He knew full well that if it were given, he would soon need a larger one, and a still larger one after that, until in the end no explanation would fill the yawning abyss of his doubt. The illusion of understanding would only breed deeper confusion, more binding forms of inner protest against the violation of all that was beautiful. Not-knowing was the way to ultimate union with the Love whose embrace was the filling of every doubt, the binding up of all wounds. As a Carmelite, he knew the theology and spirituality of the mountain of faith, the way of nothingness'nada'the path that led by the straight route up the mountain of God.
Michael D. O'Brien — Father Elijah: An Apocalypse
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