Seeking Light Amid Desolation

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Desolation drapes me like the inversion hanging over the Wasatch Front. All is gray and hazy and unhealthy.

Part of my malady stems from the death and dying that has been and continues to be part of my world. Deacon Mark Bourget, whom I admired, died in November. Then, at the beginning of this month, I attended two funerals in the same week: Christine Decker, who befriended me during a pilgrimage, died Jan. 2; and Ginni Biediger, who was the receptionist when I first started here at the Pastoral Center, died Jan. 3.

At each of the three funerals, the readings and the homilist all stressed the Church teaching that mortal death is not the end of life but rather the door through which we all must step, taking us, we pray, to an eternity with God in heaven. I would like to believe what our faith teaches, and at times when I feel God present I do believe it, but at the moment a family member is dying of cancer and God does not seem to be anywhere near, and a whispering voice in the back of my head insists that the Christian heaven is no more real than the Elysian Fields of Greek mythology.

In his Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius of Loyola counsels additional prayer and penance for times of desolation. Yesterday my daily reading reminded me of that, which may have been a sign from God. I am trying to follow St. Ignatius’ advice, but it is difficult to pray and fast and do good deeds when it seems like the devil is winning the battle for my soul.

Here is another sign of God’s grace: I subscribe to Smithsonian magazine, but they have piled up unread over the past year. Last weekend, I put them in chronological order. I read the first two, then began the third, and was intrigued by an article describing research “that indicates placebos work even when you know they’re not real,” as the subhead states.

I won’t bore you with the details of the article, but reading it reminded me of another of Ignatius’ teachings, that if we are lacking in a virtue and cannot find the desire within ourselves to develop it, then we should pray to want that virtue.

And so, at least by the contorted trail of my thoughts, I am led to consider that even if I think that prayer is not helping my unbelief, I should continue to pray because our faith teaches that prayer works, and by praying I will deepen my faith even if at the moment all prayer seems to me to be a placebo. (I suspect any priest or theologian reading this will take umbrage, for which I apologize. I’m trying to find my way out of desolation, and to do so I am following any path that shows a glimmer of light.)

So, where in reading about this concept of the effectiveness of placebos was the hand of God? It was that, according to the order I had put the magazines, I should have been reading the March issue, but instead picked up the one from May, in which the article about placebos was published.

Another bit of reading material that providentially has fallen into my hands just now is The Way of Gratitude: Readings for a Joyful Life, which was published last year by Orbis Books. This is a collection of works by an eclectic bunch of writers – I can’t think of any other venue in which J.K. Rowling of Harry Potter fame would be put alongside Meister Eckhart, Thomas Merton, Henri Nouwen and Dietrich Bonhoeffer – but within its pages I am finding much material for meditation.

I do not know when or if this period of desolation will end. I do not even know if it is true desolation, because I do see glimpses of God at work. I do know I cannot be comforted, but can only continue, one prayer at a time, to make my way toward the light that I cannot see.

Marie Mischel is editor of the Intermountain Catholic.