A.D. 1550

ST. JOHN, surnamed of God, was born in Portugal, in 1495. His parents

were of the lowest rank in the country, but devout and charitable. John

spent a considerable part of his youth in service, under the mayoral or

chief shepherd of the count of Oropeusa in Castile, and in great

innocence and virtue. In 1522, he listed himself in a company of foot

raised by the count, and served in the wars between the French and

Spaniards; as he did afterwards in Hungary, against the Turks, while the

emperor Charles V. was king of Spain. By the licentiousness of his

companions, he by degrees lost his fear of offending God, and laid aside

the greatest part of his practices of devotion. The troop which he

belonged to being disbanded, he went into Andalusia in 1536, where he

entered the service of a rich lady near Seville, in quality of shepherd.

Being now about forty years of age, stung with remorse for his past

misconduct, he began to entertain very serious thoughts of a change of

life, and doing penance for his sins. He accordingly employed the

greatest part of his time, both by day and night, in the exercises {542}

of prayer and mortification, bewailing almost continually his

ingratitude towards God, and deliberating how he could dedicate himself

in the most perfect manner to his service. His compassion for the

distressed moved him to take a resolution of leaving his place, and

passing into Africa, that he might comfort and succor the poor slaves

there, not without hopes of meeting with the crown of martyrdom. At

Gibraltar he met with a Portuguese gentleman condemned to banishment,

and whose estate had also been confiscated by king John III. He was then

in the hands of the king's officers, together with his wife and

children, and on his way to Ceuta, in Barbary, the place of his exile.

John, out of charity and compassion, served him without any wages. At

Ceuta, the gentleman falling sick with grief and the change of air, was

soon reduced to such straits as to be obliged to dispose of the small

remains of his shattered fortune for the family's support. John, not

content to sell what little stock he was master of to relieve them, went

to day-labor at the public works, to earn all he could for their

subsistence. The apostacy of one of his companions alarmed him; and his

confessor telling him that his going in quest of martyrdom was an

illusion, he determined to return to Spain. Coming back to Gibraltar,

his piety suggested to him to turn pedler, and sell little pictures and

books of devotion, which might furnish him with opportunities of

exhorting his customers to virtue. His stock increasing considerably, he

settled in Granada, where he opened a shop, in 1538, being then

forty-three years of age.

The great preacher and servant of God, John D'Avila, {543} Apostle of

Andalusia, preached that year at Granada, on St. Sebastian's day, which

is there kept as a great festival. John, having heard his sermon, was so

affected with it, that, melting into tears, he filled the whole church

with his cries and lamentations; detesting his past life, beating his

breast, {544} and calling aloud for mercy. Not content with this, he ran

about the streets like a distracted person, tearing his hair, and

behaving in such a manner that he was followed everywhere by the rabble

with sticks and stones, and came home all besmeared with dirt and blood.

He then gave away all he had in the world, and having thus reduced

himself to absolute poverty, that he might die to himself, and crucify

all the sentiments of the old man, he began again to counterfeit the

madman, running about the streets as before, till some had the charity

to take him to the venerable John D'Avila, covered with dirt and blood.

The holy man, full of the Spirit of God, soon discovered in John the

motions of extraordinary graces, spoke to him in private, heard his

general confession, and gave him proper advice, and promised his

assistance ever after. John, out of a desire of the greatest

humiliations, returned soon after to his apparent madness and

extravagances. He was, thereupon, taken up and put into a madhouse, on

supposition of his being disordered in his senses, where the severest

methods were used to bring him to himself, all which he underwent in the

spirit of penance, and by way of atonement for the sins of his past

life. D'Avila, being informed of his conduct, came to visit him, and

found him reduced almost to the grave by weakness, and his body covered

with wounds and sores; but his soul was still vigorous, and thirsting

with the greatest ardor after new sufferings and humiliations. D'Avila

however told him, that having now been sufficiently exercised in that so

singular a method of penance and humiliation, he advised him to employ

himself for the time to come in something more conducive to his own and

the public good. His exhortation had its desired effect; and he grew

instantly calm and sedate, to the great astonishment of his keepers. He

continued, however, some time longer in the hospital, serving the sick,

but left it entirely on St. Ursula's day, in 1539. This his

extraordinary conduct is an object of our admiration, not of our

imitation: in this saint it was the effect of the fervor of his

conversion, his desire of humiliation, and a holy hatred of himself and

his past criminal life. By it he learned in a short time perfectly to

die to himself and the world; which prepared his soul for the graces

which God afterwards bestowed on him. He then thought of executing his

design of doing something for the relief of the poor; and, after a

pilgrimage to our Lady's in Guadaloupa, to recommend himself and his

undertaking to her intercession, in a place celebrated for devotion to

her, he began by selling wood in the market-place, to feed some poor by

the means of his labor. Soon after he hired a house to harbor poor sick

persons in, whom he served and provided for with an ardor, prudence,

economy, and vigilance, that surprised the whole city. This was the

foundation of the order of charity, in 1540, which, by the benediction

of heaven, has since been spread all over Christendom. John was occupied

all day in serving his patients: in the night he went out to carry in

new objects of charity, rather than to seek out provisions for them; for

people, of their own accord, brought him in all necessaries for his

little hospital. The archbishop of Granada, taking notice of so

excellent an establishment, and admiring the incomparable order observed

in it, both for the spiritual and temporal care of the poor, furnished

considerable sums to increase it, and favored it with his protection.

This excited all persons to vie with each other in contributing to it.

Indeed the charity, patience, and modesty of St. John, and his wonderful

care and foresight, engaged every one to admire and favor the institute.

The bishop of Tuy, president of the royal court of judicature in

Granada, having invited the holy man to dinner, put {545} several

questions to him, to all which he answered in such a manner, as gave the

bishop the highest esteem of his person. It was this prelate that gave

him the name of John of God, and prescribed him a kind of habit, though

St. John never thought of founding a religious order: for the rules

which bear his name were only drawn up in 1556, six years after his

death; and religious vows were not introduced among his brethren before

the year 1570.

To make trial of the saint's disinterestedness, the marquis of Tarisa

came to him in disguise to beg an alms, on pretence of a necessary

lawsuit, and he received from his hands twenty-five ducats, which was

all he had. The marquis was so much edified by his charity, that,

besides returning the sum, he bestowed on him one hundred and fifty

crowns of gold, and sent to his bospital every day, during his stay at

Granada, one hundred and fifty loaves, four sheep, and six pullets. But

the holy man gave a still more illustrious proof of his charity when the

hospital was on fire; for he carried out most of the sick on his own

back: and though he passed and repassed through the flames, and stayed

in the midst of them a considerable time, he received no hurt. But his

charity was not confined to his own hospital: he looked upon it as his

own misfortune if the necessities of any distressed person in the whole

country had remained unrelieved. He therefore made strict inquiry into

the wants of the poor over the whole province, relieved many in their

own houses, employed in a proper manner those that were able to work,

and with wonderful sagacity laid himself out every way to comfort and

assist all the afflicted members of Christ. He was particularly active

and vigilant in settling and providing for young maidens in distress to

prevent the danger to which they are often exposed, of taking bad

courses. He also reclaimed many who were already engaged in vice: for

which purpose he sought out public sinners, and holding a crucifix in

his hand, with many tears exhorted them to repentance. Though his life

seemed to be taken up in continual action, he accompanied it with

perpetual prayer and incredible corporal austerities. And his tears of

devotion, his frequent raptures, and his eminent spirit of

contemplation, gave a lustre to his other virtues. But his sincere

humility appeared most admirable in all his actions, even amid the

honors which he received at the court of Valladolid, whither business

called him. The king and princes seemed to vie with each other who

should show him the greatest courtesy, or put the largest alms in his

hands; whose charitable contributions he employed with great prudence in

Valladolid itself, and the adjacent country. Only perfect virtue could

stand the test of honors, amid which he appeared the most humble.

Humiliations seemed to be his delight: these he courted and sought, and

always underwent them with great alacrity. One day, when a woman called

him hypocrite, and loaded him with invectives, he gave her privately a

piece of money, and desired her to repeat all she had said in the

market-place.

Worn out at last by ten years' hard service in his hospital, he fell

sick. The immediate occasion of his distemper seemed to be excess of

fatigue in saving wood and other such things for the poor in a great

flood, in which, seeing a person in danger of being drowned, he swam in

his long clothes to endeavor to rescue him, not without imminent hazard

of his own life: but he could not see his Christian brother perish

without endeavoring at all hazards to succor him. He at first concealed

his sickness, that he might not be obliged to diminish his labors and

extraordinary austerities; but in the mean time he carefully revised the

inventories of all things belonging to his hospital, and inspected all

the accounts. He also reviewed all the excellent regulations which he

had made for its administration, the distribution of {546} time, and the

exercises of piety to be observed in it. Upon a complaint that he

harbored idle strollers and bad women, the archbishop sent for him, and

laid open the charge against him. The man of God threw himself prostrate

at his feet, and said: "The Son of God came for sinners, and we are

obliged to promote their conversion, to exhort them, and to sigh and

pray for them. I am unfaithful to my vocation because I neglect this;

and I confess that I know no other bad person in my hospital but myself;

who, as I am obliged to own with extreme confusion, am a most base

sinner, altogether unworthy to eat the bread of the poor." This he spoke

with so much feeling and humility that all present were much moved, and

the archbishop dismissed him with respect, leaving all things to his

discretion. His illness increasing, the news of it was spread abroad.

The lady Anne Ossorio was no sooner informed of his condition, but she

came in her coach to the hospital to see him. The servant of God lay in

his habit in his little cell, covered with a piece of an old coat

instead of a blanket, and having under his head, not indeed a stone, as

was his custom, but a basket, in which he used to beg alms in the city

for his hospital. The poor and sick stood weeping round him. The lady,

moved with compassion, dispatched secretly a message to the archbishop,

who sent immediately an order to St. John to obey her as he would do

himself, during his illness. By virtue of this authority she obliged him

to leave his hospital. He named Anthony Martin superior in his place,

and gave moving instructions to his brethren, recommending to them, in

particular, obedience and charity. In going out he visited the blessed

sacrament, and poured forth his heart before it with extraordinary

fervor; remaining there absorbed in his devotions so long, that the lady

Anne Ossorio caused him to be taken up and carried into her coach, in

which she conveyed him to her own house. She herself prepared with the

help of her maids, and gave him with her own hands, his broths and other

things, and often read to him the history of the passion of our

Redeemer. He complained that while our Saviour, in his agony, drank

gall, they gave him, a miserable sinner, broths. The whole city was in

tears; all the nobility visited him; the magistrates came to beg he

would give his benediction to their city. He answered, that his sins

rendered him the scandal and reproach of their country; but recommended

to them his brethren, the poor, and his religious that served them. At

last, by order of the archbishop, he gave the city his dying

benediction. His exhortations to all were most pathetic. His prayer

consisted of most humble sentiments of compunction and inflamed

aspirations of divine love. The archbishop said mass in his chamber,

heard his confession, gave him the viaticum and extreme unction, and

promised to pay all his debts, and to provide for all his poor. The

saint expired on his knees, before the altar, on the 8th of March, in

1550, being exactly fifty-five years old. He was buried by the

archbishop at the head of all the clergy, both secular and regular,

accompanied by all the court, noblesse, and city, with the utmost pomp.

He was honored by many miracles, beatified by Urban VIII. in 1630, and

canonized by Alexander VIII. in 1690. His relics were translated into

the church of his brethren in 1664. His order of charity to serve the

sick was approved of by pope Pius V. The Spaniards have their own

general: but the religious in France and Italy obey a general who

resides at Rome. They follow the rule of St. Austin.

* * * * *

One sermon perfectly converted one who had been long enslaved to the

world and his passions, and made him a saint. How comes it that so many

sermons and pious books produce so little fruit in our souls? It is

altogether owing to our sloth and wilful hardness of heart, that we

receive God's {547} omnipotent word in vain, and to our most grievous

condemnation. The heavenly seed can take no root in hearts which receive

it with indifference and insensibility, or it is trodden upon and

destroyed by the dissipation and tumult of our disorderly affections, or

it is choked by the briers and thorns of earthly concerns. To profit by

it, we must listen to it with awe and respect, in the silence of all

creatures, in interior solitude and peace, and must carefully nourish it

in our hearts. The holy law of God is comprised in the precept of divine

love; a precept so sweet, a virtue so glorious and so happy, as to carry

along with it its present incomparable reward. St. John, from the moment

of his conversion, by the penitential austerities which he performed,

was his own greatest persecutor; but it was chiefly by heroic works of

charity that he endeavored to offer to God the most acceptable sacrifice

of compunction, gratitude, and love. What encouragement has Christ given

us in every practice of this virtue, by declaring, that whatever we do

to others he esteems as done to himself! To animate ourselves to fervor,

we may often call to mind what St. John frequently repeated to his

disciples, "Labor without intermission to do all the good works in your

power, while time is allowed you." His spirit of penance, love, and

fervor he inflamed by meditating assiduously on the sufferings of

Christ, of which he often used to say: "Lord, thy thorns are my roses,

and thy sufferings my paradise."

Footnotes:

1. The venerable John of Avila, or Avilla, who may be called the father

of the most eminent saints that flourished in Spain in the sixteenth

century, was a native of the diocese of Toledo. At fourteen years of

age he was sent to Salamanca, and trained up to the law. From his

infancy he applied himself with great earnestness to prayer, and all

the exercises of piety and religion; and he was yet very young when

he found his inclinations strongly bent towards an ecclesiastical

state in order to endeavor by his tears and labors to kindle the

fire of divine love in the hearts of men. From the university his

parents called him home, but were surprised and edified to see the

ardor with which he pursued the most heroic practices of Christian

perfection; which, as they both feared God, they were afraid in the

least to check, or damp his fervor. His diet was sparing, and as

coarse as he could choose, without an appearance of singularity or

affectation; he contrived to sleep on twigs, which he secretly laid

on his bed, wore a hair shirt, and used severe disciplines. What was

most admirable in his conduct, was the universal denial of his will,

by which he labored to die to himself, added to his perfect

humility, patience, obedience, and meekness, by which he subjected

his spirit to the holy law of Christ. All his spare time was devoted

to prayer, and he approached very frequently the holy sacraments. In

that of the blessed Eucharist he began to find a wonderful relish

and devotion, and he spent some hours in preparing himself to

receive it with the utmost purity of heart and fervor of love he was

able to bring to that divine banquet. In the commerce of the world

he appeared so much out of his element, that he was sent to the

university of Alcala, where he finished his studies in the same

manner he had began them, and bore the first prize in philosophy and

his other classes. F. Dominic Soto, the learned Dominican professor,

who was his master, conceived for him the warmest affection and the

highest esteem, and often declared how great a man he doubted not

this scholar would one day become. Peter Guerrera, who was

afterwards archbishop of Toledo, was also from that time his great

admirer, and constant friend. Both his parents dying about that

time, John entered into holy orders. On the same day on which he

said his first mass, instead of giving an entertainment according to

the custom, he provided a dinner for twelve poor persons, on whom he

waited at table, and whom he clothed at his own expense, and with

his own hands. When he returned into his own country, he sold his

whole estate, for he was the only child and heir of his parents: the

entire price he gave to the poor, reserving nothing for himself

besides an old suit of mean apparel, desiring to imitate the

apostles, whom Christ forbade to carry either purse or scrip. Taking

St. Paul for his patron and model, he entered upon the ministry of

preaching, in which sublime function his preparation consisted not

merely in the study and exercise of oratory, and in a consummate

knowledge of faith, and of the rules of Christian virtue, but much

more in a perfect victory over himself and his passions, the entire

disengagement of his heart and affections from the world and all

earthly things, an eminent spirit of humility, tender charity, and

inflamed zeal for the glory of God, and the sanctification of souls.

He once said to a young clergyman, who consulted him by what method

he could learn the art of preaching with fruit, that it was no other

than that of the most ardent love of God. Of this he was himself a

most illustrious example. Prayer, and an indefatigable application

to the duties of his ministry, divided his whole time; and such was

his thirst of the salvation of souls, that the greatest labors and

dangers were equally his greatest gain and pleasure; he seemed even

to gather strength from the former, and confidence and courage from

the latter. His inflamed sermons, supported by the admirable example

of his heroic virtue, and the most pure maxims of the gospel,

delivered with an eloquence and an unction altogether divine, from

the overflowings of a heart burning with the most ardent love of

God, and penetrated with the deepest sentiments of humility and

compunction, had a force which the most hardened hearts seemed not

able to withstand. Many sacred orators preach themselves rather than

the word of God, and speak with so much art and care, that their

hearers consider more how they speak than what they say. This true

minister of the gospel never preached or instructed others without

having first, for a considerable time, begged of God with great

earnestness to move both his tongue and the hearts of his hearers:

he mounted the pulpit full of the most sincere distrust in his own

abilities and endeavors, and contempt of himself; and with the most

ardent thirst of the salvation of the souls of all his hearers. He

cast his nets, or rather sowed the seed, of eternal life. The Holy

Ghost, who inspired and animated his soul, seemed to speak by the

organ of his voice; and gave so fruitful a blessing to his words,

that wonderful were the conversions he everywhere wrought. Whole

assemblies came from his sermons quite changed, and their change

appeared immediately in their countenances and behavior. He never

ceased to exhort those that were with him by his inflamed

discourses, and the absent by his letters. A collection of these,

extant in several languages, is a proof of his elo quence,

experimental science of virtue, and tender and affecting charity.

The ease with which he wrote them without study, shows how richly

his mind was stored with an inexhausted fund of excellent motives

and reflections on every subject matter of piety, with what

readiness he disposed those motives in an agreeable methodical

manner, and with what unction he expressed them, insomuch that his

style appears to be no other than the pure language of his heart,

always bleeding for his own sins and those of the world. So various

are the instructions contained in these letters, that any one may

find such as are excellently suited to his particular circumstances,

whatever virtue he desires to obtain, or vice to shun, and under

whatever affliction he seeks for holy advice and comfort. It was

from the school of an interior experienced virtue that he was

qualified to be so excellent a master. This spirit of all virtues he

cultivated in his soul by their continual exercise. Under the

greatest importunity of business, besides his office and mass, with

a long preparation and thanksgiving, he never failed to give to

private holy meditation two hours, when he first rose in the

morning, from three till five o'clock, and again two hours in the

evening before he took his rest, for which he never allowed himself

more than four hours of the night, from eleven till three o'clock.

During the time of his sickness, towards the latter end of his life,

almost his whole time was devoted to prayer, he being no longer able

to sustain the fatigue of his functions. His clothes were always

very mean, and usually old; his food was such as he bought in the

streets, which wanted no dressing, as herbs, fruit, or milk; for he

would never have a servant. At the tables of others he ate sparingly

of whatever was given him, or what was next at hand. He exceedingly

extolled, and was a true lover of holy poverty, not only as it is an

exercise of penance, and cuts off the root of many passions, but

also as a state dear to those who love our divine Redeemer, who was

born, lived, and died, in extreme poverty. Few persons ever appeared

to be more perfectly dead to the world than this holy man. A certain

nobleman, who was showing him his curious gardens, canals, and

buildings, expressed his surprise to see that no beauties and

wonders of art and nature could fix his attention or raise his

curiosity. The holy man replied, "I trust confess that nothing of

this kind gives me any satisfaction because my heart takes no

pleasure in them." This holy man was so entirely possessed with God,

and filled with the love of invisible things, as to loathe all

earthly things, which seemed not to have a direct and immediate

tendency to them. He preached at Seville, Cordova, Granada, Baeza,

and over the whole country of Andalusia. By his discourses and

instructions, St. John of God, St. Francis of Borgia, St. Teresa,

Lewis of Granada, and many others, were moved, and assisted to lay

the deep foundation of perfect virtue to which the divine grace

raised them. Many noblemen and ladies were directed by him in the

paths of Christian perfection, particularly the Countess of Feria

and the Marchioness of Pliego, whose conduct, first in a married

state, and afterwards in holy widowhood, affords most edifying

instances of heroic practices and sentiments of all virtues. This

great servant of God taught souls to renounce and cast away that

false liberty by which they are the worst of slaves under the

tyranny of their passions, and to take up the sweet chains of the

divine love which gives men a true sovereignty, not only over all

other created things, but also over themselves. He lays down in his

works the rules by which he conducted so many to perfect virtue,

teaching us that we must learn to know both God and ourselves, not

by the lying glass of self-love, but by the clear beam of truth:

ourselves, that we may see the depth of our miseries, and fly with

all our might from the cause thereof, which is our pride, and other

sins: God, that we may always tremble before his infinite majesty,

may believe his unerring truth, may hope for a share in his

inexhausted mercy, and may vehemently love that incomprehensible

abyss of goodness and charity. These lessons he lays down with

particular advice how to subside our passions. In his treatise on

the Audi filia, or on those words of the Holy Ghost, Psa. xliv,

_Hear me, daughter, bend thine ear, forget thy house,_ &c. The

occasion upon which he composed this book was as follows: Donna

Soncha Carilla, daughter of Don Lewis Fernandez of Cordoba, lord of

Guadalcazar, a young lady of great beauty and accomplishments, was

called to court to serve in quality of lady of honor to the queen.

Her father furnished her with an equipage, and every thing suitable;

but before her journey, she went to cast herself at the feet of

Avila, and make her confession. She afterwards said he reproved her

sharply for coming to the sacred tribunal of penance too richly

attired, and in a manner not becoming a penitent whose heart was

broken with compunction. What else passed in their conference is

unknown; but coming from the church, she begged to be excused from

going to court, laid aside all sumptuous attire, and gave herself up

entirely to recollection and penance. Thus she led a retired most

holy life in her father's house till she died, most happily, about

ten years after. Her pious director wrote this book for her

instruction in the practice of an interior life, teaching her how

she ought to subdue her passions, and vanquish temptations,

especially that of pride; also by what means she was to labor to

obtain the love of God, and all virtues. He dwells at length on

assiduous meditation, on the passion of Christ, especially on the

excess of love with which he suffered so much for us. His other

works, and all the writers who speak of this holy man, bear

testimony to his extraordinary devotion towards the passion of

Christ. From this divine book he learned the perfect spirit of all

virtues, especially a desire of suffering with him and for him. Upon

this motive he exhorts us to give God many thanks when he sends us

an opportunity of enduring some little, that by our good use of this

little trial, our Lord nay be moved to give us strength to suffer

more, and may send us more to undergo. Envy raising him enemies, he

was accused of shutting heaven to the rich, and upon that senseless

slander thrown into the prison of the inquisition at Seville. This

sensible disgrace and persecution he bore with incredible sweetness

and patience, and after he was acquitted, returned only kindnesses

to his calumniators. In the fiftieth year of his age he began to be

afflicted with the stone, frequent fevers, and a complication of

other painful disorders: under the sharpest pains he used often to

repeat this prayer, "Lord. increase my sufferings, but give me also

patience." Once, in a fit of exquisite pain, he begged our Redeemer

to assuage it: and that instant he found it totally removed, and he

fell into a gentle slumber. He afterwards reproached himself as

guilty of pusillanimity. It is not to be expressed how much he

suffered from sickness during the seventeen last years of his life.

He died with great tranquillity and devotion, on the 10th of May,

1569. The venerable John of Avila was a man powerful in words and

works, a prodigy of penance, the glory of the priesthood, the

edification of the church by his virtues, its support by his zeal,

its oracle by his doctrine. A profound and universal genius, a

prudent and upright director, a celebrated preacher, the apostle of

Andalusia, a man revered by all Spain, known to the whole Christian

world. A man of such sanctity and authority, that princes adopted

his decisions, the learned were improved by his enlightened

knowledge, and St. Teresa regarded him as her patron and protector,

consulted him as her master, and followed him as her guide and

model. See the edifying life of the venerable John of Avila, written

by F. Lewis of Granada; also by Lewis Munnoz: and the abstract

prefixed by Arnauld d' Andilly to the French edition of his works in

folio, at Paris, in 1673.

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