XV — THE CHIAROSCURO OF FAITH

Presence of God. — O Lord, teach me to believe even amid obscurity and darkness; teach me to believe by trusting solely in your word.

Meditation

1 — Human intelligence, with its powers, through consideration of creation and by ascending to God the Creator, can know his existence and also some perfections; but to the mystery of his intimate life, which escapes the gaze of every creature, it cannot arrive unless God Himself raises it there. God alone knows the mystery of his intimate life and of the communication of this life to men, and God alone can reveal it. Divine revelation makes us “know” with certainty that these realities exist, and yet it does not make us “see” them: it lets us know that God is Trinity, but it does not let us see the Trinity; it lets us know that God gives us grace, but it does not let us see it. Precisely because we do not see, to adhere to divine mysteries we must believe, trusting in God who has revealed them to us; and precisely for this reason faith is clear and dark at once (cf. J.C. C. 12, 3). It is clear and admits no doubt, since one cannot doubt God’s word; but at the same time it remains dark precisely because it does not show us the truths it proposes for belief, and therefore these remain a mystery for us. Let us think again of the vessel that encloses a burning torch without letting us see it. This dark side of faith is for us painful and glorious at once. Painful, because we do not see what we believe; painful, because often the act of faith requires a leap into obscurity, into darkness, something repugnant to human nature which likes to verify and proceed on evident data. The more elevated supernatural realities are, the darker they are, they are darkness for our intelligence incapable of proceeding without the aid of senses and incapable of embracing the infinite. On the other hand, however, precisely this darkness constitutes the merit and glory of our act of faith: merit, because it is a wholly supernatural act based not on what we see and verify, but solely on what God has revealed to us; glory, because our act of faith is all the more glorious and honoring to God the more it rests solely on his word.

2 — Before the truth: two plus two equals four, my intelligence has no need of the help of the will to believe: it sees it, it is evident. Instead, before divine truths, precisely because these are not evident to me, my intelligence remains free to give or not give its assent, and I believe only because I want to believe. Before natural truths that I can verify, like mathematical truths, my adherence depends on the strength of my intelligence: the more I know and deeply understand, the more convinced I am. Instead, before supernatural truths, my adherence depends on the strength of my will: it is the will that gives impulse to the intelligence. The free and upright will, which loves its God, fully accepts all that He has revealed. It is not a cold acceptance, but a loving one that engages all forces, the whole soul.

Yet precisely because evidence is lacking, doubt can always arise in my thought, and I must not be surprised by this: it is in itself natural that human intellect doubts what it does not see and does not understand. At times doubts may arise from ignorance, and then it is a duty to become instructed; but at other times they may be simple temptations, and then they must be overcome by an act of will: Lord, I believe because I want to believe; I believe even if I do not understand, if I do not see, if I am in darkness. I believe solely on your word. This is the conduct to keep in temptations against faith. Instead of getting lost in reasonings or being discouraged, one must simply adhere with an act of will. In her hard trial against faith, St. Therese of the Child Jesus wrote: “Though I lack the comfort of faith, I strive nevertheless to perform its works. I have made more acts of faith in this past year than in all the course of my life” (St. 9). Precisely through these painful trials faith becomes purer, more supernatural: the soul believes not for the comfort faith gives, not leaning on feeling or enthusiasm, nor even on what it understands of divine mysteries, but believes only because God has spoken. When the Lord wants to lead souls to more intimate union with Himself, He almost always makes them pass through these trials: this is the moment to give Him witness of our faith by throwing ourselves with closed eyes into his arms.

Colloquy

“O blessed faith, you are certain, but you are also dark. You are dark because you induce us to believe truths revealed by God Himself, truths above every natural light. Your excessive light - light of divine truths - turns for me into dark night, because the greater overcomes the lesser, as the splendor of the sun causes every other light to disappear and overcomes even my visual power.

“You are dark night for the soul, and as night you illumine it, like that dark cloud which, in the night, brightened the way for the children of Israel. Yes, though you are a dark cloud, nevertheless with your darkness you enlighten the darkness of my soul. I can therefore say: the night shall be my light in my delights. On the path of pure contemplation and union with God, your night, O faith, will be my guide.

“Make me understand, therefore, O Lord, that to unite myself in union with You I must not devise forms nor lean on taste and sense or imagination, but must believe in your infinite divine Being, who does not fall under any thought or sense” (cf. J.C. Ascent II, 3, 1-6; 4, 4).

“O faith, you are the great friend of our spirit, and to human sciences, which boast of being more evident than you, you can well say what the sacred Bride said to the other shepherdesses: ‘I am dark, but beautiful.’ You are dark because you stand amid the obscurities of divine revelations which, being without apparent evidence, make you appear black, rendering you almost unrecognizable; yet you are beautiful in yourself for your infinite certainty” (cf. St. Francis de Sales).

“Only the beautiful light of faith must illumine me to come to meet You, O Lord. The Psalmist sings that ‘You hide Yourself in darkness,’ and elsewhere then seems almost to contradict himself saying that ‘light wraps You like a mantle.’ What results for me from this apparent contradiction is that I must immerse myself in the sacred darkness, making night, making emptiness in my powers. Then I shall meet You, O my Master, and the light that surrounds You as a tunic will surround me too, because You want the bride clothed in your light, in your light alone” (cf. E.T. El. II, 4).