To enter the aerie monastery of Montserrat is to penetrate a labyrinth or delve into the center of a palm heart. As I traverse deeper into the spiritual core of Catalonia, Santa Maria de Montserrat slowly unfolds into darkness. First, there is the train journey into the hushed pastoral Llobregat valley. Then, the ascending cable car sweeps me into the supernal massif base where the sun shines more forcefully than on the rest of Spain. From its too relentless glare, I pass into the blessed shadow of the abbey. Immediately the cool stone walls enfold me in their embrace. Tranquility follows me like a clandestine companion into the depths of the monastery. The closer I move to the heart of Montserrat, the more obfuscated my path becomes. The stairway to revelation is not bright but bathed in soft night. “Let there be light,” the Book of Genesis declares, but in the inner sanctum of Montserrat I awaken to the desideratum of darkness.
At Montserrat, darkness has a place and a purpose. As I make my way to La Moreneta, the dark-skinned patroness of Catalonia, my senses come alive in the gloom. I inhale the musky incense of the altar and guide my steps by the touch of hot fingers brushing the dusty corridors.
“I hear the rustle of the wind passing by me, another unseen confederate along my path.”
Even my sight develops and heightens. My pupils dilate to the lambent quality of the shadow and I notice subtle details: the sharp indentation of a sculpted martyr’s cheekbone, the gold glint from an unused sconce, the play of black against gray velvet drapery. The darkness allows me to see the hidden things of life, objects and expressions that conceal themselves from the glare of light. Watching the candle flames flicker across the way, I think about how night reveals the stars to me and manifests the beauty of the unlit moon.
I climb in the darkness to where the Black Virgin sits in her dim alcove. She presents an inscrutable smile to all her venerators, comforting them from her dusky throne. Her expression and the low effulgent baptistry remind me that we all live in a world where we cannot see beyond our limited torches, though I pretend to know my way through each day. The presence of darkness illuminates the world I do not perceive nor understand. It exposes my hidden fears and gives reign to cloaked secrets.
“In the darkness I can embrace uncertainty; failures are judged by the harsh light of day, but the night shrouds them.”
Perhaps that is why Montserrat prefers to be suffused in black, as a reminder to all who enter that this is a place of comfort, a haven for the wounded and the broken. There is no judicious God here, only the healing glance of a sable hued Mother.
The hermits who once lived above the basilica understood the importance of darkness too. Hidden in the caverns of the mountain, they daily contemplated their lives amidst darkness. Lack of light emphasized their solitary communion with God, but it also accentuated their dependence on the community of brothers, their need for spiritual company. The darkness of the cloister solidifies my own reliance on others and my desire for tactile relationships. In the darkest hours of life when I grope helplessly, ready helping hands are always there to catch me. For all its dedication to seclusion, Montserrat is nevertheless a mountainside village enjoined by common spirituality. Those who abide here support each other and succor the endless line of pilgrims seeking reassurance.
Darkness is so often eschewed in our society. It is crushed out by candle light and search beacons and even the ambient glow of technology. Darkness is seen as an evil, as if only bad things happened at night and the absence of light fostered misbehavior. Darkness is seen as foreboding, cruel, and unworthy. But darkness does not have to be cold, it can also be intimate, forgiving. It can hide just as many good deeds under cover and kindnesses not meant for the spotlight.
“At Montserrat, I have come to appreciate the dark and find solace in it.”
I have discovered that darkness has its own type of beauty, the attraction of starless skies and ebony tones. Tonight when I return to my room in Barcelona, I shall commune with the night. I shall kill all the lights and see what the shadows reveal.
Both a rack railway and a funicular connect the Catalan monastery of Montserrat with the rest of the world. The abbey has remained a sanctuary for the Benedictine order of monks who live here and for many political dissenters over its tumultuous history. Santa Maria de Montserrat publishing house is one of the oldest European active presses, and its Escolania, or choir school, has been a musical institution since the 14th century.
Is there a place where you have felt comforted by darkness? Which of the two ways to the Montserrat abbey would you choose to take: rack railway or funicular?
Reblogged this on cherry0603.
wow this place looks amazing
It certainly is Katerina. Thanks for stopping by!
I envy you this one! For my day ‘out of the city’ I chose Girona, and enjoyed it very much, but the scale and setting of Monserrat is staggering. Why did I not recognise that, because it is most unlikely that I will return? Railway up and funicular down, if I did. 🙂
Thank you! I so enjoyed your thoughts.
Glad you enjoyed my story! Perhaps someday you will get to return to this part of the world and can see the beauty of Montserrat for yourself.
I’ve been there. We visited on a rainy day. We tried hiking to the top, but the rain and fog were intense and we ended up running back to safety.
Too bad about the intense rain! This is not a place I would want to try to go to or leave from in bad weather!
Fascinating place. I really enjoy these awesome photos. The first sight is stunning!!!
The scenery on the way to Montserrat is spectacular! Thanks for stopping by!
Enjoyed your travel journal. 🙂
As usual, an excellent post! Your use of language is so poetically magnificent that I can literally feel the cold stone, see the candles flickering before my eyes, and smell the incense in the air. Too bogged down in academia to do much travelling at the moment, I appreciate the far-flung adventures you take me on more than words can say.
Very interesting thoughts. In Nagano, Japan, the Holy part of the shrine is a pitch black passageway under the building. You can go down there and experience it. It’s amazing how initially disorientating and then thought evoking the experience is.
I wrote about it in this post https://mytravelbugbite.wordpress.com/2015/01/06/nagano-and-matsumoto/
Since exploring Montserrat I have really come to see the importance of darkness. I look forward to reading your experience in Japan!
How absolutely beautiful, in photographs and narrative. The cool and reprieve of the darkness in this glorious setting wraps itself around me like a soft, comforting shawl, warm and cooling all at the same time. Just lovely, thank you for this beautiful tour 🙂
It takes a wise soul to understand the spiritual quality of darkness. It forces us to focus inward. If we are rich inside we have nothing to fear and so much to gain. Eloquent post, as usual.
I suppose fearing the darkness is in a way fearing what it might reveal about ourselves. I am glad Montserrat taught me that darkness can be just as much of a blessing as light.
Great article, great photos thank you
I crave the darkness. Sunlight is actually a disturbing element to my day–in particular my writing/working process. I cannot concentrate in the light. I’ve long been a stargazer and one who prefers to travel via candlelight. There’s something so pure and deep within an absence of light, it prickles all your other sense to full alert.
And I think I’d choose the funicular. That would be an absolute delight!
What a beautiful post, and spectacular photos. A memorable trip indeed.
Travel by candlelight: now there’s something I have yet to do. You have me thinking about how different that would be from traveling by flashlight or lantern….
I was reflecting on this topic recently–how darkness brings out another side–of places, people. Beautiful captures.
🙂 We must be on the same brain wavelength….Your story about getting to see the stars in the sky at night made me recall my visit to Montserrat all over again.
What a jaw dropping setting!
Isn’t it? The best part is the jaw drops the moment you get on the funicular and make the slow climb up to this place!
Awesome article on the beauty of darkness, the photographs are equally stunning!!!!
Thank you so much! Credit for all the photos goes to the talented Jesse. 😀