DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL
In a dark night.
Wherein is expounded the first line of the first stanza,
and a beginning is made of the explanation of this dark night.
THIS night, which, as we say, is contemplation, produces in spiritual persons
two kinds of darkness or purgation, corresponding to the two parts of man's
nature-namely, the sensual and the spiritual. And thus the one night or
purgation will be sensual, wherein the soul is purged according to sense, which
is subdued to the spirit; and the other is a night or purgation which is
spiritual, wherein the soul is purged and stripped according to the spirit, and
subdued and made ready for the union of love with God. The night of sense is
common and comes to many: these are the beginners; and of this night we shall
speak first. The night of the spirit is the portion of very few, and these are
they that are already practised and proficient, of whom we shall treat
hereafter.
1. The first purgation or night is bitter and terrible to sense, as
we shall now show.58 The second bears no comparison with it, for it
is horrible and awful to the spirit, as we shall show59 presently.
Since the night of sense is first in order and comes first, we shall first of
all say something about it briefly, since more is written of it, as of a thing
that is more common; and we shall pass on to treat more fully of the spiritual
night, since very little has been said of this, either in speech60 or
in writing, and very little is known of it, even by experience.
2 Since, then, the conduct of these beginners upon the way of
God is ignoble,61 and has much to do with their love of self and
their own inclinations, as has been explained above, God desires to lead them
farther. He seeks to bring them out of that ignoble kind of love to a higher
degree of love for Him, to free them from the ignoble exercises of sense and
meditation (wherewith, as we have said, they go seeking God so unworthily and in
so many ways that are unbefitting), and to lead them to a kind of spiritual
exercise wherein they can commune with Him more abundantly and are freed more
completely from imperfections. For they have now had practice for some time in
the way of virtue and have persevered in meditation and prayer, whereby, through
the sweetness and pleasure that they have found therein, they have lost their
love of the things of the world and have gained some degree of spiritual
strength in God; this has enabled them to some extent to refrain from creature
desires, so that for God's sake they are now able to suffer a light burden and a
little aridity without turning back to a time62 which they found more
pleasant. When they are going about these spiritual exercises with the greatest
delight and pleasure, and when they believe that the sun of Divine favour is
shining most brightly upon them, God turns all this light of theirs into
darkness, and shuts against them the door and the source of the sweet spiritual
water which they were tasting in God whensoever and for as long as they desired.
(For, as they were weak and tender, there was no door closed to them, as Saint
John says in the Apocalypse, iii, 8). And thus He leaves them so completely in
the dark that they know not whither to go with their sensible imagination and
meditation; for they cannot advance a step in meditation, as they were wont to
do afore time, their inward senses being submerged in this night, and left with
such dryness that not only do they experience no pleasure and consolation in the
spiritual things and good exercises wherein they were wont to find their
delights and pleasures, but instead, on the contrary, they find insipidity and
bitterness in the said things. For, as I have said, God now sees that they have
grown a little, and are becoming strong enough to lay aside their swaddling
clothes and be taken from the gentle breast; so He sets them down from His arms
and teaches them to walk on their own feet; which they feel to be very strange,
for everything seems to be going wrong with them.
3 To recollected persons this commonly happens sooner after their
beginnings than to others, inasmuch as they are freer from occasions of
backsliding, and their desires turn more quickly from the things of the world,
which is necessary if they are to begin to enter this blessed night of sense.
Ordinarily no great time passes after their beginnings before they begin to
enter this night of sense; and the great majority of them do in fact enter it,
for they will generally be seen to fall into these aridities.
4 With regard to this way of purgation of the senses, since it is so common, we
might here adduce a great number of quotations from Divine Scripture, where many
passages relating to it are continually found, particularly in the Psalms and
the Prophets. However, I do not wish to spend time upon these, for he who knows
not how to look for them there will find the common experience of this purgation
to be sufficient.
57 58 59 St.
Matthew vii, 14. [Lit., 'say.'] [Lit., 'say.']
60 [plática: the word is frequently used in Spanish to denote an informal
sermon or address.]
61 [Lit., 'low'; the same word recurs below and is similarly
translated.]
62 [Lit., 'to the better time.']
Of the signs by which it will be known that the
spiritual person
is walking along the way of this night and purgation of sense.
BUT since these aridities might frequently proceed, not from the night and
purgation of the sensual desires aforementioned, but from sins and
imperfections, or from weakness and lukewarmness, or from some bad humour or
indisposition of the body, I shall here set down certain signs by which it may
be known if such aridity proceeds from the aforementioned purgation, or if it
arises from any of the aforementioned sins. For the making of this distinction I
find that there are three principal signs.
1 The first is whether, when a soul finds no pleasure or consolation
in the things of God, it also fails to find it in any thing created; for, as God
sets the soul in this dark night to the end that He may quench and purge its
sensual desire, He allows it not to find attraction or sweetness in anything
whatsoever. In such a case it may be considered very probable63 that this
aridity and insipidity proceed not from recently committed sins or
imperfections. For, if this were so, the soul would feel in its nature some
inclination or desire to taste other things than those of God; since, whenever
the desire is allowed indulgence in any imperfection, it immediately feels
inclined thereto, whether little or much, in proportion to the pleasure and the
love that it has put into it. Since, however, this lack of enjoyment in things
above or below might proceed from some indisposition or melancholy humour, which
oftentimes makes it impossible for the soul to take pleasure in anything, it
becomes necessary to apply the second sign and condition.
2 The second sign whereby a man may believe himself to be
experiencing the said purgation is that the memory is ordinarily centred upon
God, with painful care and solicitude, thinking that it is not serving God, but
is backsliding, because it finds itself without sweetness in the things of God.
And in such a case it is evident that this lack of sweetness and this aridity
come not from weakness and lukewarmness; for it is the nature of lukewarmness
not to care greatly or to have any inward solicitude for the things of God.
There is thus a great difference between aridity and lukewarmness, for
lukewarmness consists in great weakness and remissness in the will and in the
spirit, without solicitude as to serving God; whereas purgative aridity is
ordinarily accompanied by solicitude, with care and grief as I say, because the
soul is not serving God. And, although this may sometimes be increased by
melancholy or some other humour (as it frequently is), it fails not for that
reason to produce a purgative effect upon the desire, since the desire is
deprived of all pleasure and has its care centred upon God alone. For, when mere
humour is the cause, it spends itself in displeasure and ruin of the physical
nature, and there are none of those desires to sense God which belong to
purgative aridity. When the cause is aridity, it is true that the sensual part
of the soul has fallen low, and is weak and feeble in its actions, by reason of
the little pleasure which it finds in them; but the spirit, on the other hand,
is ready and strong.
63 [Lit., 'And in
this it is known very probably.']
3 For the cause of this aridity is that God transfers to the spirit the good things and the strength of the senses, which, since the soul's natural strength and senses are incapable of using them, remain barren, dry and empty. For the sensual part of a man has no capacity for that which is pure spirit, and thus, when it is the spirit that receives the pleasure, the flesh is left without savour and is too weak to perform any action. But the spirit, which all the time is being fed, goes forward in strength, and with more alertness and solicitude than before, in its anxiety not to fail God; and if it is not immediately conscious of spiritual sweetness and delight, but only of aridity and lack of sweetness, the reason for this is the strangeness of the exchange; for its palate has been accustomed to those other sensual pleasures upon which its eyes are still fixed, and, since the spiritual palate is not made ready or purged for such subtle pleasure, until it finds itself becoming prepared for it by means of this arid and dark night, it cannot experience spiritual pleasure and good, but only aridity and lack of sweetness, since it misses the pleasure which aforetime it enjoyed so readily.
4 These souls whom God is beginning to lead through these solitary places
of the wilderness are like to the children of Israel, to whom in the wilderness
God began to give food from Heaven, containing within itself all sweetness, and,
as is there said, it turned to the savour which each one of them desired. But
withal the children of Israel felt the lack of the pleasures and delights of the
flesh and the onions which they had eaten aforetime in Egypt, the more so
because their palate was accustomed to these and took delight in them, rather
than in the delicate sweetness of the angelic manna; and they wept and sighed
for the fleshpots even in the midst of the food of Heaven.64 To such
depths does the vileness of our desires descend that it makes us to long for our
own wretched food65 and to be nauseated by the indescribable66
blessings of Heaven.
5. But, as I say, when these aridities proceed from the way of the purgation of
sensual desire, although at first the spirit feels no sweetness, for the reasons
that we have just given, it feels that it is deriving strength and energy to act
from the substance which this inward food gives it, the which food is the
beginning of a contemplation that is dark and arid to the senses; which
contemplation is secret and hidden from the very person that experiences it; and
ordinarily, together with the aridity and emptiness which it causes in the
senses, it gives the soul an inclination and desire to be alone and in
quietness, without being able to think of any particular thing or having the
desire to do so. If those souls to whom this comes to pass knew how to be quiet
at this time, and troubled not about performing any kind of action, whether
inward or outward, neither had any anxiety about doing anything, then they would
delicately experience this inward refreshment in that ease and freedom from
care. So delicate is this refreshment that ordinarily, if a man have desire or
care to experience it, he experiences it not; for, as I say, it does its work
when the soul is most at ease and freest from care; it is like the air which, if
one would close one's hand upon it, escapes.
6 In this sense we may understand that which the Spouse said to the
Bride in the Songs, namely: 'Withdraw thine eyes from me, for they make me to
soar aloft.'67 For in such a way does God bring the soul into this
state, and by so different a path does He lead it that, if it desires to work
with its faculties, it hinders the work which God is doing in it rather than
aids it; whereas aforetime it was quite the contrary. The reason is that, in
this state of contemplation, which the soul enters when it forsakes meditation
for the state of the proficient, it is God Who is now working in the soul; He
binds its interior faculties, and allows it not to cling to the understanding,
nor to have delight in the will, nor to reason with the memory. For anything
that the soul can do of its own accord at this time serves only, as we have
said, to hinder inward peace and the work which God is accomplishing in the
spirit by means of that aridity of sense. And this peace, being spiritual and
delicate, performs a work which is quiet and delicate, solitary, productive of
peace and satisfaction68 and far removed from all those earlier
pleasures, which were very palpable and sensual. This is the peace which, says
David, God speaks in the soul to the end that He may make it spiritual.69
And this leads us to the third point.
7 The third sign whereby this purgation of sense may be recognized is that the soul can no longer meditate or reflect in the imaginative sphere of sense as it was wont, however much it may of itself endeavour to do so. For God now begins to communicate Himself to it, no longer through sense, as He did aforetime, by means of reflections which joined and sundered its knowledge, but by pure spirit, into which consecutive reflections enter not; but He communicates Himself to it by an act of simple contemplation, to which neither the exterior nor the interior senses of the lower part of the soul can attain. From this time forward, therefore, imagination and fancy can find no support in any meditation, and can gain no foothold by means thereof.
8 With regard to this third sign, it is to be understood that this embarrassment and dissatisfaction of the faculties proceed not from indisposition, for, when this is the case, and the indisposition, which never lasts for long,70 comes to an end, the soul is able once again, by taking some trouble about the matter, to do what it did before, and the faculties find their wonted support. But in the purgation of the desire this is not so: when once the soul begins to enter therein, its inability to reflect with the faculties grows ever greater. For, although it is true that at first, and with some persons, the process is not as continuous as this, so that occasionally they fail to abandon their pleasures and reflections of sense (for perchance by reason of their weakness it was not fitting to wean them from these immediately), yet this inability grows within them more and more and brings the workings of sense to an end, if indeed they are to make progress, for those who walk not in the way of contemplation act very differently. For this night of aridities is not usually continuous in their senses. At times they have these aridities; at others they have them not. At times they cannot meditate; at others they can. For God sets them in this night only to prove them and to humble them, and to reform their desires, so that they go not nurturing in themselves a sinful gluttony in spiritual things. He sets them not there in order to lead them in the way of the spirit, which is this contemplation; for not all those who walk of set purpose in the way of the spirit are brought by God to contemplation, nor even the half of them-why, He best knows. And this is why He never completely weans the senses of such persons from the breasts of meditations and reflections, but only for short periods and at certain seasons, as we have said.
64 65 66 Numbers
xi, 5-6. [Lit., 'makes us to desire our miseries.'] [Lit., 'incommunicable.']
67 Canticles vi, 4 [A.V., vi, 5].
68 [Lit., 'satisfactory and pacific.']69 Psalm lxxxiv, 9 [A.V., lxxxv,
8].
70 [The stress here is evidently on the transience of the distempers
whether they be moral or physical.]
Of the way in which these souls are to conduct themselves in this dark
night.
DURING the time, then, of the aridities of this night of sense (wherein God
effects the change of which we have spoken above, drawing forth the soul from
the life of sense into that of the spirit-that is, from meditation to
contemplation-wherein it no longer has any power to work or to reason with its
faculties concerning the things of God, as has been said), spiritual persons
suffer great trials, by reason not so much of the aridities which they suffer,
as of the fear which they have of being lost on the road, thinking that all
spiritual blessing is over for them and that God has abandoned them since they
find no help or pleasure in good things. Then they grow weary, and endeavour (as
they have been accustomed to do) to concentrate their faculties with some degree
of pleasure upon some object of meditation, thinking that, when they are not
doing this and yet are conscious of making an effort, they are doing nothing.
This effort they make not without great inward repugnance and unwillingness on
the part of their soul, which was taking pleasure in being in that quietness and
ease, instead of working with its faculties. So they have abandoned the one
pursuit,71 yet draw no profit from the other; for, by seeking what is
prompted by their own spirit,72 they lose the spirit of tranquillity
and peace which they had before. And thus they are like to one who abandons what
he has done in order to do it over again, or to one who leaves a city only to
re-enter it, or to one who is hunting and lets his prey go in order to hunt it
once more. This is useless here, for the soul will gain nothing further by
conducting itself in this way, as has been said.
1 These souls turn back at such a time if there is none who
understands them; they abandon the road or lose courage; or, at the least, they
are hindered from going farther by the great trouble which they take in
advancing along the road of meditation and reasoning. Thus they fatigue and
overwork their nature, imagining that they are failing through negligence or
sin. But this trouble that they are taking is quite useless, for God is now
leading them by another road, which is that of contemplation, and is very
different from the first; for the one is of meditation and reasoning, and the
other belongs neither to imagination nor yet to reasoning.
2 It is well for those who find themselves in this condition to take comfort, to persevere in patience and to be in no wise afflicted. Let them trust in God, Who abandons not those that seek Him with a simple and right heart, and will not fail to give them what is needful for the road, until He bring them into the clear and pure light of love. This last He will give them by means of that other dark night, that of the spirit, if they merit His bringing them thereto.
3 The way in which they are to conduct themselves in this night of sense is to devote themselves not at all to reasoning and meditation, since this is not the time for it, but to allow the soul to remain in peace and quietness, although it may seem clear to them that they are doing nothing and are wasting their time, and although it may appear to them that it is because of their weakness that they have no desire in that state to think of anything. The truth is that they will be doing quite sufficient if they have patience and persevere in prayer without making any effort.73 What they must do is merely to leave the soul free and disencumbered and at rest from all knowledge and thought, troubling not themselves, in that state, about what they shall think or meditate upon, but contenting themselves with merely a peaceful and loving attentiveness toward God, and in being without anxiety, without the ability and without desired to have experience of Him or to perceive Him. For all these yearnings disquiet and distract the soul from the peaceful quiet and sweet ease of contemplation which is here granted to it.
4 And although further scruples may come to them-that they are wasting their time, and that it would be well for them to do something else, because they can neither do nor think anything in prayer-let them suffer these scruples and remain in peace, as there is no question save of their being at ease and having freedom of spirit. For if such a soul should desire to make any effort of its own with its interior faculties, this means that it will hinder and lose the blessings which, by means of that peace and ease of the soul, God is instilling into it and impressing upon it. It is just as if some painter were painting or dyeing a face; if the sitter were to move because he desired to do something, he would prevent the painter from accomplishing anything and would disturb him in what he was doing. And thus, when the soul desires to remain in inward ease and peace, any operation and affection or attentions wherein it may then seek to indulge74 will distract it and disquiet it and make it conscious of aridity and emptiness of sense. For the more a soul endeavours to find support in affection and knowledge, the more will it feel the lack of these, which cannot now be supplied to it upon that road.
5 Wherefore it behoves such a soul to pay no heed if the operations of its faculties become lost to it; it is rather to desire that this should happen quickly. For, by not hindering the operation of infused contemplation that God is bestowing upon it, it can receive this with more peaceful abundance, and cause its spirit to be enkindled and to burn with the love which this dark and secret contemplation brings with it and sets firmly in the soul. For contemplation is naught else than a secret, peaceful and loving infusion from God, which, if it be permitted, enkindles the soul with the spirit of love, according as the soul declares in the next lines, namely:
Kindled in love with yearnings.
71 [Lit.,
'spoiling themselves in the one.']
72 [Lit., 'because they seek their spirit.']
73 [Lit., 'without
doing anything themselves.']
74 [Lit., 'which it may then wish to have.']
Wherein are expounded the three lines of the stanza.
THIS enkindling of love is not as a rule felt at the first, because it has not
begun to take hold upon the soul, by reason of the impurity of human nature, or
because the soul has not understood its own state, as we have said, and has
therefore given it no peaceful abiding-place within itself. Yet sometimes,
nevertheless, there soon begins to make itself felt a certain yearning toward
God; and the more this increases, the more is the soul affectioned and enkindled
in love toward God, without knowing or understanding how and whence this love
and affection come to it, but from time to time seeing this flame and this
enkindling grow so greatly within it that it desires God with yearning of love;
even as David, when he was in this dark night, said of himself in these words,75
namely: 'Because my heart was enkindled (that is to say, in love of
contemplation), my reins also were changed': that is, my desires for sensual
affections were changed, namely from the way of sense to the way of the spirit,
which is the aridity and cessation from all these things whereof we are
speaking. And I, he says, was dissolved in nothing and annihilated, and I knew
not; for, as we have said, without knowing the way whereby it goes, the soul
finds itself annihilated with respect to all things above and below which were
accustomed to please it; and it finds itself enamoured, without knowing how. And
because at times the enkindling of love in the spirit grows greater, the
yearnings for God become so great in the soul that the very bones seem to be
dried up by this thirst, and the natural powers to be fading away, and their
warmth and strength to be perishing through the intensity76 of the
thirst of love, for the soul feels that this thirst of love is a living thirst.
This thirst David had and felt, when he said: 'My soul thirsted for the living
God.'77 Which is as much as to say: A living thirst was that of my
soul. Of this thirst, since it is living, we may say that it kills. But it is to
be noted that the vehemence of this thirst is not continuous, but occasional
although as a rule the soul is accustomed to feel it to a certain degree.
2. But it must be noted that, as I began to say just now, this love is not as a
rule felt at first, but only the dryness and emptiness are felt whereof we are
speaking. Then in place of this love which afterwards becomes gradually
enkindled, what the soul experiences in the midst of these aridities and
emptinesses of the faculties is an habitual care and solicitude with respect to
God, together with grief and fear that it is not serving Him. But it is a
sacrifice which is not a little pleasing to God that the soul should go about
afflicted and solicitous for His love. This solicitude and care leads the soul
into that secret contemplation, until, the senses (that is, the sensual part)
having in course of time been in some degree purged of the natural affections
and powers by means of the aridities which it causes within them, this Divine
love begins to be enkindled in the spirit. Meanwhile, however, like one who has
begun a cure, the soul knows only suffering in this dark and arid purgation of
the desire; by this means it becomes healed of many imperfections, and exercises
itself in many virtues in order to make itself meet for the said love, as we
shall now say with respect to the line following: Oh, happy chance!
75 76 77 Psalm lxxii, 21 [A.V., lxxiii, 21-2]. [Lit., 'livingness':
cf. the quotation below.] Psalm xli, 3 [A.V., xlii, 2].
3. When God leads the soul into this night of sense in order to purge the sense
of its lower part and to subdue it, unite it and bring it into conformity with
the spirit, by setting it in darkness and causing it to cease from meditation
(as He afterwards does in order to purify the spirit to unite it with God, as we
shall afterwards say), He brings it into the night of the spirit, and (although
it appears not so to it) the soul gains so many benefits that it holds it to be
a happy chance to have escaped from the bonds and restrictions of the senses of
or its lower self, by means of this night aforesaid; and utters the present
line, namely: Oh, happy chance! With respect to this, it behoves us here to note
the benefits which the soul finds in this night, and because of which it
considers it a happy chance to have passed through it; all of which benefits the
soul includes in the next line, namely:
I went forth without being observed.
4. This going forth is understood of the subjection to its sensual part which
the soul suffered when it sought God through operations so weak, so limited and
so defective as are those of this lower part; for at every step it stumbled into
numerous imperfections and ignorances, as we have noted above in writing of the
seven capital sins. From all these it is freed when this night quenches within
it all pleasures, whether from above or from below, and makes all meditation
darkness to it, and grants it other innumerable blessings in the acquirement of
the virtues, as we shall now show. For it will be a matter of great pleasure and
great consolation, to one that journeys on this road, to see how that which
seems to the soul so severe and adverse, and so contrary to spiritual pleasure,
works in it so many blessings. These, as we say, are gained when the soul goes
forth, as regards its affection and operation, by means of this night, from all
created things, and when it journeys to eternal things, which is great happiness
and good fortune:78 first, because of the great blessing which is in
the quenching of the desire and affection with respect to all things; secondly,
because they are very few that endure and persevere in entering by this strait
gate and by the narrow way which leads to life, as says Our Saviour.79 The
strait gate is this night of sense, and the soul detaches itself from sense and
strips itself thereof that it may enter by this gate, and establishes itself in
faith, which is a stranger to all sense, so that afterwards it may journey by
the narrow way, which is the other night-that of the spirit-and this the soul
afterwards enters in order in journey to God in pure
faith, which is the means whereby the soul is united to God. By this road, since
it is so narrow, dark and terrible (though there is no comparison between this
night of sense and that other, in its darkness and trials, as we shall say
later), they are far fewer that journey, but its benefits are far greater
without comparison than those of this present night. Of these benefits we shall
now begin to say something, with such brevity as is possible, in order that we
may pass to the other night.
78 [Lit., 'and chance': the same word as in the verse-line above.] 79
St. Matthew vii, 14.
Of the benefits which this night causes in the soul.
THIS night and purgation of the desire, a happy one for the soul, works in it so
many blessings and benefits (although to the soul, as we have said, it rather
seems that blessings are being taken away from it) that, even as Abraham made a
great feast when he weaned his son Isaac,80 even so is there joy in
Heaven because God is now taking this soul from its swaddling clothes, setting
it down from His arms, making it to walk upon its feet, and likewise taking from
it the milk of the breast and the soft and sweet food proper to children, and
making it to eat bread with crust, and to begin to enjoy the food of robust
persons. This food, in these aridities and this darkness of sense, is now given
to the spirit, which is dry and emptied of all the sweetness of sense. And this
food is the infused contemplation whereof we have spoken.
2. This is the first and principal benefit caused by this arid and dark night of
contemplation: the knowledge of oneself and of one's misery. For, besides the
fact that all the favours which God grants to the soul are habitually granted to
them enwrapped in this knowledge, these aridities and this emptiness of the
faculties, compared with the abundance which the soul experienced aforetime and
the difficulty which it finds in good works, make it recognize its own lowliness
and misery, which in the time of its prosperity it was unable to see. Of this
there is a good illustration in the Book of Exodus, where God, wishing to humble
the children of Israel and desiring that they should know themselves, commanded
them to take away and strip off the festal garments and adornments wherewith
they were accustomed to adorn themselves in the Wilderness, saying: 'Now from
henceforth strip yourselves of festal ornaments and put on everyday working
dress, that ye may know what treatment ye deserve.'81 This is as though He had
said: Inasmuch as the attire that ye wear, being proper to festival and
rejoicing, causes you to feel less humble concerning yourselves than ye should,
put off from you this attire, in order that henceforth, seeing yourselves
clothed with vileness, ye may know that ye merit no more, and may know who ye
are. Wherefore the soul knows the truth that it knew not at first, concerning
its own misery; for, at the time when it was clad as for a festival and found in
God much pleasure, consolation and support, it was somewhat more satisfied and
contented, since it thought itself to some extent to be serving God. It is true
that such
souls may not have this idea explicitly in their minds; but some suggestion of
it at least is implanted in them by the satisfaction which they find in their
pleasant experiences. But, now that the soul has put on its other and working
attire-that of aridity and abandonment-and now that its first lights have turned
into darkness, it possesses these lights more truly in this virtue of
self-knowledge, which is so excellent and so necessary, considering itself now
as nothing and experiencing no satisfaction in itself; for it sees that it does
nothing of itself neither can do anything. And the smallness of this
self-satisfaction, together with the soul's affliction at not serving God, is
considered and esteemed by God as greater than all the consolations which the
soul formerly experienced and the works which it wrought, however great they
were, inasmuch as they were the occasion of many imperfections and ignorances.
And from this attire of aridity proceed, as from their fount and source of
self-knowledge, not only the things which we have described already, but also
the benefits which we shall now describe and many more which will have to be
omitted.
2 In the first place, the soul learns to commune with God with more respect and
more courtesy, such as a soul must ever observe in converse with the Most High.
These it knew not in its prosperous times of comfort and consolation, for that
comforting favour which it experienced made its craving for God somewhat bolder
than was fitting, and discourteous and ill-considered. Even so did it happen to
Moses, when he perceived that God was speaking to him; blinded by that pleasure
and desire, without further consideration, he would have made bold to go to Him
if God had not commanded him to stay and put off his shoes. By this incident we
are shown the respect and discretion in detachment of desire wherewith a man is
to commune with God. When Moses had obeyed in this matter, he became so discreet
and so attentive that the Scripture says that not only did he not make bold to
draw near to God, but that he dared not even look at Him. For, having taken off
the shoes of his desires and pleasures, he became very conscious of his
wretchedness in the sight of God, as befitted one about to hear the word of God.
Even so likewise the preparation which God granted to Job in order that he might
speak with Him consisted not in those delights and glories which Job himself
reports that he was wont to have in his God, but in leaving him naked upon a
dung-hill,82 abandoned and even persecuted by his friends, filled with anguish
and bitterness, and the earth covered with worms. And then the Most High God, He
that lifts up the poor man from the dunghill, was pleased to come down and speak
with him there face to face, revealing to him the depths and heights83 of His
wisdom, in a way that He had never done in the time of his prosperity.
4. And here we must note another excellent benefit which there is in this night
and aridity of the desire of sense, since we have had occasion to speak of it.
It is that, in this dark night of the desire (to the end that the words of the
Prophet may be fulfilled, namely: 'Thy light shall shine in the darkness'84),
God will enlighten the soul, giving it knowledge, not only of its lowliness and
wretchedness, as we have said, but likewise of the greatness and excellence of
God. For, as well as quenching the desires and pleasures and attachments of
sense, He cleanses and frees the understanding that it may understand the truth;
for pleasure of sense and desire, even though it be for spiritual things,
darkens and obstructs the spirit, and furthermore that straitness and aridity of
sense enlightens and quickens the understanding, as says Isaias.85 Vexation
makes us to understand how the soul that is empty and disencumbered, as is
necessary for His Divine influence, is instructed supernaturally by God in His
Divine wisdom, through this dark and arid night of contemplation,86 as we have
said; and this instruction God gave not in those first sweetnesses and joys.
3 This is very well explained by the same prophet Isaias, where he says: 'Whom
shall God teach His knowledge, and whom shall He make to understand the
hearing?' To those, He says, that are weaned from the milk and drawn away from
the breasts.87 Here it is shown that the first milk of spiritual sweetness is no
preparation for this Divine influence, neither is there preparation in
attachment to the breast of delectable meditations, belonging to the faculties
of sense, which gave the soul pleasure; such preparation consists rather in the
lack of the one and withdrawal from the other. Inasmuch as, in order to listen
to God, the soul needs to stand upright and to be detached, with regard to
affection and sense, even as the Prophet says concerning himself, in these
words: I will stand upon my watch (this is that detachment of desire) and I will
make firm my step (that is, I will not meditate with sense), in order to
contemplate (that is, in order to understand that which may come to me from
God).88 So we have now arrived at this, that from this arid night there first of
all comes self-knowledge, whence, as from a foundation, rises this other
knowledge of God. For which cause Saint Augustine said to God: 'Let me know
myself, Lord, and I shall know Thee.'89 For, as the philosophers say, one
extreme can be well known by another.
4 And in order to prove more completely how efficacious is this night of sense,
with its aridity and its desolation, in bringing the soul that light which, as
we say, it receives there from God, we shall quote that passage of David,
wherein he clearly describes the great power which is in this night for bringing
the soul this lofty knowledge of God. He says, then, thus: 'In the desert land,
waterless, dry and pathless, I appeared before Thee, that I might see Thy virtue
and Thy glory.'90 It is a wondrous thing that David should say here that the
means and the preparation for his knowledge of the glory of God were not the
spiritual delights and the many pleasures which he had experienced, but the
aridities and detachments of his sensual nature, which is here to be understood
by the dry and desert land. No less wondrous is it that he should describe as
the road to his perception and vision of the virtue of God, not the Divine
meditations and conceptions of which he had often made use, but his being unable
to form any conception of God or to walk by meditation produced by imaginary
consideration, which is here to be understood by the pathless land. So that the
means to a knowledge of God and of oneself is this dark night with its aridities
and voids, although it leads not to a knowledge of Him of the same plenitude and
abundance that comes from the other night of the spirit, since this is only, as
it were, the beginning of that other.
5 Likewise, from the aridities and voids of this night of the desire, the soul
draws spiritual humility, which is the contrary virtue to the first capital sin,
which, as we said, is spiritual pride. Through this humility, which is acquired by the said knowledge of self, the soul is
purged from all those imperfections whereinto it fell with respect to that sin
of pride, in the time of its prosperity. For it sees itself so dry and miserable
that the idea never even occurs to it that it is making better progress than
others, or outstripping them, as it believed itself to be doing before. On the
contrary, it recognizes that others are making better progress than itself.
80 Genesis xxi, 8.
81 Exodus xxxiii, 5.
82 83 84 [Job ii, 7-8]. [Lit., 'the deep heights.'] Isaias lviii, 10.
85 Isaias xxviii, 19. [The
author omits the actual text.]
86 To translate this passage at all, we must read the Dios cómo of
P. Silverio (p. 403, 1. 20), which is also found in P. Gerardo and
elsewhere, as cómo Dios. 87 Isaias xxviii, 9. 88 Habacuc
ii, 1. 89 St. Augustine: Soliloq., Cap. ii. 90 Psalm lxii,
3 [A.V., lxiii, 1-2].
1 And hence arises the love of its neighbours, for it esteems them, and judges
them not as it was wont to do aforetime, when it saw that itself had great
fervour and others not so. It is aware only of its own wretchedness, which it
keeps before its eyes to such an extent that it never forgets it, nor takes
occasion to set its eyes on anyone else. This was described wonderfully by
David, when he was in this night, in these words: 'I was dumb and was humbled
and kept silence from good things and my sorrow was renewed.'91 This
he says because it seemed to him that the good that was in his soul had so
completely departed that not only did he neither speak nor find any language
concerning it, but with respect to the good of others he was likewise dumb
because of his grief at the knowledge of his misery.
2 In this condition, again, souls become submissive and obedient upon the
spiritual road, for, when they see their own misery, not only do they hear what
is taught them, but they even desire that anyone soever may set them on the way
and tell them what they ought to do. The affective presumption which they
sometimes had in their prosperity is taken from them; and finally, there are
swept away from them on this road all the other imperfections which we noted
above with respect to this first sin, which is spiritual pride.
Of other benefits which this night of sense causes in the soul.
WITH respect to the soul's imperfections of spiritual avarice, because of which
it coveted this and that spiritual thing and found no satisfaction in this and
that exercise by reason of its covetousness for the desire and pleasure which it
found therein, this arid and dark night has now greatly reformed it. For, as it
finds not the pleasure and sweetness which it was wont to find, but rather finds
affliction and lack of sweetness, it has such moderate recourse to them that it
might possibly now lose, through defective use, what aforetime it lost through
excess; although as a rule God gives to those whom He leads into this night
humility and readiness, albeit with lack of sweetness, so that what is commanded
them they may do for God's sake alone; and thus they no longer seek profit in
many things because they find no pleasure in them.
91 Psalm xxxviii, 3 [A.V., xxxix, 2].
1 With respect to spiritual luxury, it is likewise clearly seen that, through
this aridity and lack of sensible sweetness which the soul finds in spiritual
things, it is freed from those impurities which we there noted; for we said
that, as a rule, they proceeded from the pleasure which overflowed from spirit
into sense.
2 But with regard to the imperfections from which the soul frees itself in this
dark night with respect to the fourth sin, which is spiritual gluttony, they may
be found above, though they have not all been described there, because they are
innumerable; and thus I will not detail them here, for I would fain make an end
of this night in order to pass to the next, concerning which we shall have to
pronounce grave words and instructions. Let it suffice for the understanding of
the innumerable benefits which, over and above those mentioned, the soul gains
in this night with respect to this sin of spiritual gluttony, to say that it
frees itself from all those imperfections which have there been described, and
from many other and greater evils, and vile abominations which are not written
above, into which fell many of whom we have had experience, because they had not
reformed their desire as concerning this inordinate love of spiritual sweetness.
For in this arid and dark night wherein He sets the soul, God has restrained its
concupiscence and curbed its desire so that the soul cannot feed upon any
pleasure or sweetness of sense, whether from above or from below; and this He
continues to do after such manner that the soul is subjected, reformed and
repressed with respect to concupiscence and desire. It loses the strength of its
passions and concupiscence and it becomes sterile, because it no longer consults
its likings. Just as, when none is accustomed to take milk from the breast, the
courses of the milk are dried up, so the desires of the soul are dried up. And
besides these things there follow admirable benefits from this spiritual
sobriety, for, when desire and concupiscence are quenched, the soul lives in
spiritual tranquillity and peace; for, where desire and concupiscence reign not,
there is no disturbance, but peace and consolation of God.
3 From this there arises another and a second benefit, which is that the soul
habitually has remembrance of God, with fear and dread of backsliding upon the
spiritual road, as has been said. This is a great benefit, and not one of the
least that results from this aridity and purgation of the desire, for the soul
is purified and cleansed of the imperfections that were clinging to it because
of the desires and affections, which of their own accord deaden and darken the
soul.
4 There is another very great benefit for the soul in this night, which is that
it practices several virtues together, as, for example, patience and
longsuffering, which are often called upon in these times of emptiness and
aridity, when the soul endures and perseveres in its spiritual exercises without
consolation and without pleasure. It practises the charity of God, since it is
not now moved by the pleasure of attraction and sweetness which it finds in its
work, but only by God. It likewise practises here the virtue of fortitude,
because, in these difficulties and insipidities which it finds in its work, it
brings strength out of weakness and thus becomes strong. All the virtues, in
short-the theological and also the cardinal and moral-both in body and in
spirit, are practised by the soul in these times of aridity.
6. And that in this night the soul obtains these four benefits which we have
here described (namely, delight of peace, habitual remembrance and thought of
God, cleanness and purity of soul and the practice of the virtues which we have
just described), David tells us, having experienced it himself when he was in
this night, in these words: 'My soul refused consolations, I had remembrance of
God, I found consolation and was exercised and my spirit failed.'92 And he then
says: 'And I meditated by night with my heart and was exercised, and I swept and
purified my spirit'-that is to say, from all the affections.93
5 With respect to the imperfections of the other three spiritual sins which we
have described above, which are wrath, envy and sloth, the soul is purged hereof
likewise in this aridity of the desire and acquires the virtues opposed to them;
for, softened and humbled by these aridities and hardships and other temptations
and trials wherein God exercises it during this night, it becomes meek with
respect to God, and to itself, and likewise with respect to its neighbour. So
that it is no longer disturbed and angry with itself because of its own faults,
nor with its neighbour because of his, neither is it displeased with God, nor
does it utter unseemly complaints because He does not quickly make it holy.
6 Then, as to envy, the soul has charity toward others in this respect also;
for, if it has any envy, this is no longer a vice as it was before, when it was
grieved because others were preferred to it and given greater advantage. Its
grief now comes from seeing how great is its own misery, and its envy (if it has
any) is a virtuous envy, since it desires to imitate others, which is great
virtue.
7 Neither are the sloth and the irksomeness which it now experiences concerning
spiritual things vicious as they were before. For in the past these sins
proceeded from the spiritual pleasures which the soul sometimes experienced and
sought after when it found them not. But this new weariness proceeds not from
this insuffficiency of pleasure, because God has taken from the soul pleasure in
all things in this purgation of the desire.
8 Besides these benefits which have been mentioned, the soul attains innumerable
others by means of this arid contemplation. For often, in the midst of these
times of aridity and hardship, God communicates to the soul, when it is least
expecting it, the purest spiritual sweetness and love, together with a spiritual
knowledge which is sometimes very delicate, each manifestation of which is of
greater benefit and worth than those which the soul enjoyed aforetime; although
in its beginnings the soul thinks that this is not so, for the spiritual
influence now granted to it is very delicate and cannot be perceived by sense.
9 Finally, inasmuch as the soul is now purged from the affections and desires of
sense, it obtains liberty of spirit, whereby in ever greater degree it gains the
twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit. Here, too, it is wondrously delivered from the
hands of its three enemies-devil, world and flesh; for, its pleasure and delight
of sense being quenched with respect to all things, neither the devil nor the
world nor sensuality has any arms or any strength wherewith to make war upon the
spirit. These times of aridity, then, cause the soul to journey in all purity in the
love of God, since it is no longer influenced in its actions by the pleasure and
sweetness of the actions themselves, as perchance it was when it experienced
sweetness, but only by a desire to please God. It becomes neither presumptuous
nor self-satisfied, as perchance it was wont to become in the time of its
prosperity, but fearful and timid with regard to itself, finding in itself no
satisfaction whatsoever; and herein consists that holy fear which preserves and
increases the virtues. This aridity, too, quenches natural energy and
concupiscence, as has also been said. Save for the pleasure, indeed, which at
certain times God Himself infuses into it, it is a wonder if it finds pleasure
and consolation of sense, through its own diligence, in any spiritual exercise
or action, as has already been said.
10 There grows within souls that experience this arid night concern for God and
yearnings to serve Him, for in proportion as the breasts of sensuality,
wherewith it sustained and nourished the desires that it pursued, are drying up,
there remains nothing in that aridity and detachment save the yearning to serve
God, which is a thing very pleasing to God. For, as David says, an afflicted
spirit is a sacrifice to God.94
11 When the soul, then, knows that, in this arid purgation through which it has
passed, it has derived and attained so many and such precious benefits as those
which have here been described, it tarries not in crying, as in the stanza of
which we are expounding the lines, 'Oh, happy chance!-I went forth without being
observed.' That is, 'I went forth' from the bonds and subjection of the desires
of sense and the affections, 'without being observed'-that is to say, without
the three enemies aforementioned being able to keep me from it. These enemies,
as we have said, bind the soul as with bonds, in its desires and pleasures, and
prevent it from going forth from itself to the liberty of the love of God; and
without these desires and pleasures they cannot give battle to the soul, as has
been said.
12 When, therefore, the four passions of the soul-which are joy, grief, hope and
fear-are calmed through continual mortification; when the natural desires have
been lulled to sleep, in the sensual nature of the soul, by means of habitual
times of aridity; and when the harmony of the senses and the interior faculties
causes a suspension of labour and a cessation from the work of meditation, as we
have said (which is the dwelling and the household of the lower part of the
soul), these enemies cannot obstruct this spiritual liberty, and the house
remains at rest and quiet, as says the following line: My house being now at rest.
92 Psalm lxxvi, 4 [A.V., lxxvii, 3-4].
93 Psalm lxxvi, 7 [A.V., lxxvii, 6].
Expounds this last line of the first stanza.
WHEN this house of sensuality was now at rest-that is, was mortified-its
passions being quenched and its desires put to rest and lulled to sleep by means
of this blessed night of the purgation of sense,
the soul went forth, to set out upon the road and way of the spirit, which is
that of progressives and proficients, and which, by another name, is called the
way of illumination or of infused contemplation, wherein God Himself feeds and
refreshes the soul, without meditation, or the soul's active help. Such, as we
have said, is the night and purgation of sense in the soul. In those who have
afterwards to enter the other and more formidable night of the spirit, in order
to pass to the Divine union of love of God (for not all pass habitually thereto,
but only the smallest number), it is wont to be accompanied by formidable trials
and temptations of sense, which last for a long time, albeit longer in some than
in others. For to some the angel of Satan presents himself-namely, the spirit of
fornication-that he may buffet their senses with abominable and violent
temptations, and trouble their spirits with vile considerations and
representations which are most visible to the imagination, which things at times
are a greater affliction to them than death.
1 At other times in this night there is added to these things the spirit of
blasphemy, which roams abroad, setting in the path of all the conceptions and
thoughts of the soul intolerable blasphemies. These it sometimes suggests to the
imagination with such violence that the soul almost utters them, which is a
grave torment to it.
2 At other times another abominable spirit, which Isaias calls Spiritus
vertiginis,95 is allowed to molest them, not in order that they may fall, but
that it may try them. This spirit darkens their senses in such a way that it
fills them with numerous scruples and perplexities, so confusing that, as they
judge, they can never, by any means, be satisfied concerning them, neither can
they find any help for their judgment in counsel or thought. This is one of the
severest goads and horrors of this night, very closely akin to that which passes
in the night of the spirit.
3 As a rule these storms and trials are sent by God in this night and purgation
of sense to those whom afterwards He purposes to lead into the other night
(though not all reach it), to the end that, when they have been chastened and
buffeted, they may in this way continually exercise and prepare themselves, and
continually accustom their senses and faculties to the union of wisdom which is
to be bestowed upon them in that other night. For, if the soul be not tempted,
exercised and proved with trials and temptations, it cannot quicken its sense of
Wisdom. For this reason it is said in Ecclesiasticus: 'He that has not been
tempted, what does he know? And he that has not been proved, what are the things
that he recognizes?'96 To this truth Jeremias bears good witness,
saying: 'Thou didst chastise me, Lord, and I was instructed.'97 And the most
proper form of this chastisement, for one who will enter into Wisdom, is that of
the interior trials which we are here describing, inasmuch as it is these which
most effectively purge sense of all favours and consolations to which it was
affected, with natural weakness, and by which the soul is truly humiliated in
preparation for the exaltation which it is to experience.
4 For how long a time the soul will be held in this fasting and penance of
sense, cannot be said with any certainty; for all do not experience it after one
manner, neither do all encounter the same temptations. For this is meted out by
the will of God, in conformity with the greater or the smaller
degree of imperfection which each soul has to purge away. In conformity,
likewise, with the degree of love of union to which God is pleased to raise it,
He will humble it with greater or less intensity or in greater or less time.
Those who have the disposition and greater strength to suffer, He purges with
greater intensity and more quickly. But those who are very weak are kept for a
long time in this night, and these He purges very gently and with slight
temptations. Habitually, too, He gives them refreshments of sense so that they
may not fall away, and only after a long time do they attain to purity of
perfection in this life, some of them never attaining to it at all. Such are
neither properly in the night nor properly out of it; for, although they make no
progress, yet, in order that they may continue in humility and self-knowledge,
God exercises them for certain periods and at certain times98 in those
temptations and aridities; and at other times and seasons He assists them with
consolations, lest they should grow faint and return to seek the consolations of
the world. Other souls, which are weaker, God Himself accompanies, now appearing
to them, now moving farther away, that He may exercise them in His love; for
without such turnings away they would not learn to reach God
6. But the souls which are to pass on to that happy and high estate, the union of love, are wont as a rule to remain for a long time in these aridities and temptations, however quickly God may lead them, as has been seen by experience. It is time, then, to begin to treat of the second night.
94 Psalm l, 19
[A.V., li, 17.]
95 [The 'spirit of giddiness'
of D.V., and 'perverse spirit' of A.V., Isaias xix, 14.]
96 Ecclesiasticus xxxiv, 9-10.
97 Jeremias xxxi, 18.
Table of Contents Top of Page Next Page
-
Now to Him who is able to keep you from falling, and to make you stand in the presence of His glory blameless with great joy, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen. Jude 1:24-25
Webservant for TwoListeners.org
a non-profit project for the edification of Christians worldwide