In the April 2010 issue of the Messenger you referred to a piece of advice given by St John of the Cross: ‘Adjust your cross to yourself and not yourself to your cross’. Could you give an example of what he had in mind?
S.T. Cork.
Jesus was the first great Teacher in history to talk about ‘the cross’ as a normal part of every human life. This doctrine must have seemed strange to those who first heard it. The very word itself with its connotation of death by crucifixion, regarded as the ultimate disaster, surely caused shudders among His listeners. Yet Jesus was uncompromising. It was a non-negotiable of discipleship, something that He saw as an integral part of the daily routine of every one of us. ‘If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross every day and follow me’ (Luke 9:23).
These words imply that the cross is an ongoing aspect of human life, not just something that we meet with now and again. For some people, the cross has involved intense physical pain over extended periods throughout life. The experience of most of us, however, is much more humdrum. Searing pain is something we only experience intermittently, if at all.
‘Adjust your cross to yourself, not yourself to your cross’. This piece of advice, attributed to the great Spanish mystic and Carmelite priest, Saint John of the Cross (1542-91), has relevance to the lives of all of us, whether we are much given to things religious or not. A simple example of it features in the lyrics of a song first released around 1954. The music, attributed to none other than Charlie Chaplin, was first heard in the sound track of his famous 1936 film, Modern Times. Some years later, John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons added the well-known words. Since that time, ‘Smile’ has been recorded by many artists, including Nat King Cole and more recently the late Michael Jackson. ‘Smile though your heart is aching, smile even though it’s breaking’.
There are times when rising to a smile, when all our natural instincts are to weep, calls for no little virtue. In her autobiography, The Story of a Soul, Saint Thérèse of Lisieux (1873-1897), a great admirer of John of the Cross, gives a memorable description of her struggle to smile sweetly at another sister whose irritating habits were driving her crazy. She pulled this off so well that the other sister once asked Thérèse why she was so fond of her!
‘Light up your face with gladness, hide every trace of sadness’. Surely this is an echo of the words of Jesus: ‘When you fast do not put on a gloomy look as the hypocrites do: they pull long faces to let men know they are fasting. I tell you solemnly, they have had their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that no one will know you are fasting except your Father who sees all that is done in secret; and your Father who sees all that is done in secret will reward you’.
People who knew the famous World War One Army Chaplain, Fr Willie Doyle (1873-1916) noted that he was invariably smiling. But neither his Jesuit colleagues nor the Dublin Fusiliers who saw him up close knew that this engaging smile belied an extraordinarily penitential life, carefully hidden from those he lived among. ‘It is very difficult to plumb the depths of a smile’ was the telling comment of his biographer, Alfred O’Rahilly. Fr Doyle was killed in August 1916 while trying to administer the Last Rites to the dying in the appalling carnage of Flanders.
An incident at the war front made a big impression on this heroic chaplain. He witnessed the valiant effort of a soldier as he strove to ‘adjust his cross to himself’. An officer was barking at the young Irish volunteer who was visibly trembling as he and his companions prepared to go ‘over the top’, accusing him of cowardice. ‘Sir, if you were half as scared as I am you would be in Calais by this time’ was his spirited reply. Being afraid in situations of extreme danger is the reaction of an intelligent human being. To conquer instinctive fear – stand your ground and do what you think is the right thing in difficult circumstances – is an admirable act of courage. Even the German Generals were impressed with the courage of those young Irish soldiers. ‘They are like lions led by donkeys’ was their comment. Thousands of apparently ordinary young men, both in that and so many other wars, are described as having died ‘In the line of duty’. God alone knows the enormous weight of anonymous heroism hidden behind this short phrase.
Situations and circumstances arise in all our lives where we have ‘to pull out all the stops’ just to get through. In the Garden at Gethsemane this was the experience of Jesus Himself as He adjusted His cross to Himself. ‘Father, if it be possible let this chalice pass me by but not as I will but as you will.’ (Lk. 42:22) We are told that ‘being in agony he prayed the longer’. (Lk. 22:44) After a great internal struggle, He was able to accept the heavy cross and carry it to Calvary.
St Paul tells us how, after receiving great revelations, ‘so that I should not get above myself, I was given a thorn in the flesh’. (2 Cor.12:7) He found the pain unbearable, asking over and over again to be delivered from it. The message he received from heaven. ‘My grace is sufficient for you: for power is at full stretch in weakness’. He concluded from this that none of us are tried beyond our strength. God really does fit the back for the burden.