My Thoughts on Pain and Darkness

Embracing Darkness

I do not like darkness any more than anyone else. But I find that my concept of darkness has changed over the years. Like most, I too have felt anxious and confused when darkness came into my life in the form of doubts, insecurity, pain, suffering and loss. But in those periods without light or answers, I learned things I didn’t learn in the light. I came to realize that darkness can sometimes be a period of peace and quiet, a chance for inner growth and enlightenment. I used to fear darkness, and believe that when one truly loves God, one no longer experiences darkness. I no longer think that way.

A sermon by Abbot Paul mentions how the most important events in the history of Judeo/Christian religion happened in darkness: the creation of the world, the birth of Jesus, and the death of Jesus.

Think about it. I am sure you, too, can remember something good that came from the darkness of night: restful sleep, rejuvenation, growth. A child is in darkness for 9 months as it prepares to experience light and air. Seeds often need a dormancy period before they have the energy to sprout and grow. Darkness need not be a damaging event. 

I am working on looking at my periods of darkness as a symbol of times of wonder, of deeper trust, of risking. Perhaps darkness is our time of gestation, when we grow and nurture and prepare our soul for a new birth.

As much as I dislike darkness, I am working to remember the good things it brought me. I find I appreciate light and grace and growth more because of the journey through I had to learn to experienced, but had not seen before due to grief and loss. 

Light and darkness in a new way

How often do we see darkness as evil and light as God. And yet, scripture would tell us, it ain’t always so. There are times when the darkness we experience is actually good, a time of rest and rejuvenation. Conversely, there are times when light is not God, but scorching heat and even subtle pride.

Psalm 121:6 speaks to this time: The sun shall not smite you in the day, nor the moon at night. These words infer that light can be harmful at times, times when I put a lot of trust in myself, my own reflections, my own inspirations, and forget that I am and always will remain wounded. And that seems to be the problem.

I think we people of faith tend to struggle between feeling unworthy and forgetting that I remain wounded no matter how strong my faith. It is for me to strike a balance between the two. First of all, I do not need to become "worthy" in God's eyes. I only need to go forward in trust, a humble trust that remembers always, I am a vulnerable being.

As Christians, we are often taunted by the same words used against Christ and Jeremiah, "If he is God's chosen one, surely God will save him." I bet some of us have even spoken those words to ourselves. And yet, how wrong they are! I should replace them with the words of psalm 23:4 Even if I walk in the dark valley I fear no evil, for you are with me with your rod and staff, that give me courage.

This is the truth, that for a believer, neither darkness nor light will harm. Because both have gifts to offer, both have advantages, both bring grace, if I accept my vulnerability.

Darkness in a new light

I do not like darkness any more than anyone else. But I find that my concept of darkness has changed over the years. Like most, I too have felt anxious and confused when darkness came. But these periods without light or answers have taught me many things, and I have come to realize that darkness can sometimes be a time of peace and quiet, a time for inner growth and enlightenment. I used to fear darkness, and believe that when one truly loves God, one no longer experiences darkness. I no longer agree.

A sermon for Christmas by Abbot Paul mentions how the most important events in the history of Judeo/Christian religion happened in darkness: the creation of the world, the birth of Jesus, and the death of Jesus.

Think about it. Even in our own lives, we can think of good things that happen in the darkness of night: restful sleep, rejuvenation, growth. A child is in darkness for 9 months as it is prepared to experience light and air. Seeds often need a dormancy period before they have the energy to sprout and grow. Darkness need not be a sad thing.

Perhaps darkness really symbolizes a time when we enter into a state of wonder, when we are offered the opportunity to gaze up at the stars and moon and look for light. Perhaps darkness is our time of gestation, when we grow and nurture our soul.

And as much as I dislike darkness, I choose to remember the good things it can bring me. With that, I can hope again for light.

Finding the Gift of Darkness

I love the O Antiphon for today, which calls upon the Savior to come and enlighten "those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death."

In a way, the antiphon acknowledges that we all have times when we "sit in darkness," that times of darkness are part and parcel of life. All of us share our highs and lows on this journey.

Furthermore, sitting in darkness does not have to be a bad thing. It can signify the soul who can wait in faith without having to have answers. It can be the soul patient and content to seek without having to be satisfied right now. It can be the soul who is able to meditate, in silence, letting the darkness teach the soul lessons not got in the light.

Sitting in darkness may come as a recognition of my own state, my woundedness, my needs. It may be a time for reflection (meditation) or rest (we all need rest) when we can be still. The psalmist portrays this as a good thing when he says, Be still and know that I am God (46:10).

I think the antiphon urges us to find the gift of darkness, so that light will be all the more wonderful. For the antiphon says that light comes, not to those in light, but to those sitting in darkness, waiting, still, and ready.

O Dayspring, brightness of eternal Light and Sun of Justice; come and enlighten those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death. (Traditional "O" Antiphon)

Finding an answer to pain

Some years ago a book titled "Why bad things happen to good people" took the market by storm.  I looked up the author of this book, and found it was a father seeking answers for his own pain in watching his son die at age 14. What struck me most was his statement in the preface, that while watching his son deteriorate before his eyes (he'd known his son would die young since he was 3) people gave him answers, but none of the answers addressed his own questions about God and the pain he was forced to endure.

We all know that proclaiming ourselves as followers of Jesus doesn't spare us pain and sorrow.  I think it is a mistake to pass our suffering off with quotes from scripture, quotes such as "Carry your cross" or "God will not give you more than you can bear" or "his grace is sufficient for you." I think that is a mistake because it does not reflect the real question of the individual heart. Remember, even Mary questioned Jesus after his disappearance, asking him for a personal explanation of why he caused her such pain: My son, why have you done this to us? (Lk 2:48).

Pain and sorrow are real, and can sear the soul and devastate a person. I think we best deal with such things by finding our own answers within our heart, by soul-searching for the lesson, by asking God why, and listening for God's answer. The answer may take time to reveal itself, but my journey toward that response will be fruitful, even if I don't see it until many years later. Because the answer best for me is the one I find as I walk through the darkness and pain.