St. Teresa of Calcutta is often described as having lived for decades in a “dark night of the soul.” The phrase has become so common that people apply it broadly to mean any prolonged period of aridity, or dryness, in prayer, or any season of difficulty in the spiritual life. How many times have you heard someone say, “I’m going through a dark night of the soul” when what he really means is that he feels distant from God, or is merely not feeling spiritual consolations?
But here’s the truth: that’s not what the dark night of the soul is—at least, not as St. John of the Cross describes it. The term has a precise meaning in the spiritual writings of mystics and Doctors of the Church. When we conflate it with mere spiritual dryness, we not only misuse the term, but miss the profound beauty of what God is really doing in the soul.
Let’s clear this up by first laying out what John of the Cross actually meant when he wrote about the two (yes, two) dark nights.
The Two Dark Nights
First, I would like to make a PSA about the writings of John of the Cross. People flock to read The Dark Night of the Soul, but most do so out of context. John first wrote Ascent of Mount Carmel, which explains the dark night of the senses (which traces a soul’s elevation toward God as it grows in holiness in the earlier part of the spiritual life). Ascent of Mount Carmel is written in three parts. Originally, John intended to write this as four parts, with Dark Night of the Soul as part four. Ultimately, he ended up writing Dark Night of the Soul as a separate work, but when we read it without first reading Ascent of Mount Carmel, we can miss important context.
Across these two works, John describes two phases of purification through which a soul passes on its way to union with God:
- The Dark Night of the Sense
- The Dark Night of the Spirit (what many simply call “the dark night of the soul”)
The first of the two nights—the dark night of the senses—occurs when God begins to lead the soul beyond simple meditation into mystical prayer—a stage in the spiritual life where a soul experiences God spiritually rather than through the senses. The familiar experiences of sweetness in prayer, consolations, and pleasant feelings are removed. This is not simply because God is testing the soul, nor is he withholding his love. Rather, he is drawing the soul into a deeper, more raw love for him—one no longer dependent on feelings or consolations.
As John writes,
this first night pertains to beginners, occurring at the time when God begins to bring them into the state of contemplation. . . . And the second night, or purification, pertains to those who are already proficient, occurring at the time when God desires to bring them to the state of union with God (Ascent, Book I, ch. 1).
This purification strips away attachment to the lower faculties of the soul—the senses, imagination, and emotions—so the soul may enter into a type of prayer called infused contemplation, through which God himself illumines the soul. Also contrary to modern vernacular, infused contemplation is not simply a deeper kind of meditation, but a type of prayer into which only God can bring a person, and in which the person tastes the sweetness of prayer spiritually rather than physically.
The second night, the night of the spirit, comes much later. It is far more intense, rare, and transforming. This is the true “dark night of the soul.” It purifies the higher faculties of the soul—intellect, memory, and will—in preparation for the final stage of union with God, what John calls the transforming union. To take a step back here, the dark night of the spirit comes only once a soul has gone beyond the introductory stages of contemplation and into divine union (and progressed beyond the initial simple union with God, even!).
In this second night, faith, hope, and charity are all purified and deepened. The soul experiences profound darkness—not because God has abandoned it, but because his light is so overwhelming that, as with staring directly at the sun, the soul experiences it as darkness.
The more clear and evident divine things are, the more dark and hidden they are to the soul naturally. Thus . . . the stronger the sun’s rays the more it blinds the visual organs; overcoming them by reason of their weakness, and depriving them of the power of seeing. So the divine light of contemplation, when it beats on the soul, not yet perfectly enlightened, causes spiritual darkness (Dark Night, Book II, ch. 5).
The dark night of the spirit is not ordinary dryness. It is due to not the distance of God, but the closeness of God. It is God working in the soul, burning away even the most hidden imperfections so that nothing remains but pure love. John uses the analogy of a drum of dirty oil that is set on fire—at first, the flame is dirty and filled with pollutants, but over time, the impurities are burned away, and the flame burns clean. The flame represents God’s love, which burns more purely in the soul after the two nights.
Ordinary Dryness vs. the Two Dark Nights
It’s important, then, to distinguish between the ordinary dryness most of us experience and the supernatural purifications of the dark nights.
- Spiritual dryness can come from many sources: fatigue, stress, illness, distraction, sin, or even God gently leading us to love him beyond consolations. These periods are normal and to be expected. They test our perseverance and faithfulness.
- The dark night of the sense is not just dryness, but the beginning of infused contemplation. The soul is no longer able to meditate as before. It feels empty in prayer but is secretly being drawn closer to God.
- The dark night of the spirit is the profound purification of the higher faculties of the soul. It is not just difficulty in prayer, but an all-encompassing purging of the soul, preparing the soul for total union with God.
This is why we must be careful with language. Not every dry patch in prayer is a dark night. Sometimes it is just dryness. Sometimes it’s the night of the sense. The dark night of the spirit is a rare and advanced stage in the ascent to divine union.
It can be dangerous to misuse the term because we can either over-spiritualize our experiences or trivialize the true grandeur of God’s purifying work in the soul. So let’s use the proper language, acknowledging that all three experiences have their place in the spiritual life.