Learning to Walk in the Dark: Embracing the Spiritual Power of Shadows
In a world often obsessed with illumination and clarity, the concept of "walking in the dark" can evoke primal fears. Children conjure monsters beneath their beds, and even seasoned believers may feel unsettled by biblical narratives of God plunging the world into darkness and chaos. This pervasive apprehension can lead to significant personal costs, from chronic sleep deprivation to anxieties about victimization. However, acclaimed author and professor of religion, Barbara Brown Taylor, proposes a radical reframing: learning to walk in the dark is not a defeat to be endured, but a profound spiritual skill to be cultivated.
Taylor, who spent 15 years in parish ministry and was named one of the 12 most effective preachers in the English-speaking world by Baylor University in 1996 before becoming a professor of religion at Piedmont College in 1998, delves into this transformative idea in her insightful work. Her memoir, Leaving Church, published in 2006, hinted at a deep engagement with the complexities of faith, and Learning to Walk in the Dark expands this exploration into the often-feared realm of shadows. Taylor's central hope is that Christians and other seekers will discover the spiritual richness that lies hidden within what we typically perceive as absence or void.
The Shadow of Fear: Cultural and Personal Perceptions of Darkness
The negative association with darkness is deeply ingrained in human consciousness. This cultural conditioning, amplified by childhood anxieties and religious imagery, creates a significant barrier to embracing the unknown. Many individuals pay a high price for this fear, experiencing disruptions to their well-being. Taylor acknowledges this pervasive unease, noting that even she, as a seasoned theologian, felt a degree of trepidation when a new friend offered to take her into a cave. This personal anecdote underscores the universal human tendency to shy away from the unlit.
The common assumption that light equates to goodness, joy, and divine presence, while darkness signifies evil, sorrow, and divine absence, is a pervasive dualism that Taylor seeks to dismantle. This "full solar spirituality," as she terms it, limits our understanding of God and the spiritual journey. It suggests that God is exclusively found in the bright, the known, and the easily perceived, leaving little room for the mysteries that accompany divine presence and absence alike.
Embarking on an Informal Study: Teachers in the Shadows
To counter this ingrained fear and limited perspective, Taylor undertook an informal study of individuals who had actively engaged with darkness. Her exploration led her to a diverse group of teachers, including Miriam Greenspan, Jacques Lusseyran, John of the Cross, Gerald May, and Mother Teresa. These figures, through their lives and writings, offer profound insights into navigating and finding meaning within periods of darkness, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual.
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Taylor’s own journey into this subject was marked by a profound sense of discovery. She expresses gratitude for the chance to explore this topic, which led her to unearth a "potpourri of Bible stories that happen after dark," encounter a "new set of teachers to usher her around in unfamiliar places," and cultivate a "deeper appreciation of the mysteries that accompany both God's presence and absence." This personal transformation is a testament to the transformative power of confronting our fears and seeking wisdom in unexpected places.
The Cave as a Metaphor: Experiencing Darkness from Within
A significant and vivid aspect of Taylor's research involved a deliberate immersion in physical darkness, most notably through a trip to Organ Cave in West Virginia. While the natural world readily accommodates creatures that thrive in darkness - bears, bats, and frogs - Taylor questions the human impulse to seek out such environments. Her preparation for the cave excursion was meticulous, involving research into "cave terror," mastering techniques for navigating tight spaces ("belly-squirm"), and packing essential gear. This methodical approach highlights the seriousness with which she approached understanding the experience of darkness.
Once inside the "belly of the caves," Taylor engaged in a practice of sitting in total darkness and silence. She moved through various chambers, attuning herself to the unique smells, temperatures, and the profound silence that defines these subterranean spaces. This physical immersion served as a powerful metaphor for confronting internal darkness. She notes the historical significance of caves for great spiritual leaders such as Buddha, Muhammad, and Jesus, recognizing them as places of profound spiritual encounter and transformation. "Sitting deep in the heart of Organ Cave," she writes, "I let this sink in: new life starts in the dark." This realization is a cornerstone of her thesis: that within the quietude and absence of external stimuli, one can be alone with oneself and potentially hear what God has to say, even if it is a difficult message.
Suffering and Resistance: The Cost of Fearing the Dark
Taylor posits that our suffering often arises not from darkness itself, but from our resistance to it. When we perceive darkness as inherently evil or something to be feared, we create an internal conflict that exacerbates our distress. This resistance can manifest in various forms: our fears, times of sorrow or pain, the literal darkness of our surroundings at night, or the metaphorical darkness of a cave. The critical question Taylor poses is: "What might the darkness have to teach us?" Her answer, echoing ancient wisdom, is that "the way out is the way in." This suggests that true resolution and growth come not from avoiding or denying difficult experiences, but from engaging with them directly.
Reclaiming the Dark: Spiritual Lessons from the Shadows
Taylor masterfully weaves together biblical narratives, scientific observations, historical accounts, personal life events, and "uncommon sense" to explore the multifaceted nature of darkness. She examines it internally (our emotional and spiritual states), externally (the physical world), and eternally (its place in the divine order).
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Her exploration begins by confronting our fear of things in the dark, extending this to our apprehension of God. She uses biblical examples to illustrate how God's presence and actions are often associated with darkness, challenging the simplistic equation of light with divine favor. Taylor offers a path to finding spiritual meaning in life's "low times" - those periods of uncertainty when we lack clear answers. By admitting our need for answers, we open ourselves to the possibility of learning from and being enriched by these dark times.
She actively seeks to correct the widespread assumption that light is synonymous with goodness and joy, while darkness is equated with evil and sorrow. Taylor provocatively asks: "Does not God work in the nighttime as well as daytime?" This question challenges the anthropocentric view that limits God's activity to human-defined periods of clarity and comfort. She introduces the concept of "endarkenment" as a counterpoint to enlightenment, arguing that we must move beyond viewing God solely as light and cease relegating all things dark to the domain of the devil.
The beauty of the ever-changing moon becomes a central metaphor for Taylor's concept of "lunar spirituality." Unlike the constant, unwavering sun, the moon waxes and wanes, offering a more nuanced and reflective representation of the divine. Through this lunar lens, Taylor develops an appreciation for the rhythms of darkness and light, suggesting that through darkness, we can find courage, gain new perspectives on the world, and perceive God's presence guiding us through both the seen and the unseen.
This comprehensive exploration builds a compelling thesis: darkness can serve as a fertile ground for reconstructing a more robust and resilient faith - a faith capable of both basking in the light and navigating the encounter of being in the dark. Taylor asserts that darkness is "strategic" and that denying or hiding from it is futile. Just as we anticipate the sunrise, she argues, we should also embrace the moonrise. Darkness, in its appointed time, "must give way to creation." This echoes the Genesis account where God "separates out the light from the darkness," acknowledging both as integral parts of the created order.
The Bible as a Guide: Scriptural Wisdom for Navigating Shadows
The book places a strong emphasis on the Bible as a primary source of inspiration and instruction for learning to walk in the dark. Taylor, like many believers across ages, understands that embracing the unknown is not merely a coping mechanism but a path towards deeper spiritual understanding, and perhaps even eternal life. She humbly admits, "That last one is a hard one to trust, which is why I need to keep walking in the dark." This personal confession highlights the ongoing nature of spiritual growth and the continuous need to engage with what is uncertain.
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Taylor's ability to present ordinary concepts in extraordinary ways is a hallmark of her writing. She illuminates the value of darkness within biblical narratives, drawing parallels to the "dark cloud of divine presence" that Moses encountered on Mount Sinai. Those who ascend, she notes, assume all risks and relinquish claims to easy rewards, mirroring the faith required to navigate spiritual darkness.
Beyond Belief: The Depth of Faith in the Face of Uncertainty
A particularly illuminating section of the book delves into the distinction between faith and belief. Taylor observes that many people, especially college students, are primarily interested in propositional beliefs: "Do you believe in the virgin birth? Do you believe that Jesus died for your sins?" These are questions of dogma, not of lived experience. In contrast, questions of faith probe deeper: "On what is your heart set? What powers do you most rely on? What is the hope that gives meaning to your life?" These are the questions that arise when one is truly tested, when the familiar lights of certainty are extinguished, and one must rely on an inner compass.
Taylor's research into the "dark night of the soul," a concept popularized by St. John of the Cross, is presented with depth and nuance, addressing the topic from both individual and communal perspectives. Her exploration of the spiritual leaders who found solace and revelation in caves, such as Buddha, Muhammad, and Jesus, reinforces the idea that profound spiritual insights can emerge from periods of isolation and introspection.
Embracing the Full Spectrum: Beyond "Full Solar Spirituality"
Taylor challenges the pervasive notion that light is inherently good and darkness inherently evil. She argues that this "full solar spirituality" is an incomplete understanding of the divine. God's presence is not confined to periods of clarity and comfort. Indeed, the creation story itself, as recounted in Genesis, demonstrates God separating light from darkness, not eradicating the latter. This act establishes a fundamental duality within creation, implying that both light and darkness have their purpose and place.
The author’s appreciation for "lunar spirituality" further solidifies this argument. The moon, with its cycles of waxing and waning, offers a more fitting metaphor for the human spiritual journey than the steady, unwavering sun. The moon's phases mirror the soul's fluctuations, its periods of fullness and emptiness, its moments of illumination and obscurity.
Nature's Lessons: Wildlife and the Perils of Light Pollution
Taylor extends her argument beyond the human spiritual experience to the natural world, highlighting how our fear of darkness and our over-reliance on artificial light have detrimental consequences. She cites the poignant example of sea turtle hatchlings that, disoriented by city lights along the shoreline, confuse them with the natural light of the horizon. This confusion leads them inland, away from the ocean, resulting in thousands of hatchlings perishing each year. Similarly, indigenous bird species in major cities are threatened by the lights on skyscrapers, disrupting their migratory patterns. These instances serve as powerful reminders that our aversion to darkness has tangible, and often tragic, impacts on other creatures.
"Dark Thoughts" and Divine Presence: Reconciling Emotions with Faith
On an emotional level, Taylor addresses the phrase "dark thoughts," which typically refers to emotions like anger, brokenness, and despair. By arbitrarily associating these emotions with the negative connotations of darkness, we often find ourselves in opposition to our own feelings. Taylor argues that this is a misguided approach, pointing out that even Christ experienced these "dark" emotions: anger (Matthew 21), despair (Luke 22), and profound brokenness and torment (Matthew 27:46).
Taylor advocates for a shift in perspective, encouraging us to press fear out of our interactions with darkness and opt for curiosity instead. This curiosity allows us to recognize the richness that can be felt and understood from within both physical and metaphorical darkness. She finds a unique and profound beauty in this exploration, particularly in her conversations with spiritual exemplars, suggesting that these moments of engagement with the unknown are where true spiritual growth occurs.
Faith as Trust: Navigating the Unseen
The instructor in the mountain-biking story, after leading participants into the dark woods and asking them to turn off their headlamps, offered a profound analogy: "It's kind of like faith." This experience, which moved from initial shock and near-panic to a sense of peace and an ability to see in new ways, mirrors the spiritual journey. Light, in this context, is not inherently bad, nor is hope the mere absence of darkness. Instead, hope is the faith that darkness and light coexist within God's perfect domain. Taylor’s proposal is to embrace this inherent duality.
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