'Fall Deeper into the Dark Night'

"What if you can't hang on to hope?" I asked Father Sergei. "What if you sink down into depression like St. Francis and stay in that state?"

One of the younger monks appeared at the back door of the monastery, his brown habit flowing to his sandaled feet, bagpipes in hand. He turned toward Father Sergei. "Is it all right if I practice my pipes?"

"Of course!" Father Sergei waved him on, then explained, "That monk is musical, so here we are in the middle of the barrio dancing to-what else?-Scottish bagpipe music." The younger monk blew into his reed, emitting a low, mournful drone.

"So what if you sink into a deep depression and stay there?" Father Sergei repeated. "So what if?"

"How do you pull yourself out?"

"Why force yourself out? Why not just stay there?"

"Oh, because it feels awful."

"So are we talking about despair?"

"Yes."

"A despair that's so black that you feel like you've been abandoned by everyone including God?"

"You've got it."

"Aha! Then we're no longer talking about mere depression. We're talking about the `dark night of the soul,' as St. John of the Cross called it. St. John was one of us. He was of

stock. A small guy-just four feet eleven-but full of big ideas. He became a Carmelite and friends with St. Teresa of Avila. Together they set out to reform their order. John's fellow Carmelites arrested him and dumped him in prison for nine months."

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