There are two parallel lines that seem to run to heaven – to run down to earth and then back to heaven again – and Saint John of the Cross and Saint Teresa of Jesus seem to highlight them both, one standing on one side of the gateway of Carmel, the other on the opposite side. One line has nothing on it. It’s empty. The other line has a lot of “mystical phenomena” and favours on it. It’s full. Saint John’s line is the former; Saint Teresa’s is the latter.

Saint Teresa gives us remarkable descriptions of various steps on a journey – various experiences and consolations and interior words and raptures – which map out a way to union with God. She says that these things tend to be given. In fact, the point of view is that, we are so weak and so self-directed that, unless God gave us and overwhelmed us with his presence and effects, we would turn away, shuffle back to our “normal” lives, and forget about reaching union. One comes away from Teresa with the impression that God bends over backwards to bring us to a divine union of wills, even to the point of showering un- or under-appreciated “mystical” favours.

The teaching of Saint John of the Cross is a different story. A close friend of Teresa, he himself commented that what she had written was good and useful but that he would not repeat the kinds of descriptions and counsels that she had, for he had something else to say. What was it that John had to say? It is engraved in the minds of many now as nada nada nada, y en el monte, nada (nothing, nothing, nothing, and on the mountain of divine union of wills, nothing). He taught detachment. Divine favours were almost as nothing. As Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (Edith Stein) notes in commentary,

In his teaching, John treats visions, locutions, and  in revelations as unessential byproducts of the mystical life. He constantly warns against them because in their regard one is exposed to the danger of delusion, and is, in any case, delayed on the way to union if one places any value on such things. Moreover, he was very reticent about communicating events in his own life, external ones as much as interior ones.

This last sentence is true, but it is not a psychological description of the origins of John’s teaching. The origins of John’s teaching are divine. If we were happy and proud to speak about interior experiences, it would make it a bit harder to not be attached to them!

John teaches detachment. If God gives an extraordinary, or seemingly extraordinary, favour, then it’s all a bit of a jumble. Well, God knows what he’s doing. Accept it. But if we were already united to his will, this “byproduct”, so to speak, would be unnecessary. It’s there for our weakness. So don’t brag. Don’t get caught up in the extraordinariness. That’s all bound to fail. The right attitude is the one John saw in his friend Teresa: accept it, knowing that it is there to adjust our will more in line with the Father’s. Our will is weak. The only worthwhile thing to dwell on in seemingly extraordinary favours is how God changes our will, sets it on course, and makes us good and useful to him and to our neighbours.

Are favours a human distraction or a divine help? It depends what we make of them. God certainly has the latter in mind.