Knowing God in darkness and in light

Winter reminds us that fluctuations in life are part of the natural cycle. For us in the Northern Hemisphere it means shorter days and longer nights. It is nature providing us with proof of the usefulness of darkness and dormancy, and its power to prepare life even while all seems asleep.

To learn the truth of the words of Teresa of Avila, One knows God in oneself, and knows oneself in God, often requires us to journey through a night of darkness, a darkness that ultimately reveals. Perhaps we need darkness in our spiritual lives because we cannot bear the whole truth about ourselves in full light.  Perhaps in darkness we learn to look with different eyes, one that looks in rather than out. Perhaps darkness makes us stop to think, instead of rushing headlong into activity.

Whatever the reason, we know that darkness is part and parcel of a spiritual life. We know that darkness often illuminates our own sense of ourselves, so that we realize that helplessness, imperfection and our true unflattering selves are not a hindrance to loving God; only their denial is. And in that truth, we find we can leave the world of appearance and walk in the corridor of the inner sanctum. And there, darkness will be greater than light; we will accept our naked self; and powerlessness will not frighten us because we will know God, and in his Light we will see Light itself.

When light harms and darkness enlightens

Darkness is usually seen as evil, and light as God. And yet, there are times when we live in darkness, and it is not evil, but a time of rest. And conversely, times when light is not God, but danger and subtle pride.

Psalm 121:6 speaks to this time theme when it says, 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 we put a lot of trust in our selves, our own reflections, our own inspirations, and forget that we are and always remain wounded. And that seems to be the problem.

People of faith tend to struggle between feeling unworthy and forgetting that they remain wounded no matter how strong their faith. It is for us to strike a balance between the two. First of all, we do not need to become "worthy" in God's eyes, for he sees us as we are. We only need to go forward in trust, a humble trust that remembers always, we are vulnerable beings.

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." We even speak these words to ourselves. And yet, how wrong are those words! We 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 true inspiration, one borne of darkness, one of acceptance of one's vulnerability, and one that leads forward in the light of trust.

Turning darkness into light

We read in Isaiah 42:16: I will lead the blind on their journey; by paths unknown I will guide them. I will turn darkness into light before them, and make crooked ways straight. These things I do for them, and I will not forsake them.

What does it mean to turn darkness into light? It means being able to understand the dark things in life with a different perspective, a bigger view, and a deeper understanding.

Take the concept of pain and suffering. Before the coming of Jesus, such incidents in life were looked upon as punishments. But Jesus took those same human conditions, and taught his followers to find the pearl of great price hidden beneath the field of human misery. He showed us that nothing that happens to us is sterile, let along a punishment. He invites us to surrender to his message, in order to see the light hidden in the darkness.

It is interesting to note that Isaiah doesn't say, I will lead them out of darkness into light, but I will turn darkness into light. This implies that darkness is not something we can dispel forever. It will visit and haunt us throughout our lives. It is for us to grapple with it, and in that struggle, find the jewel it offers.

John Tauler says that being drawn to God through sorrow is a safer way than [being drawn] through joy. This in itself is a hard saying, but the meaning is clear. No pain or suffering need be fruitless. There is, in the Divine plan, a way to turn all darkness into light. For those of us who are Christians, it means being able to see things differently, to look beyond the superficial and realize there is a lesson to be learned, a grace offered, a moment of self-reflection to be gotten from this setback.

Answers Transformed

In thinking over Clyde Crews question on answers, I've been thinking about his question ...why isn't the meaning of things clear...agreeable and available to all?

This is one of the mysteries of life; that a meaning that satisfies you does not satisfy me. Or even, that a meaning once solid for me has become more like shifting sand, and I must search for something deeper or more concrete.

Why answers don't work forever is a mystery to me. I know that truth is unchangeable. But I conclude our understanding of truth must grow even as we grow, must change even as we change. And that when an understanding has reached a climax in a particular answer, then we must find a better answer.

All of this must seem very abstract. Here is a concrete example. Early on in my religious life, I held to one notion of suffering. That notion consisted in the phrase, "Carry your cross" and "God will never give you more than you can bear." These concepts espoused a great truth, that there is value in suffering. For years, this truth sufficed when life became challenging.

Then, along came a period of intense darkness. Life became confusing, and the pain intense. Suddenly the very words that had sustained me earlier in life failed me. In fact, not only were the meanings lost on me, but the words actually seemed accusatory. I searched for something more, something deeper, something with a better answer. I finally found it in words spoken to me by someone else, words taken from Romans "For those who love God, all things work together for good." The shift is sutle, but it totally changed my concept of pain and suffering. From passive acceptance, I learned to focus rather on the good that could result.

That is my story of an answer that transformed over time. Maybe you have such an example to share. I'd be interested in hearing about it.

Released Into Divine Light

 Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. (Ps 139:12). The concept continues to haunt me. When I speak of darkness, I am speaking of struggle, of unknowing, of confusion. So to have the psalm say that to God, darkness is not dark cannot mean he makes light of our human condition. I think it means that what we see as darkness can actually be a source for great light.

I think back to the benefits darkness has given me in the past. It made me stop and reflect, it destroyed preconceived ideals and notions, and I sank deeper into meditation. I stopped asking questions, because real darkness blots out even the formulation of questions. Darkness made me silence, so that I opened not my mouth. I became still before God. And because my expectations were dashed, I just sat there in silence and waited. Without knowing it, darkness forced me into contemplative prayer.

Only later in looking back do I see the rich fruits that came from such darkness. I was concerned about what I was giving to God. I'd forgotten he had something to give to me. I could only receive it after I relinquished my agenda and sat still before him.  My darkness taught me a different kind of prayer, one of listening.

Perhaps that is the real meaning behind the phrase of psalm 139. The very trials that punish the soul often reveal the hidden beauty we've not tapped into. And we seem to need the darkness so that we push ourselves beyond what is comfortable, what is admirable, what is acceptable. Nothing can seem more dehumanizing than to sit before God, dumb and knowing not what to say. And even as the soul groans, "Lord, what is it you want from me?" the soul is taking flight into a new type of faith, a new form of hope, into a light not known among mere mortals. Perhaps this kind of darkness releases the soul into the divine light of grace that brings the soul into a new sphere of understanding. Maybe this kind of darkness is no more than a cocoon where transformation takes place.

Darkness is Not Dark

Seeing and not seeing. It's often a topic here on Monastic Ponderings. We become conscious because we want to see. We practice compassion so that our hearts will respond better and know more. We meditate so that we are aware. It all implies a willingness to journey. But there is another aspect to our journey: a willingness to accept what that journey brings us.

It happens that sometimes we fail to see, not because we are spiritually blind, but because don't like what we see. The product is not what we expected, we'd hoped for more, or less, or better. We find ourselves in disbelief that after all we've done, this is the result? And so our journey has brought us to a point we do not want to be, with a decision we do not want to make, and a revelation we do not like. The resistance can be ever so slight, but resistance it is.

It just goes to show that no one ever "arrives" at a place where struggles cease, despite all the contrary rhetoric . The journey will always have its challenges, and we will always have choices. Paul complained about his own battles, and the reply he received was "My grace is sufficient for you."

Perhaps this is the meaning of psalm 139:12 Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. What we worry about is of little importance, because we often get it totally wrong. Knowing this should help. For revelation can be having our expectations thwarted so that what we think is replaced by what is. It's worth the thought. And isn't that what the journey is about anyway?

Chocolate Anyone?

The eclipse. We shall see one tonight. It's exciting because it happens only rarely, and only certain areas of the world are able to view it at one time. The eclipse of the moon will take place around 2:30 EST. Anyone watching? My sister is serving hot chocolate to all those coming over to her house to watch.

I like to think of the eclipse as another example of our own journey in life. For some time tonight, the earth will block the light that reflects off the moon, and it will be in total darkness. The moon will not change. The sun will not change. The difference in the moon is not brought about by some terrible sin or failure. It is the normal sequence of a natural flow of planets.

We should remind ourselves of such when our own lives seem to be going through some type of "eclipse". It is normal, it is part of our cycle of life, and it will pass.

Chocolate anyone?

Faith Without the Tether

I am often amused at the amount of contradiction one can find in the gospels. Many come from Jesus own mouth. We are to love our enemies, yet if we don't hate our father and mother we cannot be his disciples. On and on the contradictions go. And why not? Is not life itself contradictory? And if that is so, will not true faith experience doubt, questioning, confusion and light?

I think sometimes we seek a religion that is clean and straightforward, some sort of ship that we can tie our little boat to to drag us along in the sea of life. But that kind of following brings no faith. It is a mere copy act. It can't be faith, because it has no potential for growth.

Faith is something organic, something that grows even as it questions; can find light even while in doubt; can make one strong even while one wrestles with its obscurity. Faith knows there is no danger in being afraid of the dark, only in a willingness to stay there. Faith lives by facing its daily needs. It doesn't need a checklist to see if it is alive.

So when you read the gospels, notice the contradictions and ask yourself what it all means. Questioning helps your faith grow. The stronger your faith, the less you will depend on a human institute. And eventually, you will untie your boat. Because you will know that in the sea of life, Jesus is only an arm length away.