The dark night comes not at the beginning of one's journey to God. It usually happens when souls have entered the unitive way, that is, when their wills and hearts are united in perfect harmony with God's.
History has proved that God consistently sends trial to the souls who seek perfection, but lay persons and consecrated men and women experience different dark nights suited to their different vocations. The biographies of saints as well as the masters of the spiritual life are in agreement.
In The Graces of Interior Prayer, Fr. A. Poulain, S.J. tells us who he likely ones are to receive these trials. "And as persons who are leading a purely contemplative life are not obliged to undergo the arduous labors the active life entails, God sends them interior crosses by way of compensation. And then they feel these crosses more keenly, being more thrown back upon themselves" (400).
It appears that Mother Teresa is an exception to this rule. Her life serving the poorest of the poor was not just active. It was arduous. The work day of the sisters is usually between ten and twelve hours of manual labor. Yet the Rule of the Missionaries of Charity requires them to spend at least two hours in prayer and contemplation every day in addition to other exercises-the Office, Examen, and spiritual reading. Formed and guided by the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, these sisters are true active contemplatives.
More in The Way of Beauty
The Dark Night and Passive Purification
The Dark Night is essentially an experience of infused contemplation. One cannot ask for it; one ought not ask for it. In The Dark Night, the purification is accomplished by God and not by the will of the individual who could never accomplish this task. John describes this metaphor: A mother weans her child away from the sweetness and consolation of being nourished at the breast, and of having her child experience its own independence away from the mother. This purification is accomplished by the mother and not by the child. Passive purification.
The dark night first affects and purifies the individual's spiritual senses. These are: spiritual pride and avarice, spiritual lust and anger, spiritual gluttony, envy, and sloth. Persons succumb to spiritual gluttony, for example, when they seek sweetness, delight, and satisfaction in prayer, striving more to savor the sweet experiences rather than the desire to please God. Spiritual sloth delights in spiritual gratification, but when the soul is told to do something unpleasant, it remains lax.
The first and chief benefit of this dark night of contemplation is the knowledge of self and of one's misery and lowliness but also of God's grandeur and majesty. The second is the purification of the spiritual faculties: the intellect, the will, and the memory. John compares this experience to a fire consuming a log. In both books, the soul does little more than dispose itself for the divine action.
Here are the first two stanzas of the poem anticipating the explanation of Books One and Two:
One dark night,
Fired with love's urgent longings
--ah, the sheer grace!-
I went out unseen,
My house being now all stilled.
In darkness, and secure,
By the secret ladder, disguised,
--ah, the sheer grace!-
In darkness and concealment,
My house being now all stilled.
(Column continues below)
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Mother Teresa's Dark Night
We can never know what activity takes place inside another person. Yet, we know that dryness, aridity, and restlessness in prayer afflicted Mother Teresa as well as doubt in the existence of God. She remained a woman of joy, faithful to her religious vocation as a missionary. Read some of her reflections, marked by darkness:
"In my soul, I feel just that terrible pain of loss of God not wanting me-of God not being God-of God not existing."
"I find no words to express the depths of the darkness. If you only knew what darkness I am plunged into."
"In the darkness . . . . 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 . . . Where I try to raise my thoughts to heaven, there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives and hurt my very soul. Love-the word-it brings nothing. I am told God lives in me, and yet the reality of darkness and coldness and emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul." The self-offering of St. Ignatius sums up Book Two and the total offering of Mother Teresa, now St. Teresa of Calcutta:
"Take, Lord,
into your possession
my complete freedom of action:
my memory, my understanding, my entire will;
all that I have, all that I own.
It is your gift to me.
I now return it to you to be used simply as you wish.
Give me your love and your grace.
It is all I need."