Let your light shine, especially in the darkness

Fr Brendan McManus SJ, in this homily for Marquette University Mission Week 2026, reflects on how experiences of suffering and uncertainty can open up new ways of understanding ourselves and our relationship with God. Drawing on his own recovery from a cycling accident and the experience of St Ignatius of Loyola, he explores how we might recognise God’s presence in difficult times and find a way forward when the light seems distant.

Homily given in Marquette University Mission Week 2026

Brendan McManus SJ :: In an accident with a Dublin taxi, I was knocked off my bike some months ago. Miraculously, I escaped serious injury, though there was a lot of damage to my ankles and legs, and a shoulder injury that only showed up a few weeks later. It was a bit of a ‘dark night’ experience: there was shock and trauma, immobility and limitations, lots of pain and uncertainty, and strong emotions, including fear and worry. It was a real challenge to keep connected to the light, never mind being a light for anyone else. The phrase “Let your light shine” (Mt. 5:16) acknowledges that, for light to shine, there is a background of darkness, and this describes our lives: essentially, the battle of two forces, the light and the darkness.

St Ignatius Loyola, of course, was severely injured in a battle, had to undergo extensive convalescence and surgery, and subsequently limped most of his life. He managed to turn his leg injury, the struggle with inner darkness and convalescence into a new way of relating to God. Recovery is a ferocious process, very challenging mentally and physically, and even Ignatius faced a lot of ‘dark nights’, as his autobiography testifies. Somehow, he managed to learn discernment in this crucible of suffering and find meaning and a direction through the darkness.

During his frustrating immobility, he noticed that there were two ‘voices’ or spirits speaking to him. One brought life, light and energy and was clearly from God, whereas another brought unease, confusion and darkness. He would go on to develop his whole system of discernment of spirits from this pivotal experience, but it only emerged gradually. It took the furnace of recuperation, isolation and escapist daydreaming to make the realisation that God was speaking directly to him. The injury dashed his egoistic dreams of being the heroic soldier but forced him to wake up to the reality that something deeper was happening: he was being led in a different direction. He made the momentous discovery that God was with him in the ‘mess’, that his old life had become pointless and that there was a new direction and purpose, a gift within this ‘dark’ experience. He would go on to gather a group of companions and then begin a new religious order that would impact the world.

Convalescence teaches a lot of truths about how much we are dependent on others, how fragile we really are, and how the world gets on without us (we’re not as indispensable as we think). Often, we can’t avoid facing ourselves and our inner emotions, and God can reach us more readily if we are willing to listen and learn. Being unwell or injured affects us physically, emotionally and spiritually, and can lead to some very negative emotions and dark feelings. The problem often is that it feels as if God has abandoned us and that this is somehow lost or useless time, as if we’ve been left to face the darkness alone.

However, the gift that incapacity eventually reveals is that we are in a relationship with God (God can get through to us as we are more open): we are created by God, we are fundamentally fragile but gifted. Also, regardless of whatever colourful past (as with Ignatius), God still loves us, forgives us and desires to be close and intimate. Part of being sick is the silent journey, often through the darkness of the long nights, that invites us to pray out of a deep need. Prayer becomes real, as does the desire for the Light, and an honest conversation with God is called for.

The paradox is that suffering, unavoidable as it usually is, when embraced can have a redemptive quality, uniting us to the sufferings of Christ. This is very tough in practice, though, and demands a lot from the person at the receiving end. There is a terrible contradiction here: the more abandoned and isolated you feel, the more God is with you. Jesus knew this truth intimately; he knew desperate isolation and loneliness on the cross, with his excruciating suffering exacerbated by the feeling that God had abandoned him (“Why have you forsaken me?” Mt. 27:46).

His humanity is very much to the fore here, and with it, our connection to him through suffering. This helps us understand why something in him knew not to trust the ‘feelings’ and to dig deeper for his identity as a son and the belief that God was present even in this horror. Remembering the Psalms helped him, those cries of the soul (he was actually quoting Psalm 22 above), as did praying into the reality, not trying to escape it. Turns out this was the pivotal moment in his mission, the story of salvation and for the world.

This ‘death to resurrection’ experience is like a ‘U’-shaped curve, a process of slowly coming back to life, recovering from injury and darkness, and living a new, humble acceptance. It is a real purification or renewal, though, and one sees things differently afterwards. You have to trust the process; only through living these ‘dark night’ or ‘passion’ moments do we arrive at these hard-earned breakthroughs. Like a self-righting buoy, something brings us back to the light. At the darkest hour, the dawn arrives again anew, just like always, but we need to remember and have faith. A person, the Christ, has lifted us up. Our true destiny is revealed: to live from the Light and to use this experience to shine a light for others.

In summary, there are some useful Ignatian ‘rules of thumb’ here distilled from the Spiritual Exercises: don’t get caught up in the superficial feelings; don’t make major decisions or change course when you’re going through the darkness or a storm; stay faithful to good decisions already made, keep doing the good things (have a structure in place); do the opposite of what desolation suggests; and eventually you will find a place of light and balance.

It’s reassuring to know that God is always with us, is always faithful, always forgives and holds a light for our steps, especially in dark moments. Of course, the central realisation is that the light is not from us, but rather we reflect the light of God that shines through us, much like the moon reflects the light of the sun. Hopefully, these experiences of darkness help us realise some truths about ourselves, letting go of control and ego, and letting God’s light shine through us. This is what the world needs: people who are humble and transparent, a light for others.

Action points for surviving the ‘dark night’

1. Remember that God is with you, even if you don’t feel it.
2. Specifically ask for Grace and help for your situation; make a prayer in your own words.
3. Pray into the problem, not avoiding it or seeking to escape it.
4. Realise that Jesus has been there already; see him looking at you with compassion.
5. Do what Jesus does: pray using the Psalms: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Ps. 22); “Into your hands I commend my spirit” (Ps. 31); “Let your will be done, not mine” (Ps. 40).
6. Hand it all over to God; make a prayer of abandonment: “Into your hands I commend my soul” (Lk. 23:46). Entrust everything to the heart of Jesus.
7. Be at peace as much as you can.
8. Let your light shine: trust that God is working through you to take some practical action in the world.