|
Reading
Excerpt from Dark Night of the Soul by Thomas Moore
At one time or another, most people go through a period of sadness,
trial, loss, frustration, or failure that is so disturbing and
long-lasting that it can be called a ‘dark night of the soul.’ If your
main interest in life is health, you may quickly try to overcome the
darkness. But if you are looking for meaning, character, and personal
substance, you may discover that a dark night has many important gifts
for you.
Today we label many of these experiences ‘depression,’ but not all dark
nights are depressive, and the word is too clinical for something that
makes you question the very meaning of life.
Every human life is made up of the light and the dark, the happy and the
sad, the vital and the deadening. How you think about this rhythm of
moods makes all the difference. Are you going to hide out in
self-delusion and distracting entertainments? Are you going to become
cynical and depressed? Or are you going to open your heart to a mystery
that is as natural as the sun and the moon, day and night, and summer
and winter?
If you are like most people, you have gone through several dark nights
of the soul. You may be in the middle of one now.
Sermon
Introduction
few weeks ago I attended a Convocation of Unitarian Universalist
ministers. This is a once-every-seven-year conference, this time held in
Ottawa, Canada. I admit that back in October, as I thought about what to
pack for this trip, I asked myself: ‘A conference in the north in
November: what was I thinking last spring when I registered for this
meeting!’ Those misgivings were so misplaced. Convo was just what I
needed at this point in the church year: it could have been at the North
Pole and I wouldn’t have cared. This conference renewed me on many
fronts: in body, mind, spirit, and especially in soul. Longer than the
annual meetings we ministers engage in each June, Convo lasted five days
and so could offer many more in-depth experiences: workshops in
professional development (the ‘tools’ of ministry); colleague
interaction (catching up with old friends and making new ones); and
spiritual and religious deepening (worship services twice a day).
Each Convo has a theme speaker, and this year’s was Thomas Moore, the
author of the reading we just heard. Some of you may know Thomas Moore’s
work. A psychiatrist, Moore achieved national recognition about fifteen
years ago for his book Care of the Soul. At Convo, he offered the
inspiring message in this book. He explored with us ministers how to
pursue spiritual deepening, for ourselves and for those we serve in
congregations and communities. He also reminded us about the difference
between soul and spirit--- spirit is in the inner realm of
contemplation, our various spiritual practices aimed at achieving
greater clarity about this process of being alive; while soul comes from
living vitally through everyday experiences. Moore helped me understand
why one’s soul can feel depleted even in the context of regular
spiritual work. He also related the Care of the Soul to the Convo’s
overall theme of Story-Telling: Telling our Stories offers care to our
souls. Through story-telling, we can help transform the world.
I’ve noticed that we in this congregation are using more ‘soul’ language
lately. Have you noticed it too? Lately when the questions for check-in
is ‘how goes it with your soul’ is posed, I’ve noticed there isn’t
nearly the amount of uncertainty about what this means. We are getting
on to ‘soul talk’ here: Thomas Moore would be proud.
Moore also published another look at soul, the book that I read from a
few minutes ago: Dark Night of the Soul. He took this title from the
Spanish sixteenth-century mystic John of the Cross, who described the
‘down’ phases we experiences --- periods of sadness, trial, loss,
frustration, or failure --- as dark nights of the soul. My guess is that
each of us in this room know what Moore and John of the Cross were
referring to. Who among us has not had some short or long dark nights?
Dark nights can occur at any time. However, at this time of year, as
Mother Earth approaches the longest night, as temperatures drop; as the
earth seems to close up shop, our tendency toward dark nights may
increase. Dark nights of the soul might also be caused by circumstances
quite apart from the seasons ... circumstances that drain our soul
batteries, as happens at times of change, growth, and transition. Moving
is supposedly the biggest stressor in life --- a good cause of dark
nights --- and dark nights can happen through starting or ending
personal relationships, or changing jobs or schools. Individually, in
families, in organizations, in our communities and in our nation ---
many factors can create dark nights, at any time of year.
One reason change --- any change --- might move us toward dark nights in
the first place is that, at least for a short while, we are in no-person
land, neither here nor there. We may have come from a positive, stable,
safe situation, and then we suddenly find ourselves in liminal place,
the place in between. Perhaps out of a desire to explore new life
options, we may even intentionally seek out change, we may elect to take
a risk, with no guarantee of where we will land or if we will be safe.
Such times of uncertainty can cause anxiety, but they are not to be
avoided. One of my colleagues refers to such time of risk-taking as an
opportunity to learn to fly.
Three Reasons not to fear the dark
We do well to remember that dark nights of the soul are a given part of
the condition of being human. Thus, we do well to put dark nights in
perspective. One reference point for that perspective is Mother Earth,
which enters a dark night every winter. Mother Earth helps us remember
that we should not interpret dark nights as wrong, bad, or clinically
incorrect. Dark nights are an essential part of the human condition,
just as the dormancy of the winter months in the northern hemisphere is
for Earth.
A few weeks ago I talked about Victor Frankl, a Nazi concentration camp
survivor, who reminded us that we cannot avoid obstacles in life: they
will always be there. What matters is how we deal with the obstacles.
Now I’m not being Calvinist about this: I’m not encouraging us to go to
the dark because the suffering will be so good for us. What I am
encouraging us to do is consider how dark nights provide opportunities
for internal reflection, contemplation, reassessment and renewal, that
can open doors to spiritual deepening.
The natural rotations of the earth also remind us that dark nights do
not last forever: periods of hibernation do end, life does resume, and
greenery does grow again. No matter what time of year: restoration will
come. The Earth as our inspiration can keep us looking forward when
we’re in the thick of a dark night.
Routine darknesses, as Moore suggest, can be opportunities for
transformation. Isn’t transformation one reason we come to church. Are
not our congregations places to bring our dark nights, safe places to
explore the meaning and lessons of such phases of living? Our church
homes are places to bring challenges like the one Jonah faced when he
entered the belly of the whale. Jonah assumed that he was powerless once
he found himself in the belly of a big sea creature. Let’s face it,
whale bellies don’t have a whole lot going for them as appealing places
to visit. Once in the whale belly, however, Jonah sat and contemplated,
and emerged from the whale a hero. In the darkness of the whale, he
found transformation. Through any of our dark nights, we have the
potential to be transformed, and our congregation can be a place to
explore that transformation and to be held during as we go through dark
places.
Avoid absolute thinking
For a balanced perspective on dark nights, we also do well to avoid
absolutist thinking. Categorical boxes that we use as predictors of
actions keep us from seeing life in new dimensions.
While Moore and others have referred to these down times of life as
‘dark nights,’ they also urge us to broaden our thinking about the
connotations of the dark. For example, thinking that black and dark
equate with bad --- and only bad --- puts the darker side into a certain
box from the get-go. Likewise, thinking of white and light as equated
with good --- and only with good --- puts the light into certain boxes.
Consider how often examples of such categorical thinking in general
culture can shape a one-sided view of light and dark. Look at our words:
‘blackmail,’ ‘black mark,’ ‘Black mood,’ ‘black cats.’ So why is the
shopping day after Thanksgiving ‘Black Friday?’ And the same with
whiteness : why did they give the good guy in the old westerns the white
horse to ride? Or why do traditional brides wear white dresses?
Both black and white, light and dark, have many meanings. Not everything
white is all good --- something white can be pallid, ashen, vulnerable.
Not everything black is bad. The dark is not to be feared, destroyed, or
ignored. I’ve told some of you before my story of out-growing my fear of
the dark --- my sense that the dark was somehow scary --- when I spent
December in Sweden some years ago. With only four hours of daylight in
December in Stockholm, if you don’t go out in the dark you never go out.
If you don’t trust the dark, you spend a lot of your day feeling
anxious. Moving about safely in the dark, there in that safe culture, I
lost my fear of being without light. The dark took on new meaning for
me.
By the same token, a period of dark for our souls is not categorically,
predictably negative. Just as Mother Earth is dormant, not dead, during
the dark of winter, so during human dark nights, positive things are
happening. Especially for those among us who tend to be ‘progress
oriented,’ we are not ‘wasting time’ when we go into dark period. Let us
take lessons from Mother Earth.
Dark is light, light is dark
Even if we do explain the dark as negative and the light as positive,
Moore also reminds us that dark nights are never totally dark. Even the
darkest night sky has stars, if not a moon. Even when we are in the
foulest of moods, or the throes of sadnesses, we can find brightness and
light in very simple ways: a gentle hand reaching out, or a baby smiling
at us. In a parallel way, periods of light are never totally free of
concerns. No life is ever totally one or the other. Every day each of us
is on a new life journey because of this mixture of light and dark.
In fact, life would be rather dull if it were only all of one, or the
other. Just as no piece of music is totally in a major or a minor
tonality, the work of art that is our lives is enriched by the play
between major and minor, between light and dark shades . Said more
practically: every negative situations has some ray of sunshine in it,
and any situation that seems picture perfect has flaws.
Think about a situation in your life or in the life of someone you know
that seems totally ‘yucky:’ a loss of a job after years of experience; a
broken personal relationship with no chance of repair; a surprise
diagnosis of a terminal illness for someone in the prime of life. As
uncomfortable as these dark places may be, are there not elements of
light in each of these examples? --- more free time to explore new
experiences and learnings; expanding one’s circle of through new
relationships; a resolve to live every day fully, realizing that no one
ever really knows low long their life will last.
Or consider the opposite: is any perfect situation ever really perfect?
Has there ever really been a ‘Leave it to Beaver’ household. I wish I
had learned this truth earlier, expending much energy as I did growing
up wishing my family were like the Beaver Cleaver household. Or think
about the person who always seems to be cheery: is that person in some
denial of genuine problems around him or her? Of course, it’s good to be
positive, but it also helps to also be realistic. The winter holidays,
which we tend to think of as times of fun and good cheer, lay just
before us. We may actually enjoy the holidays more if we accept the
reality that there just may be a relative or old friend who will sully
our anticipated positive holiday atmosphere. Not expecting perfection
through the holidays, we might actually enjoy them more.
Unitarian Universalist Jacqui James, a long-time advocate for racial
justice, sums up our right relationship with darkness with these words:
“The words ‘black’ and ‘dark’ don’t need to be destroyed or ignored,
only balanced and reclaimed in their wholeness. The words ‘white’ and
‘light’ don’t need to be destroyed or ignored, only balanced and
reclaimed in their wholeness. Imagine a world that had only light or
dark. We need both. Dark and light. Light and dark.”
Living in Dark and Light
How to you respond to the mix of dark and light on life’s journey?
Knowing that any life is a balance , do you allow yourself to go to
darker places when they arise? A mindset of dark nights of the soul as
natural and part of the human condition can help us face them, not shy
away from what we fear.
Perhaps some of you are currently in some dark night of your soul.
Perhaps your dark nights are exacerbated by the natural season of
darkness. Even though your dark might be real and large --- although we
hope not too large --- do you maintain a sense of perspective? Do you
keep yourself open to the small points of light that are always
possible? A Buddhist would ask if you are staying mindful to these
points and the joy that can come along at any moment?
Maintaining healthy spiritual practices can also help us process both
light and dark. Regular practices help us recall similar moments in the
past and help balance our perspective on life. A holiday ritual of yours
to help create balance between light an dark might include putting up
lights or bringing pine bows and trees outdoors. Spiritual discipline
might also include intentional times of getting away and taking care of
ourselves: like the ministers Convo I attended, or the peace of Walden
Pond where Henry David Thoreau found new perspective on life. I hope we
each have a Walden Pond to go to, on both dark and light days.
When a dark night of the soul comes along, having others to reach out to
makes the trust of the dark all the easier. That’s one reason we go to
church: to find a network of people and other sources of inspiration to
reach out to. I hope regular attendance at church, on Sundays and at
other times, is part of your routine for support for both the dark and
the light nights of your soul. I also hope that we all learn to reach
out for support when we need it. The spiritual writer Parker Palmer
talks about going into depressions that were so deep that he could not
ask for help: the only feeling he had was when dear friends massaged his
feet. I hope this church is a place where each of us --- long-time
members and new friends --- can reach out when we need a foot massage.
The theme of our ministers Convo was ‘Story:’ telling stories to
celebrate joys, telling stories to work through sadnesses. Especially
through dark nights, but anytime, I also hope each of us is open to
telling our stories. The coming holidays afford ample opportunity: : as
we catch up with those we haven’t seen for awhile; as we write the
holiday cards or emails; as we reminisce about Christmases past. Knowing
that others are listening --- deeply listening --- can be a powerful way
of maintaining healthy souls and recovering from hurts that may have
occurred during dark nights of the past. Tell your stories.
Going Out
May we understand dark and light as equally important parts of the human
condition. May we hope that dark nights do not last too long, that we
don’t become stuck in various bellies of whales too long. In this time
waiting for winter, may we take inspiration from the earth, who teaches
us about dormancy, not death. This period of Advent is a time of
waiting: may we rejoice in knowing that hope and light and truth and
love will come to each of us. May we rejoice in knowing that our souls
can be renewed, as light and dark intermingle to create this mosaic that
is our lives.
May this be so.
Please do not copy or quote without permission of the author.
|
