The Dark Night

St. John of the Cross is one of the great mystics who has left us a blueprint and a reminder that distress, disaster and depression are also the vehicles for seeing the light, a light that comes not from the sun but from the Son. Imprisoned as he was for nine months by his own Carmelite brethren in a dark dungeon, he dealt with more than just disappointment at the refusal of the Carmelites to accept his proposed reforms, but it seemed that even God had abandoned him. This was the worst part of his confinement; the absence of God was a taste of hell. Yet in that darkness, he wrote his most penetrating poetry, and the classic, The Dark Night of the Soul. He began to see, to understand, that in being stripped totally of all that the sense could provide, he was given a clear vision of the God who surpasses all human understanding. It was an intuitive experience of God, or, as we say, a mystical experience...a knowing without words, without images.
In our own struggles, we might not sink (or rise) to such levels of darkness, doubt or near despair, and thus might not reach the Everest of mystical heights, but we can experience a closeness to God we never thought possible. When we strip ourselves, or are stripped of what we think is necessary for prayer or for our own growth, we discover a new level of intimacy with God, one that is more direct, simple, less cluttered, and ultimately more fulfilling. Emotion is reduced, feelings shrivel, faith, hope and love blossom. These Advent days or preparation can be a gift, one that comes outside the box, to help us appreciate and preview what's in store for us when we meet God face to face. Lord, in the darkness let me see the light of your face. Amen.