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1. The fire of love is not commonly felt at the outset, either because it does
not have a chance to take hold, owing to the impurity of the sensory part, or
because the soul for want of understanding has not made within itself a peaceful
place for it; although at times with or without these conditions a person will
begin to feel a certain longing for God. In the measure that the fire increases,
the soul becomes aware of being attracted by the love of God and enkindled in
it, without knowing how or where this attraction and love originates. At times
this flame and enkindling increase to such an extent that the soul desires God
with urgent longings of love, as David, while in this night, said of himself:
Because my heart was inflamed (in contemplative love), my reins were likewise
changed [Ps. 73:21]. That is, my appetites of sensible affection were changed
from the sensory life to the spiritual life, which implies dryness and cessation
of all those appetites we are speaking of. And, he says: I was brought to
nothing and annihilated, and I knew not [Ps. 73:22]. For, as we pointed out,1
the soul, with no knowledge of its destination, sees itself annihilated in all
heavenly and earthly things in which it formerly found satisfaction; and it only
sees that it is enamored, but knows not how.
Because the enkindling of love in
the spirit sometimes increases exceedingly, the longings for God become so
intense that it will seem to such persons that their bones are drying up in this
thirst, their nature withering away, and their ardor and strength diminishing
through the liveliness of the thirst of love. They will feel that this is a
living thirst. David also had such experience when he proclaimed: My soul
thirsts for the living God [Ps. 43:3], as though to say, this thirst my soul
experiences is a living thirst. Since this thirst is alive, we can assert that
it is a thirst that kills. Yet it should be noted that its vehemence is not
continual, but only experienced from time to time, although usually some thirst
is felt.
2. Yet it must be kept in mind that, as I began to say here, individuals
generally do not perceive this love in the beginning, but they experience rather
the dryness and void we are speaking of. Then, instead of this love which is
enkindled afterward, they harbor, in the midst of the dryness and emptiness of
their faculties, a habitual care and solicitude for God accompanied by grief or
fear about not serving him. It is a sacrifice most pleasing to God - that of a
spirit in distress and solicitude for his love [Ps. 51:17].
Secret contemplation
produces this solicitude and concern in the soul until, after having somewhat
purged the sensory part of its natural propensities by means of this aridity, it
begins to enkindle in the spirit this divine love. Meanwhile, however, as in one
who is undergoing a cure, all is suffering in this dark and dry purgation of the
appetite, and the soul being relieved of numerous imperfections acquires many
virtues, thereby becoming capable of this love, as will be shown in the
explanation of the following verse: - ah, the sheer grace! -
3. God introduces people into this night to purge their senses, and to
accommodate, subject, and unite the lower part of the soul to the spiritual part
by darkening it and causing a cessation of discursive meditation (just as
afterward, in order to purify the spirit and unite it to himself, he brings it
into the spiritual night). As a result they gain so many benefits - though at
the time this may not be apparent - that they consider their departure from the
fetters and straits of the senses a sheer grace. The verse therefore proclaims:
" - ah, the sheer grace! - " We ought to point out the benefits procured in this
night, for it is because of them that the soul says it was a sheer grace to have
passed through it.2 All these benefits are included in the next verse: I went
out unseen,
4. This going out bears reference to the subjection the soul had to its senses,
in seeking God through operations so feeble, limited, and exposed to error as
are those of this lower part, for at every step it stumbled into numerous
imperfections and much ignorance, as was noted above in relation to the seven
capital vices.3 This night frees the soul from all these vices by quenching all
its earthly and heavenly satisfactions, darkening its discursive meditations,
and producing in it other innumerable goods through its acquiring of the
virtues, as we will now explain. For it will please and comfort one who treads
this path to know that a way seemingly so rough and adverse and contrary to
spiritual gratification engenders so many blessings.
These blessings are
attained when by means of this night the soul departs from all created things,
in its affections and operations, and walks on toward eternal things. This is a
great happiness and grace: first, because of the signal benefit of quenching
one's appetite and affection for all things; second, because there are very few
who will endure the night and persevere in entering through this narrow gate and
treading this constricted road that leads to life, as our Savior says [Mt.
7:14].
This narrow gate is the dark night of sense, in which the soul is
despoiled and denuded - in order to enter it - and grounded in faith, which is
foreign to all sense, that it may be capable of walking along the constricted
road, which is the night of spirit. The soul enters this second night so that it
may journey to God in pure faith, for pure faith is the means whereby it is
united with God. Few there are who walk along this road, because it is so
narrow, dark, and terrible that, in obscurities and trials, the night of sense
cannot be compared to it, as will be explained. Yet the benefits of this night
are incomparably greater than those of the night of sense. We will say something
now about the benefits of the night of sense as briefly as possible in order to
pass on to our exposition of the other night.
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