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. 

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)