Desire, Darkness and Hope: Theology in a Time of Impasse is a learned and insightful exploration of Carmelite spirituality which presents and builds upon the scholarship and wisdom of Constance FitzGerald. FitzGerald and the other authors who engage her thought excel both in exploring the Carmelite tradition in its own right and in connecting it to contemporary challenges. Editors Laurie Cassidy and M. Shawn Copeland have compiled a diverse collection of FitzGerald’s writings and other perspectives which effectively reflect on personal and societal experience, develop constructive theological insights, and propose new spiritual perspectives to illuminate modern concerns and challenges.
Two themes are prominent in this volume. The first is the connection between the purgative experience of “dark night” and societal impasse manifested in systemic injustice and violence. The second theme is that in response to these dark night experiences, education in contemplative spirituality is an urgent need today. While the first theme—the understanding of social violence as dark night—is perhaps the most striking and obvious in FitzGerald’s work, the second is deeply intertwined with the first and FitzGerald insists on this need for contemplation in forceful terms.
Two of FitzGerald’s works, “A Discipleship of Equals” and her famous article “Impasse and Dark Night,” provide the foundation for the first theme. The dark night is an experience where one suffers from the feeling of abandonment and hopelessness: “All supports drop from one’s consciousness and only the experience of emptiness, vulnerability, and abandonment remain” (52). While John of the Cross writes about an individual’s spiritual journey, FitzGerald “find[s] a great number of dark night experiences, personal and societal, that cry out for meaning”: the scandal of poverty, the threat of nuclear self-destruction, the oppression of women, and the many other ways our society alienates and marginalizes human beings (78). She identifies these as impasse experiences, where “there is no way out of, no way around, no rational escape from, what imprisons one” (78).
FitzGerald’s key insight is not only connecting the suffering experienced in impasse and the dark night, but also identifying both as moments where we are invited into growth and transformation. The dark night “is a sign to move on in hope to a new vision, a new experience” (83), precisely because it leads us to recognize our limitations, and the same is true of experiences of societal impasse.
Cassidy applies this insight with particular clarity to the challenge of white supremacy. She recognizes that what is needed is not a road map for overcoming supremacist attitudes—relying on our own ingenuity to extricate us from problems of our making deepens the deadlock of impasse. Rather, Cassidy applies contemplative spirituality’s call to self-knowledge and willingness to be challenged and uncomfortable: “One element of appropriating the experience of the impasse of white supremacy is to turn toward the feelings of guilt and defensiveness rather than trying to ignore them, overcome them, fix them, deny them, or justify ourselves. To be present to all the discomfort is one step in opening ourselves” (113).
The second theme is that forming a contemplative mindset is not simply a desirable option, but a necessary spiritual and ethical response. Because we are trapped in paradigms and habits that perpetuate cycles of injustice, FitzGerald contends that “We must find new ways of replacing our old minds with new ones . . . I would like to suggest contemplative interiority as one of these disciplines and education for contemplation as essential” (163). She even writes that education for transformative contemplation “may be the most basic challenge of religion today ” (269). Margaret Pfeil effectively illuminates the importance and fruitfulness of nurturing a contemplative mindset in the face of ecological destruction. Contemplative spirituality opens us to Sophia, the Wisdom of God, who builds in us a new capacity to understand and relate to the world. This new way of seeing allows us to recognize that “each and every member of creation becomes revelatory of God’s infinite love. Each is a subject, loved by God and made for interrelationship” (228-229).
The authors in this volume resist the temptation to flatten mystical teaching or to avoid its challenging claims. While attentive to the urgent need to move beyond an androcentric understanding of God, FitzGerald rejects the overly simplistic path of simply abandoning male God-language (98). She grapples with Edith Stein’s focus on redemptive suffering, identifying Stein’s theological and spiritual wisdom while noting the dangers of a rhetoric of suffering. In an exceptional example of constructive theological dialogue, Andrew Prevot highlights FitzGerald’s balance and explores it further to offer a deeply nuanced understanding of the context and conditions in which spiritual growth can emerge amidst suffering.
One under-examined question is a methodological one: how does one responsibly take the insights of 16th-century Carmelites exploring the journey of personal prayer and apply them to modern examples of social injustice? John of the Cross describes the dark night as “sheer grace”—how can we learn from this while avoiding any claim that social injustice is a divinely willed grace? FitzGerald and the other authors are mindful of these challenges, at times noting examples of irresponsible uses of the spiritual tradition, but don’t offer an explicit positive method. Because the volume seeks to make the contemplative tradition available to those engaged in their own growth in prayer or in the formation of others, the question of how to responsibly draw from this tradition becomes essential to the professional and personal lives of this volume’s audience.
Desire, Darkness, and Hope is a valuable spiritual resource, simultaneously rigorous and accessible. The style of the writing makes it ideal for readers with some theological training. It is particularly suited for researchers and students in the field of Christian spirituality and its intersection with ethics, as well as pastoral ministers. However, readers both new to or familiar with Carmelite spirituality will find much to learn; Cassidy and Copeland have brought to light the great treasures of FitzGerald’s writing and the Carmelite tradition from which she draws.
Fernando Garcia works as the director of faith formation at St. Anthony de Padua Catholic Parish in South Bend, Indiana.
Fernando Garcia
Date Of Review:
September 30, 2024
