As a young teenager, kneeling in a dark cathedral one night, with no illumination in the church but the
sanctuary lamp, I had an experience of intense light. I was thirteen years old and totally convinced
that, what ever it was and wherever it came from, the light was God. Perhaps it was a good janitor
working late, or a bad switch that did not work at all, or a startling insight given to a young woman
gratuitously. I did not know then and I do not know now. But I did know that the light was God and
that God was light.
— from God at 2000
It has not always been easy — I went through a terrible period as a young sister — to the point that I
thought I would have to leave religious life because I doubted the divinity of Jesus. Only when I realized
that I did believe deeply and profoundly in God could I come to peace with the fact that faith in God
would have to be enough. It was a dark, empty time. It threw me back on the barest of beliefs but the
deepest of beliefs. I hung on in hope like a spider on a thread. But the thread was enough for me. As a
result, my faith actually deepened over the years. The humanity of Jesus gave promise to my own.
Jesus ceased to be distant and ethereal and “perfect.” Jesus let no system, no matter how revered,
keep him from a relationship with God. And that union with God, I came to understand, was divine.
Then I also understood that questions are of the essence in a mature faith.
I don’t fear my questions anymore. I know that they are all part of the process of coming to union with
God and refusing to make an idol of anything less. The point is that during that difficult time I didn’t try
to force anything. I simply lived in the desert believing that whatever life I found there was enough for
me. I believed that God was in the darkness. It is all part of the purification process and should be
revered. It takes us away from our paltry little definitions of God and brings us face-to-face with the
Transcendent. It is not to be feared. It is simply to be experienced. Then, God begins to live in us
without benefit of recipes and rituals, laws and “answers” — of which there are, in the final analysis,
none at all.
— from In a Dark Wood
“Why does a woman like you stay in the Church?” a woman asked me from the depths of the dark
audience years ago. “Because,” I answered, “every time I thought about leaving, I found myself thinking
of oysters.” “Oysters?” she said. “What do oysters have to do with it?”
“Well,” I answered her in the darkness of the huge auditorium, “I realized that an oyster is an organism
that defends itself by excreting a substance to protect itself against the sand of its spawning bed. The
more sand in the oyster, the more chemical the oyster produces until finally, after layer upon layer of
gel, the sand turns into a pearl. And the oyster itself becomes more valuable in the process. At that
moment,” I said, “ I discovered the ministry of irritation.”
— from Lutheran Women Today 2000
These are three excerpts from the chapter “What Do I Believe?” in the recently released book, Joan
Chittister: In My Own Words (Liguori), compiled with an introduction by Mary Lou Kownacki. The book
contains the most memorable and inspiring selections from Chittister's writings and sermons, capturing
the core and scope of her spiritual vision.
Joan Chittister joins the following spiritual figures featured in the In My Own Words series: Pope
Benedict XVI, Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Pope John Paul II, Thérèse of Lisieux, Mother Theresa,
Pope John XIII and Henri Nouwen.
sanctuary lamp, I had an experience of intense light. I was thirteen years old and totally convinced
that, what ever it was and wherever it came from, the light was God. Perhaps it was a good janitor
working late, or a bad switch that did not work at all, or a startling insight given to a young woman
gratuitously. I did not know then and I do not know now. But I did know that the light was God and
that God was light.
— from God at 2000
It has not always been easy — I went through a terrible period as a young sister — to the point that I
thought I would have to leave religious life because I doubted the divinity of Jesus. Only when I realized
that I did believe deeply and profoundly in God could I come to peace with the fact that faith in God
would have to be enough. It was a dark, empty time. It threw me back on the barest of beliefs but the
deepest of beliefs. I hung on in hope like a spider on a thread. But the thread was enough for me. As a
result, my faith actually deepened over the years. The humanity of Jesus gave promise to my own.
Jesus ceased to be distant and ethereal and “perfect.” Jesus let no system, no matter how revered,
keep him from a relationship with God. And that union with God, I came to understand, was divine.
Then I also understood that questions are of the essence in a mature faith.
I don’t fear my questions anymore. I know that they are all part of the process of coming to union with
God and refusing to make an idol of anything less. The point is that during that difficult time I didn’t try
to force anything. I simply lived in the desert believing that whatever life I found there was enough for
me. I believed that God was in the darkness. It is all part of the purification process and should be
revered. It takes us away from our paltry little definitions of God and brings us face-to-face with the
Transcendent. It is not to be feared. It is simply to be experienced. Then, God begins to live in us
without benefit of recipes and rituals, laws and “answers” — of which there are, in the final analysis,
none at all.
— from In a Dark Wood
“Why does a woman like you stay in the Church?” a woman asked me from the depths of the dark
audience years ago. “Because,” I answered, “every time I thought about leaving, I found myself thinking
of oysters.” “Oysters?” she said. “What do oysters have to do with it?”
“Well,” I answered her in the darkness of the huge auditorium, “I realized that an oyster is an organism
that defends itself by excreting a substance to protect itself against the sand of its spawning bed. The
more sand in the oyster, the more chemical the oyster produces until finally, after layer upon layer of
gel, the sand turns into a pearl. And the oyster itself becomes more valuable in the process. At that
moment,” I said, “ I discovered the ministry of irritation.”
— from Lutheran Women Today 2000
These are three excerpts from the chapter “What Do I Believe?” in the recently released book, Joan
Chittister: In My Own Words (Liguori), compiled with an introduction by Mary Lou Kownacki. The book
contains the most memorable and inspiring selections from Chittister's writings and sermons, capturing
the core and scope of her spiritual vision.
Joan Chittister joins the following spiritual figures featured in the In My Own Words series: Pope
Benedict XVI, Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Pope John Paul II, Thérèse of Lisieux, Mother Theresa,
Pope John XIII and Henri Nouwen.
WHAT DO I BELIEVE?
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