Dark Night of the Soul, by Saint John of the Cross, translated by E. Allison Peers (Dover, 2003). My rating: 5 of 5.
Maybe prayer used to feel warm. You could sense God when you knelt, and the words of the liturgy carried you. Now they sound flat. You keep showing up, but nothing seems to happen, and you wonder whether you did something wrong. John of the Cross wrote this book for you, more than four hundred years ago.
What the book covers
John was a Spanish Carmelite friar and poet who worked with Teresa of Avila to reform their order. The book is his commentary on his own short poem about a soul slipping out of a dark house at night to meet its beloved. It has two parts. The first describes the night of the senses, when God weans a person off the comfort they took in prayer and devotion. John walks through the spiritual versions of the seven deadly sins, such as pride in one’s piety and greed for spiritual books. The second part describes the deeper night of the spirit and the union with God that waits on the other side. The Dover edition is short, about 130 pages.
What stayed with me
The night is too much light. John’s central image is light so bright it blinds weak eyes. The darkness is God’s own light, too strong for a soul that is not ready. That turns the whole experience around. Dryness in prayer can be a sign of God drawing closer, not of God leaving.
Collecting is not the same as praying. John is gently funny about people who gather spiritual books, counsel and devotional objects. Those things can stand in for the harder work of letting go. A parish that loves its reading groups more than its prayer could take the hint. So could I.
The reality behind holy things. True devotion rests on what holy things point to, not on the things themselves. For anyone who loves vestments, incense and good music in worship, this is a healthy check. They serve the reality they point to.
Grasping makes it worse. Reaching for comfort or clarity in the night only makes their absence sharper. The counsel is to keep going. Keep the daily office and the Eucharist when prayer feels dry, and let the practice carry you.
Seeing yourself clearly. In that light the soul sees its faults and fears it will never be worthy. John treats that pain as part of the healing, not proof of failure.
A few notes
John himself separates spiritual dryness from melancholy. If you or someone you love is living with lasting hopelessness or can no longer function day to day, talk to a doctor or counselor as well as a priest. Read his language of mortification as letting go of attachments, not as a call to physical pain. And check the translation before you quote. Peers is widely used, and older public-domain translations differ in wording.
Who should read it
Anyone who has lost the feeling of God in prayer, and anyone who walks with such people as a priest, director or friend. It is also fine Lenten reading. Go slowly. It rewards a second reading more than a fast first one.
This review paraphrases the author and uses no direct quotes. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. The price you pay does not change. I read this book on my own, and no one asked me or paid me to review it. My faith writing reflects my own views, not those of my parish or diocese. See Disclosures.