sense and a sense of

1562 finds her finishing the first version of her

This is John of the Cross, or Juan de San Matía, as he

In 1578, while John of the Cross was imprisoned and

There is another factor that can help us situate St. John

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and Origen to Gregory of Nyssa, and from Dionysius to

A Primer on St. John’s Teaching on the Beginning of

St. John’s teaching on the transition from ordinary

By ordinary prayer St. John meant any kind of prayer

But since this is not how we understand meditation

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these distinctions fully emerged, meditation embraces

John also gives a precise meaning to the word

But this is not precisely what St. John is interested in. It

The first sign is that we cannot pray like we did before.

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The second – in order to rule out a disinclination coming

John was so concerned that someone might miss this

John of the Cross on Contemplation

This brief summary can hardly do justice to St. John’s

The Ascent of Mt. Carmel

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Contemplation does not come through the natural

"For the farther the soul progresses in spirituality, the

Therefore we need to take up a special attitude towards

"The advice proper for these individuals is that they

This passage continues: "...and, if they work at times it is

It is worth noting that the first edition of St. John’s

In Chapter 13, John goes on to describe the three signs

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"The second sign is an awareness of a disinclination to

"The third and surest sign is that a person likes to

"Actually at the beginning of this state the loving