When we come out of Egypt we are called by God to freedom, total freedom, true freedom, eternal freedom. But in order to become free–what a task, what a struggle, what a purging! Liberation from the clutches of the senses is no small thing for sensual creatures like us. To reach the “night of the senses”–the time when we become rulers of our passions and are able to to resist the extravagances of taste and physical pleasure–that takes some fasting!
But this is nothing yet. This is only the beginning–baby stuff, you might say.
There’s more to come! There’s another darker, much more painful night. It is the “night of the soul,” the night in which we chatterboxes have to learn to keep still. We who are so ready to ask for things–now we shall not dare to ask. We fall silent, thunderstruck with the grandeur that confronts us: God.
The night of the spirit is the mature ability of the human being to love God in the dark, to accept the design even without seeing it, to bear the distance without complaining, even when love thrusts us toward him until we writhe with longing.
—Why, O Lord?
I don’t get the sense that Carretto uses “night of the soul” to designate being away from God. Rather, he actually sees it as a progression in our sanctification. It is the most difficult thing to achieve, to trust in God on the basis of our faith alone. That’s tough to do.
I’m wondering what Carretto meant by “dark”. Usually darkness in reference to God, means being away from Him, or in a dry spiritual time. Carretto seems to be saying that this kind of time results in spiritual growth and maturing, persevering until the “dark” time is past.
I actually like to pray in literal physical darkness–getting up before dawn, and sitting in the dark to pray. I sense God there closely.