Tuesday, March 31, 2026: 

Encountering The Dark Night Of The Soul

Reflection by Mike Boucher of Spiritus Christi

A few weeks ago after mass, I sat down with a man who was going through a very difficult time. He’s currently without a place to live, his significant other is in the hospital and he had no one to really turn to. In the midst of our conversation he tearfully talked about how he was just trying to be faithful to God and all these bad things kept happening. He wondered aloud, “What am I doing wrong?”

His sentiment is one that I have heard before (and sometimes even felt). It’s the lament expressed in our first reading from Isaiah 49 where the writer says that “I thought I had toiled in vain, and for nothing, uselessly, spent my strength…”

The passage starts on a more positive note when the writer says that, “The LORD called me from birth, from my mother’s womb God gave me my name.” But then as things progress, we see that even though the prophet was called by God there were few, if any, worldly affirmations. The prophet had to rely on faith alone to get through this challenging time – praying that there would be some vindication at some point.

We’ve probably all had some experience like this – what some spiritual writers would call a “dark night of the soul.” It’s a time of spiritual crisis and a sense of feeling abandoned by God. It forces a form of breakdown of who we thought we were or how we thought the world worked. And we don’t always know how long it will last.

We see another version of this in the gospel from John 13 where Jesus is entering his last days on earth and says, “Amen, amen, I say to you, one of you will betray me…” His disciples are all aghast. “What, one of us betray you? Never!” And then just a few lines later Jesus is talking about having to go away (in the coded language of John’s gospel). Peter says, “Master, where are you going?” Jesus answered him, “Where I am going, you cannot follow me now, though you will follow later.” Peter said to him, “Master, why can I not follow you now?  I will lay down my life for you.”

Of course we know that Judas will betray Jesus. The disciples who were close to him will abandon him, and Peter – who makes all kinds of bold declarations – will do none of them.

This prompts a dark night of the soul for both Jesus and his followers. Things don’t work out as Jesus thought they would and he feels all alone in this world, and the disciples realize that they aren’t who they thought they were either. 

If we’re honest, there’s probably a bit of all of this in our lives. We face our own existential crises due to a loss, a significant change or a series of difficult events. And sometimes (or oftentimes) we are agents of disappointment in other people’s lives because we let them down or do not respond as we should (or promised we would).

These may be moments where we question our beliefs – in God, in ourselves or in others – and it feels terrible. Abraham Lincoln, during the height of his own dark night as president during the civil war once said, ““If there’s a worse place than hell, I’m in it.”

In the ancient world, the shadow spirits were associated with depression, melancholy and hopelessness. But they were also associated with a form of wisdom and creativity. Their idea was that somehow the darkness, if endured, might lead to a form of inspiration (literally meaning to be breathed into by the divine) that could eventually catalyze a renewed sense of purpose or mission.

Nobody seeks out a dark night of the soul. They find us, however, and Holy Week is one of those times when our readings take us into the depths of despair, disconnection and disappointment – even just for a few days – to remind us that these, too, are part of the journey. And sometimes it is only in the breakdown of the life we knew that we can find new meaning somehow.

But I don’t pretend that it is an easy process.

I often return to a poem by Rumi called “The Guest House.” It goes like this:

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

For today, whatever is going on in life, may we be given the grace to welcome the “guide from beyond” – whatever that guide might be – because it has something to teach us about spirit and life.