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.

Build a Relation with the Flawless

Painting by Sr. Mary Grace Thul, OP

We all need a good friend, someone we can pour out our souls without fear of criticism or rebuttal. We all appreciate a love that does not judge us, but helps us deal with the situations of life as they arise. Yet, we will never find the "perfect" friend, one who will always understand, always encourage, and never fail us. Only the Divine can fill that role.

The Jerusalem Community Rule of Life states: Let your soul be filled day and night with this loving presence of the Lord, and you will live. Strong in the joy of this divinity within you and the power of his love, you will never falter.'

The message here is  not "don't trust your friends" but "no matter how good your friends, you still need the enduring love of the Divine." Face it. We all have moments when we feel let down or even betrayed by our closest allies. We must not then turn from them, but turn to the Divine who will help us through rough waters. We cannot expect a human to perform flawlessly. We need to nurture our friendships, to work to make  them grow, to understand the rough times and forgive the misunderstandings. We can only do that if we already have a close relationship with someone flawless, the Divine, who helps us through storms and disappointments.

If we build that relationship within, we will better understand the relationships without. We will not expect others to be the ONE, and we will not judge them on one or two actions that they eventually regret. And strange enough, we will become a better friend ourselves.

What to Do When we Fail to Find

 I think one of my favorte gospel stories comes from John 6:66. Jesus has just explained to the crowd that he is the bread of life. Many followers are confused and even scandalized. They turn from Jesus and walk away. Jesus turns to his own twelve, and says those sorrowful words, "Will you also go away?" And Peter answers, "Lord, to whom shall we go?"

I think there are times in our lives when we are tempted to give it all up. We often blame betrayal by those we put our trust. But that is not the real reason we would give up believing in something or someone. It is always deeper. Giving up implies a surrender, a failure to find, or a total misunderstanding of what was promised. It happens to all of us at some time in our life. It isn't so much a crisis of faith as it is a new insight into its flaws. And we are shaken.

By now we are all aware that faith does not protect us from evil. It does not save us from harm. It is not a shield to guard us, nor does it always hand us the strength we want and need. When we reailze this, we too are tempted to "go away".

What is marvelous about Peter's answer is, he was just as mystified by Jesus words as the others. He didn't know the answer, he couldn't see any better. But what Peter did have that many others did not, was the knowledge that it wasn't going to get any better by leaving.

To whom shall we go? In other words, well, Lord, this following you is pretty scary. You speak in riddles, you do things that are against the law. You live like a bum and perform miracles like a magician. But Lord, though I don't understand it all, I know that you are leading us to something new, something exalted. And I don't have to understand it totally to know that your words will give us light. Not all at once. But if I stay with you, I shall gradually understand, and gradually see, and gradually experience true life.

Stay with Jesus until you experience the goodness he has to offer, and your heart says, "Lord, it is good for us to be here." And you will be so glad you did not go away.

Better Than Light

We read in Isaiah On High I dwell, and in holiness, and with the crushed and dejected in spirit. To revive the spirits of the dejected, to revive the hearts of the crushed. (57:15)

One of the difference between the Christian religion and other religions and spirituality is the concept of God and where he dwells. Christians believe that God dwells not up in the heavens (Jewish scriptures portray him there) but in our own hearts and souls. That Jesus came to let us know the God we worship is as near to us as we are.

The concept gives us a clue to just how close God is to us. He is not content to be absent, so that we have to search for him. It is he who searches and prods us. He doesn't wait for us to call; he lends his assistance even before we ask.

So what does this mean for our spiritual journey? It means instead of living to "find" God, we must work at being "aware" of him, so close and yet so far away in our minds. Attention to his proddings, his whispers, his helping hand will only come when we awaken.

So when you are in meditation, when you are reflecting or in prayer, image God close to you. When you are questioning, speak to the God within. When you are struggling, remember, the hand stretched out to assist you is there. All you need do is stretch out your hand, and take the Hand of God. And he will be to you better than light.

There would be Diminution

Probably the question most common to all ages is the question of evil. I have my own theories, about the power of free will and its affects on others; God's ability to bring good from it all. So I was intrigued when I read Anscar Vonier's words It is a certain truth that if God in his providence exterminated every evil deed at once, killed every evil-doer, the final sum of goodness would be less. We have our Lord's own words for it; there would be diminution.

Vonier goes on to explain how evil brings out greater faith, courage, and fortitude among believers. He reminds us that we are a community; we are bound up with one another, we affect one another, not just evil, but good. But there is the fact--an absolute certainty, goodness inevitbly produces goodness; it is unconquerable, it cannot be stifled, it has greater ramifications than evil can ever have...

Perhaps our problems lies in concentrating too much on the question of evil, and not enough on the power of goodness. When Jesus came, the light meant a great deal because people had lived so long in darkness. Resurrection means so much because Jesus died.  Hope holds power because of the heaviness of despair. The list goes on.

Now is a good time to renew our faith in our own goodness. We who believe need to have greater confidence of God's power in our lives. If we want others to believe no darkness can keep away the light, we must start with our own, and let the light shine forth.

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.