The example of “John the Sinner” continues to be more relevant than ever, because “the Christian and human values that shone” in his testimony “are still of fundamental importance today.”
In his first letter to the Corinthians, the Apostle describes the language of the Cross of Christ as “folly to those who are perishing” (1 Cor 1:18). The material man does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, because they are folly to him (cf. 1 Cor 2:14).
Frequently, in His divine wisdom, the Holy Spirit asks a person to assume an attitude demanding absolute submission to God and complete denial of self, which to human eyes appears to be madness. This is well expressed in a pious supplication in a well-known Consecration to the Holy Spirit: “May my love for Jesus be most perfect, reaching the complete alienation of myself, that celestial madness that causes one to lose the human sense of all things in order to follow the lights of Faith and the impulses of grace.” 1
It was precisely this generosity of soul, bordering on the disconcerting, that Providence asked of a young Portuguese man called John Cidade. After a life filled with adventures, always in search of an ideal, he found Jesus in the needy, and, with his heart inflamed for Christ, made himself “mad” for the sick, poor and forsaken.
Fleeing from the paternal home
Very little is known of his childhood. He was born in Alentejo, in the small town of Montemor-o-Novo, on March 8, 1495, the only son of André Cidade and Teresa Duarte. In this humble and deeply pious home he learned two things that marked his life: deep devotion to the Mother of God and generous hospitality to pilgrims.
One day in 1503, the little boy of eight fled from his home, leaving his parents disconsolate for they never heard of him again! There is no satisfactory explanation in the narrations of his life for such unusual behaviour. It is only known that he was charitably received in Oropesa, Spain, by Francisco Cid, mayoral —chief herdsman—of the Count of Oropesa, who treated him like a son.
John grew to manhood in the peaceful role of shepherd. The effect of long days spent contemplating the beauty of nature was reflected in his features. His dark and penetrating eyes revealed the deep thought of a clearly religious soul, accustomed to meditating on the marvels of God and allowing himself to be absorbed by them. His soul was said to combine theology and mysticism; he simultaneously reasoned and “saw”.
From shepherd to soldier
John Cidade was so highly esteemed in the house of the mayoral, that the latter offered him a daughter in marriage. John refused the advantageous proposal and in 1522 enlisted in the Spanish troops sent to defend Fuenterrabia. He felt an inner yearning for great undertakings, and desired heroic adventures that would satisfy the ardour of his idealistic heart.
On his return, he spent a few more years in Oropesa. Yet, he was no longer the naive shepherd; in the streets he had encountered many sick, poor, and crippled people who were dying for lack of proper care. Filled with pity for this tragic situation, he could not remain in tranquil pastoral life. Yet, he still did not clearly see the path for his life, and in 1526, enlisted for a new military campaign, this time against the Ottoman armies besieging Vienna.
Victorious, Europe was liberated from the Turkish threat and the volunteers were discharged. John Cidade then set out for Portugal to return to his parents, after an absence of more than twenty years. When he arrived at his native town, he found only an elderly uncle. He learned that his mother had died shortly after he had left home, consumed by grief at the disappearance of her son, and that his father had entered a Franciscan monastery, where he also died a short time later. This weighed on his soul with an enormous sense of guilt.
Seeing the final links with his past broken, his idealistic and courageous soul prompted him to once again opt for military life. He left for Gibraltar and from there embarked for Ceuta. But his stay in Africa was brief. Regional conditions and army life itself made it difficult to persevere in the Faith. On the advice of a Franciscan priest he soon returned to Spain.
The will of God: “Granada will be your cross!”
Once again in Gibraltar, John Cidade asked God to give direction to his errant life. Kneeling before the crucified Jesus, he prayed, “Lord […], you must clearly show me the path I have to follow to serve You and to always be your slave.” 2 It was the year 1535. John had reached forty years of age and still did not know what God willed for him.
After putting his hand to various odd jobs, he became a wandering bookseller. It is told, that one day, while crossing a deserted region, he saw a lone boy, walking unshod, and doing great harm to his small feet on the stones along the way. He wanted to offer his own shoes, but they were much too large. Without more ado, he lifted the boy to his shoulders and carried him for a considerable distance. When they arrived at a spring, he left the child under the shade of a tree and went to fetch some water. When he returned he found him resplendent, with an open pomegranate—called a granada in Spanish—on top of which a cross shone brightly. 3 Offering him the fruit, the child exclaimed:
— John of God! Granada will be your cross!
After saying this, the boy disappeared. John Cidade recognized in these words the answer to his prayers: the will of God led him to Granada.
Radical conversion
Several months had elapsed in the peaceful occupation of bookseller, when on the feast of St. Sebastian, January 20, 1537, he went to a Mass celebrated by St. John of Avila, the Apostle of Andalusia. The famous preacher spoke fervently of penance, the heroism of martyrdom, complete surrender to God and the immolation of one’s own body to proclaim the truth of Christ.
These holy words pierced John Cidade to the heart. He was overcome by the thought of the emptiness of his forty years, and when the Eucharist had ended, he asked pardon for his sins in loud cries, striking himself and rending his clothes as a sign of repentance.
Someone brought him to the holy preacher with whom he confessed, and exposed the condition of his soul. Discerning signs of a great vocation in the penitent, Father Avila took him as a spiritual son, saying: “Have great faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and trust in His mercy, because He will bring this work that He has begun to a successful conclusion. Be faithful and constant in that which you have undertaken.”
Consoled, John left and began to do public penance. For several days he did such strange things in the eyes of the people of Granada, that they insulted and mistreated him, and wrote him off as madman. Recalling the suffering of Jesus in the Passion, these displays of repudiation filled John with consolation. He gave away all of his books, furniture and even clothes, and took to the town square wailing for his sins, doing penance and kissing the muddy ground—making himself a fool for the folly of the Cross.
Such scenes were repeated on subsequent days. The inhabitants of Granada were unanimous: John Cidade had lost his mind. His first biographer sums it up by saying: “As he had such a great ability to feign madness, almost everyone took him for a madman.” Thus, he was interned in the Royal Hospital, where the mentally ill, beggars and forsaken invalids lived in lamentable wantonness.
The exercise of the vocation begins
The “remedy” in vogue for the treatment of the mentally ill was flogging and shackles… “so that by pain and punishment, patients would lose their rage and return to themselves.” This was done to St. John of God: hands and feet bound, he was whipped mercilessly.
The saint bore these sufferings with resignation and even joy, for the love of Christ Scourged. Yet, when he witnessed the same brutalities against other patients, he protested vehemently, indignantly rebuking the “orderlies”. In retaliation, they redoubled his punishments.
After a few days, he decided the time had come to untangle himself from this situation, so he began showing signs of being calm and self-possessed. “Little by little, they began to see in the voluntary penitent an inner lucidness that was far from the madness they attributed to him.” 4 As a result they freed him from the shackles and let him move freely throughout the building, where he affectionately and kindly cared for the sick, and took on the most tiring tasks.
A strong desire had taken hold of his heart: “May Jesus Christ grant me the time and the grace to make a hospital where the forsaken poor and mentally ill can be sheltered, and I may fulfill my desire to serve them.”
The first hospital: 46 beds of old mats
Reflecting that the Church did not have a congregation dedicated solely to the care of the sick, John Cidade decided to take on the initiative. He easily obtained leave of the Royal Hospital, where he was much admired and considered entirely cured. Then, following the advice of Father Avila, he went on pilgrimage to the Marian Shrine of Guadalupe in Estremadura, seeking the protection of the Blessed Virgin for this great mission.
He travelled the four hundred kilometres barefoot. He arrived in such tatters that the sacristan—suspecting him to be a thief set on pilfering a jewel from the holy image—decided to literally kick him out of the sanctuary. However, as he landed the first blow, his leg became paralysed. Filled with pity at his attacker’s plight, the saint prayed with him to Our Lady, obtaining an instantaneous cure.
After spending several weeks in recollection, he undertook the return trip to Granada, where he arrived at the end of 1539. For lack of better means, he began collecting and selling bundles of firewood. With the money gathered, he offered food and shelter to the needy who wandered the city streets at night.
Although he did everything to remain unnoticed, he soon won the admiration of many people, who gave him generous donations. With this support, he rented a small house, and established his first hospital: 46 beds made of old mats covered with worn out blankets where he brought the sick and homeless. During the day he nursed them, and sold firewood; at night, he went through the city begging alms.
John Cidade becomes John of God
The number of poor increased at a greater rate than resources. The situation was further aggravated when a fire destroyed the Royal Hospital. With this loss, all eyes turned to St. John of God. The Archbishop of Granada opened a fund with a large donation, and many other dignitaries followed his example, enabling him to purchase an old Carmelite convent, where he established his new hospital—a large hostel with 200 beds.
The first disciples of the saint also joined him: Antonio Martin and Pedro Velasco, former enemies whom he reconciled and converted. Quite simply, the foundation of a religious order had been laid.
When on a visit to the President of the Royal Chancellery of Granada, the Archbishop of Tuy, Sebastian Ramirez de Fuenleal, asked him his name.
“John Cidade. But the name I deserve is John the Sinner.”
This is, in fact, how he customarily referred to himself.
The Archbishop then asked him what name he had been given by the Child resplendent with light, who had sent him to Granada.
“He called me John of God.”
“Then this will be your name,” the Prelate concluded, giving him appropriate attire—a habit comprised of three pieces: jacket, trousers and cape, in honour of the Blessed Trinity.
“Jesus, Jesus, I place myself in your hands”
John of God tirelessly appealed to the wealthy and the nobles, and received generous sums, which were nevertheless insufficient to offset the expenses already incurred. His charity led him to accumulate debts. How could they be paid off? Acting on advice of the Archbishop of Granada, Pedro Guerrero, he went to Valladolid, where he met the Royal Court, to solicit help from the sovereign and the highest-ranking nobles.
He once again undertook the almost fourteen hundred kilometre round trip on foot. He returned months later, with the necessary resources, but exhausted and ill. Despite his reluctance to abandon the poor and sick, he left the hospital in the hands of Antonio Martin, exhorted his spiritual sons in the practice of humility and love of the poor, and allowed himself to be transferred to the Pisa-Osorio mansion, in obedience to the Archbishop’s decision.
There he attended his last Mass, celebrated by Archbishop Pedro, and received the last Sacraments. The Archbishop promised to settle the remaining debts and care for the continuity of his work.
In the evening, after hearing the reading of Our Lord Jesus Christ’s Passion, he asked to be left alone. His hosts respected his desire but left the door ajar. During the entire night they could hear the murmur of prayers.
At the first light of dawn on March 8, 1550—having reached the age of 55—John of God got out of bed, knelt down, embraced a crucifix and in a loud voice spoke his last words: “Jesus, Jesus, I place myself in your hands.” Thus he died, his body remaining kneeling and motionless, while a sweet fragrance began to permeate the surroundings.
Example for our days
The seed planted by St. John of God soon germinated and bore fruit. In 1586, St. Pius V erected the Order of the Brothers Hospitallers of St. John of God, whose members continued the founder’s marvellous work of Christian charity throughout the four corners of the world. Today, many of the more than 200 hospitals of the Order, which care for hundreds of thousands of sick, are considered exemplary in their line, also from a medical standpoint.
The example of “John the Sinner”—proclaimed patron of the sick and hospitals, together with St. Camillus de Lellis, by Leo XIII—continues to be more relevant than ever, because the “Christian and human values that shone” in his heroic testimony “are still of fundamental importance today,” 5 as the Archbishop Emeritus of Evora affirmed. In these values, he adds, “can be found the way to overcome many present-day crises provoked by egoism and a concept of life which is limited to the narrow and false confines of material pleasure.” 6 ◊
