John Janaro's Blog, page 168

La Fiesta de San Juan ... de ★Noche★

Yesterday was light and today is ... DARK!?

San Juan de la Cruz. Saint John of the Cross. Today is his feast day. He is the great sixteenth century Carmelite reformer and mystic who is famous for his teaching about "the dark night of the soul." He is also one of the great poets of the Golden Age of Spanish literature.

San Juan's explanation of the periods of experiential "darkness" that occur at various times during the growth of our relationship with God is intended to encourage us. We need not "be afraid" of the darkness. Or, even if we do feel afraid, we can recognize that this kind of disorientation should not cause us to give up loving God and seeking to draw closer to him.

"In general the soul makes greater progress when it least thinks so; indeed, most frequently when it imagines that it is losing. Having never before experienced the present novelty which dazzles it, and disturbs its former habits, it considers itself as losing, rather than as gaining ground, when it sees itself lost in a place it once knew, and in which it delighted, traveling by a road it knows not, and in which it has no pleasure... But inasmuch as God Himself is the guide of the soul in its blindness, the soul may well exult and say, 'In darkness and in safety,' now that it has come to a knowledge of its state" (Saint John of the Cross).

These precise observations of spiritual theology probably apply in a broader sense to much of the strangeness of ordinary human life. We must continue to trust in the wisdom and goodness of God throughout all the seemingly incomprehensible twists and turns and jolts and failures we experience, all that tempts us to question whether or not God really cares about us.

Of course he cares about us. But he has made us for himself; he has made our hearts for a fulfillment inexpressibly greater than we can understand or achieve by our own power. We won't reach the God who is infinite, transcendent Mystery, the God who is Infinite Love, until we have really endured something like these dark nights.

I spent some time today with Spanish verse of this great saint and poet. Some of the words are antiquated, but in general they are very accessible and certainly more concise, more rhythmic, more beautiful in their original form. I don't speak Spanish and I don't understand much of the many variations of spoken Spanish found throughout the Hispanic world. I do aspire to read, and with the many new and continually improving linguistic tools available to us, I hope to learn to read a bit better. Language is a wonderful thing in itself.
Here are the first six verses of the Song of the Soul that Knows God by Faith by San Juan de la Cruz:

Cantar de la Alma
que se huelga de conoscer a Dios por fe

Que bien se yo la fonte, que mana, y corre
aunque es de noche.

Aquella eterna fonte esta ascondida
que bien se yo do tiene su manida
aunque es de noche.

Su origen no lo se, pues no le tiene;
mas se que todo origen della viene,
aunque es de noche.

Se que no puede ser cosa tan bella
y que cielos y tierra beuen della
aunque es de noche.

Bien se que suelo en ella no se halla
y que ninguno puede vadealla
aunque es de noche.

Su claridad nunca es escurecida
y se que toda luz de ella es uenida
aunque es de noche.

La Fiesta de San Juan ... de ★Noche★

Yesterday was light and today is ... DARK!?

San Juan de la Cruz. Saint John of the Cross. Today is his feast day. He is the great sixteenth century Carmelite reformer and mystic who is famous for his teaching about "the dark night of the soul." He is also one of the great poets of the Golden Age of Spanish literature.

San Juan's explanation of the periods of experiential "darkness" that occur at various times during the growth of our relationship with God is intended to encourage us. We need not "be afraid" of the darkness. Or, even if we do feel afraid, we can recognize that this kind of disorientation should not cause us to give up loving God and seeking to draw closer to him.

"In general the soul makes greater progress when it least thinks so; indeed, most frequently when it imagines that it is losing. Having never before experienced the present novelty which dazzles it, and disturbs its former habits, it considers itself as losing, rather than as gaining ground, when it sees itself lost in a place it once knew, and in which it delighted, traveling by a road it knows not, and in which it has no pleasure... But inasmuch as God Himself is the guide of the soul in its blindness, the soul may well exult and say, 'In darkness and in safety,' now that it has come to a knowledge of its state" (Saint John of the Cross).

These precise observations of spiritual theology probably apply in a broader sense to much of the strangeness of ordinary human life. We must continue to trust in the wisdom and goodness of God throughout all the seemingly incomprehensible twists and turns and jolts and failures we experience, all that tempts us to question whether or not God really cares about us.

Of course he cares about us. But he has made us for himself; he has made our hearts for a fulfillment inexpressibly greater than we can understand or achieve by our own power. We won't reach the God who is infinite, transcendent Mystery, the God who is Infinite Love, until we have really endured something like these dark nights.

I spent some time today with Spanish verse of this great saint and poet. Some of the words are antiquated, but in general they are very accessible and certainly more concise, more rhythmic, more beautiful in their original form. I don't speak Spanish and I don't understand much of the many variations of spoken Spanish found throughout the Hispanic world. I do aspire to read, and with the many new and continually improving linguistic tools available to us, I hope to learn to read a bit better. Language is a wonderful thing in itself.
Here are the first six verses of the Song of the Soul that Knows God by Faith by San Juan de la Cruz:

Cantar de la Alma
que se huelga de conoscer a Dios por fe

Que bien se yo la fonte, que mana, y corre
aunque es de noche.

Aquella eterna fonte esta ascondida
que bien se yo do tiene su manida
aunque es de noche.

Su origen no lo se, pues no le tiene;
mas se que todo origen della viene,
aunque es de noche.

Se que no puede ser cosa tan bella
y que cielos y tierra beuen della
aunque es de noche.

Bien se que suelo en ella no se halla
y que ninguno puede vadealla
aunque es de noche.

Su claridad nunca es escurecida
y se que toda luz de ella es uenida
aunque es de noche.

La Fiesta de San Juan ... de ★Noche★

Yesterday was light and today is ... DARK!?

San Juan de la Cruz. Saint John of the Cross. Today is his feast day. He is the great sixteenth century Carmelite reformer and mystic who is famous for his teaching about "the dark night of the soul." He is also one of the great poets of the Golden Age of Spanish literature.

San Juan's explanation of the periods of experiential "darkness" that occur at various times during the growth of our relationship with God is intended to encourage us. We need not "be afraid" of the darkness. Or, even if we do feel afraid, we can recognize that this kind of disorientation should not cause us to give up loving God and seeking to draw closer to him.

"In general the soul makes greater progress when it least thinks so; indeed, most frequently when it imagines that it is losing. Having never before experienced the present novelty which dazzles it, and disturbs its former habits, it considers itself as losing, rather than as gaining ground, when it sees itself lost in a place it once knew, and in which it delighted, traveling by a road it knows not, and in which it has no pleasure... But inasmuch as God Himself is the guide of the soul in its blindness, the soul may well exult and say, 'In darkness and in safety,' now that it has come to a knowledge of its state" (Saint John of the Cross).

These precise observations of spiritual theology probably apply in a broader sense to much of the strangeness of ordinary human life. We must continue to trust in the wisdom and goodness of God throughout all the seemingly incomprehensible twists and turns and jolts and failures we experience, all that tempts us to question whether or not God really cares about us.

Of course he cares about us. But he has made us for himself; he has made our hearts for a fulfillment inexpressibly greater than we can understand or achieve by our own power. We won't reach the God who is infinite, transcendent Mystery, the God who is Infinite Love, until we have really endured something like these dark nights.

I spent some time today with Spanish verse of this great saint and poet. Some of the words are antiquated, but in general they are very accessible and certainly more concise, more rhythmic, more beautiful in their original form. I don't speak Spanish and I don't understand much of the many variations of spoken Spanish found throughout the Hispanic world. I do aspire to read, and with the many new and continually improving linguistic tools available to us, I hope to learn to read a bit better. Language is a wonderful thing in itself.
Here are the first six verses of the Song of the Soul that Knows God by Faith by San Juan de la Cruz:

Cantar de la Alma
que se huelga de conoscer a Dios por fe

Que bien se yo la fonte, que mana, y corre
aunque es de noche.

Aquella eterna fonte esta ascondida
que bien se yo do tiene su manida
aunque es de noche.

Su origen no lo se, pues no le tiene;
mas se que todo origen della viene,
aunque es de noche.

Se que no puede ser cosa tan bella
y que cielos y tierra beuen della
aunque es de noche.

Bien se que suelo en ella no se halla
y que ninguno puede vadealla
aunque es de noche.

Su claridad nunca es escurecida
y se que toda luz de ella es uenida
aunque es de noche.

La Fiesta de San Juan ... de ★Noche★

Yesterday was light and today is ... DARK!?

San Juan de la Cruz. Saint John of the Cross. Today is his feast day. He is the great sixteenth century Carmelite reformer and mystic who is famous for his teaching about "the dark night of the soul." He is also one of the great poets of the Golden Age of Spanish literature.

San Juan's explanation of the periods of experiential "darkness" that occur at various times during the growth of our relationship with God is intended to encourage us. We need not "be afraid" of the darkness. Or, even if we do feel afraid, we can recognize that this kind of disorientation should not cause us to give up loving God and seeking to draw closer to him.

"In general the soul makes greater progress when it least thinks so; indeed, most frequently when it imagines that it is losing. Having never before experienced the present novelty which dazzles it, and disturbs its former habits, it considers itself as losing, rather than as gaining ground, when it sees itself lost in a place it once knew, and in which it delighted, traveling by a road it knows not, and in which it has no pleasure... But inasmuch as God Himself is the guide of the soul in its blindness, the soul may well exult and say, 'In darkness and in safety,' now that it has come to a knowledge of its state" (Saint John of the Cross).

These precise observations of spiritual theology probably apply in a broader sense to much of the strangeness of ordinary human life. We must continue to trust in the wisdom and goodness of God throughout all the seemingly incomprehensible twists and turns and jolts and failures we experience, all that tempts us to question whether or not God really cares about us.

Of course he cares about us. But he has made us for himself; he has made our hearts for a fulfillment inexpressibly greater than we can understand or achieve by our own power. We won't reach the God who is infinite, transcendent Mystery, the God who is Infinite Love, until we have really endured something like these dark nights.

I spent some time today with Spanish verse of this great saint and poet. Some of the words are antiquated, but in general they are very accessible and certainly more concise, more rhythmic, more beautiful in their original form. I don't speak Spanish and I don't understand much of the many variations of spoken Spanish found throughout the Hispanic world. I do aspire to read, and with the many new and continually improving linguistic tools available to us, I hope to learn to read a bit better. Language is a wonderful thing in itself.
Here are the first six verses of the Song of the Soul that Knows God by Faith by San Juan de la Cruz:

Cantar de la Alma
que se huelga de conoscer a Dios por fe

Que bien se yo la fonte, que mana, y corre
aunque es de noche.

Aquella eterna fonte esta ascondida
que bien se yo do tiene su manida
aunque es de noche.

Su origen no lo se, pues no le tiene;
mas se que todo origen della viene,
aunque es de noche.

Se que no puede ser cosa tan bella
y que cielos y tierra beuen della
aunque es de noche.

Bien se que suelo en ella no se halla
y que ninguno puede vadealla
aunque es de noche.

Su claridad nunca es escurecida
y se que toda luz de ella es uenida
aunque es de noche.

La Fiesta de San Juan ... de ★Noche★

Yesterday was light and today is ... DARK!?

San Juan de la Cruz. Saint John of the Cross. Today is his feast day. He is the great sixteenth century Carmelite reformer and mystic who is famous for his teaching about "the dark night of the soul." He is also one of the great poets of the Golden Age of Spanish literature.

San Juan's explanation of the periods of experiential "darkness" that occur at various times during the growth of our relationship with God is intended to encourage us. We need not "be afraid" of the darkness. Or, even if we do feel afraid, we can recognize that this kind of disorientation should not cause us to give up loving God and seeking to draw closer to him.

"In general the soul makes greater progress when it least thinks so; indeed, most frequently when it imagines that it is losing. Having never before experienced the present novelty which dazzles it, and disturbs its former habits, it considers itself as losing, rather than as gaining ground, when it sees itself lost in a place it once knew, and in which it delighted, traveling by a road it knows not, and in which it has no pleasure... But inasmuch as God Himself is the guide of the soul in its blindness, the soul may well exult and say, 'In darkness and in safety,' now that it has come to a knowledge of its state" (Saint John of the Cross).

These precise observations of spiritual theology probably apply in a broader sense to much of the strangeness of ordinary human life. We must continue to trust in the wisdom and goodness of God throughout all the seemingly incomprehensible twists and turns and jolts and failures we experience, all that tempts us to question whether or not God really cares about us.

Of course he cares about us. But he has made us for himself; he has made our hearts for a fulfillment inexpressibly greater than we can understand or achieve by our own power. We won't reach the God who is infinite, transcendent Mystery, the God who is Infinite Love, until we have really endured something like these dark nights.

I spent some time today with Spanish verse of this great saint and poet. Some of the words are antiquated, but in general they are very accessible and certainly more concise, more rhythmic, more beautiful in their original form. I don't speak Spanish and I don't understand much of the many variations of spoken Spanish found throughout the Hispanic world. I do aspire to read, and with the many new and continually improving linguistic tools available to us, I hope to learn to read a bit better. Language is a wonderful thing in itself.
Here are the first six verses of the Song of the Soul that Knows God by Faith by San Juan de la Cruz:

Cantar de la Alma
que se huelga de conoscer a Dios por fe

Que bien se yo la fonte, que mana, y corre
aunque es de noche.

Aquella eterna fonte esta ascondida
que bien se yo do tiene su manida
aunque es de noche.

Su origen no lo se, pues no le tiene;
mas se que todo origen della viene,
aunque es de noche.

Se que no puede ser cosa tan bella
y que cielos y tierra beuen della
aunque es de noche.

Bien se que suelo en ella no se halla
y que ninguno puede vadealla
aunque es de noche.

Su claridad nunca es escurecida
y se que toda luz de ella es uenida
aunque es de noche.

With Santa Lucia Comes the LIGHT (Literally)

Santa Lucia!❤

Guadalupe Touches People One by One

Our Lady of Guadalupe, seen from walkway behind the main altar.On this beautiful day of celebration for all the peoples of America and for the whole world, we rejoice in the very special companionship that Jesus has shared with us. That companionship was dramatically reaffirmed nearly 500 years ago, in the gift that the "little Mother" gave to a poor indigenous man in Mexico.

To put it another way, on December 12, 1531, the Virgin Mary took the world's first "selfie," which she shared with Juan Diego, and all the rest of us. But the pictures we take are only shadows compared to this uniquely vivid, mysterious, enduring, scientifically inexplicable image.

I have made three pilgrimages to the Basilica in Mexico City that holds the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Though it's great to have high resolution color photographs these days, no secondary picture can reproduce the original in all its facets. The image seems to have a vitality, powerful yet gentle; a presence that a superficial observer can easily ignore, but that reaches out in a personal way to those who spend time with her with open hearts. And of course, like any good mother, Mary is able pick up her children even when they are distracted, if she has something for them that they really need.   .

Everyone's experience with her there is different and personal; most of the time it's not something dramatic. Real motherhood is mostly an ordinary thing, an everyday thing. It is always a loving thing, a gift of love that shapes the lives of those who receive it. 

Our Lady of Guadalupe has remained with us all through the unfolding of modern history. But she has come to touch people one by one, to draw us into her tenderness.

She wants us to give her our burdens and sorrows and to listen to her so as to discover in a new way that each of us is loved, personally, intimately, by her Son Jesus.

Each one of us matters. Each one of us has a purpose.

Above all, each one of us is the child of a good God who will not fail us in time of need.

Our Merciful Mother gives us Jesus her Son and our brother. And she knows and cherishes each of us as his brothers and sisters, as her own children, and she attends us with great compassion throughout our lives.

Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, pray for us. .

For many years this print of the image has presided over our dining room table
So much symbolism, but also much that is intimate and personal. When I posted this on Instagram today, it appeared on my page right next to my previous post, which was a picture of a young woman who also has her hands folded and her head bowed, full of gratitude, who also shared herself with others and even said (in the accompanying text) "I feel like a mother to you." Obviously this is a coincidence, and not much of a coincidence at that. For all that, I didn't plan it, and it struck me in a personal way. Behind the big theological term "spiritual maternity" there is a great reality which some are called to live in special ways. They can share in the pattern of Mary's maternal solicitude for us even if they don't know it directly. Why not? Really, nothing is a "coincidence" in God's good providence. God is good, all the time. (That same picture is directly below this blog post.)

Christina Grimmie: "God Gave Me Each of You for a Reason"

Today marks two and a half years since Christina Grimmie's life was taken. On the night of June 10, 2016—during an open meet-and-greet after her show in Orlando, Florida—she opened her arms to welcome yet another person, another face she'd never seen before, another stranger she was called to meet with love...

The stranger shot her four times, once in the head and three times in the chest, before turning his gun on himself. She was 22 years old.

Human reason reels in trying to make any sense of this horror. Even now, we still have no words... But consolation for Christina Grimmie's murder—and even a glimmer of a different kind of light that we cannot ignore—still reaches us from the most unexpected of places, from Christina Grimmie herself.

Two years prior to that fatal night, she wrote a special note to "Team Grimmie," her frands. She said some extraordinary things in that note, and she would repeat many of them again. More importantly, her life was true to these words, right up to the very last moment...

Helping One Another to "Discern What is of Value"

"And this is my prayer:
that your love may increase ever more and more
in knowledge and every kind of perception,
to discern what is of value,
so that you may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ,
filled with the fruit of righteousness
that comes through Jesus Christ
for the glory and praise of God."

~Philippians 1:9-11  .

I have a particular love for this text and its indications for the Christian vocation in the Church and in the midst of the world.

Saint Paul prays that the love of the Philippians might increase "ever more and more" with knowledge and, indeed, with "every kind of perception" so that they might carry out a very crucial task: "to discern what is of value" in life and thereby bring forth "the fruit of righteousness."

There is much to be learned from meditation on this text. Jesus tells us, "Do not judge" and this is crucial, because each person belongs to God, and God alone knows their heart, their degree of moral responsibility, and His own plans to draw them to Himself.

But it is something different to practice "discernment." By the grace of the Spirit, and reason enlightened by faith and vivified by love, we can engage concrete realities in our own lives and give guidance to others (above all those entrusted to our care in various ways).

We are called, and given the grace, to discern "what is of value" as we journey through life. This is certainly important for our own lives. But it also suggests one important component of how we look at others and even the world at large.

It's easy for us to fall into a pattern of looking at other people and trying to see what's wrong with them. We are inclined to search for their faults and for ways of behaving that are objectively sinful, then to reduce their identity to these negatives, and judge them rashly in our hearts (if not in our gossip-filled conversation).

Discernment, however, takes a different approach when looking at others. It is not blind to their faults and gives full weight to the hindrances of sin in their lives (knowing well enough how sin hinders all of us), but it does this within a larger perspective, as only one part of a broader focus. Discernment seeks out "what is of value" in a person's life; it tries to discover (as much as possible, with great humility and respect for the person) where God is working to draw forth or enrich the heart's desire for goodness and beauty, the soul's search for truth and wisdom.

Discernment requires us to listen to the person, to allow them to talk about themselves and tell their story. It not only listens to their speech but also watches the way they treat others and the way that reality fascinates them and draws them beyond themselves. It looks for signs of how and where God is working. This is not to imply that such "signs" are going to be easy to find or to understand—God's action is essentially hidden, but by listening to a person's own words, to their story, and watching the way they respond in ordinary situations, discernment can at least gain some useful insights and learn something about "who they are" and "what matters to them" in life.

Then, in an essential part of the process, discernment asks in prayer, "Lord, how do you want me to foster your work in this person's life? How can I be your instrument to build up the good, or at least to enliven and increase the desire for the good in them, so that they might draw closer to you?"

Very few people have the extraordinary charism of "reading souls" and that's not what discernment aims for in any case. With reference to others, really it's more a matter of serving them by helping them (without any kind of psychological manipulation, with profound respect for their freedom) to discern God's will in their life. Also, it entails helping to build up and nurture in them the love of whatever draws them closer to God, whatever is truly "of value" in them insofar as we are given to recognize it.

Obviously discernment is concerned with sinful behavior and never approves of evil. But by calling on God, being attentive, and loving what is good, what is "of value" here and now in a person's life, a discerning approach seeks to help the person in their particular struggle with evil, their need to resist sin. "Admonishing the sinner," even in the most basic rhetorical sense, requires attention to what might really be a useful or even comprehensible warning for a person. Genuine discernment will allow more space for God to shape a necessary admonition to the need of a particular person and to His grace.

Beyond that, however, a discerning approach can open us up to being instruments of God in building up, supporting, and serving one another on the journey we are making together to Him. We are united as members of one Body in Jesus Christ. He wants to give us abundant graces to help one another. There is no need for some artificial structure here, no need for special meetings where people sit around criticizing one another or making rash claims that "God told them that you need to do x or y." No, that quickly becomes a strange and manipulative situation.

The terms used to describe our relationship in Christ are "brothers and sisters." We can exercise discernment as we seek together "what is of value" within the connections and bonds that develop organically among Christ's members. The relationships between brothers and sisters in Christ remain human relationships that grow in particular places and along the various and sometimes bumpy roads of human communities. They require the appropriate regard for the dignity of persons that allows space for the development of genuine and mature human friendships.

"Friendship in Christ" must not be a label we misuse or devalue. It is real human friendship informed by Christian love. Friends can help one another in the work of discerning God's will, by a charism of the Holy Spirit that takes shape within the friendship as a human reality--all the more profoundly human in the measure in which it is imbued by grace. Christian friendship is human friendship; it is warm and familiar (in different ways, and not without the flaws and quirks that characterize all human things); it is respectful, trustworthy, well grounded, open beyond itself, and inserted into the life of the local and universal Church.

Indeed, such friendship is in itself a thing of great value.

God is Always Good, But He's Not Always "Easy"

God is good. All the time.

He really is. We can't even begin to imagine how wildly overflowing, diffusive, and gratuitous He is in His goodness.

This is the very reason why His ways can seem strange and difficult to us. He sees the whole fulfillment of His goodness in eternity. We don't. We journey through space and time, often with anxious, faltering steps, sometimes through heavy winds and fierce storms, sometimes in a moonless night.

We can get pretty disoriented, and wonder what's going on.

God is good. And He is true to the promise He has whispered in our hearts, and to the fullness of His revelation of that promise through Jesus. But He didn't promise it would be "easy."

He calls us to follow Him on the narrow path. He wants us to trust Him.

God is not easy with us. Though I'm sure He's much "easier"—kinder, more patient, more merciful, and more just—toward us than we are toward ourselves, and toward one another.

Nor should we be surprised that we do not understand His ways. God Himself is beyond our comprehension. He is the Mystery. He is never captured or grasped.

But He is trustworthy, and if we stay with Him, we will begin to understand the meaning and value of life and created things and the world and the peculiar moment of history He has entrusted to us.

He is merciful. He is faithful. He loves us. Indeed, He is with us!

This is what we are preparing to celebrate during the Advent season: He has come to dwell with us.

He has come, the One who creates and sustains our very being, our intelligence, our freedom. He has come, the One who is the ineffable source of the miracle that manifests itself everytime one of these strange little material entities in the universe says, "I am a 'someone'" and when it sees another speck of cosmic dust like itself and says, "You are a 'someone'!"

He has come, the One who makes our mysterious, otherwise inexplicable personhood real, vital, and so intimate that it is truly "our own." He comes to be with us, to be close to us, to fulfill to the end His fidelity, His mercy, His love for us.

He has come: Jesus.

He, the Eternal Word, took flesh in the womb of a woman, the always-and-all-holy woman He chose and prepared to be His mother. Jesus born of the Virgin Mary.

He has come to dwell with us, to make us His brothers and sisters. He wants us to be with Him forever, to share with Him the fulllfillment of all things, and above all to share in His own inexhaustible life, His glory, His joy, His love.

This is not "easy," but we don't really want "easy"; we want to be moved, to live beyond ourselves, toward a reality that is mysterious and great and good.

He comes, who encompasses and surpasses all our aspirations. Let us take time, in these days, to make room for Him in the center of our hearts, of our lives.