Edward Young: ‘Devotion! daughter of Astronomy!’
From a French edition of Night Thoughts
The soul of man was made to walk the skies.
Nor, as a stranger, does she wander there;
But, wonderful herself, through wonder strays;
Contemplating their grandeur, finds her own;
~ Edward Young, Night Thoughts 9
IT was a nice to discover that the quote, ‘An undevout astronomer is mad,’ credited to an unnamed “poet” by Thomas Dick in the last post, comes from Edward Young. Young’s most famous work is the epic poem, Night Thoughts (The Complaint: or, Night-Thoughts on Life, Death, & Immortality), published in several volumes from 1742 to 1745. Immensely popular for a century after its writing, it then strangely fell into obscurity. Night Thoughts is quite long, but Young’s mastery of iambic pentameter blank verse and talent for turning a memorable phrase make it reading enjoyable. The more intense and inspired sections crescendo into virtual hymns and litanies, where Young finds his Muse.
The quote appears in Night 9 — the final part — of Night Thoughts. Most of Night 9 (over 2000 lines) considers the spectacle of the night sky as a source of religious and moral inspiration. As some may not want to read it entirely, below are assembled the most inspiring lines. (I’ve taken the liberty of rearranging some sections.)
Two people are named here. Lorenzo is a worldly man the narrator addresses throughout Night Thoughts, whom he wishes to convert to religion and philosophy. Philander is a recently deceased, virtuous friend.
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ROUSE, rouse, Lorenzo, then, and follow me,
Where truth, the most momentous man can hear,
Loud calls my soul, and ardour wings her flight.
I find my inspiration in my theme:
The grandeur of my subject is my Muse.
At midnight, when mankind is wrapt in peace,
And worldly fancy feeds on golden dreams;
Night opes the noblest scenes, and sheds an awe,
Which gives those venerable scenes full weight,
And deep reception, in th’ intender’d heart;
While light peeps through the darkness, like a spy;
And darkness shows its grandeur by the light.
Nor is the profit greater than the joy,
If human hearts at glorious objects glow,
And admiration can inspire delight.
What speak I more, than I, this moment, feel?
With pleasing stupor first the soul is struck
(Stupor ordain’d to make her truly wise!):
Then into transport starting from her trance,
Stars teach, as well as shine. At Nature’s birth,
Thus their commission ran — “Be kind to Man.”
Where art thou, poor benighted traveller?
The stars will light thee, though the moon should fail.
Where art thou, more benighted! more astray!
In ways immoral? The stars call thee back;
And, if obey’d their counsel, set thee right.
This prospect vast, what is it? — Weigh’d aright,
’Tis Nature’s system of divinity,
And every student of the Night inspires.
’Tis elder Scripture, writ by God’s own hand:
Scripture authentic! uncorrupt by man.
The planets of each system represent
Kind neighbours; mutual amity prevails;
Sweet interchange of rays, received, return’d;
Enlightening, and enlighten’d! all, at once,
Attracting, and attracted! Patriot like,
None sins against the welfare of the whole;
But their reciprocal, unselfish aid,
Affords an emblem of millennial love.
Nothing in nature, much less conscious being,
Was e’er created solely for itself:
Thus man his sovereign duty learns in this
Material picture of benevolence.
I see His ministers; I see, diffused
In radiant orders, essences sublime,
Of various offices, of various plume,
In heavenly liveries, distinctly clad,
Azure, green, purple, pearl, or downy gold,
Or all commix’d; they stand, with wings outspread,
Listening to catch the Master’s least command,
And fly through nature, ere the moment ends;
Numbers innumerable! — well conceived
These, as a cloud of witnesses, hang o’er us;
In a throng’d theatre are all our deeds;
Perhaps, a thousand demigods descend
On every beam we see, to walk with men.
Awful reflection! Strong restraint from ill!
Yet, here, our virtue finds still stronger aid
From these ethereal glories sense surveys.
Something, like magic, strikes from this blue vault;
With just attention is it view’d? We feel
A sudden succour, unimplored, unthought;
Nature herself does half the work of Man.
With love, and admiration, how she glows!
This gorgeous apparatus! this display!
This ostentation of creative power!
This theatre! — what eye can take it in?
By what divine enchantment was it raised,
For minds of the first magnitude to launch
In endless speculation, and adore?
One sun by day, by night ten thousand shine;
And light us deep into the Deity;
How boundless in magnificence and might!
O what a confluence of ethereal fires,
Form urns unnumber’d, down the steep of heaven,
Streams to a point, and centres in my sight!
Nor tarries there; I feel it at my heart.
My heart, at once, it humbles, and exalts;
Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies.
Who sees it unexalted? or unawed?
Who sees it, and can stop at what is seen?
Material offspring of Omnipotence!
Inanimate, all-animating birth!
Work worthy Him who made it! worthy praise!
All praise! praise more than human! nor denied
Thy praise divine! — But though man, drown’d in sleep,
Withholds his homage, not alone I wake;
Bright legions swarm unseen, and sing, unheard
By mortal ear, the glorious Architect,
In this His universal temple hung
With lustres, with innumerable lights,
That shed religion on the soul; at once,
The temple, and the preacher! O how loud
It calls devotion! genuine growth of Night!
Devotion! daughter of Astronomy!
An undevout astronomer is mad.
True; all things speak a God; but in the small,
Men trace out Him; in great, He seizes man;
Seizes, and elevates, and wraps, and fills
With new inquiries, ’mid associates new.
Tell me, ye stars! ye planets! tell me, all
Shall God be less miraculous, than what
His hand has form’d? Shall mysteries descend
From unmysterious? things more elevate,
Be more familiar? uncreated lie
More obvious than created, to the grasp
Of human thought? The more of wonderful
Is heard in Him, the more we should assent.
Could we conceive Him, God He could not be;
Or He not God, or we could not be men.
A God alone can comprehend a God;
Man’s distance how immense! On such a theme,
Know this, Lorenzo! (seem it ne’er so strange)
Nothing can satisfy, but what confounds;
Nothing, but what astonishes, is true.
The scene thou seest, attests the truth I sing,
And every star sheds light upon thy creed.
These stars, this furniture, this cost of heaven,
If but reported, thou hadst ne’er believed;
But thine eye tells thee, the romance is true.
The grand of nature is th’ Almighty’s oath,
In Reason’s court, to silence Unbelief.
How my mind, opening at this scene, imbibes
The moral emanations of the skies,
While nought, perhaps, Lorenzo less admires!
Has the Great Sovereign sent ten thousand worlds
To tells us, He resides above them all,
In glory’s unapproachable recess?
And dare earth’s bold inhabitants deny
The sumptuous, the magnific embassy
A moment’s audience? Turn we, nor will hear
From whom they come, or what they would impart
For man’s emolument; sole cause that stoops
Their grandeur to man’s eye? Lorenzo! rouse;
Let thought, awaken’d, take the lightning’s wing,
And glance from east to west, from pole to pole.
Who sees, but is confounded, or convinced?
Renounces reason, or a God adores?
Mankind was sent into the world to see:
Sight gives the science needful to their peace;
That obvious science asks small learning’s aid.
Would’st thou on metaphysic pinions soar?
Or wound thy patience amid logic thorns?
Or travel history’s enormous round?
Nature no such hard task enjoins: she gave
A make to man directive of his thought;
A make set upright, pointing to the stars,
As who shall say, “Read thy chief lesson there.”*
*A reference to Cicero’s notion that, unlike other animals, humans were created erect so they may raise their heads and see the heavens, from whence they learn religion.
The soul of man was made to walk the skies;
Delightful outlet of her prison here!
There, disencumber’d from her chains, the ties
Of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large;
There, freely can respire, dilate, extend,
In full proportion let loose all her powers;
And, undeluded, grasp at something great.
Nor, as a stranger, does she wander there;
But, wonderful herself, through wonder strays;
Contemplating their grandeur, finds her own;
Hence greatly pleased, and justly proud, the soul
Grows conscious of her birth celestial; breathes
More life, more vigour, in her native air;
And feels herself at home amongst the stars;
And, feeling, emulates her country’s praise.
Call it, the noble pasture of the mind;
Which there expatiates, strengthens, and exults,
And riots through the luxuries of thought.
Call it, the garden of the Deity,
Blossom’d with stars, redundant in the growth
Of fruit ambrosial; moral fruit to man.
Call it, the breastplate of the true High Priest,
Ardent with gems oracular, that give,
In points of highest moment, right response;
As yet thou know’st not what it is: how great,
How glorious, then, appears the mind of man,
When in it all the stars, and planets, roll!
And what it seems, it is: great objects make
Great minds, enlarging as their views enlarge;
Those still more godlike, as these more divine.
And more divine than these, thou canst not see.
Dazzled, o’erpower’d, with the delicious draught
Of miscellaneous splendours, how I reel
From thought to thought, inebriate, without end!
An Eden, this! a Paradise unlost!
I meet the Deity in every view,
And tremble at my nakedness before him!
O that I could but reach the tree of life!
For here it grows, unguarded from our taste;
No flaming sword denies our entrance here;
Would man but gather, he might live for ever.
Aid then, aid, all ye stars! — Much rather, Thou,
Great Artist! Thou, whose finger set aright
This exquisite machine, with all its wheels,
Though intervolved, exact; and pointing out
Life’s rapid, and irrevocable flight,
With such an index fair, as none can miss,
Who lifts an eye, nor sleeps till it is closed.
Open mine eye, dread Deity! to read
The tacit doctrine of thy works; to see
Things as they are, unalter’d through the glass
Stupendous Architect! Thou, Thou art all!
My soul flies up and down in thoughts of Thee,
And finds herself but at the centre still!
I AM, thy name! Existence, all thine own!
What more prepares us for the songs of heaven?
Creation, of archangels is the theme!
What, to be sung, so needful? What so well
Celestial joys prepare us to sustain?
The soul of man, His face design’d to see,
Who gave these wonders to be seen by man,
Has here a previous scene of objects great,
On which to dwell; to stretch to that expanse
Of thought, to rise to that exalted height
Of admiration, to contract that awe,
And give her whole capacities that strength,
Which best may qualify for final joy.
The more our spirits are enlarged on earth,
The deeper draught shall they receive of heaven.
The mind that would be happy, must be great;
Great, in its wishes; great, in its surveys.
Extended views a narrow mind extend;
Push out its corrugate, expansive make,
Which, ere long, more than planets shall embrace.
A man of compass makes a man of worth;
Divine contemplate, and become divine.
As man was made for glory, and for bliss,
All littleness is in approach to woe;
Open thy bosom, set thy wishes wide,
Man’s mind is in a pit, and nothing sees;
Emerge from thy profound; erect thine eye;
See thy distress! how close art thou besieged!
If, then, on the reverse, the mind would mount
In magnitude, what mind can mount too far,
To keep the balance, and creation poise?
Defect alone can err on such a theme;
What is too great, if we the cause survey?
Of matter’s grandeur, know, one end is this,
To tell the rational, who gazes on it —
“Though that immensely great, still greater He,
The triumph of my soul is, — that I am;
And therefore that I may be — what? Lorenzo!
Look inward, and look deep; and deeper still;
Unfathomably deep our treasure runs
In golden veins, through all eternity!
Ages, and ages, and succeeding still
New ages, where the phantom of an hour,
Which courts each night, dull slumber, for repair,
Shall wake, and wonder, and exult, and praise,
And fly through infinite, and all unlock;
And (if deserved) by Heaven’s redundant love,
Made half adorable itself, adore;
And find, in adoration, endless joy!
Where thou, not master of a moment here,
Frail as the flower, and fleeting as the gale,
May’st boast a whole eternity, enrich’d
With all a kind Omnipotence can pour.
Thus, darkness aiding intellectual light,
And sacred silence whispering truths divine,
And truths divine converting pain to peace,
My song the midnight raven has outwing’d,
And shot, ambitious of unbounded scenes,
Beyond the flaming limits of the world,
Her gloomy flight. But what avails the flight
Of fancy, when our hearts remain below?
Virtue abounds in flatterers, and foes;
’Tis pride, to praise her; penance, to perform.
To more than words, to more than worth of tongue,
Lorenzo! rise, at this auspicious hour;
An hour, when Heaven’s most intimate with man;
When, like a fallen star, the ray divine
Glides swift into the bosom of the just;
And just are all, determined to reclaim;
Which sets that title high within thy reach.
Awake, then; thy Philander calls: awake!
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Bibliography
Young, Edward. Night Thoughts. Ed. George Gilfillan. London, 1853.
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‘An Undevout Astronomer is Mad’
Pillars of Creation in Eagle Nebula (Messier 16)
Devotion! daughter of astronomy!
An undevout astronomer is mad.
~ Edward Young (Night Thoughts, Night 9, l.769)
WE previously posted comments by Scottish theologian and astronomer Thomas Dick (1774−1857) on the Religious Benefits of Astronomy from the Introduction he wrote to Elijah Burritt’s Geography of the Heavens. A few decades earlier, Dick treated the same subject in the Introduction to his own book The Solar System (1799). The two introductions are sufficiently different that it seems worthwhile to post the latter here. Here Dick concludes that it is an “imperative duty” of every Christian (and every rational creature) to study the heavens and to contemplate their Creator, “that we may derive more enlarged conceptions of His glorious attributes, and be enabled to render to Him that tribute of adoration and praise which is due to His name.”
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OF all the sciences which are the subject of human study and investigation, Astronomy must be admitted to be the most interesting and sublime. It teaches us the motions, the magnitudes and distances of the heavenly bodies — their diversified phenomena, the laws by which they are directed in their varied movements, and the grand designs they are intended to fulfil in the vast system of the universe.The objects with which this science is conversant are so grand and marvellous — surpassing every thing that could have been imagined in the infancy of science — that they tend to enlarge the field of human contemplation, to expand to an indefinite extent the conceptions of the human intellect, and to arouse the attention and excite the admiration even of the most incurious and uncultivated minds. The vast magnitude of the heavenly bodies, so far surpassing what could be conceived by their appearance to the unassisted eye; their incalculable numbers; the immense velocity of their motions, and the astonishing forces with which they are impelled in their career through the heavens; the attractive influence they exert upon each other, at the distance of hundreds of millions of miles; and the important ends they are destined to accomplish in the universal empire of Jehovah; present to the human imagination a scene, and a subject of contemplation, on which the soul of man might expatiate with increasing wonder and delight, during an indefinite series of ages.
Even to a common observer, the heavens present a sublime and elevating spectacle. He beholds an immense concave hemisphere of unknown dimensions, surrounding the earth in every region, and resting as it were upon the circle of the horizon. From every quarter of this vast expanse — when the shades of night have spread over the earth — he beholds numerous lights displayed, proceeding onward in solemn silence, varying their aspects at different seasons, moving with different degrees of velocity, shining with different degrees of splendour, and all calculated to inspire admiration and awe. Wherever he travels abroad, either on the surface of the land or of the ocean, this celestial vault still appears encompassing this lower world; and, after travelling thousands of miles, it appears still the same, and seems to make no nearer an approach than when the journey commenced. While contemplating this wonderful expanse with the eye of reason and imagination, the mind is naturally led into a boundless train of speculations and inquiries. Where do these mighty heavens begin, and where do they end? Can imagination fathom their depth, or human calculations, or figures, express their extent? Have the highest created beings ever winged their flight across the boundaries of the firmament? Can angels measure the dimensions of those heavens, or explore them throughout all their departments? Is there a boundary to creation beyond which the energies of Omnipotence are unknown, or does it extend throughout the infinity of space? Is the immense fabric of the universe yet completed, or is Almighty Power still operating throughout the boundless dimensions of space, and new creations still starting into existence?
Such views and inquiries have a tendency to lead the mind to sublime and interesting trains of thought and reflection, and to afford scope for the noblest energies and investigations of the human intellect. A serious contemplation of the heavens opens to the mental eye a glimpse of orbs of inconceivable magnitude and grandeur, and arranged in multitudes which no man can number, which have diffused their radiance on our world during hundreds of generations. It opens a vista which carries our views into the regions of infinity, and exhibits a sensible display of the immensity of space, and of the boundless operations of Omnipotence: it demonstrates the existence of an eternal and incomprehensible Divinity, who presides in all the grandeur of his attributes over an unlimited empire. Amidst the silence and the solitude of the midnight scene, it inspires the soul with a solemn awe, and with reverential emotions; it excites astonishment, admiration, and wonder, and has a tendency to enkindle the fire of devotion, and to raise the affections to that ineffable Being who presides in high authority over all the movements of the universe. It teaches us the littleness of man, the folly of pride and ambition, and of all that earthly pomp and splendour with which mortals are so enamoured and that our thoughts and affections ought to soar above all the sinful pursuits, and transitory enjoyments, of this sublunary scene.
Such being the views and the tendencies of this science, it ought to be considered as bearing an intimate relation to religion, and worthy the study of every enlightened Christian. It has been said, and justly, by a celebrated poet, that “An undevout astronomer is mad.” The evidence of a self-existent and eternal Being, whose wisdom is inscrutable, and whose power is uncontrollable, is so palpably manifested in the arrangement and the motions of the celestial orbs, that it cannot but make an indelible impression on every rational and reflecting mind. Though the heavenly bodies have “no speech nor language,” though they move round the earth in silent grandeur, and “their voice is not heard” in articulate sounds, yet “their line is gone throughout all the earth, and their words to the end of the world” — proclaiming to every attentive spectator, that “The hand that made them is Divine.” So that there is scarcely a tribe, or nation, on the face of the earth so inattentive and barbarous as not to have deduced this conclusion from a survey of the movements of the celestial orbs. “Men,” says Plato, ” began to acknowledge a Deity, when they saw the stars maintain so great a harmony, and the days and nights throughout all the year, both in summer and winter, to observe their stated risings and settings.” Another heathen philosopher, Cicero, thus expresses his sentiments on this point: “What can be so plain and clear as, when we behold the heavens, and view the celestial bodies, that we should conclude there is some Deity of a most excellent mind by whom these things are governed a present and Almighty God. Which, he that doubts of, I do not understand why he should not as well doubt whether there be a sun that shines, and enlightens the world.”
The sacred Scriptures, in numerous instances, direct our attention to this subject. “The heavens,” says the psalmist, “declare the glory of God;” that is they manifest his wisdom and power, and beneficence to the inhabitants of the world; — “the firmament showeth forth,” or publicly declareth, “his handiwork.” “Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge. There is no speech nor language where their voice is not heard.” In reference to that department of creation which astronomy explores, it may be said with peculiar propriety, in the language of Scripture “The works of the Lord are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein.” Throughout the volume of inspiration, our attention is frequently directed to the contemplation of the heavens: “Lift up thine eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things. The everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, who fainteth not, neither is weary; there is no searching of his understanding. He bringeth out their host by number, and calleth them all by names: by the greatness of his might, for that N. It is he that sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers. All nations before him are as nothing; and they are counted to him less than nothing, and vanity.””Hearken unto this, O Job: stand still, and consider the wondrous works of God.”
Hence it appears, that it is not to be considered merely as a matter of taste, or as a rational amusement, but as an imperative duty, to contemplate the works of the Most High, and especially the manifestations of his power and Godhead which the heavens display — that we may derive more enlarged conceptions of his glorious attributes, and be enabled to render to him that tribute of adoration and praise which is due to his name. For it is represented as one of the characteristics of the ungodly that, while “the harp, and the viol, and the tabret, and pipe, and wine are in their feasts, they regard not the work of the Lord, neither consider the operation of his hands;” and consequently “he will destroy them, and not build them up.” It is therefore the incumbent duty of the young; of every professing Christian; and of every rational inquirer, not only to study the facts, doctrines, and duties exhibited in the system of Divine revelation, but also to contemplate the manifestations of the Creator as exhibited in the system of creation. They are both revelations of the same almighty and beneficent Being — emanations from the same adorable Divinity; and the views and instructions they respectively unfold, when studied with reverence and intelligence, are in perfect harmony with each other. The study of both combined, is calculated to make the man of God perfect, and “throughly furnished unto all good works.”
In the following small volume, it shall be our endeavour to direct the general reader in the study of some of those objects which the heavens unfold; and we shall chiefly select those parts of astronomical science which are most level to the comprehension of those who have had little opportunity of engaging in scientific pursuits. In the present volume, it is proposed to confine ourselves chiefly to a description of the Solar System, and the phenomena it exhibits, together with a few instructions as to the best mode of contemplating the apparent motions and the diversified aspects of the firmament. The discoveries which relate to the sidereal heavens — the general arrangement of the fixed stars, their distances and magnitudes-the facts which have been discovered respecting new stars-variable stars-double and triple stars — the milky way-the different orders of the nebula and a variety of other topics connected with such objects, will form materials for another volume similar to the present.
In the mean time we may just remark, that all the wonders we behold, both in the heavens above, and in the earth below, demand our serious attention and devout contemplation. They are all the workmanship of that great and adorable Being in whom “we live and move;” who at first “spake, and it was done;” who gave the command, and the whole of this stately fabric of heaven and earth started into being. It is the same God who created the planets and the host of stars, and that conducts them in all their rapid motions; who is also “the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,” and “the Author of eternal salvation” to all who obey him. All these works display his infinite power, his unerring wisdom, and the riches of his beneficence; and demand from every beholder that tribute of praise, reverence, and adoration which is due to Him “who created all things, and for whose pleasure they are and were created.“
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Bibliography
Dick, Thomas. Advantages of the Study of Astronomy. In: Elijah Hinsdale Burritt, The Geography of the Heavens. 5th ed. New York, 1850 (1st ed, 1833). Dick’s Introduction first appeared in the 3rd edition (1836).
Dick, Thomas. Celestial Scenery, or, The Wonders of the Planetary System Displayed; Illustrating the Perfections of Deity and a Plurality of Worlds. Collected Works of Thomas Dick, Vol. VII. Philadelphia, 1845.
Dick, Thomas. The Solar System. Collected Works of Thomas Dick, Vol. X. Philadelphia, 1853 (1st ed. 1799).
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Neil Diamond’s ‘Be’ as a Mystical Poem
Image by Anurag Jain at Unsplash
IN college I was fortunate to see the film Jonathan Livingston Seagull in its premiere run at the Village Theater in Westwood. While the film itself disappointed, the soundtrack — featuring songs by Neil Diamond and orchestral arrangements by Lee Holdridge — was magnificent. To hear the score in a large auditorium with a state-of-the-art sound system added much. It was a profound experience. The film itself didn’t really matter. It was just a setting for the soundtrack. Few people were able to hear the soundtrack so dramatically performed.
The main song, “Be” goes far beyond the plot of the story — a fictional seagull’s coming of age — into the realm of religion. It speaks of the I AM experience, a deep, religious experience of the momentousness of ones existence. David Wild, author of “He Is…I Say: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Neil Diamond,” calls the song “A 6-minute flight of pure existentialism.” But it’s more than that.
One can look at the lyrics and say, “Neil Diamond, a popular contemporary singer, basically wrote what people wanted to hear — some pleasant but not terribly deep quasi-religious commonplaces.” But, instead, approach them expecting something deeper. What if you were told this is a poem by Rumi?
Lost, on a painted sky
Where the clouds are hung For the poet’s eye
Most days we ignore the sky, or perhaps casually notice it for a moment. But how often do we *seek* to see the beauty that is there. The various cloud shapes against a blue sky, so appealing to the imagination. Remember how as children we would play at finding shapes in them? Is there any activity more delightful? But do we do this as adults? One must open the poet’s eye. It is for this the clouds are made.
You may find him
If you may find him
There, on a distant shore
By the wings of dreams, through an open door
You may know him
If you may
The literalist understands this to mean to find Jonathan, the seagull. But in an inspired sense it can mean to find God. Can you not look at the hints of blazing sun behind layers of billowing clouds and imagine glimpsing the Throne of God in all its Eternal Glory?
Be, as a page that aches for words
Which speaks on a theme that is timeless
While the Sun God will make for your day
Sing, as a song in search of a voice that is silent
And the one God will make for your wayAnd we dance, to a whispered voice
Overheard by the soul, undertook by the heart
And you may know it
If you may know it
The first stanza above says not only “Be,” but as a page that aches for timeless theme. This is not the existentialist’s lament that ones desire for purpose is pointless, as life is meaningless. It, rather, affirms there is a timeless theme, and that our aching for meaning is not in vain, and finding this meaning is essential to realize who and what we are.
In the next stanza we hear of a “whispered voice” — easily understood as God’s.
While the sand, would become the stone
Which begat the spark, turned to living bone
Holy, holy
Sanctus, sanctu
Perhaps I read too much into this, or perhaps not. But it raises such thoughts as these: 20 billion years after the Big Bang, stars formed of hydrogen and began making other light elements. After many millions of years, these died; their atoms diffused through space, combined with atoms from other stars, and formed new generations of stars that produced heavier elements. These stars died too. About 5 billion years ago, our Sun and Earth came into being, formed of their predecessor’s dust. 3.7 billion years ago, primitive life began on earth. About 500 million years ago, the vertebrates emerged. Within 250 million years, the first mammals appeared, then, 25 millions years ago apes, and 2.5 years ago, our genus, homo. From atoms, to sand, to living bone, to human consciousness. Somehow, by a process we don’t understand, inanimate matter became infused with spirit and consciousness. Miracle of miracles! All of this so you may complete Creation by experiencing the Mighty Spectacle by entering into the NOW: as part, witness, and recipient of Creation, giving praise and glory to the Creator. Else all this for naught.
It is an inspired song. The ancients would say a divine Muse inspires such things. May we not allow that it comes from the Superconscious? But by all means listen to it. More than a prose poem, it’s a song and musical performance .
Stand on a cliff overlooking the ocean on a sunny day, gaze into the expanse of sea and sky (maybe see if you can spot a soaring gull), play the song in your headphones and see if you don’t have a mystical experience!
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Your Soul is the Crown of Creation
Bodleian Library MS Douce 322
THE more we understand the grandeur and beauty of the human soul (of our own soul), the more we will love and praise God.
Would you like to know how great the human soul is? It is more beautiful than all the beautiful works of nature combined. How can one say that? Because beauty itself is not in works of nature, but in their perception. Just as a tree falling in the forest, unwitnessed, makes no sound, nothing in nature is beautiful unless seen.
Beauty occurs within the human soul, when the higher mind combines with sense perceptions. The beauty we see in nature is a projection of our own inner beauty. If there were no sentient beings to appreciate them, the flowers, sea, mountains, sunsets, star-strewn skies would not be beautiful. (It would be a terrible waste!)
Now consider that there is no limit to how much and how many kinds of beauty a soul can experience. No two beautiful sunsets are the same; there is endless variation, each one uniquely beautiful. And this is only one form of natural beauty. There is no beautiful experience anyone in the history of the human race has ever had or ever will have that you could not experience and find beautiful. Every glorious spectacle of the natural world can be experienced by any human being. And we may experience greater beauty than any person ever has before.
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All the above concern the realm of aesthetics. In addition we may consider the divine grandeur of human intellectual and moral powers.
Concerning intellect, here is a revealing example. Even now, with today’s technology, the human race could easily prevent a killer asteroid from destroying the planet by diverting its course. What power and responsibility! Moreover, a single human being — virtually any one of us — could learn the mathematics and perform the calculations necessary to predict the course of such an asteroid, determine how to divert it, etc. In the future doubtless our powers will increase. We could, say, prevent two suns from colliding and wiping out entire planetary systems.
In morality, human nature is such that at least the finest examples of our species have a desire to become bodhisattvas — dedicating their existence to the ultimate enlightenment of all sentient beings. To love all human beings and all things is consistent with our nature. This again is a moral power worthy of a divinity.
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For this much we ought to be profoundly grateful to God. But there is more. We have observed that a single soul is greater than the whole world. Yet the painful reality is that we live in a fallen condition. Not only do we fall short of our divine potential, but in many ways, through sin, error, selfishness, vice and egoism, we operate at a level worse than all the rest of creation. Only we, because of our free choice, can choose to deviate from the natural order.
But precisely because of the divine grandeur of the human soul, it must be the case that God cannot accept our fallen condition as final. So much is at stake — the very integrity, completeness, and harmony of all Creation — that the human soul must be redeemable. A logical inference from all we have said is that the restoration or realization of the human soul is as important as the soul’s creation. Salvation of a even one soul is more important than all material creation in its entirety. God must wish for our salvation as intently as he wished for the creation of the Universe and the human soul, and must, it follows, providentially supply for it.
Our conclusion — one stated not for the sake of theory or argument, but in order to bolster our confidence: our salvation is possible and readily available. Immense powers must be operating to provide for it. It is something in which we should have utmost confidence.
Last, the greater and more divine our nature is, the more humility is due. First, because gratitude should be in proportion to gifts received. And second, because without God’s guidance we cannot possibility know how or hope to conduct ourselves in a matter commensurate with our divine status, powers and dignity.
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Isaas of Stella on Intellectus and Intelligentia: Two Levels of the Higher Soul
Robert Fludd, Jacob’s Ladder
AUGUSTINE famously distinguished between two powers or levels of human reason, which he called lower reason (ratio inferior) and higher reason (ratio superior). These refer, respectively, to discursive reasoning (ratiocination) and intellection (immediate grasp), and correspond to what in the Platonic/Neoplatonic tradition are called dianoia and nous.
Augustine’s views, of course, were very influential in the Middle Ages. In the 12th century, however, the Cistercian monk, Isaac of Stella (1100−1178) proposed three ascending levels of rational power: ratio, intellectus, and intelligentia. That is, basically Augustine’s ratio superior is subdivided into intellectus and intelligentia. How intellectus and intelligentia differ and is a fascinating question, because it suggest that we have two distinct levels of higher intelligence.
Isaac’s descriptions — given in his Epistle on the Soul (De anima) and Sermon 4 — are frustratingly short and obscure. In the former he writes:
By reason [ratione] it perceives the dimensions of bodies and the like. This is the first incorporeal object which nevertheless needs a body to subsist and through it is in place and time. By [intellectu] the soul goes beyond everything that is a body or of a body or is in any way corporeal to perceive the created spirit, which has no location but cannot possibly exist without duration since it has a changeable nature. Finally the [intelligentia], in one way or another, and insofar as it is permitted a created nature above whom is the Creator alone, immediately beholds him or who alone is the highest and purely incorporeal being — he who needs neither a body to exist, nor location to be somewhere, nor duration to be at some time or other. (tr. McGinn)
In Sermon 4 he writes:
7. … By [intellectu] the soul perceives that which is above the corporeal or above created spirit united to a body. It does not need a body to subsist and is therefore independent of space, but it cannot exist outside of time because it is by nature mutable.
8. [Intelligentia], in so far as is permitted to a created nature which has nothing above it but the Creator, has immediate sight of the Being who is supremely and purely incorporeal, the One who has no need of a body in which to exist, nor of a place in which to be present, nor of time in which to continue existence. (tr. McCaffrey)
It should be noted that in both places Isaac discusses these in the context of a five-level ascent from the lowest level of cognition (sensu; physical sensation), to imagination (imaginatio), ratio, intellectus and intellegentia). Behind this scheme is a definite anagogic purpose, i.e., a raising of the soul to union with God.
Note here both intellectus and intelligentia are described as more specific than Platonic intellection or nous, which is the power by which we grasp Forms and relations, including, for example, those of mathematics, geometry, logic and morals (Uebersax, 2013).
What Isaac’s sources were is unclear. Some suggest Proclus, others Pseudo-Dionysius and John Scotus Eriugena, and still others (perhaps most convincingly), Boethius. Regardless, he influenced such later writers as Alan of Lille, John of La Rochelle, Alexander of Hales, Thomas Gallus and St. Bonaventure. How they used the two terms is by no means consistent. However many evidently found it helpful — whether for theoretical reasons or to describe and schematize their own contemplative experiences — to make a division between two levels of higher intelligence.
In one place, for example, Alan of Lille describes intellectus as the mind’s “gaze is turned toward the pure forms,” and intelligentia as the highest power of the soul “which contemplates only divine things.” (Sermo in Die Epiphaniae; d’Alverny, pp. 242−243)
McGinn (1977) supplies many details concerning Isaac’s sources for this distinction and its history. Isaac’s De anima was included of the composite anonymous work (falsely attributed to St. Augustine) called De spiritu et anima, widely read in the 13th century.
Ultimately, the practical question seems the most important one. Do we indeed have two, ascending powers of intelligence above discursive reason? That is, are there two levels of immediate intellection — the higher, perhaps, more specifically spiritual?
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Bibliography
d’Alverny, Marie-Thérése. Alain de Lille: Textes inédits. Études de Philosophie Médiévale LII. Paris, 1965.
Deme, Daniel (ed.). Selected Works of Isaac of Stella. Ashgate, 2007.
Isaac of Stella. Epistle de anima. J. P. Migne, Patrologia Latina, vol. 194 1875B−1890A. Paris, 1855.
Isaac of Stella. Sermones. J. P. Migne, Patrologia Latina, vol. 194 1689A−1876A. Paris, 1855.
McCaffrey, Hugh (tr.). Isaac of Stella: Sermons for the Christian Year. Cistercian Publications, 1979.
McGinn, Bernard. The Golden Chain: A Study in the Theological Anthropology of Isaac of Stella. Cistercian Publications, 1972. Chapter IV. The Higher Dimension of the Soul in Isaac of Stella; pp. 197−227.
McGinn, Bernard. Three Treatises on Man. A Cistercian Anthropology. Cistercian Publications, 1977. Includes English translations of Epistola de anima and De spiritu et anima.
Uebersax, John. Higher Reason. 2013.
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Ecstasis and Philosophy as the Practice of Dying
Piero Di Cosimo, Incarnation of Jesus (c.1485−1505; detail)
RICHARD OF ST. VICTOR discusses a mystical state of consciousness he calls alienatio mentis (alienation of the mind). [1] This is a type of ecstasy in which one loses contact with bodily senses. Typically, however, both consciousness itself and awareness of oneself remain intact. That is, it is neither a state of complete unconsciousness, nor identityless consciousness.
What is, this, exactly? A preliminary survey of the literature shows there are many opinions on the matter, but no clear agreement or decisive conclusions.
It seems possible to me that this is not a psychological state resolved for the few, privileged individual who can devote their lives entirely to contemplation. Rather, perhaps it is a mental ability that we all have the capacity for (for example, it seems similar to certain dissociative states experienced under the influence of medical anesthesia), and we can activate this natural ability without too much difficulty.
It also seems possible there is a connection between this condition and Plato’s assertion that true philosophy is the ‘practice of dying’ — in the sense, that philosophers seek (according to him) a temporary separation of the soul/mind from the body and sensation.
His most sustained discussion of this occurs in the dialogue Phaedo. There, Socrates is in jail, in the hours leading up to his drinking the hemlock; he wishes to explain to his pupils why he is not afraid of death. Other parts of the dialogue present Socrates’ arguments for the immortality of the soul. But in the section below, he explains that the body and senses are great hindrances to cognition of Eternal truths. Philosophy, he implies, involves learning to experience one’s soul detached from physical senses.
1. Richard discusses this in Benjamin Major 5.5 and in On the Extermination of Bad and the Promotion of Good 3.18, among other places. In the Four Degrees of Fervent Love 35−38 he distinguishes between levels of contemplation associated with the ‘second heaven’ and ‘third heaven.’ In the latter the soul experiences a more profound ecstasy: “in this state, the human mind, forgetful of all external things, forgets even itself and passes entirely into its God.” (Kraebel, p. 291)
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Phaedo 65−67 (tr. Jowett, 1892)
[65]
Socrates: In matters of this sort philosophers, above all other men, may be observed in every sort of way to dissever the soul from the communion of the body.Simmias: Very true.
Whereas, Simmias, the rest of the world are of opinion that to him who has no sense of pleasure and no part in bodily pleasure, life is not worth having; and that he who is indifferent about them is as good as dead.
That is also true.
What again shall we say of the actual acquirement of knowledge? — is the body, if invited to share in the enquiry, a hinderer or a helper? I mean to say, have sight and hearing any truth in them? Are they not, as the poets are always telling us, inaccurate witnesses? and yet, if even they are inaccurate and indistinct, what is to be said of the other senses? — for you will allow that they are the best of them?
Certainly, he replied.
Then when does the soul attain truth? — for in attempting to consider anything in company with the body she is obviously deceived.
True.
Then must not true existence be revealed to her in thought, if at all?
Yes.
And thought is best when the mind is gathered into herself and none of these things trouble her — neither sounds nor sights nor pain nor any pleasure, — when she takes leave of the body, and has as little as possible to do with it, when she has no bodily sense or desire, but is aspiring after true being?
Certainly.
And in this the philosopher dishonours the body; his soul runs away from his body and desires to be alone and by herself?
That is true.
Well, but there is another thing, Simmias: Is there or is there not an absolute justice?
Assuredly there is.
And an absolute beauty and absolute good?
Of course.
But did you ever behold any of them with your eyes?
Certainly not.
Or did you ever reach them with any other bodily sense? — and I speak not of these alone, but of absolute greatness, and health, and strength, and of the essence or true nature of everything. Has the reality of them ever been perceived by you through the bodily organs? or rather, is not the nearest approach to the knowledge of their several natures made by him who so orders his intellectual vision as to have the most exact conception of the essence of each thing which he considers?
Certainly.
And he attains to the purest knowledge of them who goes to each with the mind alone, not introducing or intruding in the act of thought sight or any other sense together with
[66]
reason, but with the very light of the mind in her own clearness searches into the very truth of each; he who has got rid, as far as he can, of eyes and ears and, so to speak, of the whole body, these being in his opinion distracting elements which when they infect the soul hinder her from acquiring truth and knowledge — who, if not he, is likely to attain to the knowledge of true being?What you say has a wonderful truth in it, Socrates, replied Simmias.
And when real philosophers consider all these things, will they not be led to make a reflection which they will express in words something like the following? ‘Have we not found,’ they will say, ‘a path of thought which seems to bring us and our argument to the conclusion, that while we are in the body, and while the soul is infected with the evils of the body, our desire will not be satisfied? and our desire is of the truth. For the body is a source of endless trouble to us by reason of the mere requirement of food; and is liable also to diseases which overtake and impede us in the search after true being: it fills us full of loves, and lusts, and fears, and fancies of all kinds, and endless foolery, and in fact, as men say, takes away from us the power of thinking at all. Whence come wars, and fightings, and factions? whence but from the body and the lusts of the body? Wars are occasioned by the love of money, and money has to be acquired for the sake and in the service of the body; and by reason of all these impediments we have no time to give to philosophy; and, last and worst of all, even if we are at leisure and betake ourselves to some speculation, the body is always breaking in upon us, causing turmoil and confusion in our enquiries, and so amazing us that we are prevented from seeing the truth. It has been proved to us by experience that if we would have pure knowledge of anything we must be quit of the body — the soul in herself must behold things in themselves: and then we shall attain the wisdom which we desire, and of which we say that we are lovers; not while we live, but after death; for if while in company with the body, the soul cannot have pure knowledge, one of two things follows — either knowledge is not to be attained at all, or, if at all, after death. For then, and not till then, the soul will be parted
[67]
from the body and exist in herself alone. In this present life, I reckon that we make the nearest approach to knowledge when we have the least possible intercourse or communion with the body, and are not surfeited with the bodily nature, but keep ourselves pure until the hour when God himself is pleased to release us. And thus having got rid of the foolishness of the body we shall be pure and hold converse with the pure, and know of ourselves the clear light everywhere, which is no other than the light of truth.’ For the impure are not permitted to approach the pure. These are the sort of words, Simmias, which the true lovers of knowledge cannot help saying to one another, and thinking. You would agree; would you not?Undoubtedly, Socrates.
But, O my friend, if this be true, there is great reason to hope that, going whither I go, when I have come to the end of my journey, I shall attain that which has been the pursuit of my life. And therefore I go on my way rejoicing, and not I only, but every other man who believes that his mind has been made ready and that he is in a manner purified.
Certainly, replied Simmias.
And what is purification but the separation of the soul from the body, as I was saying before; the habit of the soul gathering and collecting herself into herself from all sides out of the body; the dwelling in her own place alone, as in another life, so also in this, as far as she can;—the release of the soul from the chains of the body?
Very true, he said.
And this separation and release of the soul from the body is termed death?
To be sure, he said.
And the true philosophers, and they only, are ever seeking to release the soul. Is not the separation and release of the soul from the body their especial study?
Source: Jowett, Benjamin. The Dialogues of Plato in Five Volumes, 3rd ed. Oxford University, 1892. Vol. 2
Did Plato and Socrates regularly practice contemplation? At least in Socrates’ case, we there are two suggestive examples from his life. In one, before the Battle of Potidea, he was observed to stand motionless in a ‘meditative trance’ for an entire day. In another, on his way to the dinner party recounted in Plato’s dialogue Symposium, Socrates dropped behind the others and fell into “a fit of abstraction.”
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Bibliography
Kraebel, Andrew. Richard of St. Victor: On the Four Degrees of Violent Love (De quatuor gradibus violentae caritatis). In: Hugh Feiss (ed.), Victorine Texts in Translation Vol. 2: On Love, Brepols, 2011; pp. 287−300.
Németh, Csaba. Paulus Raptus to Raptus Pauli: Paul’s Rapture (2 Cor 12: 2–4) in the Pre-Scholastic and Scholastic Theologies. In: A Companion to St. Paul in the Middle Ages, Brill, 2013; 349−392.
Zinn, Grover A. (tr.). Richard of St. Victor: The Twelve Patriarchs, The Mystical Ark and Book Three of The Trinity. Paulist Press, 1979.
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Seneca on our Guardian Angel?
SENECA the Younger was, in philosophical orientation, a Roman Stoic. But it seems fair to say his was an eclectic Stoicism. (For example, one of the philosophers he quotes most often was Epicurus, the founder of Epicureanism.) This letter to his friend Lucilius discusses a divine spirit within us, functioning as some combination of Higher Self, spiritual conscience, Guardian Angel and agent of God. Regardless of its exact nature, Seneca implies that if we treat it well, it will treat us well.
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Seneca to Lucilius, Letter XLI. On the God within Us
[1] You are doing an excellent thing, one which will be wholesome for you, if, as you write me, you are persisting in your effort to attain sound understanding; it is foolish to pray for this when you can acquire it from yourself. We do not need to uplift our hands towards heaven, or to beg the keeper of a temple to let us approach his idol’s ear, as if in this way our prayers were more likely to be heard. God is near you, he is with you, he is within you.
[2] This is what I mean, Lucilius: a holy spirit indwells within us, one who marks our good and bad deeds, and is our guardian. As we treat this spirit, so are we treated by it. Indeed, no man can be good without the help of God. Can one rise superior to fortune unless God helps him to rise? He it is that gives noble and upright counsel. In each good man
A god doth dwell, but what god know we not. [Vergil, Aeneid, viii. 352]
[3] If ever you have come upon a grove that is full of ancient trees which have grown to an unusual height, shutting out a view of the sky by a veil of pleached and intertwining branches, then the loftiness of the forest, the seclusion of the spot, and your marvel at the thick unbroken shade in the midst of the open spaces, will prove to you the presence of deity. Or if a cave, made by the deep crumbling of the rocks, holds up a mountain on its arch, a place not built with hands but hollowed out into such spaciousness by natural causes, your soul will be deeply moved by a certain intimation of the existence of God. We worship the sources of mighty rivers; we erect altars at places where great streams burst suddenly from hidden sources; we adore springs of hot water as divine, and consecrate certain pools because of their dark waters or their immeasurable depth.
[4] If you see a man who is unterrified in the midst of dangers, untouched by desires, happy in adversity, peaceful amid the storm, who looks down upon men from a higher plane, and views the gods on a footing of equality, will not a feeling of reverence for him steal over you? Will you not say: “This quality is too great and too lofty to be regarded as resembling this petty body in which it dwells? A divine power has descended upon that man.”
[5] When a soul rises superior to other souls, when it is under control, when it passes through every experience as if it were of small account, when it smiles at our fears and at our prayers, it is stirred by a force from heaven. A thing like this cannot stand upright unless it be propped by the divine. Therefore, a greater part of it abides in that place from whence it came down to earth. Just as the rays of the sun do indeed touch the earth, but still abide at the source from which they are sent; even so the great and hallowed soul, which has come down in order that we may have a nearer knowledge of divinity, does indeed associate with us, but still cleaves to its origin; on that source it depends, thither it turns its gaze and strives to go, and it concerns itself with our doings only as a being superior to ourselves.
[6] What, then, is such a soul? One which is resplendent with no external good, but only with its own. For what is more foolish than to praise in a man the qualities which come from without? And what is more insane than to marvel at characteristics which may at the next instant be passed on to someone else? A golden bit does not make a better horse. The lion with gilded mane, in process of being trained and forced by weariness to endure the decoration, is sent into the arena in quite a different way from the wild lion whose spirit is unbroken; the latter, indeed, bold in his attack, as nature wished him to be, impressive because of his wild appearance, – and it is his glory that none can look upon him without fear, – is favoured in preference to the other lion, that languid and gilded brute.
[7] No man ought to glory except in that which is his own. We praise a vine if it makes the shoots teem with increase, if by its weight it bends to the ground the very poles which hold its fruit; would any man prefer to this vine one from which golden grapes and golden leaves hang down? In a vine the virtue peculiarly its own is fertility; in man also we should praise that which is his own. Suppose that he has a retinue of comely slaves and a beautiful house, that his farm is large and large his income; none of these things is in the man himself; they are all on the outside.
[8] Praise the quality in him which cannot be given or snatched away, that which is the peculiar property of the man. Do you ask what this is? It is soul, and reason brought to perfection in the soul. For man is a reasoning animal. Therefore, man’s highest good is attained, if he has fulfilled the good for which nature designed him at birth.
[9] And what is it which this reason demands of him? The easiest thing in the world, – to live in accordance with his own nature. But this is turned into a hard task by the general madness of mankind; we push one another into vice. And how can a man be recalled to salvation, when he has none to restrain him, and all mankind to urge him on? Farewell.
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Bibliography
Gummere, Richard Mott. Seneca: Moral letters to Lucilius (Epistulae morales ad Lucilium). 3 vols. Loeb Classical Library. 1917−1925. vol. 1. Letter 41.
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Richard of St. Victor’s Psychological Interpretation of Nebuchadnezzar’s Dream
Ernest Wallcousins, Nebuchadnezzar in the Hanging Gardens (1915)
AS previously noted, Richard of St. Victor (1110−1173) is a master of psychological-allegorical interpretation of the Old Testament. His important exegetical works include Benjamin Minor, Benjamin Major and On the Extermination of Bad and the Promotion of Good.
Another superb example is his On the Education of the Interior Man (De eruditione hominis interiori). This considers an important practical matter in contemplative life: after one attains a state of divine contemplation, inevitably, whether through inattention or fatigue, one will eventually (sometimes rapidly) lapse into an inferior mental state. Returning to a higher state can be difficult. Hence the contemplative has a threefold problem: (1) how to avoid lapsing from divine states of mind; and, if one does fall (2) how to return quickly and (3) how to avoid falling to an even lower state.
Note that Plato considers the same problem of falling from contemplative states in his Chariot Allegory, and there are parallels between his discussion and Richard’s.
Richard addresses the topic by an exegesis of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream of the composite statue in Daniel 2. Like Philo of Alexandria, Richard’s Old Testament interpretations are insightful, relevant and compelling. Also like Philo, Richard applies a form of personification which sees each Old Testament figure as symbolizing some feature, component or disposition of the individual psyche.
Briefly, his interpretation is as follows. Nebuchadnezzar represents the ego operating in its proper and higher capacity: as the king of ones soul. His dream is an example of divine revelation — that is, the ego experiences through contemplation or attainment of spiritual mindedness some special knowledge. His forgetting the dream and not understanding the meaning symbolizes the once-enlightened ego in its lapsed state.
The king, frustrated and unhappy at having fallen and lost divine vision, calls his wise men to describe and interpret his forgotten dream. For Richard, the wise men are higher intellectual abilities and activities — including reading Scripture, study, meditation and orderly speculation, which assist us in rising to contemplation.
As the wise men are unable to help, Nebuchadnezzar becomes furious and vows to kill them. Analogously, when the ‘studious’ actions which aid our mental elevation cannot return us to a contemplative state, we — already distraught that we have lost contemplation’s sweetness and delights — become further agitated. In this condition we are prone to reject studies as not only burdensome (which, in a sense, they always are), but fruitless, and to instead dissipate ourselves in worldly affairs, vanities, or concupiscence.
The true remedy, Richard teaches, lay in the entrance of Daniel, who symbolizes devotion. Our first (and only truly effective) response to falling must be devotion and prayer. We should not only pray for the grace to return to contemplation (and, Richard emphasizes, contemplation is a grace), but pray for the grace of such prayer.
Daniels companions, Ananias, Mishael, and Azariah, symbolize three supporting cognitive activities which help us reach a devout state of mind: circumspection, discretion, and deliberation. Richard associates these with attentive consideration of the past, present and future, respectively. Circumspection examines past sins, admitting faults and learning from mistakes. Discretion mindfully considers present choices, exercising discrimination to determine what is bad and what is good. Deliberation applies sound judgment to choose actions that will minimize cause for future regret and unhappiness.
Richard treats these functions many times throughout his works, and their meanings are not always consistent. All three are forms, we might say, of practical wisdom or prudence. So, speaking more generally, Richard’s point is that while devotion per se is a grace, we should not simply wait passively for it. Rather we are called to labor with self-examination and active steps to organize our mental and physical life. Richard is emphatic on about this: we must at all costs avoid the temptation to cease our studies and disciplines in times of desolation, when the grace of contemplation is withheld. However he is even more emphatic that our attitude must remain one of devotion and humility. All studies and disciplines must be performed with utmost recognition of the constant need for God’s guidance and assistance.
As to Nebuchadnezzar’s dream itself, that too symbolize the progressive lapse of the soul. The statue is of a man, composed of (in descending order) gold, silver, brass, iron and clay — i.e., from precious to base metals, and finally (describing complete fall into sensuality), mud. All of these are common mythological tropes. Gold, for example, is a usual symbol for higher consciousness, and mud sensuality. The dream is very close in details and meaning to Hesiod’s Ages of Man myth, which similarly mentions phases of Gold, Silver, Bronze, Iron and complete degradation.
Without loss of meaning we may easily substitute for “contemplative states” mindfulness and mental integrity, and for “fallen condition” various forms of negative thinking and intrusive thoughts. Hence Richard’s discussion also interests us at the level of the psychology of healthy-mindedness and optimal functioning (or, conversely, handling the psychopathology of everyday thought.)
Richard outlines the above in just the first 12 chapters of the three-book work. Doubtless there is much more of interest. The Latin text from Migne’s Patrologia Latina (1855) is available online (see Bibliography below). Unfortunately there is no critical edition or published English translation of the work. However I’ve placed online an automated English translation.
Victorine ascetico-mystical cognitive psychology deserves far more attention than it receives. Hugh, Richard and the others of the St. Victor school occupy an important position between patristic writers and the soon-to-arrive era of scholasticism. Drawing on writers like Cassian, Augustine, and Gregory, they begin to develop a complex set of psychological terms, and attempt to identify functional relationship among various intellectual and moral virtues. Yet, unlike later scholastics, systematization and organization is not done for its own sake. They are not writing for university students. Rather, their concern always remains practical and pastoral.
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Bibliography
Palmén, Ritva. Richard of St. Victor’s Theory of Imagination. Brill, 2014.
Richard of St. Victor, De eruditione hominis interioris (On the Education of the Inner Man), J. P. Migne, Patrologia Latina vol. 196 1229D−1366A. Paris, 1855. [Latin text]
Uebersax, John. Myths of the Fall. Christian Platonism website. 2021.
Zinn, Grover A. (tr.). Richard of St. Victor: The Twelve Patriarchs (Benjamin Minor), The Mystical Ark (Benjamin Major) and Book Three of The Trinity. Paulist Press, 1979.
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De septem septenis — Inspiratio
WE CONCLUDE our translation of Section 6 of De septem septenis with the last form of contemplation it considers, inspiration, which is called an “infusion of the mind from above.” This is the longest, as well as probably the most interesting part. Rather than attempt an analysis, I’ll simply leave it (as the anonymous author puts it), to the readers highness to intuitively understand and appreciate.
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Seventh species of contemplation
22] Septima species contemplationis. In extimo vero loco praecelsa contemplationis species suspenditur inspiratio, quae est afficiens salubriter animum, de supernis infusio. Haec est autem quadrifaria: fit enim vel metu servitii, vel spe praemii, aut amore filii, aut affectu coniugii; prima fugitivum reducit servum, secunda in vinea laborantem angit mercenarium, tertia filium castigat et erudit, quarta sponsam sponso copulat, et lectulo inserit.
22] In the last place is suspended the exalted species of contemplation, inspiration (inspiratio) — a salubrious infusion of the mind from above. Now this is fourfold, for it is done either by servile fear, or by the hope of a reward, or by the love of a son, or by conjugal affection.
The first flight returns a slave; the second distresses the hireling laboring in the vineyard; the third chastises and educates the son; the fourth joins the bride to the bridegroom, and places him on the bed.
23] Inspiratio quoque fit aeterni timore supplicii, dolore praesentis exsilii, affectu fraternae compassionis, instinctu supernae devotionis. Hi sunt quatuor venti coeli [Zach. VI] a quibus congregantur electi Dei. Primus occidentalis, de occasu vicinorum educit poenitentes; secundus aquilonalis de frigore malitiae membra mortificantis; tertius australis, a calore iustitiae spiritu ferventes; quartus orientalis, amantes puritate tanquam ab orientali claritate lumen sapientiae per speculum contemplantes.
23] Inspiration comes from the fear of eternal punishment, the pain of present exile, the feeling of fraternal compassion, and the instinct of divine devotion. These are the four winds of heaven [Zech 6:1−8] by whom the elect of God are assembled. The first from the west, brings forth penitents from the setting of vices; the second, the cold northern, mortifying malicious limbs; the third south, boiling with the heat of the spirit of righteousness; the fourth easterly, from loving purity, contemplating the clear light of wisdom through a mirror of brightness.
24] In hac igitur contemplatione cognitio Dei quinque modis constat; ex creatura mundi, ex ratione vel natura animi, ex cognitione divini eloquii, ex radio contemplationis, ex gaudio felicissimae visionis. De primo legitur in Apostolo: Invisibilia ipsius a creatura mundi per ea quae facta sunt intellecta conspiciuntur: sempiterna quoque virtus eius ac divinitas [Rom. I]. In secundo plane docet ratio, ab uno cuncta descendisse principio.
24] In this contemplation, therefore, the knowledge of God comes from five modes: from the created world, from the reason or nature of the mind, from the knowledge of divine utterance (cognitione divini eloquii), from the ray of contemplation (ex radio contemplationis), from the joy of the most felicitious vision (felicissimae visionis).
Of the first we read in the Apostle: For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead [Rom 1:20].
In the second, reason clearly teaches that all things descended from one Principle.
25] De tertio, id est ex cognitione divini eloquii, noscuntur invisibilia Dei; unde in Ezechiele [Ezech. I]: Spiritus vitae in rotis; et Dominus in Evangelio: Verba quae ego loquor vobis, spiritus et vita sunt [Ioan. VI]. Tria sunt Dei invisibilia: potentia, sapientia, bonitas. Haec praecipue divina pagina docet, commendat, suadet, quaeri, amplecti, diligi.
25] Concerning the third, that is, from the knowledge of divine utterance, the invisible things of God are [also] known; whence says Ezekiel,
The spirit of life in the wheels [Ezek. 1:20]; and the Lord in the Gospel: The words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life. [John 6:63]. There are three invisible things of God: power, wisdom, and goodness. [cf. Eph. 3: 18; St. Bernard, On Consideration 5.13] This especially divine writing teaches, recommends and advises us to seek, to embrace, to love it.
26] De quarto, di est ex radio contemplationis noscuntur invisibilia divinae speculationis; unde Apostolus: Videmus nunc per speculum in aenigmate, tunc autem facie ad faciem [I Cor. XIII]. Hinc Manue in libro Iudicum ad uxorem dixisse fertur: Moriemur, quia vidimus Deum [Iud. XIII]. Hinc Isaias: Vidi Dominum sedentem super solium elatum et exaltatum [Isa. VI]. Huius vero contemplationis tria sunt genera, a tribus designata theologis per tria vocabula; ab Isaia per solium [Isa. VI], ut dictum est, ab Elia per sibilum; sic: Ecce spiritus Domini subvertens montes et conterens petras transibat; non in spiritu Dominus; et post spiritum commotio, non in commotione Dominus: et post commotionem ignis, non in igne Dominus, et post ignem sibilus aurae tenuis [III Reg. XIX]; ibi Dominus. Ab Ezechiele per palmum, ita: Ecce vir, et in manu eius calamus sex cubitorum, et palmi [Ezech. XL]. Tria vero sunt solia: Primum est imum, quando mens extollitur ad invisibilia mundi; secundum elevatum, quando elevatur ad invisibilia sui; tertium excelsum, quando sublimatur ad invisibilia Dei; hinc ad sibilum ascenditur, qui divinae gratiae suavitas dicitur.
26] Again, from the fourth, the ray of contemplation, the invisible things of God are known; whence the Apostle: Now we see through a mirror in an enigma, but then face to face [1 Cor 13]. Hence it is reported that Manoah said in the book of Judges to his wife: We shall surely die, because we have seen God [Jud 13:22]. Hence Isaiah: I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up [Isa 6:1]. Now there are three kinds of this contemplation, the three designated by theologians with three terms; by Isaiah through the throne [Isa 6; JU: the vision of the throne and Seraphim] as has been said, by Elijah through a gentle whistling of air [sibilum]; thus: Behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the LORD; but the LORD was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the LORD was not in the earthquake:And after the earthquake a fire; but the LORD was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice. [1 Kgs 19:11−12]; the Lord is there. From Ezekiel by a hand-span, thus: Behold, there was a man … and in the man’s hand a measuring reed of six cubits long by the cubit and an hand breadth [Ezek 40:3,5].
But there are three levels: the first is the bottom, when the mind is lifted up to the invisible things of the world; second, according to the exalted, when he is exalted to the invisible things of himself; the third high, when it is sublimated to the invisible things of God; hence it ascends to the whisper [sibilum], which is called the sweetness of divine grace.
27] De hoc sibilo Gregorius: Sibilus catulos instigat, equos mitigat. Et Dominus per Isaiam de cita peccatoris conversione, et de virtute in virtutem ascensione: Levabit Dominus signum in nationibus procul, et sibilabit ad eas de finibus terrae; et ecce festivus velociter veniet [Isa. XI]. Per sex cubitos vero activa vita exprimitur, quia sexto die opera Dei perficiuntur.
27] Of this whisper Gregory says: A whisper encourages the puppies, soothes the horses. And the Lord, through Isaiah, speaks of the sinner’s conversion, and of the ascension from strength to strength: He will lift up a banner to the nations from afar, And will whistle to them from the end of the earth; Surely they shall come with speed, swiftly. [Isa 5:26; NKJV; cf. Isa 11:12] Active life is expressed by six cubits, because God’s work was completed in six days.
28] Palmus vero, qui super sex cubitos esse dicitur, iam de septimo est [dicendum] in quo contemplationis requies intelligitur. In palmo contemplatio, in manu operatio, in digitis discretio figuratur, et sicut in palmo manus et digiti extenduntur, sic in contemplatione bona operatio et sancta discretio protenduntur et reguntur.
Quintus modus divinae cognitionis vocatur gaudium felicissimae visionis. Hac perpauci in praesenti [vita] felices fruuntur, in qua nimia divini gustus dulcedine rapti, Deum tantum contemplantur.
28] But the hand-span is said to be above the six cubits. After this — a seventh day, as is said — there is understood the rest of contemplation. Contemplation is figured in the palm, operation in the hand, discretion in the fingers; and as in the palm of the hand and the fingers are stretched out, so in contemplation good operation and holy discretion are extended and controlled.
The fifth mode of divine knowledge is called the joy of the most blessed vision. Very few enjoy this happiness in the present [life], in which, enraptured by the excessive sweetness of the divine taste, they contemplate only God.
29] Differt autem hic modus divinae cognitionis: et quartus, in illo enim animus radio contemplationis illuminatur, ut in mundum et in seipsum cognitionis excursum faciat, et sic ad invisibilia maioris notionis recursus fiat, in hoc vero animus splendore lucis aeternae totus illustratus, perfecte peccatum odit, mundum postponit, seipsum abiicit, et totus solus nudus et propius in Dominum tendit, totus, uni Deo se totum vivens; solus, a materia non a forma; propius, a circumscriptione omnimoda.
29] Now this mode of divine knowledge is different from the fourth; for in that the mind is illuminated by the ray of contemplation, so that it may make a flow of knowledge into the world and into itself, and thus a recourse may be made to the invisible things of the greater concept, while in this one [the fifth mode] truth the mind is completely illuminated by the splendor of the eternal light. He hates sin completely, puts the world aside, casts himself off, and all alone, naked and nearer to the Lord, all of him, living himself entirely to one God; alone, from matter, not from form; nearer, from the circumscription of all kinds.
30] Huius autem supremae contemplationis tria sunt genera, a tribus per tria designata. A Iob per suspendium, ita: Elegit suspendium anima mea et mortem ossa mea [Iob. VII]; a Ioanne per silentium, sic: Factum est silentium in coelo [Apoc. VIII]: a Salomone per somnium, ut in Canticis sponsa.
30] Now there are three kinds of this supreme contemplation, designated as three by three.* From Job by the gallows, thus: My soul has chosen the gallows and my bones death [Job 7:15]; by John through silence, thus: There was silence in heaven [Rev 8:1]; by Solomon in a dream, as the bride in the Canticles,
* The meaning of this and the repeated numberings below (e.g., primo primus) is unclear.
31] Ego dormio et cor meum vigilat [Cant. V]. Primum genus est puritatis, secundum charitatis, tertium felicitatis. In primo primus gradus est, ut anima se ad se colligat; in secundo secundus, ut collecta qualis sit videat; in tertio tertius, ut super se ipsam ad invisibilia consurgat, se huic contemplationi purae puram subiiciat et ita purificata et illuminata in Deum tota intendat.
31] I sleep and my heart is awake [Cant 5.2]. The first kind is that of purity, the second that of charity, the third that of happiness. In the first, the first step is for the soul to gather itself to itself; in the second second, that he may see what it is when it is collected; in the third third, that he may rise above himself to the invisible, submit himself pure to this contemplation of the pure, and thus, purified and enlightened, concentrate entirely on God.
32] Distat autem inter revelationem, et emissionem, et inspirationem: prima fit cum materia et forma, secunda sine materia cum forma, tertia sine materia et forma; prima est realis, secunda spiritualis, tertia intellectualis, vel prima est sensibilis, secunda intelligibilis, tertia intellectibilis, vel prima mundana, secunda humana, tertia divina.
32] Now there is a distance between revelation, emission, and inspiration: the first occurs with matter and form, the second without matter and with form, the third without matter and form; the first is [materially] real, the second spiritual, the third intellectual, or the first known by the senses, the second by the understanding, the third by the intellect; or the first worldly, the second human, the third divine.*
* Compare with Richard of St. Victor’s grades of contemplation in Benjamin Major.
33] Haec, magistrum nostrum sequentes, pro viribus succincte diximus, reliqua vero celsius et expolitius vestrae celsitudini committimus.
33] These things, following our teacher, we have said succinctly to strengthen you, but the rest, indeed higher and more refined, we entrust to your own highness [celsitudini].
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Bibliography
Baron, Roger (ed.). De contemplatione et ejus speciebus (La Contemplation et Ses Espèces). Desclée, 1955.
Giles, J. A. (ed.). De septem septenis. In: Joannis Saresberiensis postea episcopi camotensis opera omnia, vol. V: Opuscula. Oxford, 1848; 209−238. Reprinted in Jacques-Paul Migne, J. P. Patrologia Latina, vol. 199, cols. 945−965. Paris, 1855. [Latin text] [Latin text]
Hauréau, Barthélemy (ed.). Hugues de Saint-Victor. Paris, 1859; De contemplatione et ejus speciebus, pp. 96−102, 177−210.
Németh, Csaba. Fabricating philosophical authority in the Twelfth Century: The Liber Egerimion and the De septem septenis. Authorities in the Middle Ages. De Gruyter, 2013; 69−87.
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St. Augustine: On Desire to See God
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St. Augustine of Hippo (stained glass; location unknown)
1John 3
[1] Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God: therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew him not.
[2] Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.
[3] And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as he is pure.
St. Augustine of Hippo, Homilies on the First Epistle of John 4.5−6
5. For us then, what are we? Already we are begotten of Him; but because we are such in hope, he says, Beloved, now are we sons of God. Now already? Then what is it we look for, if already we are sons of God? And not yet, says he, is it manifested what we shall be. But what else shall we be than sons of God? Hear what follows: We know that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is. Understand, my beloved. It is a great matter: We know that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him; for we shall see Him as He is. In the first place mark, what is called Is. You know what it is that is so called. That which is called Is, [c.f. Exod 3:14] and not only is called but is so, is unchangeable: It ever remains, It cannot be changed, It is in no part corruptible: It has neither proficiency, for It is perfect; nor has deficiency, for It is eternal. … and the Lord Himself says, Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. (Matt 5:8) Therefore, we are to see a certain vision, my brethren, which neither eye has seen, nor ear has heard, nor has entered into the heart of man: (1 Cor 2:9) a certain vision, a vision surpassing all earthly beauty, of gold, of silver, of groves and fields; the beauty of sea and air, the beauty of sun and moon, the beauty of the stars, the beauty of angels: surpassing all things: because from it are all things beautiful.
6. What then shall we be, when we shall see this? What is promised to us? We shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. The tongue has done what it could, has sounded the words: let the rest be thought by the heart.
For what has even John himself said in comparison of That which Is, or what can be said by us men, who are so far from being equal to his merits? Return we therefore to that anointing of Him, return we to that anointing which inwardly teaches that which we cannot speak: and because ye cannot at present see, let your office be in desire.
The whole life of a good Christian is a holy desire. [Tota vita christiani boni, sanctum desiderium est.] Now what you long for, you do not yet see: howbeit by longing, you are made capable, so that when that has come which you may see, you shall be filled.
For just as, if you would fill a bag, and know how great the thing is that shall be given, you stretch the opening of the sack or the skin, or whatever else it be; you know how much you would put in, and see that the bag is narrow; by stretching you make it capable of holding more: so God, by deferring our hope, stretches our desire; by the desiring, stretches the mind; by stretching, makes it more capacious.
Let us desire therefore, my brethren, for we shall be filled. See Paul widening, as it were, his bosom, that it may be able to receive that which is to come. He says, namely, Not that I have already received, or am already perfect: brethren, I deem not myself to have apprehended. (Phil 3:12−13)
Then what are you doing in this life, if you have not yet apprehended? But this one thing [I do]; forgetting the things that are behind, reaching forth to the things that are before, upon the strain I follow on unto the prize of the high calling. (Phil 3:13-14) He says he reaches forth, or stretches himself, and says that he follows upon the strain. He felt himself too little to take in that which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither has entered into the heart of man. (1 Cor 2:9)
This is our life, that by desiring we should be exercised. But holy longing exercises us just so much as we prune off our longings from the love of the world. We have already said, Empty out that which is to be filled. With good you are to be filled: pour out the bad. Suppose that God would fill you with honey: if you are full of vinegar, where will you put the honey? That which the vessel bore in it must be poured out: the vessel itself must be cleansed; must be cleansed, albeit with labor, albeit with hard rubbing, that it may become fit for that thing, whatever it be.
Let us say honey, say gold, say wine; whatever we say it is, being that which cannot be said, whatever we would fain say, It is called — God. And when we say God, what have we said? Is that one syllable the whole of that we look for? So then, whatever we have had power to say is beneath Him: let us stretch ourselves unto Him, that when He shall come, He may fill us. For we shall be like Him; because we shall see Him as He is. [Source: Browne (slightly edited)]
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Bibliography
Browne, Henry. (tr.). St. Augustine: Homilies on the First Epistle of John. In: Philip Schaff (ed.), Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, Vol. 7, Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1888; online version: ed. Kevin Knight.
Ramsey, Boniface (tr.). St. Augustine: Homilies on the First Epistle of John. New City, 2008.
Roman Catholic Office of Readings. From a treatise by St Augustine on the first epistle of John. Our heart longs for God.
Latin: In Epistolam Joannis ad Parthos tractatus X. J. P. Migne, Patrologia Latina vol. 35 1977−2062. Paris, 1841.
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Written by John Uebersax
February 18, 2023 at 4:53 pm
Posted in ascetical psychology, Augustine, Beauty, Bible, Commentary, Contemplation, Mysticism, New Testament, Theosis
Tagged with seeing God, vision of God