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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De septem septenis — Meditatio

WE continue our series of posts on Book 6 of De septem septenis (On the Seven Sevens), which discusses seven forms of contemplation: meditatio, soliloquium, circumspectio, ascensio, revelatio, emissio and inspiratio.  Below is a translation of the section on meditatio.

In this short section the anonymous author has two main aims.  The first is to establish a connection between reading, meditation and contemplation: meditation follows reading (usually Scripture), and is followed by contemplation.  Second, it presents three classes of things meditated on, as suggested by reading:  morals (the beauties of morality and perils of immorality), God’s ‘commandments,’ and divine works.  Whether these are to be understood in a literal or psychological sense is not clear.  A literal view might be that God’s commandments are his laws by which creation is organized and governed in a good, just and harmonious whole, and divine works are God’s works.  A more psychological interpetation would be that God’s commandments are inspirations, guidances and promptings which lead the soul, and divine works are things we do under such guidance.

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SECT. VI. Sexta septena de septem generibus contemplationis.

SECT. 6. The sixth of the seven kinds of contemplation.

1] Sexta septena de septem generibus contemplationis sequitur, in quibus anima requiescens iucundius immoratur. Septem sunt contemplationis genera, meditatio, soliloquium, circumspectio, ascensio, revelatio, emissio, inspiratio. Meditatio est in consilio frequens cogitatio, quae causam et originem, modum et utilitatem uniuscuiusque rei prudenter investigat.

1] The sixth seventh of the seven kinds of contemplation follows, in which the resting soul dwells more pleasantly. There are seven kinds of contemplation: meditation, soliloquy, circumspection, ascent, revelation, emission, and inspiration.

2] Meditatio principium sumit a lectionis scrutatione; nullis stringitur regulis vel praeceptis lectionis; delectatur enim quodam aperto spatio decurrere, ubi liberam affigat rationem veritatis contemplandae, et nunc has nunc illas rerum causas perstringere, nunc autem profunda quaeque penetrare, nihil anceps, nihil obscurum relinquere. Principium ergo doctrinae in lectione, consummatio in lectionis scrutatione, contemplatio in scrutationis meditatione.

2] Meditation takes its beginning from scrutinous reading; [lectionis scrutatione] it is bound by no rules or precepts of reading; for it delights in running about in a kind of open space, where it is left free to contemplate the truth — now to grasp these things and now those causes of things, and now to penetrate deep things, leaving nothing uncertain, nothing obscure. Therefore, the beginning of teaching is in reading: reading is consummated by study, study and meditation in contemplation.

3] Trimodum vero meditationis est genus, unum constat in speculatione morum, aliud in scrutatione mandatorum, tertium in investigatione divinorum operum, et ita fit contemplationis exordium. Cum enim animus a Scripturarum meditatione in orationem, ab oratione in lectionem digreditur, miseriam praesentium, poenam damnatorum et praemia iustorum vere contemplatur.

3] But three are meditation’s kinds. One consists in the observation of morals, another in the scrutiny of commandments, the third in the investigation of divine works.* Thus is the beginning of contemplation. For when the mind turns from meditation on the Scriptures to prayer, digressing from reading to prayer, he contemplates truly the misery of the present, the punishment of the damned, and the rewards of the just.

* De contemplatione et ejus speciebus, on which Book 6 of De septem is based, inserts this here: “But morals consist in vices and virtues; the divine command commanding one thing, forbidding another, permitting another; the work of God is that which creates power, and that which is moderated by wisdom, and that which cooperates with grace. How much all these things are worthy of admiration, each one knows so much the more the more attentively he is accustomed to meditate on the wonders of God.”

4] Deinde praemiorum amore tractus et poenarum timore tactus, descendit ad suorum memoriam delictorum. Qui dum culpam propriam cognoscit, alienae ignoscit, et ideo post memoriam delictorum descendit ad compassionem proximorum. In meditatione Scripturarum saepius laboramus, timentes ne praemium iustorum amittamus; in memoria delictorum gemimus, ne cum damnatis simus, in compassione proximorum, ut bonum opus diligamus.

4] Then, drawn by the love of rewards and touched by the fear of punishments, he proceeds [descendit] to the remembrance of his own offenses. He who, while he knows his own fault, forgives that of others, and therefore, after the remembrance of his offences, proceeds to the compassion of his neighbours. So we labor often in the meditation of the Scriptures, fearing lest we should lose the reward of the righteous; we groan in remembrance of our transgressions, lest we be with the condemned, in compassion for our neighbors, that we may love good work.

5] Sic igitur cum tota mentis tranquillitate meditando oramus vel legimus, in contemplatione quiescimus.

5] Thus, when we pray or read while meditating with complete a tranquil mind, we rest in contemplation.

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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, 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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Thomas Browne − Soul Illimitable

 

Frontspiece, Religio Medici (1642)

THIS Neoplatonism-themed passage from the Religio Medici of Sir Thomas Browne (1605–1682) caught my attention unexpectedly while researching another topic.  Especially as it relates to the subject of the greatness of the human soul — a topic of much interest to me — I thought I should share it.

Now for my life, it is a miracle of thirty years, which to relate, were not a history, but a piece of poetry, and would sound to common ears like a fable. For the world, I count it not an inn, but a hospital; and a place not to live, but to die in. The world that I regard is myself; it is the microcosm of my own frame that I cast mine eye on: for the other, I use it but like my globe, and turn it round sometimes for my recreation. Men that look upon my outside, perusing only my condition and fortunes, do err in my altitude; for I am above Atlas’s shoulders. The earth is a point not only in respect of the heavens above us, but of that heavenly and celestial part within us. That mass of flesh that circumscribes me limits not my mind. That surface that tells the heavens it hath an end cannot persuade me I have any. I take my circle to be about three hundred and sixty. Though the number of the ark do measure my body, it comprehendeth not my mind. Whilst I study to find how I am a microcosm, or little world, I find myself something more than the great. There is surely a piece of divinity in us; something that was before the elements, and owes no homage unto the sun. Nature tells me, I am the image of God, as well as Scripture. He that understands not thus much hath not his introduction or first lesson, and is yet to begin the alphabet of man. Let me not injure the felicity of others, if I say I am as happy as any. Ruat cœlum, fiat voluntas tua, salveth all; so that, whatsoever happens, it is but what our daily prayers desire. In brief, I am content; and what should providence add more? Surely this is it we call happiness, and this do I enjoy; with this I am happy in a dream, and as content to enjoy a happiness in a fancy, as others in a more apparent truth and reality. There is surely a nearer apprehension of anything that delights us in our dreams, than in our waked senses. Without this I were unhappy; for my awaked judgment discontents me, ever whispering unto me that I am from my friend, but my friendly dreams in the night requite me, and make me think I am within his arms. I thank God for my happy dreams, as I do for my good rest; for there is a satisfaction in them unto reasonable desires, and such as can be content with a fit of happiness. And surely it is not a melancholy conceit to think we are all asleep in this world, and that the conceits of this life are as mere dreams, to those of the next, as the phantasms of the night, to the conceit of the day. There is an equal delusion in both; and the one doth but seem to be the emblem or picture of the other. We are somewhat more than ourselves in our sleeps; and the slumber of the body seems to be but the waking of the soul. It is the ligation of sense, but the liberty of reason; and our waking conceptions do not match the fancies of our sleeps. At my nativity, my ascendant was the earthly sign of Scorpio. I was born in the planetary hour of Saturn, and I think I have a piece of that leaden planet in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the mirth and galliardise of company; yet in one dream I can compose a whole comedy, behold the action, apprehend the jests, and laugh myself awake at the conceits thereof. Were my memory as faithful as my reason is then fruitful, I would never study but in my dreams, and this time also would I choose for my devotions: but our grosser memories have then so little hold of our abstracted understandings, that they forget the story, and can only relate to our awaked souls a confused and broken tale of that which hath passed. Aristotle, who hath written a singular tract of sleep, hath not methinks thoroughly defined it; nor yet Galen, though he seems to have corrected it; for those noctambulos and night-walkers, though in their sleep, do yet enjoy the action of their senses. We must therefore say that there is something in us that is not in the jurisdiction of Morpheus; and that those abstracted and ecstatick souls do walk about in their own corpses, as spirits with the bodies they assume, wherein they seem to hear, see, and feel though indeed the organs are destitute of sense, and their natures of those faculties that should inform them. Thus it is observed, that men sometimes, upon the hour of their departure, do speak and reason above themselves. For then the soul begins to be freed from the ligaments of the body, begins to reason like herself, and to discourse in a strain above mortality.

Source: Henry Craik, ed.  English Prose. Vol. II. Sixteenth Century to the Restoration. Sir Thomas Browne: The Soul Illimitable. 1916.

Reference

Browne, Sir Thomas. Religio Medici. London, 1682.

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Revisiting the Rosary Mysteries

The Coronation of the Virgin, El Greco (Prado)

DURING the Covid pandemic, I’ve been giving thought about the positive purpose of trials in life. Here my interests in Christianity and Stoicism coincide. The Stoics, like Christians, placed great emphasis on reconciling what seem to be bad events with an all providential God.

As a psychologist also, I can easily believe that trials and pain are vital for our psychological and spiritual maturation, and for the growth, expansion or development of new forms of consciousness. “Suffer and learn,” as Aeschylus wrote.  This is expressed in the ancient Greek adage, pathe mathe (suffering teaches).  Interpreted psychologically, the crucifixion, death and resurrection of Christ (in addition to whatever metaphysical meanings these may have) seem to relate to this principle. With that in mind, I was recently thinking about the meanings of the five Sorrowful Mysteries of the Catholic Rosary; and from there I went on to consider the possible meanings of the three other sets of Rosary Mysteries (Glorious, Joyful and Luminous).

The practice of ‘saying a rosary’ consists basically of praying five sets of 10 (a “decade”) Hail Mary’s; at the beginning of each decade one meditates on one Mystery. On a given day, one would select the Sorrowful, Glorious, Joyful or Luminous Mysteries for meditation. The Mysteries within each set are meditated upon in a precise order, suggesting they may constitute steps in a gradual process of mental and spiritual ascent. (Clearly, mental ascent is a main function of any spiritual exercise).

As an example, we may consider the Glorious Mysteries.  I will leave my comments here only at the level of conjecture, partly because these are things that each person must explore individually. Here, then, is how one might interpret them in a psychological sense.

The Resurrection. Traditional sources associate this Rosary Mystery as the awakening of new Faith. That is, in the state of spiritual sleep that is our usual, fallen state of consciousness (carnal mindedness) something happens to remind us that we *are* fallen, and that a higher state of consciousness is possible.

The Ascension. Again, some traditional sources associate this with the yearning to ascend. That was be a natural second step once one realizes one is indeed mentally fallen.

The Pentecost. But in order to rise, we must avoid making the cardinal mistake of trying to do so by our own efforts alone. Rather we must be attentive to some gift or gifts of the Holy Spirit (like charity, piety, humility, patience, inspired insight, etc.) that prompt, direct and enable our ascent.

The Assumption of the Virgin and Mary is Crowned Queen of Heaven and Earth. For now I would propose to consider these, which seem richly laden with psychological meanings, jointly. Official Christian doctrine has a very ‘male’ view of God. Popular devotion to the Virgin serves to express the human need to likewise acknowledge the divine feminine. The Assumption and Coronation could be understood as symbolizing a sort of union between the heavenly divine and material Nature. Psychologically this union would be very important as a means by which we may reconcile our Eternal nature with our life as practical human beings in the here-and-now physical world. If Mary is Queen of Heaven the Earth, it means the natural world is infused with the Divine. This union would also mean our instinctive, emotional love of Nature and our spiritual love of God could coincide.

Admittedly this mere outline leaves many questions unanswered. However my goal is not to come up with definitive answers here, but rather to suggest that praying the Rosary and meditating on the Mysteries is still very much a relevant practice that modern Catholics might consider re-introducing into their spiritual practice.

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Allegorical Meaning of the High Priest’s Clothing

Furtmeyr Bible

EXODUS is a great presentation of the timeless philosophy, an inspired and extremely relevant allegory for the journey of the soul to God and to authentic human life. Within the larger narrative the story of the Tabernacal in the desert recapitulates and elaborates many of the central themes. Amongst all commentators of Exodus, Philo of Alexandria stands pre-eminent in psychological and mystical insight. Here he addresses the meaning of the High Priest’s clothing.  The High Priest symbolizes our interior person as it enters truer states of consciousness.  First comes a state of the Sacred Union of sensory and spiritual realms, the ethical summum bonum: living in the world restored to its true, miraculous condition.  We need not, like strict ascetics, deny the pleasures of the sensory world.  Rather, so long as we keep spiritual concerns foremost in our minds the sensory realm becomes divinized.

If again you examine the High Priest the Logos, you will find … his holy vesture to have a variegated beauty derived from powers belonging some to the realm of pure intellect, some to that of sense-perception. … On the head, then, there is “a plate of pure gold, bearing as an engraving of a signet, ‘a holy thing to the Lord'” (Ex. xxviii. 32); and at the feet on the end of the skirt, bells and flower patterns (Ex. xxviii. 29 f.). The signet spoken of is the original principle behind all principles, after which God shaped or formed the universe, incorporeal, we know, and discerned by the intellect alone; whereas the flower patterns and bells are symbols of qualities recognized by the senses and tested by sight and hearing. And [Moses] has well weighed his words when he adds: “His sound shall be audible when he is about to enter into the Holy Place” (Ex. xxviii. 31), to the end that when the soul is about to enter the truly holy place, the divine place which only mind can apprehend, the senses also may be aided to join in the hymn with their best, and that our whole composite being, like a full choir all in tune, may chant together one harmonious strain rising from varied voices blending one with another; the thoughts of the mind inspiring the keynotes — for the leaders of this choir are the truths perceived by mind alone — while the objects of sense-perception, which resemble the individual members of the choir, chime in with their accordant tuneful notes.
~ Philo, Migration of Abraham 100−104 (tr. Colson & Whitaker)

Integral to this experience is maintenance of a continuous attitude of thanks and praise to God.

The fire on the altar, [Moses] tells us, will burn continuously and not be extinguished (Lev. vi. 13). That, I think, is natural and fitting, for since the gracious gifts of God granted daily and nightly to men are perennial, unfailing and unceasing, the symbol of thankfulness also, the sacred flame, should be kept alight and remain unextinguished for ever.
~ Philo, Special Laws 1.284 f. (tr. Colson)

Beyond this level of consciousness is entrance into the Holy of Holies — which we understand as pure contemplation, completely detached from sensory concerns.

There is an amazing amount of material from Philo about the allegorical meaning of Exodus, barely explored by modern readers.

❧

Reference

F. H. Colson; G. H. Whitaker; Ralph Marcus (eds.). The Works of Philo. 12 vols. Loeb Classical Library. Harvard University Press, 1929−1953.

Cicero’s 28 Proofs of the Immortality of the Human Soul

MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO (109−43 BC) was a great Roman statesman and philosopher, a contemporary of Julius Caesar. As a young man he studied in Athens and Rhodes with many of the greatest Greek philosophers of his times, including Platonists, Aristotelians and Stoics.  In addition to his political, legal and rhetorical accomplishments (he served, for example as consul, the highest political office of the Roman Republic) he had an abiding interest in religious matters.

In 45 BC, during an intensive phase of writing, he produced in rapid succession four major works on religion:  (1) the Consolatio (a lost work, except for fragments), Tusculan Disputations (Book 1, the main focus of our discussion here, deals with immortality of the soul and Books 2−5 with Stoic philosophy), On the Nature of the Gods, and On Divination.  This final phase of his multifaceted career dedicated to writing was prompted by three factors. First was the untimely death of his beloved daughter, Tullia, during childbirth — an event which put Cicero in a profound depression. Second, during the tumultuous events and civil wars in the final years of the Republic (before Julius Caesar inaugurated the Roman Empire), Cicero — whose idealism was no match for the armies of Caesar and Pompey or the vast wealth of Crassus — fled into retirement and seclusion.  Third, as he tells us, fearful of Rome’s future, he wished to preserve and transmit the treasures of Greek philosophy to future generations of Romans.

The Consolatio was his most immediate ad direct attempt to console himself at the loss of Tullia.  Modeled on similar works that had been written at least since the time of Aristotle, it touched on a number of themes, including evidence of the soul’s immortality, the pains and problems of this life which death releases us from, and bearing loss of a loved one without undue pain or suffering.  A few months later Cicero produced a more concentrated and systematic study of the soul’s immortality, Book 1 of Tusculan Disputations.  In this dialogue Cicero follows two lines of thought, both aimed to relieve the fear of death: (1) the human soul is immortal; and (2) even if not, death is no harm (e.g., if we are no longer conscious, we cannot experience any pain).  Our main interest here is the many arguments Cicero invokes in Book 1 for the soul’s immortality.

As was his practice generally, in writing this Cicero had at hand a range of books by earlier philosophers, including handbooks summarizing the theories of many authors.  The views of Plato (especially his arguments for the soul’s immortality found in the dialogues Phaedo and Phaedrus), Aristotle, and certain Stoics (e.g., Posidonius, one of Cicero’s teachers, and Panaetius) are in the forefront.  Therefore we can learn a great deal about ancient views of immortality from this work.  Additional, related material can be found in On the Nature of the Gods, On Divination, and On Old Age. Although Tusculan Disputations 1 is our main concern here, arguments in these other sources will be noted when appropriate.

As he wrote in dialogue form, it’s sometimes not especially easy to identify Cicero’s own views on a particular topic.  Concerning immortality of the soul and on religion generally, the most typical persona he presents is that of an Academic (i.e., Platonist) skeptic.  Like more radical Pyrrhonists, Academic skeptics claimed that absolute certainty on any philosophical question was impossible; however, unlike Pyrrhonists, the allowed for probabilistic conclusions to be drawn based on a preponderance of evidence.  Nevertheless, it’s hard to read Cicero’s religious works without suspecting his personal belief in the gods and the immortality of the human soul.  On the latter point, we also know that he seriously considered building a shrine dedicated to Tullia after her death, expressing the belief that this might help to achieve her deification.

As in the case of Plato’s discussions of the soul’s immortality, none of the many arguments Cicero presents are fully logically compelling. However, also like Plato, Cicero aims for something potentially more important than logical proof: to elevate our mind and raise our consciousness such that we may gain an intuitive insight into the soul’s immortality.  This is done by (1) focusing our attention and interest on what the soul is, and (2) sharpening the critical discernment (what the Greeks called diakrisis) of our higher intelligence.  As we do this, we’re simultaneously forced to withdraw our attention from worldly concerns, which drag down, distract and confuse the Intelligence.

Cicero — like Plato — is a great artist.  Indeed, he is one of the greatest rhetoricians in human history. Reading his works is itself meant to be a transformative experience.  Reading and reflecting on the lofty themes he presents, we regain our true condition as contemplative beings with exalted souls.  Not only may this enable us to glimpse our soul and see its immortality, but also, as long as we are doing this, we become that very part of our soul which is immortal.

For convenience, arguments below are presented in the order in which they appear in Tusculan Disputations 1.  Here the effort has been made to identify as many separate arguments as possible, rather than to (as most commentators have done) aggregate them.  Among other things, this more atomistic approach (see Uebersax, 2015) will facilitate tracing the history of individual proofs through later centuries.

A helpful online edition of Tusculan Disputations 1 can be found here.

Notation: References to Tusculan Disputations 1 are given as paragraph numbers, preceded by the symbol §; these should not be confused with chapter divisions. References to other works of Cicero are given as book.chapter.paragraph, or (for works comprised of a single book) chapter.paragraph.  The following abbreviations/titles are used:

Amic. = De amicitia (On Friendship)

Fin. = De finibus (On Ends)

Leg. = De legibus (On Laws)

N.D. = De natura deorum (On the Nature of the Gods)

Off. = De officiis (On Moral Duties)

Rep. = De republica (On the Republic)

Sen. = De senectute (On Old Age)

Arguments from Tradition and Consensus

1. Argument from antiquity
§ 26 f.; cf. Amic. 4.13

Our ancestors — wiser than us — instituted rites and memorials for the dead, motivated by a belief in the soul’s immortality.

2. Deified humans
§ 28 f.; cf. N.D. 2.24.62

Many traditional immortal gods (e.g., Hercules) are deified human beings, whose existence is verified by appearances in visions and intervention in human affairs. See Hesiod, Works and Days 121−126, 252–255, where souls of the righteous may return to earth as guardian spirits (daimones hagnoi; δαίμονες ἁγνοὶ). Cf. cures, miracles, visions, etc.  attributed to Christian saints.

3. Argument from general consensus
§ 30, § 35 f.; cf. N.D. 2.2.4; Div. 1.1.2

All nations perform funeral rites, memorialize the dead, and believe in survival of the soul. The agreement of all peoples implies a natural instinct and is to be viewed as ‘the voice of Nature’ (omnium consensus naturae vox est). According to Stoic philosophy, all Nature is providentially and purposefully directed; a tacit minor premise here, therefore, is that Nature would not implant a false instinctive belief. Stoics used this argument to prove the existence of the gods, and Cicero adapts it to immortality of the soul.  Although Cicero does not state this, implicit in the argument is that each person can verify by introspection that they possess this instinctive belief.

Interestingly, Cicero states that the reason people wail and prostrate themselves at funerals is not to express anguish at their personal loss, but in grief for the deceased soul which must now survive without the accustomed comforts of earthly existence and is sensible of this loss.

4. Interest in future
§ 31

All people are deeply and instinctively concerned about what will happen in the world after their death: they beget children, write wills, compose epitaphs, design monuments, etc.  This would make no sense if our consciousness simply ceased; rather, it implies some form of ongoing awareness of events, of others’ welfare, etc.

5. A ‘bodhisattva instinct’
§ 32

The most virtuous and wise people regard themselves as having come into the world to protect and serve humanity. We revere such individuals as the finest members of our species.  This argument is subtly different from 7 below. There, noble self-sacrifice is itself evidence of an immortal soul. Here the proof is psychological: that we instinctively regard this as the ideal of human nature — that is, our reverence for such people and their actions is a separate proof.

6. Military heroism
§ 32

Especially revealing are the actions of those who heroically sacrifice their lives in battle or even voluntarily undergo torture (Off. 3.26.99) for the sake of their country.  “No one would ever have exposed himself to death for his country without good hope of immortality.”

7. Other great personal sacrifices 
§ 34 ff.

Again, but for expectation of future reward and glory, nobody would pass their life in toil and peril to accomplish great things. “Even philosophers who teach contempt for fame place their names on their books.” Unlike the modern view — i.e., that such actions are motivated by pure altruism and love of others — Cicero asserts that such sacrifices are made at least partly with the aim of attaining eternal life and glory. Neither is the goal merely to be remembered and honored by future generations, but for the soul to survive and enjoy the benefits of its glory.  Earthly fame will in any case eventually fade and is negligible in comparison to eternal favor of the gods and immortality earned as a reward for great virtue, heroism and self-sacrifice.

8. Argument from authority
§ 38 f.; cf. Sen 21.77, 21.83; Amic. 4.13

The wisest and most virtuous (Pythagoras, Socrates and Plato are mentioned by name) assert the immortality of the soul.

Miscellaneous Arguments

9. Physical arguments
§§ 40−43

Cicero begins with a fairly diffuse set of observations which, while by no means comprise a syllogistic argument, do converge on the notion that the soul’s ultimate destiny is celestial. He begins by positing as uncontested facts of (ancient) science that (1) the earth is in the center of the universe, located between a subterranean realm and the sky regions; and (2) all things consist of four elements: earth, water, air and fire. The rapidity of the soul’s operations rules out its consisting of earth or water, so it must consist of air and/or fire (or Aristotle’s hypothetical fifth element).  As air and fire naturally rise, so must the soul after death.  To facilitate this ascent and to penetrate any barriers between regions, the soul (Cicero states) must remain intact. Hence it remains after death.

10. Celestial order and splendor
§ 47, § 62, §§ 68−70; cf. N.D. 2.2.4 f.; N.D. 2.15.40−17.44; N. D. 2.56.140; Rep. 3.2.3; Rep. 6.15.15; Leg. 1.9.26; cf. Scipio’s Dream = Rep. 6.9.9−6.26.29

The spectacle of the night sky and orderly movements of stars and planets plainly reveal the wisdom, goodness and power of God. An all-powerful, all beneficent God would not deny human beings an immortal soul. While Cicero doesn’t make this argument in so many words, it runs just below the surface of his religious works so consistently that we should include it.

Throughout his works Cicero notes our intense interest in beholding the celestial vault and in astronomical science — suggesting some basic affinity between our souls and stars. A revealing discussion of the doctrine of sidereal immortality in Greco-Roman religion, including Cicero’s treatment of it in Tusculan Disputations 1, is found in Cumont (1912; 92−110).  In his late teens Cicero translated the Phaenomena of Aratus (315−240 BC), a poem on the constellations, from Latin into Greek — with sufficient skill that the translation was known to Lucretius.

11. Consciousness in soul, not senses
§ 46

Loss of conscious sensation during intense absorbed thought or sickness, despite functioning sense organs, shows that perception occurs in the soul.

12. Common sensory pathway
§ 46

Similarly, using the same mind/soul we have conscious perception of things as diverse as sights, sounds, smells, etc.

13. Know Thyself a divine mandate
§ 52; more fully developed in Leg. 1.22.59

“Know Thyself” would not have been given to us by the gods themselves unless the human soul were divine: “For he who knows himself will realize, in the first place, that he has a divine element within him, and will think of his own inner nature as a kind of consecrated image of God; and so he will always act and think in a way worthy of so great a gift of the gods, and, when he has examined and thoroughly tested himself, he will understand how nobly equipped by Nature he entered life, and what manifold means he possesses for the attainment and acquisition of wisdom.” (Leg. 1.22.59)

Platonic Arguments

We now move to more distinctively Platonic proofs — viz. proofs Plato explicitly presents in Phaedo (which relates Socrates’ conversations immediately before his death) and other dialogues, or which are otherwise directly implied by Platonic doctrines.

14. Self-moving
§§ 53−55, § 66; cf. Sen. 21.78; N. D. 2.12.32; Plato Phaedrus 245

The soul moves the body, but is itself not moved by anything else. Therefore nothing external could have first initiated its motion, nor can anything external cause its activity to cease.

15. Indivisibility
§ 56, § 71; cf. Sen. 21.78; Plato Phaedo 78b-d; Plato Republic 611b

The soul is uncompounded, unitary and indivisible.  Therefore it is not subject to decay or dissolution.

16. Recollection argument
§57 f.; Sen. 21.78; Plato Phaedo 72e–77d

Plato asserts that the most important kinds of human knowledge (e.g., principles of mathematics, logic and morality) are not taught, but are innate and merely remembered or recollected (anamnesis = unforgetting).  Plato famously illustrates this in his dialogue, Meno (83−85), where an uneducated slave boy is able to prove a sophisticated theorem of geometry by merely giving common sense answers to a series of prompting questions. This suggests to Plato a pre-existence; and if our souls existed before this life, they will exist after this life.

17. Soul a Form
§41; cf. Plato’s affinity argument in Phaedo 78b–84b

Cicero briefly mentions the Pythagorean notion that the soul is a “number” — by which is meant a unique, ideal and perfect pattern or set of relationships (which could, in theory, all be expressed mathematically).  As such it would be a Platonic Form, eternal and existing in the realm of pure Being, outside space and time.  Cicero does not develop the argument, however.

18. Scale of Existence
§ 56, § 65 ff.; N.D. 2.12.33−14.39; Leg. 1.7.22−8.25; see Dougan 242 f.

There is a scale according to which all existing things (inanimate objects, plants, animals, man, gods) are ordered.  Man and gods are kindred by virtue of their shared capacity for Reason. Cicero presents the argument more clearly in De legibus.

19. Infinite yearning for knowledge
§§ 44−47; cf. Plato Phaedrus 247c

Nature has planted in our minds an insatiable longing to see truth.” This can be satisfied only after the soul escapes the confinement and inherent limitations of the body.  This applies not only to new intellectual and spiritual knowledge, but, also, Cicero suggests, in an actual physical sense: “What, pray, do we think the panorama will be like when [from a celestial vantage point] we shall be free to embrace the whole earth in our survey.”

Divine Powers of  Soul

Cicero next discusses various powers of the human mind which suggest a divine — and, by extension, an immortal — nature.

20. Capacity of memory
§ 59 ff.; cf. Sen. 21.78

Besides its possible connection with pre-existence, the sheer capacity of our memory supplies, Cicero suggests, evidence of our soul’s divinity.  What material substance, Cicero asks, could store such a large, virtually infinite amount of information, instantly retrievable.  Given what we now know of brain physiology, this argument is less persuasive for us than it might have been in antiquity.

21. Rapidity of thought
§ 70; cf. Sen. 21.78

The speed of thought processes seems inconsistent with a physical basis.  Again, this argument is less persuasive to modern readers.

22. Human genius
§ 61 ff.; cf. Sen. 21.78

Human beings have a vast and incredible capacity to invent (inventio) and discover in fields as diverse as literature, science, art, music and government.  Indeed, our creative imagination appears limitless. His litany of humankind’s accomplishments is supremely eloquent, itself an example of genius: “In order to persuade us of the divinity of the soul, Cicero extols the splendour of the universe and raises the tone of his language to match the lofty topic” (Kennedy, p. 95).

23. Astronomy
(see 10 above)

Especially because of its prevalence throughout his religious works, we may single out astronomy for special consideration.  Nature, Cicero tells us, providentially supplied the heavenly bodies and their orderly movements.  It also designed the human body with an upright posture, our heads raised, to make the sky more visible.  We first charted the movements of stars of necessity, to mark seasons and time agriculture.  From this came mathematics, and from that all further sciences and technology that rely on mathematics.

24. Inspired philosophy, religion, poetry
§§ 64−67; cf. Leg. 1.22.58; Amic. 57; Sen. 40; Off. 2.5

Poetry, philosophy, and especially religion are divine activities, things worthy of gods.

25. Divination
§ 66; cf. Div. 1; Sen. 21.78; Sextus Empiricus Phys. 1.20−23. = Aristotle On Philosophy Ross fr. 12a

Cicero had considerable interest in divination.  His views on the topic, as inferred from his discussion in many writings, are subject to some debate.  In On Divination he distinguishes two varieties of divination:  natural (e.g., dreams and prophecies uttered in ecstatic trances) and technical (e.g., ceremonial interpretation of animal entrails or flights of birds).  A reasonable hypothesis that might accommodate his various statements is that he accepted the validity of natural divination, but was more skeptical of the technical kind.

In Div. 1.5.9, he argues that if divination exists, it means the gods exist (since they use this means to communicate knowledge of future events to us).  While he does not state it explicitly, it seems straightforward to extend this reasoning by adding “and if the gods exist and communicate with us, it means we are divine — and if divine, then immortal.”

By divination Cicero chiefly means supernatural prediction of future events.  However other forms of extrasensory perception, like telepathy and clairvoyance, might equally be taken as evidence of the soul’s divinity and immortality.

26. Affinity with God’s nature
§ 66 f.; cf. N.D. 2.15.40−42; Fin. 4.5.11; Rep. 6.15.15

“And indeed God Himself, who is comprehended by us, can be comprehended in no other way save as a mind unfettered and free, severed from all perishable matter, conscious of all and moving all and self-endowed with perpetual motion.. Of such sort and of the same nature is the human mind.” Cicero also alludes to the possibility than both gods and human souls are composed of Aristotle’s hypothetical fifth element.

27. Unseen Governor analogy
§ 68 ff.; cf. N.D. 2.32.81–35.90

While we cannot see God, we infer God’s existence from what we can see: the order, beauty and wonder of the universe.  Analogously, while we do not see our own divine nature, we may infer it from the vast, orderly and wonderful extent and coordination of its activities.  More of Cicero’s eloquence is on display here.

Direct Awareness

28. Introspection and existential experience
§ 55; cf. § 52

In § 55 Cicero writes, “The soul then is conscious that it is in motion, and when so conscious it is at the same time conscious of this, that it is self-moved by its own power and not an outside power, and that it cannot ever be abandoned by itself; and this is proof of eternity.”  This and similar statements might be interpreted to mean that, by means of introspection, one may gain some form of experiential proof of the soul’s divinity and immortality.  Concerning this passage Wynne (2020) quotes Carlos Lévy as writing, “Ainsi s’effectue le passage entre l’immédiateté de la sensation intérieure et l’éternité,” although Wynne does not agree.

Brittain (2012) suggests that virtually the entire point of the work is to stimulate introspection, leading to intuitive insight into ones immortality, setting the stage for St. Augustine’s introspective proofs of the souls immortality. (Augustine, of course, was a dedicated reader of Cicero). Nevertheless, Cicero is no  mystic.  He doesn’t describe a experiential revelation of the soul’s divinity such as found in the Hermetic literature, or a startling and profound I AM experience.that settles the question of the soul’s immortality once and for all.

Conclusion

As with Plato, none of Cicero’s arguments individually constitute a logically irrefutable proof of the soul’s immortality, although considered collectively we might allow they supply probabilistic scientific support (cf. N.D. 2.65.163).  The real power of Tusculan Disputations 1, however, lay in its performative aspects: as a work of art, a product of genius, inspired by sources deeper than rationalistic thought, it awakens instinctive conviction, stimulates introspection, and directs our attention to subjective intuitive and experiential evidences of divinity and immortality.  Our summary here is insufficient to fully convey this.  Rather, it’s best appreciated by reading the work itself.

So much, then for Cicero. The next proposed steps will be to consider arguments for the soul’s immortality presented by St. Augustine in De Immortalitate Animae and De Trinitate, and in the Hermetic literature.  After that we will jump ahead many centuries to Marsilio Ficino’s Theologia Platonica de immortalitate animorum (1482), and then to John Davies’ Nosce Teipsum (1599) and Edward Young’s Night Thoughts (1742−1745).  Since Young’s time, pervasive skepticism, materialism and atheism have so much dominated academic thinking that serious discussions of immortality are hard to come by.

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First draft: 3 December 2020

St. Anselm: A rousing of the mind to the contemplation of God

Photo: source unknown

ST ANSELM OF CANTERBURY is for many best known as the originator of the ontological argument for God’s existence, and on that basis is sometimes dismissed as sort of a precursor to scholasticism.  But this is quite unfair to the legacy of the venerable archbishop, who shines as an example of inspired integration of Faith and Reason.  The ontological ‘argument’ is found in Chapters 2 and 3 of Anselm’s Prosologion.  However Chapter 1 (below) reveals Anselm’s true intentions:  not to supply a logical proof, but rather to draw up the mind into a mystical contemplation of God’s being and nature.  Anselm, like Augustine and Plato before him, is a rational mystic.  He demonstrates for us the religious mental power of inspired dialectic, a form of meditation.  Dialectic is an exercise which seeks to focus the mind, opening the ‘eye of the intellect’ for divine contemplation (theoria), and not a dry excursion into rationalism.

In reading this chapter it struck me that it worked better as poetry than prose, and I’ve so parsed it here. (It turns out that in her translation Benedicta Ward had the same notion, based partly on punctuation in old manuscripts.)  The strong influence of St. Augustine (e.g., his Confessions and Soliloquies) may be seen.

COME now, thou poor child of man,
turn awhile from thy business,
hide thyself for a little time from restless thoughts,
cast away thy troublesome cares,
put aside thy wearisome distractions.

Give thyself a little leisure to converse with God,
and take thy rest awhile in Him.
Enter into the secret chamber of thy heart:
leave everything without but God
and what may help thee to seek after Him,
and when thou hast shut the door,
then do thou seek Him.
Say now, O my whole heart, say now to God,
I seek Thy face; Thy face, Lord, do I seek.

*

COME now then, O Lord my God,
teach Thou my heart when and how I may seek Thee,
where and how I may find Thee?

O Lord, if Thou art not here, where else shall I seek Thee?
but if Thou art everywhere, why do I not behold Thee,
since Thou art here present?

Surely indeed Thou dwellest in the light which no man can approach unto.
But where is that light unapproachable?
or how may I approach unto it since it is unapproachable?
or who shall lead me and bring me into it
that I may see Thee therein?

Again, by what tokens shall I know Thee,
in what form shall I look for Thee?
I have never seen Thee, O Lord my God; I know not Thy form.
What shall I do then, O Lord most high,
what shall I do, banished as I am so far from Thee?
What shall Thy servant do that is sick for love of Thee,
and yet is cast away from Thy presence?
He panteth to behold Thee, and yet Thy presence is very far from him.
He longeth to approach unto Thee, and yet Thy dwelling-place is unapproachable.
He desireth to find Thee, yet he knoweth not Thy habitation.
He would fain seek Thee, yet he knoweth not Thy face.

O Lord, Thou art my God, Thou art my Lord; and I have never beheld Thee.
Thou hast created me and created me anew,
and all good things that I have, hast Thou bestowed upon me,
and yet I have never known Thee.
Nay, I was created to behold Thee, and yet have I never unto this day
done that for the sake whereof I was created.

*

O MISERABLE lot of man, to have lost that whereunto he was created!
O hard and terrible condition!
Alas, what hath he lost? what hath he found?
what hath departed from him? what hath continued with him?
He hath lost the blessedness whereunto he was created,
and he hath found the misery whereunto he was not created;
that without which nothing is happy, hath departed from him,
and that hath continued with him which by itself cannot but be miserable.

Once man did eat angels’ food, after which he now hungereth;
now he eateth the bread of affliction, which then he knew not.
Alas for the common woe of man, the universal sorrow of the children of Adam!
Our first father was filled with abundance, we sigh with hunger;
he was rich, we are beggars.
He miserably threw away that in the possession whereof he was happy, and in the lack whereof we are miserable;
after which we lamentably long and alas! abide unsatisfied.
Why did he not keep for us, when he might easily have kept it, that the loss whereof so grievously afflicts us?
Wherefore did he so overcloud our day, and plunge us into darkness?
Why did he take from us our life, and bring upon us the pains of death?
Wretches that we are, whence have we been driven out and whither?
From our native country into banishment,
from the vision of God into blindness,
from the joy of immortality into the bitterness and horror of death.
How sad the change from so great good to so great evil!
Grievous is the loss, grievous the pain, grievous every thing.

*

BUT alas for me, one of the miserable children of Eve, cast far away from God!
What did I begin? and what have I accomplished?
At what did I aim? and unto what have I attained?
To what did I aspire? and where am I now sighing?
I sought good, and behold, trouble.
I aimed at God, and have stumbled upon myself.
I sought rest in my secret chamber, and I have found tribulation and grief in the inmost parts.
I desired to laugh for gladness of spirit and am constrained to roar for the disquietness of my heart.
I hoped for joy and behold increase of sorrow.

*

HOW long, O Lord, how long? How long, O Lord, wilt Thou forget us,
how long wilt Thou hide Thy face from us?
When wilt Thou turn and hearken unto us?
When wilt thou enlighten our eyes and show us Thy face?
When wilt Thou restore Thy presence to us?

Turn and took upon us, O Lord:
hearken unto us, enlighten us, show us Thyself.
Restore to us Thy presence that it may be well with us;
for without Thee it goeth very ill with us.
Have pity upon our labours and strivings after Thee, for without Thee we can do nothing.
Thou callest us; help us to obey the call.
I beseech Thee, O Lord, that 1 may not despair in my sighing,
but may draw full breath again in hope.
My heart is embittered by its desolation;
with Thy consolation, I beseech Thee, O Lord, make it sweet again.
I beseech Thee, O Lord, for in my hunger I have begun to seek Thee,
suffer me not to depart from Thee fasting.
I have come to Thee fainting for lack of food;
let me not go empty away.
I have come to Thee, as the poor man to the rich, as the miserable to the merciful,
let me not return unsatisfied and despised:
and if before I be fed, I sigh,
grant me that, though after I have sighed, I may be fed.

O Lord, I am bent downwards, I cannot look up:
raise me up, that I may lift mine eyes to heaven.
My iniquities are gone over my head, they overwhelm me;
they are like a sore burden too heavy for me to bear.
Deliver me, take away my burden,
lest the pit of my wickedness shut its mouth upon me:
grant unto me that I may look upon Thy light,
though from afar off, though out of the deep.

Let me seek Thee in desiring Thee;
let me desire Thee in seeking Thee;
let me find Thee in loving Thee;
let me love Thee in finding Thee.

I confess to Thee, O Lord, and I give thanks unto Thee,
because Thou hast created in me this Thine image,
that I may remember Thee, think upon Thee, love Thee:
but so darkened is Thine image in me by the smoke of my sins
that it cannot do that whereunto it was created,
unless Thou renew it and create it again.
I seek not, O Lord, to search out Thy depth,
but I desire in some measure to understand Thy truth,
which my heart believeth and loveth.
Nor do I seek to understand that I may believe,
but I believe that I may understand.
For this too I believe, that unless I first believe, I shall not understand.

Source: St. Anselm of Canterbury, Proslogin 1 (tr. Webb, pp. 5−11; slightly edited)

Bibliography

St. Anselm, Opera Omnia. Patrologia Latina 158, 223–248 (ch. 1: 225−228). Paris: Migne, 1854. [Online Latin text]

Barth, Karl. Anselm: Fides Quaerens Intellectum. Trans. Ian Robertson. John Knox Press, 1960.

Davies, Brian; Evans, G. R. Anselm of Canterbury: The Major Works. Oxford University Press, 1998.

Sansom, Dennis. The virtue of contemplation and St. Anselm’s Proslogion II and III. Saint Anselm Journal 9.2, 2014.

Schmitt, Franciscus Salesius. S. Anselmi Cantuariensis Archiepiscopi Opera Omnia. Friedrich Fromann Verlag, 1968.

Southern, R.W. Saint Anselm: A Portrait In Landscape. Cambridge University Press, 1990.

Stolz, Anselm. Anselm’s Theology in the Proslogion. In: John Hick & Arthur C. McGill (eds.), The Many Faced Argument, New York: Macmillan, 1967 (repr. Wipf and Stock, 2009); pp. 183−206.

Ward, Benedicta (tr.). The Prayers and Meditations of Saint Anselm. Penguin, 1973.

Webb, Clement Charles Julian (tr.). The Devotions of Saint Anselm. Methuen, 1903.

Williams, Thomas. Anselm: Basic Writings. Hackett, 2007.

1st draft: 4 May 2020

Contemplative Christianity in the 13th and 14th Centuries: Latin West

(click image to view in high resolution)

HERE we extend the previous timeline forward to the 13th and 14th centuries.
Legend: Olive = Benedictine; Light green: Cistercian; Purple: Dominican; Orange = Carthusian; Dark blue = Augustinian; Light blue = Other.

Recommended Reading

Egan, Harvey D. An Anthology of Christian Mysticism. Liturgical Press, 1991.

McGinn, Bernard. The Flowering of Mysticism: Men and Women in the New Mysticism (1200−1350). (Vol. 3 of B. McGinn, The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism.) New York: Crossroad, 1998.

Philo on Heavenly Inspirations

Manna, Maciejowski Bible (13th C.)

PHILO here, in one of his most famous passages, gives us insight into the personal experiential basis of his exegesis of the patriarchs.  First he presents Abraham as the type of man who directs his mind away from thoughts associated with worldly and carnal concerns (Egypt) to the “father’s land” of Wisdom from which heavenly inspirations flow.  This orientation gives birth to a new disposition of mind, Isaac — whom, Philo elsewhere explains, symbolizes spiritual Joy. He then describes the nature of his own experiences, noting with regret intervening periods of aridity. (FIRST DRAFT)

(28) … Nay, thou must change thine abode and betake thee to thy father’s land, the land of the Word that is holy and in some sense father of those who submit to training: and that land is Wisdom, abode most choice of virtue-loving souls.

(29) In this country there awaiteth thee the nature which is its own pupil, its own teacher, that needs not to be fed on milk as children are fed, that has been stayed by a Divine oracle from going down into Egypt (Gen. 26:2) and from meeting with the ensnaring pleasures of the flesh. That nature is entitled Isaac.

(30) When thou hast entered upon his inheritance, thou canst not but lay aside thy toil; for the perpetual abundance of good things ever ready to the hand gives freedom from toil. And the fountain from which the good things are poured forth is the companionship of the bountiful God. He shews this to be so when to set His seal upon the flow of His kindnesses, He says “I will be with thee.”

VII. (31) What  fair thing, then, could fail when there was present God the Perfecter, with gifts of grace, His virgin daughters, whom the Father that begat them rears up uncorrupted and undefiled? Then are all forms of studying, toiling, practising at rest; and without come forth all things in one outburst charged with benefit for all.

(32) And the harvest of spontaneous good things is called “Release,” [άφεσις; aphesis] inasmuch as the Mind [νους; nous] is released from the working out of its own projects, and is, we may say, emancipated from self-chosen tasks, by reason of the abundance of the rain and ceaseless shower of blessings.

(33) And these are of a most marvellous nature and passing fair. For the offspring of the soul’s own travail are for the most part poor abortions, things untimely born; but those which God waters with the snows of heaven come to the birth perfect, complete and peerless.

(34) I feel no shame in recording my own  experience, a thing I know from its having happened to me a thousand times. On some occasions, after making up my mind to follow the usual course of writing on philosophical tenets, and knowing definitely the substance of what I was to set down, I have found my understanding (διάνοιαν; dianoia) incapable of giving birth to a single idea, and have given it up without accomplishing anything, reviling my understanding for its self-conceit, and filled with amazement at the might of Him that is to Whom is due the opening and closing of the soul-wombs.

(35) On other  occasions, I have approached my work empty and suddenly become full, the ideas falling in a shower from above and being sown invisibly, so that under the influence of the Divine possession I have been filled with corybantic frenzy and been unconscious of anything, place, persons present, myself, words spoken, lines written. For I obtained language, ideas, an enjoyment of light, keenest vision, pellucid distinctness of objects, such as might be received through the eyes as the result of clearest shewing.

Source: Philo, On the Migration of Abraham 6.28−7.35 (tr. Colson & Whitaker, pp. 149−153)