Darkness, uncertainty

Calling Out to God

The secret essence of the soul that knows the truth is calling out to God: Beloved … strip me of the consolations of my complacent spirituality. Plunge me into the darkness where I cannot rely on any of my old tricks for maintaining my separation. Let me give up on trying to convince myself that my own spiritual deeds are bound to be pleasing to you. Take all my juicy spiritual feelings, Beloved, and dry them up, and then please light them on fire. Take my lofty spiritual concepts and plunge them into darkness, and then burn them. Let me only love you, Beloved. Let me quietly and with unutterable simplicity just love you. 

Mirabai Starr

Source: Dark Night of the Soul: St. John of the Cross

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Teresa's tormenting darkness and the poor

Disconnected diary ramblings at the end of a difficult week with a view to recent revelations of the "darkness" surrounding the inner life of Mother Teresa, evidently for decades:

--Her call to serve the very poorest of the poor evidently came 61 years ago this month. Her mystical experience held out the most important question of her life: "Wilt thou refuse?" She did not refuse.

--By the 1950s, she was walking into a deep darkness that would remain with her for over 50 years. I found these words from the nun's journal quoted in an insightful essay that was posted on washingtonpost.com and appeared in The Washington Post by Michael Gerson ("The Torment of Teresa," September 5, 2007, A-21):

"Lord, my God, who am I that You should forsake me? The child of your love--and now become as the most hated one--the one You have thrown away as unwanted--unloved. I call, I cling, I want--and there is no One to answer--no One on Whom I can cling--no, No One. Alone. . .I am told God loves me--and yet the reality of darkness & coldness & emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul."

--I find it unsurprising that, called to be among the world's poorest people, the little nun falls into darkness--the suffering of the poor, the unfairness, the lack of hope, the continual and unrelenting road blocks to progress, to improvement, to life--no surprise that darkness is the result.

--The life of the poor in this world is beyond tough. Those who go there--invited or uninvited--will encounter darkness--darkness in their own lives. I have come face-to-face with this darkness, often. It has no explanation. There are no clear ways to the other side. The darkness must be set aside to allow for the work of justice and compassion with those who suffer needlessly.

--The little nun decided to believe, at times against all rational evidence. She decided to love her God, as her lover, in spite of the coldness, the fear, the abandonment that she felt and knew at that deepest place in her life. Only believers can know this sort of "doubt."

--Those who decide not to believe do not face this burden of hers. To say "no" to the idea of God is to simplify the struggle. God complicates everything about poverty and injustice. This nun's ever present smile, her joyful encouragement says to me, "I believe in the face of a darkness you will never be courageous enough to face."

--Her path in life was hard. It begs questions of God, whatever one's view of God.

--I like Gerson's essay. I like his point of view and his questions. Especially these words: "Assuming. . .that she was not self-deluded in her calling, what kind of God would set such a difficult path--ministering to lepers and outcasts for a lifetime--and then withdraw his presence? Mother Teresa herself seemed to struggle with the unfairness: 'What are you doing My God to one so small?'"

--Is it possible that God revealed to one of his most trusted friends the very darkness he faces while watching the madness of our world. Did this one, very simple but incredibly strong and lonely nun come to terms with the truth that hers was a God of the darkness? In the agony of her honest, unrelenting doubt, do I discover the ultimate expression of faith's deep places, its immovable center?

Darkness

David Van Biema published a story this week in Time magazine describing the doubts of Mother Teresa and her long struggle with "spiritual darkness"--her personal experience of a "dark night of the soul."

The story points to a collection of her letters published in the new book, Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light (Doubleday 2007), edited and compiled by Brian Kolodiejchuk.

The letters draw readers into the long (66 years) and terrible struggle the founder of the Daughters of Charity experienced in her personal faith and spirituality.

As she performed her amazing and often heroic work that gained her international acclaim, she struggled with deep and profound loneliness, doubt, darkness and silence. She confesses that her trademark smile was simply her "mask" or "a cloak that covers everything."

Not surprisingly, at least to me, the darkness settled into her life shortly after she began her life's mission among the poorest of the poor. Her story will be surprising to many and a relief to many others. Sadly, in my view, far too many will have no clue what she is describing in her letters and journals.

In the end, with the help of one of her confessors, she was able to reframe the silence of God and of her beloved Jesus as a participation in the darkness Jesus experienced in his own death and suffering--the dark silence of the Passion.

I am eager to read the book.