Phil:

I'll depend upon you to make corrections re: theology, and whether or not I'm citing St. John of the Cross' metaphor appropriately here. My understanding so far is that the "active nights" involve what we can do to dipose ourselves toward increased authenticity and virtue, whereas the "passive nights," of both sense and spirit, involve losing our masks and our ability to formulate prayer in ways that bring accustomed consolations, leaving us every more dependent upon faith, hope and love as pure gifts. This is, of course, a subject undergoing continual discussion among theologians and mystics, so my use of the terms may not only be a bit loose, but bound for error, or short-sightedness, or obscuration of some sort.

The idea for this thread came from wondering over the relationship between prayer and more meditative-oriented healing work, which for me has been such models as Focusing, Sedona Method, Core Transformation, Stanely Block's work, Internal Family Systems Therapy, etc . . . So for me there has been a dynamic relationship between prayer and these models of healing that view the psyche as having its own inner life capable of kinesthetic intuition, or access of natural grace toward the healing of craving and aversions.

As my prayer life slowly progresses (one hopes), there seems more clarity about how these ways of seeing compliment prayer, and where even the best examples of their relational power for healing are limited the more prayer is experienced as originating beyond the human faculties, i.e, quite distinct from meditation, Focusing, and those others mentioned above.

And so even though all our cravings and aversions, or wantings and not wantings, are rooted in a longing for Christ, we are limited in our ability to release them fully, as the soul is naturally dependent upon a grace beyond its own knowing and doing; this dependence of natural grace upon supernatural grace is both the opening for healing and the reason the soul finds itself unable to procure any fulfillment. This would be especially distorted in the case where one has suffered developmental trauma leading to a more severe form of existential crisis as prayer life unfolds, but would characterize the path of a more psychologically intact person as well. Even optimal attachment security leading to maturation of the nervous system is fraught with signs of mortality, where "more than one can know" impinges on the heart.

So the soul feels its need for what lies beyond it as both a burden and a potential opening. This is already somewhat indicated in how psychological healing modalities are most helpful the more relational they are, both in terms of risking receiving the presence of the other person who cares, and allowing the hidden presence of the exiled parts to unfold their own goodness. And yet only the Holy Spirit can transform and purify concupiscence, or our distorted desire for union with God and love of self and neighbor, such that even the sincere commitment to psychological healing must undergo a night passage not of our own making.

I should reference two books that are helping with some understanding of this:

"The Impact of God: Soundings From St. John of the Cross," by Iain Matthew;

"My Only Friend is Darkness: Living the Night of Faith with St. John of the Cross," by Barbara Dent.

w.c., I think the way you put things makes sense and relates to what John of the Cross was describing as the Active Night of the Senses.

I did a quick search for a reference on the net that might say more about this and came up with the following:

quote:

The active nights involve our spiritual practices such as meditation, confession, good works, and the like. These active practices purify us to some extent, but they chiefly prepare us for a purification that God alone accomplishes in the passive nights. John's first treatise on the dark night, Ascent of Mount Carmel, points out many of the sensual straightjackets and spiritual attachments and prejudices of neophyte Christians, and he describes how the active nights help to release Christians from these elements. Because it focuses on the active nights, Ascent of Mount Carmel comes across as more ascetic and less experiential than the second treatise, Dark Night of the Soul. Yet the active nights are essential; John makes clear that one may not skip the steady disciplines of the spiritual life and expect to experience either version of the more famous passive dark nights.

- http://slowreads.com/ReviewJohnDarkNight.htm

I think St. John, if he were writing today, would probably consider all the many forms of inner work available to us today to be part "active night" disciplines in the broadest sense -- especially if undertaken by people of faith seeking to grow closer to God in their lives.

And example from my own life re: the difference between Active Night of Sense, and its Passive Night:


In dealing with lust, I can use the modalities mentioned above to be with the sensations and their aliveness, even listening for the way internal parts of my personality and history are involved, including wounds of childhood, or whatever might arise. Along with this I can maintain custody of my eyes, or see the self of the person whom I find attractive, which tends to bring forward into awareness the hurt and loneliness that can make the lust more volatile, i.e, withdrawing the projections and taking responsibility for them. This would be, I believe, an example of the "Active Night of the Senses," where the natural grace-based functions of the soul's faculties respond to conscience for its formation.

It is decidedly an imperfect venture.


During the Passive Night of this experience of lust, efforts as those above either make things worse, or I'm simply not able to be in a state of accepting presence with the parts without collapsing into them. As Barbara Dent describes early on in her book, all that can be done is just to wait upon God, as deliberate attempts at stirring the affect toward Him fail. There is a rather dry awareness of faith and hope being gifts that uphold and bring a rest from efforts to heal, even though the outcome is unknown, and there are no sensible consolations. As such, the lust seems to dissolve, but not as energy, or in response to anything arising from intellect, will or emotion. What may remain is the loneliness, yet this is made part of the gifted faith/hope landscape as well. The lust loses its object and urgency, and as a residual feeling seems taken up into faith/hope like this as well.

Dent describes this as the difference between "I-will," and "Thou-Will."

Marvelous sharing, w.c. I very much relate.

It's been probably 25 years or so since the passive night "took over" in my own journey, but I still need to practice a few basic disciplines to maintain my mind and will in openness and surrender to God. I've no longer any illusions about significant efficacies ensuing from those exercises, however, having experienced many times the limitations of my own efforts to "fix myself." And yet, I'm sure there was a need at one time for therapy, reading self-help books, and so forth; embracing those disciplines were ways in which God was teaching me certain skills and virtues, not to mention expressing surrender to allow others to be part of my own healing (humility).

It seems the true work of the passive night is to incorporate us into Christ's mystical body, so that we live not by our own lives, but by his. This is a very real experience, as I'm sure many of you reading this know first-hand. To allow this translation, we need to maintain a certain openness, and that's what the active night disciplines help to maintain. But the translation itself is deep, silent, mysterious, and beyond our conscious and even unconscious mind to penetrate. We do not see or know what God is doing, although we experience the consequences of our own transformation in many different ways.

For those who have journeyed a ways in the passive night (the contemplative journey), it is still possible to close off the mind and will, but the consequences are so unpleasant and disturbing that one will generally repent and cooperate again very quickly. That's my experience, at least.

"For those who have journeyed a ways in the passive night (the contemplative journey), it is still possible to close off the mind and will, but the consequences are so unpleasant and disturbing that one will generally repent and cooperate again very quickly."


Do you mean the attempt to separate these faculties for ourselves, rather than remain surrendered in dark faith and hope to Christ?


Thanks for those comments, especially how Christ take us into His own life, the life of the Trinity.

There are some signs of passive night of the Spirit in my life, but I'm less clear re: this, and will eventually get some spiritual direction anyway. But it amounts to feeling how deeply selfish I am, and the futility of my own efforts at reform of conscience, although the efforts remain vital for the reasons we've already mentioned. What strikes me about this awareness is that there is more sadness than shame in it - mainly, just wishing I were courageous enough to let God have His way with me, and that being the only thing I could possibly give Him, yet even this is His Son's own doing. And so we simply don't own our own lives.

But I can see pride, avarice, gluttony, anger, resentment much more clearly, and how at almost every turn my good works include the yearning to be loved, etc. . . but also wanting to be in control.

Is this reordering of conscience beyond our knowing and doing an aspect of the Passive Night of Spirit? I'm less clear re: its distinction from Passive Night of Sense, although the latter seems more about passion at a more superficial level, whereas PNSP relates more with deep conscience.

Do you mean the attempt to separate these faculties for ourselves, rather than remain surrendered in dark faith and hope to Christ?

Yes, that in a selfish sense, but also in a lazy sense -- as in just not giving time for the necessary spiritual disciplines. But mainly what I was saying is that the faculties remain in our "possession" -- at least that's my experience. Were that not the case, it would make little sense to speak of the continuance of an individual human being. After the Night of the Senses, there is little affective compulsivity moving the faculties toward selfish behavior, but one is still capable of selfish acts. These are all the more sinful, in a way, for they are more freely chosen than before.

Re. conscience and Night of the Spirit, the way I understand that is that the PSNSP purifies the faculties from the deeper, more subtle levels of affectivity and thought. It is a purification of the mind, in a way, so that the mind becomes integrated into one's intuitive awareness and functions as its agent. I think you can see how there are implications, here, for conscience.

Thanks, both, for this.

I'm just coming to John of the Cross after time spent in the Philokalia and Orthodox spirituality; but already some of the stuff you mention resonates.

For example, re. Active/Passive night of the Senses - is there the thought that the heart is brought into a state of such longing, and is transformed both actively and passively, so that the will no longer seeks to satisfy the heart's former craving's but is compelled by conscience and the Holy Spirit to resist; almost as if there is no interest in former desires. If, however, the mind and will close off to Grace, even momentarily, and the eye is allowed to linger, so to speak, the awakened Kundalini (at least in me), compelled by the Spirit, is left in a terrible state of "unease", with even that sense of "uncleanness" before God whose joy is holiness.

As I say, I'm just coming to John's metaphor but from what I'm reading above, it seems like an appropriate time for me to find it. The past year has been one of great surrender to what I take from you to be the Passive Night; which, incidently, has been accompanied recently by sorrow, almost mourning, (maybe or maybe not akin to the sadness w.c. is experiencing).

quote:

mainly, just wishing I were courageous enough to let God have His way with me, and that being the only thing I could possibly give Him, yet even this is His Son's own doing. And so we simply don't own our own lives.

Its so hard to know this isn't it. Andrew (my husband) and I have talked a lot about intuition, those promptings from within. I know that I'm much more settled since I started to listen to the HS, instead of wasting energy resisting, and then enduring the pain of separation because I'm not following God's plan. I've spent the last five years in living the dark night. My awareness of God's presence became very patchy. The turn around came when I was diagnosed with a sudden cardiac death syndrome, came close to death twice and I finally gave it all up to God. I think of it as a Christian wound. And it was the only way I'd listen!
I have a sense that I'm now moving into a more active phase - there's some evidence for that And I've actually got back to church. If I'm well I'll go, if I'm not I don't. I used to beat myself so much for not going! Part of my RC history I guess (I've returned to my childhood Anglicanism). My heart problem makes my health unpredictable, although clearly God has me working where He wants as I'm generally okay for teaching, and I have very understanding colleagues
I haven't read any St John of the Cross. he sounds like someone I should get to know.
FrancesB

Frances and Stephen:

St. John of the Cross is so easily mis-understood, with prose that is hard to account for without an explication of his exquisite poetry. I was finally able to approach him through the book "The Impact of God," by Iain Matthew. Matthew really shows the deep pastoral wisdom of SJC, sort of pre-digesting the prose for us so that its interface with the poetry is clearer.

Frances:

I know this is off topic, but have you considered complimentary-alternative medicine as an adjunctive for your heart condition?