The meanings of words change over time. For example, as I read Butler (who wrote in England in the 1700s), he often uses the word, “pathetic”–such as someone’s giving a pathetic speech, or having a pathetic disposition. In neither case, did this mean substandard or piteous. We speak now of a “pathetic attempt” to apologize, and we mean that the apology was scarcely worth the breath used to form the words. Yet, for Butler, a “pathetic apology” would be one that affected the senses and sensibilities of the listener. A pathetic sermon, in Butler’s time, was  a highly effective one–one in which the emotions and hearts of the listeners were deeply affected.

The same is true of the word, “suffering.” We typically equate suffering with misery, and it is often joined with “pain and suffering”–using the two as, if not synonyms, at least as an hendiadys (a figure of speech where two words are connected with a conjunction in order to convey one complete thought, where one word could have been used as a modifier for the second–for example, “nice and warm” is an hendiadys that could be otherwise stated as “nicely warm”). Thus “pain and suffering” could be rendered as “painful suffering” to describe the situation. Linguistics lesson aside, suffering now generally means something like “undergoing a very unpleasant ordeal”–and many consumer products are currently available to help alleviate suffering.

As a result, 21st-century readers come across passages in Butler where saints extol the values of “suffering,” and these seem to make the saints sound, well, masochistic–as if there were a stand-alone value in experiencing pain, agony, misery, and humiliation. However, “suffering” in the time of Butler (and in the King James Version of the Bible, which speaks, for example, of “suffer the little children to come unto me”)–suffering simply means “allowing” and not forbidding or resisting. So Jesus told his disciples to allow the little children to come to him. As well, the women’s suffrage movement involved allowing and not forbidding women to vote.

Today’s saint–known as John of the Cross–was a Spaniard and contemporary of Teresa of Avila (you can read a previous blog post about her). He was a contemplative who wrote one of the most renowned works of mystical communion with Christ, known by its English title, The Dark Night of the Soul. John lived from 1542 to 1591, and went through various times when he was celebrated by his fellow Christians and when he was shunned and even imprisoned by them. He found he could not trust anyone for long, and he went through severe periods where he was not even sure he could trust God (aka “dry spells” of faith).

One of John’s quotes is particularly resonant:

To suffer for the sake of God is the true characteristic of his love, as we see in Christ, and in the martyrs. And persecutions are the means to enter into the depth, or attain to the knowledge, of the mystery of the cross, a necessary condition for comprehending the depth of the wisdom of God and of his love.

What is John saying here? It certainly sounds like he is extolling the virtue of pain and misery, even death. But on closer inspection–No. No. John is offering personal testimony to what happens to the soul whenever one allows and does not resist whatever comes one’s way–AND that IF what comes one’s way happens to be persecution (as John experienced), then learning how to allow that in as part of one’s life can, as with John, prove to be a pathway to more fully understanding Christ (the one known for saying “turn the other cheek”) and for garnering deeper insight into the mystery found in the crucifixion and experiencing the deeper wisdom that is of God and that can be gained from allowing rather than resisting one’s life’s circumstances.

When I myself consider the amount of energy that I spend in my life railing against what I cannot control (interestingly, sometimes this can include the good things and kindnesses that are offered me as well), and how little I spend suffering (allowing) and, in a sense, wringing all I can learn from whatever it might be that I suffer–I find myself reaching the precipice of a major spiritual decision for how to live and experience my life going forward.

John of the Cross made that leap from the precipice. And he is remembered, especially today.