I'm wondering why most of us who write posts that are inherently religious in subject matter always write material that seems to describe the assertions of our Catholic tradition with unwavering faith and certitude. Do any of you ever doubt? Are most of us walking around in a state of perpetual ecstasy? Perhaps I'm wrong, but sharing those things that make our spiritual life falter might be just as therapeutic as visiting a shrink or a top-notch theologian.
I've been in blogosphere now for a few years and not once (to my recollection) has anyone openly written about any nagging ideas or circumstances that may have lead to a moment(s) where you question profoundly the existence of God. I wrote about some of my own moments of incredulity way back when I first started this blog, but never have I seen a similar attempt on behalf of other bloggers. Yes, I've read plenty of conversion stories that speak of pre-conversion misconduct and conscienceless ways of living, but one might come to the conclusion that after the conversion all was peachy and fab. Why? Is showing or sharing with others any weaknesses (not sinfulness) in our faith tantamount to being an exhibitionist? Or, worse yet, would a divulgement of that sort destroy our credibility in such a way that the next post we write about Christmas or the risen Christ would have absolutely no merit?
Keep in mind that I'm not saying one should go public with his or her sinfulness so that everyone gets a chance to know about it. I'm referring to those thoughts that off and on plague the religious and may cause him or her to question the validity of their faith.
Even St. Thérèse de Lisieux (and Mother Teresa) had their moments. I'll try to find the quote of St. Thérèse where she expressed a profound moment of disbelief.
And here it is: "I get tired of the darkness all around me and try to refresh my jaded spirits with the thoughts of that bright country where my hopes lie; and what happens? It is a worse torment than ever; the darkness itself seems to borrow, from the sinners who live in it, the gift of speech. I hear its mocking accents; 'It's all a dream, this talk of heavenly country...Death will make nonsense of your hopes; it will only mean a night darker than ever, the night of mere non-existence.'"
I love St. Therese. Here is someone of great saintliness experiencing tremors in here spiritual foundations. It's of little wonder she's a Doctor of the Church. Pray for me and for all of us, Little Flower.