Dark Night of my Soul

I'm not a scholar nor have the intelligence to explain the significance of the beautiful writing of St. John of the Cross. However, despite my stupidity I will attempt reflect on what this poem means to me. I've only read part of the book (the book which explains the stanzas) I never finished it. I remember hitting one point and being jealous that I have not and may not ever reach the perfection it speaks about, none-the-less I am sure of God's love for me.

My dark nights are my struggles, my sufferings and my weaknesses. In the dark night of my soul I'm at my utter last hopes I have surrender by force. By "force" I mean I can turn to nothing else I can't go any lower therefore looking up is my only option. Looking up as in turning to God as my only hope. The dark night of my soul is when my hands are tied, when it's out of my control. The great suffering I'm enduring is my dark night. However what I believe this poem is saying to me is to be grateful for this dark night in my soul as it will set me free, it brings me to my reality, shows me how weak of a human being I am. In accepting my weakness I allow the Lord to come in to take hold of my life.

This thought brings me to a revelation I had in February when I went to the sister.s of lif.e event that took place. The sister.s of Lif.e help woman who are considering abortion. They held a presentation and at one point they spoke about weakness. Unfortunately I don't remember the exact words. I wrote them down but forgot the paper at the presentation. They explained that it is our weakest moments that God shows His glory. That it was when Jesus was at His most weakest moment in life, hanging on that cross that God was able to manifest His Glory. He rescued humanity in his most weakest time, this is when God takes over and shows us His love. It is something that baffled me when I first heard it and it resonates in my heart.

This suffering I experience, that we all experience deep in our hearts is an opportunity to allow God's work and love to be manifested through us. For me it is not easy to accept my weakness to see joy in my suffering, but the thought that this is possible consoles me. I want to feel what St. John of the Cross felt, his love for God, but I am unsure I can sustain the suffering he endured.

Why am I writing about this now? I'm not exactly sure what has motivated me to attempt to discuss this poem, but it may just have to do with Holy week. I'm always sad on Holy week and I think it's a depressing time, however, this time around I see how beautiful and joyous this week actually is!

I don't deserve Jesus' dying on the cross, none-the-less His sacrifice has made me worthy of salvation. This I must rejoice in. I can only hope to have a perfect union of love with God, despite of the fact that I may never experience this I know God's love for me is perfect.

STANZAS OF THE SOUL
1. On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings—oh, happy chance!—
I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.

2. In darkness and secure, By the secret ladder, disguised—oh, happy chance!—
In darkness and in concealment, My house being now at rest.

3. In the happy night, In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught, Without light or guide, save that which burned in my heart.

4. This light guided me More surely than the light of noonday
To the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me— A place where none appeared.

5. Oh, night that guided me, Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover, Lover transformed in the Beloved!

6. Upon my flowery breast, Kept wholly for himself alone,
There he stayed sleeping, and I caressed him, And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.

7. The breeze blew from the turret As I parted his locks;
With his gentle hand he wounded my neck And caused all my senses to be suspended.

8. I remained, lost in oblivion; My face I reclined on the Beloved.
All ceased and I abandoned myself, Leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies.