Guigo II’s Ladder of Monks

Bodleian Library MS Douce 322

HAPPILY, the practice of lectio divina has become more common amongst Catholics in the last 20 years. While lectio divina itself is very ancient, the most popular form consists of the four steps of lectio (reading), meditatio (meditation), oratio (prayer) and contemplatio (contemplation).  This form comes from the writings of the Carthusian, Guigo II (fl. c. 1170), 9th prior of the Grand Chartreuse monastery.

Guigo explains his method in a letter to a friend. The short (a little over 10 pages) letter is a spiritual masterpiece and deserves to be read entirely.  Perhaps due in part to copyright reasons, the excellent English translation of Colledge and Walsh is not freely available on the web.  Instead, people have reposted a few excerpts in various places.

Fortunately there’s another option.  A translation of Guigo’s letter into Middle English was made in the 14th century, the full title of which is A Ladder of Foure Ronges by the Which Men Mowe Clyme to Heven. Not only is it a good translation, but both the spiritual insight and literary skills of the anonymous author are formidable.  He or she also added about 20% new materiel in the form of explanations and quaint analogies that explain Guigo’s points better.  It is a very ‘poetic’ work, just as we find in the writings of other Middle English mystics like Richard Rolle, Walter Hilton and the anonymous Cloud of Unknowing author.

The complete transcription of the Middle English version made by James Hogg is also not freely available.  However on a website dedicated to Julian of Norwich is what appears to be a modernized version of Ladder of Foure Ronges.  It’s not a simple word-for-word modernization (which in this case I would personally prefer), however, and might actually be an amalgam of Guigo’s letter and the Middle English version.  In any case, it appears to include all of Guigo’s original content as well as the new material in Four Ronges.

To demonstrate the style of the Middle English version, here’s a paragraph where the anonymous author likens contemplation to a delicious and intoxicating rare wine and God to a savvy taverner:

So doth God Almyʒty to his loveris in contemplacion as a tauerner that good wyne hath to selle dooth to good drynkeris that wolle drynke wele of his wyne & largely spende. Wele he knowith what they be there he seeth hem in the strete. Pryvely he wendyth and rowndith hem in the eere & seyth to them that he hath a clarete, & that alle fyne for ther owyn mouth. He tollyth hem to howse & ʒevyth hem a taast. Sone whanno they haue tastyd therof and that they thynke the drynke good & gretly to ther plesauns, thann

they drynke dayly & nyʒtly,
and the more they drynke, the more they may.
Suche lykyng they haue of that drynke
that of none other wyne they thynke,
but oonly for to drynke their fylle
and to haue of this drynke alle their wylle.

And so they spende that they haue, and syth they spende or lene [pawn] to wedde surcote [coat] or hode [hood] & alle that they may for to drynke with lykyng whiles that them it good thynkith. Thus it faryth sumtyme by Goddis loveris that from the tyme that they hadde tastyd of this pyment, that is of the swettnesse of God, such lykyng þei founde theryn that as drunkyn men they did spende that they hadde, and ʒafe themself to fastyng and to wakyng & to other penauns [penance] doyng. And whann they hadde no more to spende they leyde their weddys, as apostelys, martyrys, & maydenys ʒounge of ʒeris dyd in their tyme (Source: Hodgson, 1949; p. 466)

In modern English the passage is:

So does God Almighty to his Lovers in contemplation like a taverner, who has good wine to sell, to good drinkers who will drink well of his wine and spend well. He knows them well when he sees them in the street. Quietly he goes to them and whispers in their ear and says to them that he has a claret, and of good taste in the mouth. He entices them to his house and gives them a taste. Soon when they have tasted of it and think the drink good and greatly to their pleasure, then

They drink all night, they drink all day;

And the more they drink, the more they may.

Such liking they have of that drink

That of none other wine they think,

But only for to drink their fill

And to have of this drink all their will.

And so they spend what they have, and then they sell or pawn their coat, their hood and all they may, for to drink with liking while they think it good.

Thus it fares sometimes with God’s lovers that from the time that they had tasted of this potion, that is, of the sweetness of God, such liking they found in it that as drunken men they spent what they had and gave themselves to fasting and to watching and to doing other penance. And when they had not more to spend they pledged their clothes, as apostles, martyrs, and young maidens did in their time.

Hodgson comments:

The Ladder of Four Rungs reads like original prose, expressive of the writer. It is not merely a clear reproduction of a Latin treatise in another tongue, but a distinct piece of creative writing. Sentence by sentence comparison with the Latin, far from blunting the edge of the translation, throws into more pointed emphasis its verve and originality.

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Bibliography

Anonymous.  The Ladder of Four Rungs, Guigo II on Contemplation.  Ultima website. umilta.net/ladder.html Accessed: 22 Nov. 2022.

Colledge, Edmund; Walsh, James (trs.). Guigo II: The Ladder of Monks and Twelve Meditations. Cistercian Studies 48. Kalamazoo, 1981. (= Image Books, 1978). [free e-borrow at arhive.org]

Hodgson, Phyllis. A Ladder of Foure Ronges by the Whiche Men mowe wele clyme to Heven. A study of the prose style of a Middle English translation. Modern Language Review 44.4, 1949, 465−475.

Hodgson, Phyllis. Deonise Hid Divinite and Other Treatises on Contemplative Prayer. Early English Text Society 231. Oxford University Press, 1955. Appendix B (pp. 100−117) is a transcription of Ladder of Foure Ronges.

Hogg, James (ed.). The Rewyll of Seynt Sauioure and A Ladder of Foure Ronges by the which Men Mowe Clyme to Heven. Edited from the MSS. Cambridge University Library Ff. 6. 33 and London Guildhall 25524, Volume 1. Salzburg, 2003.

Iguchi, Atsushi. Translating grace: the Scala Claustralium and A Ladder of Foure Ronges. Review of English Studies, vol. 59, no. 242, 2008, pp. 659–676.

McCann, Justin. (tr.) A Ladder of Four Rungs. London, 1926. (McCann rearranges the Middle English translation to follow the order of Guigo II’s original.)

McCann, Justin (ed.). A Ladder of Four Rungs, being a treatise on prayer by Dom Guy II, ninth prior of the Grande Chartreuse, in a Middle English Version. Stanforth Abbey, 1953.

Nau, Pascale-Dominique (tr.).  Guigo II: The Ladder of Monks. Lulu Press, 2013.

Wilmart, André. Auteurs spirituels et textes dévots du moyen âge latin: études d’histoire littéraire. Auteurs spirituels et textes devotes de moyen age latin. Paris, 1932.

Latin text

Guigonis Carthusiensis. Scala claustralium (Ladder of Monks). J. P. Migne Patrologia Latina 184 cols 475−484. Paris, 1854.

Manuscripts of Ladder of Foure Ronges

Cambridge, University Library, Ff.6.33

Bodleian Library MS Douce 322

British Museum MS Harley 1706

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Philo and the Liber Mundi

(Not Philo, but maybe he looked like this!)

LAST week I felt inspired to look at Philo’s On Dreams again.  The Introduction in Colson & Whitaker’s translation didn’t turn up much of new interest, until I got to their summary of Philo’s interpretation of Jacob’s ladder dream.

Philo pays particular attention to Jacob’s statement, “this is a gate of heaven” (Gen. 28:17).  Here Philo sees a reference to how the sensory world is a ‘gate’ to the Ideal world — every material thing being an image or shadow of a corresponding eternal Idea.  To me it seems Philo isn’t making so much a technical metaphysical point as a practical, psychological and experiential one: in the proper frame of mine, we can ascend from material things to catch sight of Eternal Beauty, or of objects belonging to that realm.

There are obviously Platonic overtones here — implicit references to the ascent to God from contemplation of beautiful things in Symposium 201–212, parts of the Timaeus, and the ‘pure world’ myth of Phaedo 107c–115a.  But in another sense it comes across (at least to me) as reminiscent of Neoplatonism — not just Plotinus, but of the characteristically Renaissance Neoplatonism idea that the world is a Book of God, a mirror or gateway into a corresponding universe of eternal, perfect Forms. One proceeds, say, from seeing an actual beautiful flower to somehow intuiting or contemplating a truth that the object not only instantiates, but one which the object is intended to convey to us for some didactic purpose.

IF that corresponds to Philo’s intentions it seems worth mentioning, because then it means that Philo is expressing this typically Neoplatonist idea two centuries before Plotinus.

Or perhaps I’m reading too much into the passage.  This general subject has been on my mind lately as I’ve recently collected and placed online quotations from American Transcendentalists and others about the transcendent beauty and meaning of flowers, illustrated with my photos  (Visit the new website Florigelium here).

Genesis 28

[10] And Jacob went out from Beer-sheba, and went toward Haran.

[11] And he lighted upon a certain place, and tarried there all night, because the sun was set; and he took of the stones of that place, and put them for his pillows, and lay down in that place to sleep.

[12] And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven: and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it.

[13] And, behold, the LORD stood above it, and said, I am the LORD God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac: the land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed;?

[14] And thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and thou shalt spread abroad to the west, and to the east, and to the north, and to the south: and in thee and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed.

[15] And, behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again into this land; for I will not leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of.

[16] And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, Surely the LORD is in this place; and I knew it not.

[17] And he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.

Philo, On Dreams 1 (De Somniis 1)

XXXII. [184]
Rightly, therefore, was he afraid and said in an awestruck tone, “How dreadful is this place” (Gen. 28:17). For indeed most difficult of the “places” in the study of nature’s verities is that in which men inquire as to where, and whether at all in any thing the Existent Being is. Some say that everything that subsists occupies some space, and of these one allots to the Existent One this space, another that, whether inside the world or a space outside it in the interval between worlds. Others maintain that the Unoriginate resembles nothing among created things, but so completely transcends them, that even the swiftest understanding falls far short of apprehending Him and acknowledges its failure.

[185]
Wherefore he straightway cried aloud “This is not” (ibid. 17); this that I supposed, “that the Lord is in some place” (ibid. 16), is not so; for according to the true reckoning He contains, but is not contained. But this that we can point out and see, this world discerned by sense, is, as I now know, nothing but a house of “God,” that is, of one of the Potencies of the Existent, that is, the Potency which expresses His goodness.

[Note:  Yonge translates this paragraph in a somewhat less difficult way as: “wherefore (Jacob) speedily cries out, This is not what I expected, because the Lord is in the place”; for he surrounds everything, but in truth and reason he is not surrounded by anything. And this thing which is demonstrated and visible, this world perceptible by the outward senses, is nothing else but the house of God, the abode of one of the powers of the true God, in accordance with which he is good;”]

[186]
The world which he named a “house,” he also described as “gate of” the real “heaven” (ibid. 17). Now what is this? The world which only intellect can perceive, framed from the eternal forms in Him [Note: Perhaps meaning the Logos] Who was appointed in accordance with Divine bounties, cannot be apprehended otherwise than by passing on to it from this world which we see and perceive by our senses.

[187]
For neither indeed is it possible to get an idea of any other incorporeal thing among existences except by making material objects our starting-point. The conception of place was gained when they were at rest: that of time from their motion, and points and lines and superficies, in a word extremities from the robe-like exterior which covers them.

[188]
Correspondingly, then, the conception of the intelligible world was gained from the one which our senses perceive: it is therefore a kind of gate into the former. For as those who desire to see our cities go in through gates, so all who wish to apprehend the unseen world are introduced to it by receiving the impression of the visible world. The world whose substance is discernible only by intellect apart from any sight whatever of shapes or figures, but only by means of the archetypal eternal form present in the world which was fashioned in accordance with the image beheld by him with no intervening shadow, — that world shall change its title, when all its walls and every gate has been removed and men may not catch sight of it from some outside point, but behold the unchanging beauty, as it actually is, and that sight no words can tell or express.

p.s. This passage connects with an earlier one in On Dreams about which I wrote previously.

Reference

Colson, F.H.; Whitaker, G. H.  On Dreams.  In: Philo in Ten Volumes, Vol. 5. Loeb Classical Library, Cambridge, MA, 1938.

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Philo’s Use of the Book of Psalms

Papyrus Fragment: LXX Psalm 88:4-8 (P.Duk.inv. 740), Duke University

AN EARLIER post suggested that Philo’s psychological method for interpreting the Pentateuch could be applied equally well to the Book of Psalms. Philo’s exegetical writings focus almost exclusively on the Pentateuch, citing each of its five books hundreds of times, and Genesis and Exodus more than the others.  By comparison, he cites Psalms only about 25 times — although this is his next most common Old Testament source outside of the Pentateuch. A list of his references to verses from Psalms is appended to this article.

By examining how Philo himself uses Psalms, we can check our earlier hypothesis: when Philo cites verses from Psalms, does he find in them meanings consistent with his interpretations of Genesis, Exodus, and the other Pentateuch books?  The answer is yes, and three representative examples are shown here.

1. Psalm 23:1. The LORD is my shepherd (Agricultura 50−54, Mutatione 105−120)

In his exegetical works, Philo twice refers to perhaps the most famous verse of Psalms, The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. (Ps 23;1; herein we shall use the King James Version translation and numbering).  These occur in On Agriculture (De Agricultura) 49−54 and On The Change of Names (De Mutatione Nominum) 103−120.

In the former, he begins by explicitly stating that we may interpret the verse psychologically.  God is the good shepherd, and different parts of the soul (psyche) are what need shepherding.  Reliance on God’s guidance puts all parts of the soul under a common leader, so that they may operate harmoniously and effectively.  Otherwise it is compelled to heed many different leaders with conflicting aims.

The Universe itself, Philo tells us, relies on God as its shepherd.  The guiding influence comes not from God directly, but through the agency of his firstborn Son, the Logos, who governs all as though a great King.  If this is true of the entire Universe, then each soul should likewise utter the same cry, “The LORD is my shepherd.” As long as ones soul follows the guidance of the King, it is not only harmonized within itself but aligned with the universal plan of God’s goodness.  By Providence all things will work to good for the soul and all needs are supplied — such that it may then add with confidence, “and nothing shall I want.”

Philo’s second mention of Psalm 23:1 — longer, and more complex psychologically — occurs in On the Change of Names (De mutatione) 103−120. The context — as the title of the book implies — concerns a change of names: Moses’ father-in-law is called in Exodus both Jethro and Raguel or Rauel. We first learn that he is a priest of the Midianites. By Philo’s etymology, ‘Midian’ refers to judgment.  (Philo’s etymologies are often notoriously idiosyncratic, but this association seems reasonable, as “Midian” does suggest an association with the proto-Indo-European roots *medyo– [‘middle’] and *me– [measure].)

Jethro first sends his seven daughters to water his sheep at a communal well.  At the well they are harassed by wicked shepherds. Moses arrives on the scene and opposes these other shepherds.  Jethro’s daughters then water their flock.  Jethro is pleased to see them return sooner than usual and wonders why.  When they explain what happened, he invites Moses into the clan, where he becomes the head shepherd.  At this point, Philo tells us, Jethro’s name becomes Raguel, which means “the shepherding of God,” because now the daughters have “discarded their kinship with vanity” and have “resolved to become a part of the holy herd which is led by God’s Word.” This leads Philo to mention Psalm 23:1.

As for the psychological meaning, the seven daughters, Philo tells us, symbolize seven elemental powers (dunameis) of the soul: the five senses (aisthesis), the “reproductive power” (gyne) and “voice” (phone) (Mutatione 111). As the meanings of the last two powers aren’t fully clear, let’s consider here the five ordinary senses. These are sent by Jethro, the governing or father part of the mind in its worldly orientation (104), to water their sheep. There they fill the “troughs of the soul” — perhaps what we would call the sensorium, or, alternatively, centralized conscious experience (111). However this is opposed by the wicked shepherds, who symbolize disordered passions, “comrades of envy and malice” (112).

Moses, a teacher/leader/prophet mental disposition or sub-ego (see earlier post for discussion of these terms), discerns the nature of these opposing forces and prevails over them. In this way he functions symbolically as did Phineas (108), who, when an Israelite man slept with a Midianite woman, slew them both (Numbers 25:1–9) with a lance or sword that symbolizes discernment (cf. Philo, Allegorical Interpretation 3.242).  The sense/daughters may then water their sheep and return to their mind/father who is now in a reformed condition and guided by God. Similarly, when passions dominate our mind — when we cling to them, as it were — sensation becomes impure and corrupted. The mind is now distracted, consciousness is divided, and sensation partial, fragmentary and unclear. When Moses overcomes the bad shepherds, sensation is restored to purity and the mind to its natural integrity.

We can find a modern parallel in Abraham Maslow’s (1971) distinction between what he called D-mode (Deficiency) and B-mode (Being) cognition. Whereas D-mode sensation regards objects as means to egoistic goals, Being cognition enjoys sensations purely and for their own sake, as ends in themselves. It corresponds to the unitive state described by Christian and other religious mystics. One is in the world but not of it (118).

When the daughters return to their father with alacrity they explain that this is not due to themselves, but through the agency of the Moses, an Egyptian.  Moses is an incredibly important archetypal figure in Philo’s writings.  He is not only a leader/prophet, but a Hebrew raised as a prince of Egypt (that is, both a ‘seer of God,’ yet also with an interest in the world of sense):

For the senses are on the border-line between the intelligible realm and the sensible, and all that we can hope is that they should desire both realms and not be led by the latter only. To suppose that they will ever give their affections to the things of mind only would be the height of folly, and therefore they give both titles. By the word ‘man’ [Ex. 2:20] they point out the world which reason alone discerns, by ‘Egyptian’ they represent the world of sense. (Mutatione 118; tr. Colson & Whitaker)

Perceptual experience in the properly oriented mental condition (Raguel) is more light and subtle, and at the same time more vital, detailed and nuanced.  One may, say, savor a single sip of wine instead of gulping down an entire cup whilst already imagining a second one. This mode of perception does not weigh down consciousness or disrupt or distract higher cognitive powers.  In this more peaceful frame of mind, one may also receive subtle thoughts and impulses that originate from ones higher nature. (120)  One is able to recognize, profit from and enjoy the multitude of providential gifts God supplies (116).

2. Psalm 46:4. There is a river (Somniis 2.246− 2.300)

There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High.

Our second example is Philo’s use of Psalms 46:4, There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High (KJV; LXX Ps. 45).  He discuses this verse in On Dreams (De somniis) 2.246−254. The context is his analysis of Pharaoh’s dream of the seven fat and seven gaunt cattle (Gen. 4), which Joseph interpreted.  In the dream, Pharaoh is standing by a river (And it came to pass at the end of two full years, that Pharaoh dreamed: and, behold, he stood by the river. Gen.41:1; KJV). Philo uses the opportunity to discuss the symbolic significance of rivers, contrasting two meanings, both allegorically understood to relate to the human soul and both being connected (though differently) with logos.

The first type of river is the constant flow of words or logoi of God, by which He providentially orders and directs all Creation, including the human soul.  This is a very Stoic notion.  For Philo, this activity is collectively directed by the Logos — understood as the Son or Chief Angel of God. This direction is manifest as discrete units, words or logoi.  As they affect the human soul, Philo likens these to an irrigating river of Wisdom. In this discussion he alludes to the four rivers of Eden, a subject that figured prominently in his earlier work, Allegorical Interpretation 1.19.63−89.  As we are told there, this separates into four rivers, corresponding to the four cardinal virtues, watering the Garden of Eden, which symbolizes the human mind filled with holy, virtuous and divine thoughts.

In contrast, a soul in the fallen condition is subject to a different kind of river: a flow or confused torrent of disruptive, distracting thoughts (logismoi).  Philo sees an allegorical reference to this other river in Exodus 7:15 Behold, he is going forth to the river, and thou shalt stand in the way to meet him, on the bank of the River.  This refers to that more famous Pharaoh with whom Moses contended in Exodus.  There are, then, figuratively speaking, two rivers, and a principal ethical and spiritual task of ours is to orient our soul to the divine one.  This is done by following Moses’ instruction to the Israelites, “Be still and hear” (σιώπα και άκουε; Deut. 27:9).  This Philo understands to mean a state of pious humility and trust, leading to a quietude of mind and an ability to perceive God’s guidance.

Note also Philo’s likening the soul of the righteous person to a city of God. He is certainly aware of Plato’s city-soul analogy in the Republic, and makes frequent use of it in his works.

3. Psalm 31:18. Let lying lips be silenced (Confusione 21−40)

Let the lying lips be put to silence; which speak grievous things proudly and contemptuously against the righteous.

Philo mentions this verse in On the Confusion of Tongues (De Confusione).  This work of Philo, which interprets the Tower of Babel story in Genesis, bears an especially strong connection with Psalms.  The tower’s builders were punished by God by having their languages confused, which, understood psychologically, is the same as being scattered.  Punishment of the wicked by scattering is mentioned in at least 10 different psalms.

Philo begins the discussion in On Confusion by noting that, while there are many evils in life capable of producing a painful and harmful upheaval of the psyche (wherein, among other things, it is easy prey to vice) the worst threat comes from evils produced from within the soul itself.  He then reviews the familiar Platonic tripartite model of the psyche, with its appetitive, irascible and rational elements.  Each of these is susceptible to its own mischiefs — both as it relates to itself and as it relates to the other elements.  A breakdown of the rational element is the most dangerous, however, as this inevitably affects the integrity of the others.  Philo likens the situation to a ship, where the steersman (rational nature), passengers (appetitive nature), and crew (irascible nature — the equivalent of Plato’s guardian class in the Republic) all cooperate in folly, leading to certain disaster.  The mutiny may begin with the appetitive and irascible passions, which then seek to corrupt captain and steersman to effect their nefarious aims (cf. Plato’s ship analogy in Rep. 6.487–6.491a).  Similarly, if physicians themselves become sick, it is much harder to control an epidemic.

Philo sees scriptural references to this negative alliance amongst mental powers in the story of the deluge, where the “cataracts” (plural) were opened, corresponding to a flooding torrent of multiple passions simultaneously. He also alludes to the confederation of heathen kings — enemies of Abraham — who met at the salt ravine (Gen. 14:3). And also the mob in Sodom who surrounded Lot’s house and threatened his guests (Gen. 19:4), allegorically understood as disordered passions “conspiring against the divine and holy Thoughts, who are often called angels” (Conf. 27f).

It is against such harmful thoughts that a distinctive leader/prophet mental disposition symbolized by Moses must stand to oppose.  An analogy is drawn to Moses meeting Pharaoh at the edge (which, in Philo’s vernacular, is also called the “lips”) of a river (Ex. 7:15).  Lips is an apt term, because the river is the flow of thoughts — which here are understood as mental speech or inner voices.

Moses stands by the river because he is stable, exemplifying the virtue of faith.  The speech of the passions consists in part of sophistries which seek to justify or rationalize vicious behavior.  These are reduced to silence by Moses, who demolishes them with clear reasoning.  However in this work Moses cannot rely solely on his own power.  Ultimately to defeat the sophistries of vice he needs the assistance of God. Therefore we must beseech God’s help, as in the psalmist’s words in this verse.

This is a particularly good example where Philo musters many verses from the Old Testament to support his argument.  The allegorical meanings he gives these verses are not arbitrary or implausible.  Rather, they rely on a consistent ethical and psychological model that combines Platonic psychology, Stoic ethics and Jewish piety before a personal God.

Conclusion

These examples demonstrate that Philo used the same hermeneutical approach to interpreting Psalms that he used for Genesis, Exodus, and the other books of the Pentateuch.

As noted in the previous article (Uebersax 2021), his model is consistent and representative of the perennial ascetical-mystical philosophy, Platonist/Stoic ethics, and certain modern theories of personality psychology. This is not a conclusion of mere academic interest.  Rather, it has practical value in that it means we may ourselves continue and extend Philo’s exegetical work:  we may apply the principles Philo demonstrates in his masterful interpretations of Genesis and Exodus, with no modification, to understand the Book of Psalms.

We should also note that Philo did not merely see Psalms as a text to be critically interpreted.  As a devout, practicing Jew of Alexandria, he would have prayed and sang psalms regularly.  Therefore his critical analysis would have been supported by an experiential understanding.  We should always bear in mind that Philo was not only a philosopher, but a self-avowed mystic.  He tells us, for example, that he has many times:

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. (Migratione 35)

Similarly, in Special Laws 3:1−6 he describes gaining spiritual wings and being “wafted by the breezes of knowledge.”

It must be emphasized that we are not discussing Philo as a sterile exercise in the history of religion.  It is assumed, rather, that the ability to experience transcendent states of consciousness is something real and vitally important for us as human beings.  Scriptures like the Book of Psalms are a repository of the spiritual wisdom of our ancestors from which we may draw.  Philo himself gives us an example of how to make use of this wisdom: by an integrated approach that involves attentive reading, exegesis, intuition, and personal practice.

Update:  Some time after writing this I learned of an article by David Runia, Philo’s Reading of the Psalms. It is difficult to find, but an abstract is here.  Runia agrees that Philo uses the same exegetical method for Psalms as he does for the Pentateuch. He also suggests that Philo does not take advantage of the full spiritual potential of Psalms, perhaps because his thorough exegesis of the Pentateuch makes it unnecessary.

At the same time I found an article by Maren Niehoff, Paul and Philo on the Psalms. Interestingly, Niehoff suggests that “Philo uses the Psalms as a spiritual key to Genesis” (p. 401).

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References

Cohen, Naomi G. Philo’s Scriptures: Citations from the Prophets and Writings. Brill, 2007.

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

Maslow, Abraham H. The farther reaches of human nature. New York: Arkana, 1993 (first published Viking, 1971).

Niehoff, Maren R. Paul and Philo on the Psalms: Towards a Spiritual Notion of Scripture. Novum Testamentum 62.4, 2020, 392−415.

Runia, David T. Philo’s Reading of the Psalms. Studia Philonica Annual 13, 2001, 102–121.

Uebersax, John. On the psychological and sapiential meaning of the Book of Psalms. Christian Platonism website. 12 Dec 2021.

Uebersax, John. Psychological Allegorical Interpretation of the Bible.  Camino Real, 2012.

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Appendix. Philo’s Quotations From Psalms

Psa 23:1
[1] The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Agricultura 50−54
Mutatione 115

Psa 27:1
[1] The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
Somniis 1.75

Psa 31:18
[18] Let the lying lips be put to silence; which speak grievous things proudly and contemptuously against the righteous.
Confusione 39

Psa 37:4
[4] Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.
Plantatione 39
Somniis 2.242

Psa 42:3
[3] My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?
Migratione 157

Psa 46:4
[4] There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High.
Somniis 2.246−254

Psa 62:11
[11] God hath spoken once; twice have I heard this; that power belongeth unto God.
Quod Deus 82

Psa 65:9
[9] Thou visitest the earth, and waterest it: thou greatly enrichest it with the river of God, which is full of water: thou preparest them corn, when thou hast so provided for it.
Somniis 2.245
See Psa 46:4 above.

Psa 69:33
[33] For the LORD heareth the poor, and despiseth not his prisoners.
Questions and Answers on Genesis 4.147

Psa 75:8
[8] For in the hand of the LORD there is a cup, and the wine is red; it is full of mixture; and he poureth out of the same: but the dregs thereof, all the wicked of the earth shall wring them out, and drink them.
Quod Deus 77−82

Psa 78:49
[49] He cast upon them the fierceness of his anger, wrath, and indignation, and trouble, by sending evil angels among them.
Gigantibus 16f

Psa 80:5
[5] Thou feedest them with the bread of tears; and givest them tears to drink in great measure.
Migratione 157
See Psa 42:3 above.

Psa 80:6
[6] Thou makest us a strife unto our neighbours: and our enemies laugh among themselves.
Confusione 52−54

Psa 84:10
[10] For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand. I had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness.
Quis heres 290

Psa 87:3
[3] Glorious things are spoken of thee, O city of God. Selah.
Confusione 108
See Psa 46:4 above.

Psa 91:11−12
[11] For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
[12] They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.
Quod Deus 182

Psa 94:9
[9] He that planted the ear, shall he not hear? he that formed the eye, shall he not see?
Plantatione 29

Psa 101:1
[1] I will sing of mercy and judgment: unto thee, O LORD, will I sing.
Quod Deus 74−76

Psa 115:5−8
[5] They have mouths, but they speak not: eyes have they, but they see not:
[6] They have ears, but they hear not: noses have they, but they smell not:
[7] They have hands, but they handle not: feet have they, but they walk not: neither speak they through their throat.
[8] They that make them are like unto them; so is every one that trusteth in them.
Decalogo 74

Psa 115:8
[8] They that make them are like unto them; so is every one that trusteth in them.
Specialibus legibus 2.255

Psa 115:17
[17] The dead praise not the LORD, neither any that go down into silence.
Fuga 59

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Psalm 45. The Mystical Marriage

Monastery of St. John the Baptist, Megara

PSALM 45 (Ps. 44 LXX) is another hidden gem.  The Book of Psalms is a magnificent work — even by itself one of the greatest treatises on spiritual life we possess.  The weakening of spiritual life in the West today is proportional to the loss in fervor with which people study and pray Psalms, which in previous centuries was a mainstay of Christian spiritual life. It’s not enough to read or hear isolated verses of Psalms during masses and liturgies.  A thorough, attentive, and repeated reading of the whole work is needed. Only then may one recognize it as an organic unity with an express aim. That aim is to help effect a transformation of soul.  Psalms not only give us a conceptual framework for understanding that process of transformation, but, insofar as we pray individual psalms (or perhaps sing them) devoutly and meditate on their meanings, it becomes a means of effecting that transformation.

The subject is a marriage involving the soul. The resemblance to the Song of Songs is evident and striking. It would be interesting to know which was written earlier: does the first epitomize the second, or the second expand the first?

To begin there is one verse of introduction, a masterpiece of economy and eloquence, and immediately rivets our attention on what is to follow:

[1] My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which I have made touching the king: my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.

There is no doubt — on this virtually all commentators agree — but that this psalm does not describe any historical event, but its meaning is found in symbolism and allegorical interpretation. There are two principal figures in the psalm: the King, and the Bride.

The King

[2] Thou art fairer than the children of men: grace is poured into thy lips: therefore God hath blessed thee for ever.
[3] Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O most mighty, with thy glory and thy majesty.
[4] And in thy majesty ride prosperously because of truth and meekness and righteousness; and thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things.
[5] Thine arrows are sharp in the heart of the king’s enemies; whereby the people fall under thee.
[6] Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever: the sceptre of thy kingdom is a right sceptre.
[7] Thou lovest righteousness, and hatest wickedness: therefore God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows.
[8] All thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory palaces, whereby they have made thee glad.

The King here is almost universally understood to signify Christ.  However, it’s also possible to understand the figure as symbolic of an Inner Christ within the soul.  These two interpretations are not mutually exclusive, but to supply a satisfactory discussion of the relationship of Christ to the Inner Christ (however valuable that might be) is beyond the present scope. We may observe, though, that such a parallel is implied by the important Christian doctrine of theosis (becoming like God).  Most unfortunate it is that this doctrine receives so little attention today outside the Orthodox Churches. We come to see, know and love God only to the degree that we become like Him. Our spiritual life is one of gradual coming to be like God, as we proceed from glory to glory. (2 Cor.3:18)

Of what, then, does the beauty of the King consist? We are told that He has the qualities of truth, meekness and righteousness. As we read and reflect on the psalm, we rediscover a great truth of our own soul: that we find this figure of supreme righteousness innately and irresistibly attractive. We cannot help but love deeply and intensely these divine virtues, because these also constitute the deepest nature of our own soul. We love in others what we treasure — sometimes without realizing it — in ourselves.  Reading these verses and calling to our imagination a vision of this King, we are confronted with a great truth of our own soul: we love Righteousness and Moral Beauty — and  far more so than anything related to the material world.  This realization jolts us into a proper remembrance of our true nature.

Yet the King is not only great in moral beauty, but also awesome and sublime in a sense that is, we might say, terrifying.  The very perfection of truth and righteousness which we admire in the King makes falsehood and wickedness perfectly unacceptable to Him.  Hence He is also portrayed as taking an aggressive stance against evil. This creates a psychological paradox for us — one that, in a sense, is the same paradox inherent in that potent expression, fear of the LORD. The same pure King of Righteousness, whose beauty we find so irresistibly attractive, is also a source in like degree of great apprehensiveness.  For we do not believe we are pure and holy.  Even the best of us harbors a deep awareness of our carnal nature and selfish tendencies. As we are drawn toward the beautiful King, we recoil, as though feeling as St. Peter did when he said, Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord. (Luke 5:8)

Therefore, while Christ, loving and patient, continually beckons us forward, saying, “Fear not!  Come into your Father’s house, to the place that has been prepared for you,” we are divided.  We wish both to proceed and to draw back, lest, coming into the presence of the Father, our sinful side will be seen and incur rejection and wrath.

This is an elemental conflict which must be resolved within the psyche of the devoted reader.  The harder task, perhaps, is not so much the elimination of all sin, but to accept that God loves us completely despite our sins.  This is a matter of great import.  For insofar as guilt and shame dominates our mind, we will seek to by our own efforts to conquer sin — the polar opposite of what we need.  But if we focus our attention on God’s generosity, understanding and love, we will see that it is by grace we are saved. So far from human understanding is this great truth!

The Bride

[9] Kings’ daughters were among thy honourable women: upon thy right hand did stand the queen in gold of Ophir.
[10] Hearken, O daughter, and consider, and incline thine ear; forget also thine own people, and thy father’s house;
[11] So shall the king greatly desire thy beauty: for he is thy Lord; and worship thou him.
[12] And the daughter of Tyre shall be there with a gift; even the rich among the people shall intreat thy favour.
[13] The king’s daughter is all glorious within: her clothing is of wrought gold.
[14] She shall be brought unto the king in raiment of needlework: the virgins her companions that follow her shall be brought unto thee.
[15] With gladness and rejoicing shall they be brought: they shall enter into the king’s palace.
[16] Instead of thy fathers shall be thy children, whom thou mayest make princes in all the earth.
[17] I will make thy name to be remembered in all generations: therefore shall the people praise thee for ever and ever.

The bride here has traditionally been given three alternative meanings:  (1) the Church, (2) the soul, and (3) the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Examples of all three interpretations can be found throughout ancient and medieval commentaries on the Song of Songs. The meanings overlap and are interact, so we need not worry overmuch about making an exact distinction among them. The Church, after all, is a collection of individual souls, and what applies to one, generally applies to the other. Similarly, the Blessed Virgin is frequently taken as a kind of ideal for the individual soul.  This not withstanding, our focus of attention here is on the bride as an individual soul.

Why is the soul symbolized as a female figure, as it would seem to transcend distinctions of gender. Apparently what is symbolized is not the entire soul, but that part of it that is connected with such things as feeling, sensation, emotion and desiring.  This affective soul (anima) would be the counterpart of another part of our soul, the intellective (animus).  In that case, we might possibly interpret the King as a symbol of the animus, to which the anima soul is being united in some new and fundamentally improved way.  Such an inner marriage has many archetypal counterparts in mythology (e.g., Martinus Capella’s Marriage of Philology and Mercury and Apuleius’ Marriage of Eros and Psyche), and some alchemical literature. A Jungian would see this as a representation of a conjiunctio or marriage of the conscious and unconscious psyche.

It is not correct for Christians to summarily and completely dismiss secular psychological or esoteric writers merely because they depart from orthodox Christianity. Even if they are merely half-right, we must pay attention to the half that is right.  Just as St. Augustine in On Christian Doctrine reminds us to read Scripture charitably, so as to not miss important meanings, so the principle of charity applies to reading secular works and writings from other spiritual traditions.

That said, the orthodox Christian (or, for that matter Jewish) and the Jungian view produce two complementary psychological interpretations of the marriage. The former sees the mystical marriage as an ascent of human consciousness to God.  The latter sees it as an integration of psychic functions that produce an intensification and revitalization of waking consciousness in and of this world — that is, attainment of what Abraham Maslow called  Being-experience. Elsewhere I have suggested that Plato’s philosophy, as shown particularly in his myths, can be understood as helping to attain both: mystical ascent and Being-experience. These two meanings are not mutually exclusive, and there is much in the Gospel to suggest it is as much concerned with the latter as the former. The telos of Christian ethics must be complete and integral if it is to be satisfying and compelling.

To return to the psalm, the Queen has female attendants, which may symbolize particular powers or faculties of the soul.  For example, they could mean the senses, or perhaps higher-level creative powers such as are symbolized in Greek myth by the Muses. Her garment of finest gold and its fine embroidery suggest a radiant and beautiful assortment of virtues.

The bride is told to leave her father’s land.  Many commentators plausibly suggest that this refers to the soul leaving its natural homeland of attachment to sensory and worldly goods, and fixing its affection on spiritual things.  (See excerpt from St. Ambrose below.)

In verse 11 we see that it is precisely because the soul rejects the worldly and turns to heavenly things that the King finds her beautiful.  This is a key point, and a magnificent one. It addresses and solves the aforementioned paradox.  Despite our fears and misgivings about being acceptable to God, we here are taught that we already possess, at least in potential, something that God treasures dearly.  Our soul becomes not just good, but supremely beautiful — possessing the very kind of moral beauty that the King prizes — by making the moral choice to turn from flesh to spirit.  We need not recoil from God due to an our awareness of sinfulness, for God has endowed us with a nature He finds supremely beautiful.  We must constantly redirect our attention to that fact.

Attending the wedding as a guest is another female figure, the Queen of Tyre. Tyre is a Philistine (i.e., heathen) city — so this figure may indicate some ruling power or sub-personality (for clarification of these terms see my previous post on Philonic interpretation) concerned with worldly things.  Significantly, this woman bears a gift.  What that gift is we are not told, and it is up to us to learn experientially.  It might involve the ability to enjoy sensory goods and pleasures to a far greater degree than we could before.  That is, if we are attached to the senses, we cannot really enjoy their offerings, because we are divided: we are simultaneous aware of defection, of giving our allegiance to the wrong place, which degrades the integrity of consciousness and diminishes enjoyment.  But if our allegiance remains in heaven, then we my touch the world of sense delicately, savoring it as we would the delicate scent of a rose, rather than dulling our senses with cheap perfume.

Princely offspring of the bride are also promised. Perhaps these would be intellectual activities, projects, and works initiated by the redeemed, reformed and divinized mind.

Conclusion

These are some possible interpretations.  They are only tentative, approximate and suggestive — hints, hopefully to that fuller understanding attainable only by devout reading and meditation.

As said before, there is an important performative dimension to interpreting the psalms.  Understanding comes more from praying than analyzing them.  This is true generally of biblical exegesis, and perhaps especially the Wisdom Books. There is a self-referential or circular quality:  by spiritual mindedness we understand the deeper meanings, and a main purpose of the Bible is to help us gain spiritual mindedness.  Norris puts this well:

“[Gregory of Nyssa] says not only that the Song in some fashion narrates an exemplary soul’s progress in knowledge and love of God but also that readers of the Song may themselves, through their comprehension of it, be brought along as actual participants in the same progress. The text of the Song has a kind of symbolic or sacramental character, then, in that to understand it fully is to be involved with the reality it speaks of.” (p. xlv).

Similarly, Origen, in his Commentary on the Song of Songs, interprets the words behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes (Song 1.15) to mean that the eyes of the exegete are illumined by the Holy Spirit and enabled to see spiritual meanings of Scripture. (Origen Comm. Cant. 3.1)

Thus it is not the purpose here or in other articles to replace the effort of each reader with formulaic interpretations.

Let us, then, simply close with a passage from St. Ambrose’s commentary on the Song (found in his work On Isaac, or the Soul) I encountered in preparing this article which seems very relevant:

(8.78) Let us then take up these wings, since like flames they aim for the higher regions. Let each man divest his soul of her baser coverings and approve her when she is cleansed of the mire just as he would approve gold cleansed by fire. For the soul is cleansed just like the finest gold. Moreover the beauty of the soul, her pure virtue and attractiveness, is her truer knowledge of the things that are above, so that she sees the good on which all things depend, but which itself depends on none. There she lives and receives her understanding. For that supreme good is the fountain of life; love and longing for it are enkindled in us, and it is our desire to approach and be joined to it, for it is desirable to him who does not see it and is present to him who sees it, and therefore he disregards all other things and takes pleasure and delight in this one only. …

Let us flee therefore to our real, true fatherland [cf. Plotinus, Enneads 1.6.5]. There is our fatherland and there is our Father, by whom we have been created, where there is the city of Jerusalem, which is the mother of all men. (8.79) … Let us flee with the spirit and the eyes and feet that are within. Let us accustom our eyes to see what is bright and clear, to look upon the face of continence and of moderation, and upon all the virtues, in which there is nothing scabrous, nothing obscure or involved. And let each one look upon himself and his own conscience; let him cleanse that inner eye, so that it may contain no dirt. For what is seen ought not to be at variance with him who sees, because God has wished that we be conformed to the image of His Son. … This is the eye that looks upon the true and great beauty. Only the strong and healthy eye can see the sun; only the good soul can see the good. Therefore let him become good who wishes to see the Lord and the nature of the good.

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References

Astell, Ann W. The Song of Songs in the Middle Ages. Cornell University Press, 1990.

McHugh, Michael P. (tr.). Saint Ambrose: Isaac, or the Soul (De Isaac vel anima). In: Michael P. McHugh (ed.), Saint Ambrose: Seven Exegetical Works, Fathers of the Church 65, CUA Press, 1972 (repr. 2010); pp. 9−65.

Lawson, R. P. (tr.). Origen: The Song of Songs Commentary and Homilies. Ancient Christian Writers 26. Newman Press, 1957.

Norris Jr., Richard A. (tr.). Gregory of Nyssa: Homilies on the Song of Songs. Society of Biblical Literature, 2012.

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On the Psychological and Sapiential Meaning of the Book of Psalms

Illuminated manuscript, 14th century. King David. Oxford Bodleian Library,

Preface: A Word for the Wise

THE BOOK OF PSALMS is a great treasure, a source of immense consolation and inspiration and one of the greatest religious scriptures humanity possesses.  Few people make a sufficient effort to penetrate the depth of its meanings.  My aim here is not to attempt to explain all the  meanings — psychological and spiritual — of Psalms. Rather I would be content if this short work motivates a few people to read Psalms more attentively and devoutly.  Therefore the more brief the exposition, the better.  Only a word to the wise — those who already hunger and thirst for inner righteousness — is sufficient.  A more elaborate treatment would not benefit such readers, for ultimately they must learn by their own work and engagement with the work.  Neither would it persuade those others not already motivated and ready to commence such study.  A brief treatment, moreover, duly acknowledges the limitations of my own powers.

Those who have read anything I’ve written will probably know that my orientation is in line with Roman Catholicism and Orthodox Christianity.  On the other hand, I also have the perspective of a (1) contemporary psychologist with (2) a strong appreciation of ancient philosophy.  I mention these things only to reassure prospective readers they need not fear being exposed to ‘heretical’, vague esoteric, or merely idiosyncratic notions on the one hand, or dogmatic Christian moralizing, on the other.  Everything presented here is given in the spirit of plausible conjecture — possibilities which readers may experimentally confirm or disconfirm based on their own experience.

The discussion here has three sections.  First, an introduction, including a list of guiding premises, will be presented. Second, the key themes of Psalms will be identified. Third, these themes will be explained in comments on particular psalms and verses.  To try to explain every line in every psalm would be a mistake, I believe.  The point is to equip each reader with sufficient skills to productively make their own interpretations: in learning from Scripture, the seeking and the finding often coincide.

If the writing below seems in places more like an outline than polished prose, that is by design.  Reading a single psalm is more valuable than any commentary, and there is no reason to delay readers from this pursuit by unnecessary prolixity here.  It is not expected that everything said here is correct.  It is only hoped that some parts are.

Introduction

Premises

Our main premises are as follows: (1) the Book of Psalms is a unified work that carries deep meanings of both a spiritual and psychological nature; (2) it can be understood as conveying in a concise and comprehensive form what has been called the perennial philosophy, and (3) as a means to unlock psychological and sapiential meanings of Psalms we may do well to follow the exegetical methods of the Jewish Platonist philosopher, Philo of Alexandria.  Although Philo mentioned Psalms infrequently (Note 1), he produced many commentaries on the Old Testament books of Genesis and Exodus, and there is scarcely any theme in Psalms that is not also found in these earlier books.  As we shall see, the system of Philo is well supported by modern psychology, including Carl Jung’s archetypal psychology, ego/sub-ego theory, and contemporary Stoic cognitive psychology.  However we emphasize that our interest here is not Philo, but the Book of Psalms. In a sense, Philo serves mainly as a particularly clear and eminent example of the tradition of Greek (or Alexandrian) allegorical interpretation of the sapiential meanings of myth and scripture.

The Perennial Philosophy

Psalms is one of the Wisdom Books of the Old Testament.  This designation acknowledges a common purpose with the other Wisdom Books, including Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Wisdom of Solomon, Sirach, Canticle and Job. The subject is a transformation of consciousness, moral renewal, and the attainment of ‘wisdom.’ By wisdom here we mean neither abstract metaphysical truths nor practical wisdom (phronesis), but rather moral truths of the human soul, ones that may be directly experienced.  Wisdom in this sense might be understood as a distinct state (or set of related states) of consciousness.

Psalms expresses in a very complete and useful form what has been termed the perennial philosophy.  The perennial philosophy is a system of principles and practices, at the intersection of religion, philosophy, and moral psychology, that supply a blueprint for self-realization.  As human nature is basically constant throughout history and across cultures, and as the obstacles to self-realization are similarly constant, we should expect that similar means of removing psychological obstacles and for achieving self-realization develop across time and place.

The term perennial philosophy has an long history.  It goes at least as far back as the Renaissance (e.g., Marsilio Ficino and Pico della Mirandola). Later proponents include such figures as Agostino Steuco, Leibniz and, more recently, Aldous Huxley (1947).  As we understand it here, the perennial philosophy is roughly synonymous with ascetico-mysticism.  In the ascetical or negative aspect, this entails a moderation of passions (thus harmonizing them), elimination of moral error (wrong judgment and bad action), and control of thoughts.  This produces a mental condition of undisturbedness (ataraxia) and dispassion (apatheia) — or, more accurately, properly measured or ordered passions (metropatheai).

In the mystical or positive aspect, mental calmness and harmony allow one to be more attentive to subtle, transcendental and spiritual thoughts, judgments and impulses. The fruits of this include correct reasoning, spiritual senses, holiness and divinization (becoming godlike).  At the same time, a purification and moral re-alignment of the psyche allows one to experience material existence with greater vitality, meaning and purpose; one may experience the world as transfigured.

In discussing the perennial philosophy, some mistakenly place undue emphasis on the attainment of a momentous and ultimate mystical experience of Cosmic Consciousness.  However, especially since this is an experience enjoyed only by very few, the more relevant goal is to (1) be divine while (2) living in the world. That is, to experience oneself and the world — however briefly, for it can never be a permanent state in this life — as an incarnate divine being.  In addition, psychological salvation in this life, meanwhile, prepares us for a better afterlife.

A useful framework for understanding the perennial philosophy is the traditional three-fold distinction between stages of (1) purification, (2) illumination and (3) unification (Underhill, 1927).  The last itself has three components: unification within ourselves, with God, and with the world (including other human beings.)  These, it should be added, are not fixed stages that one finishes completely before moving to the next.  Rather one moves between them constantly throughout ones life.

The greatest obstacles to self-realization are (1) our ego, and (2) our immature, selfish emotional and acquisitive tendencies.  Our journey — a natural developmental process, biologically, psychologically, and spiritually — is one from what is traditionally called carnal (or worldly) mindedness (an orientation towards acquisition of material and sensory goods) to spiritual mindedness and transcendence (orientation towards spiritual and eternal goods, and, ultimately to God).  This is not only a traditional religious and philosophical concept, but is also present in modern psychological theories of moral development (e.g., Kohlberg).  It is a natural progression from infantile narcissism to a transcendent personality structure.

Self-realization is incompatible with the myriad forms of psychological dysfunction and disordering of thought we experience on a daily basis.  Therefore the purification or ascetical component of the perennial philosophy should be of interest to secular psychologists as well as those with religious sensibilities.

Part of the telos or desired end state of the perennial philosophy is a life in harmony with Nature (understood in the broadest sense to include both physical and metaphysical realities).  This condition is more or less synonymous as a life in accord with Truth, the Way, the TAO, Torah, etc.

To live in this way, one must remain constantly receptive to higher inspirations and guidances. This, I propose, is the true meaning of what the Bible calls following or heeding God’s guidances, judgments, directions, commands, etc.  By this view, we should seek not so much to be ‘obedient’ to God’s commandments in the sense of following fixed, written dictates; but rather to remain constantly and spontaneously attentive and receptive to subtle higher promptings  The former is, as St. Paul explains in his letter to the Romans, the ‘law which killeth’; the latter is the way of the Spirit which giveth life.

The concept of a core perennial philosophy still allows for variation in its expression as well as its gradual refinement and evolution over time. The Bible is a good complement to Platonism, because it better emphasizes the central importance of ones loving relationship with a personal God, and a God who actively reaches out by grace and Providence to assist with our psychological and spiritual salvation.

Here our main concern is in those parts of the perennial philosophy that may concern both secular psychologists and ‘religionists.’  The perennial philosophy is concerned with the attainment of immortality or a propitious afterlife, as well as with flourishing in this one.  We by no means disregard the former concern, but propose that in order to achieve it, then the former — a good, wise and virtuous present life — is a necessary stepping stone.  Therefore by focusing here on how Psalms relates to the more psychological component of the perennial philosophy, it is hoped to be relevant to the greatest number of readers.

Philo of Alexandria

Philo (c. 25 BC − c. 50 AD) was a prominent member of the Jewish community of Alexandria and a Platonist philosopher.  He wrote numerous books explaining the Old Testament — chiefly the five books of the Pentateuch.  Though he wrote with different purposes for several audiences, his best known works today contain a detailed allegorical interpretation of Genesis and Exodus.  These apply the philosophical principles of Platonic, Stoic and Pythagorean philosophy to the stories in these Old Testament Books.  Philo’s brilliant allegorical interpretations remain unsurpassed. His work was largely ignored by later Jewish exegetes, who gravitated instead towards the style of Midrash.  However Christian Platonists, including Clement of Alexandria and Origen, adopted his method.  Later Christians strongly influenced by Philonic interpretation include Basil the Great, Gregory of Nyssa and Maximus Confessor (in Eastern Christianity) and Ambrose of Milan, Jerome, and Augustine of Hippo in the Latin tradition. In the Middle Ages, allegorical interpretation based largely on methods pioneered by Philo became a fixture in the Latin and Byzantine traditions of Bible exegesis.  Ironically, then, Philo, a Jewish Platonist, might well be considered the father of Christian allegorical interpretation of the Bible.

Reasons we may expect success by taking Philo as a guide to the psychological and sapiential meaning of Psalms, include the following:

• Philo wrote two millennia ago. While modern society is more advanced technologically, the most valuable religious and philosophical ideas we possess originate from antiquity.  If the ancients were sophisticated enough to write the Iliad, Odyssey and the Old Testament, we should be similarly respectful of the skill and depth of insight of ancient allegorical commentators like Philo.

• Moreover, Philo, writing in the rich, varied, and cosmopolitan milieu of Alexandria, was able to draw from the best of several more ancient traditions, including not only Judaism, but many Greek philosophers, as well as potentially from elements of Egyptian religion.

• Philo was heir to the Stoic method of interpreting Greek myths as philosophical allegories. Heraclitus the Allegorist — whose Homeric Allegories (Russell & Konstan, 2005) is especially noteworthy in this regard — wrote a little after Philo’s time, and applies methods that had been in development for some time.  The Greek-influenced Roman poet, Virgil, writing around the time of Philo’s birth, not only incorporated philosophical themes into his mythic epic, the Aeneid, but quite possibly did this consciously and intentionally.  Philo was, arguably, personally not too far removed from the Jewish Wisdom tradition of the Bible, himself having once been considered the author of the Wisdom of Solomon.  Thus with Philo we arguably have the tradition interpreting itself.

Philonic Interpretation

A brief explanation of Philo’s system of interpretation and its connections with modern personality theory is found in Uebersax (2012).  The main features relevant to our present task may be summarized as follows:

1. Personification

Philo’s main tool for allegorical interpretation is personification: each person in the Old Testament is understood to correspond to some structure or operation of the psyche.  A generic term for these psychological correspondents is mental dispositions, but this word is not very informative. We may understand these psychological correspondents in a more technical sense as what modern writers have called subpersonalities (e.g., Rowan, 1999) or sub- or part-egos (Sorokin, 1956; cf. Uebersax 2014).  According to this view, human personality can be understood as a configuration of interacting, smaller components: in an important sense, our mind operates somewhat not as a single self, but as a community of sub-selves.  At a biological level, each sub-self can be understood as a complex, with both cognitive and emotional aspects.

Subegos or subpersonalities are evidently very numerous (for example, we have, in theory, a separate one associated with every social role, personal interest, ambition, attachment, and biological instinct).  In addition, we tend to create in the psyche internalized versions of other people — actual people we’ve known, and even historical and fictional ones.  So, as unsettling as the notion may seem at first, we have within our minds countless numbers of sub-egos of various levels of complexity.

It is not necessary, however, to reify or take too literally this theory. Our present discussion applies if we merely allow that our minds operate “something like this” — that is, as if we were congeries of competing subpersonalities. [Note 2]

2. Hierarchical organization

These sub-egos or subpersonalities are of different orders of complexity.  For example, we may have individual sub-egos associated with particular foods we like to eat, and also one for the eating and enjoyment of food in general. In Philo’s system, Old Testament references to tribes and rulers correspond to smaller sub-egos and higher-level, ruling ones, respectively.

3. Internal conflict

Having so many components of the psyche, each with its individual interests and aims, naturally sets the stage for inner conflict.  For Philo, of primary concern is the conflict between, on the one hand, our virtuous and holy parts, and, on the other, our vicious and impious ones.  Here Philo reflects not only his Jewish roots, but his grounding in Platonic, Pythagorean and Stoic philosophy, which all have a somewhat dualistic model of human nature.  In keeping with the Platonic and Pythagorean view, our virtuous nature is concerned with eternal things, and our lower nature focused on material and world things.

For Philo, this fundamental conflict in human nature is represented repeatedly by contrasting pairs of figures:  Cain vs. Abel, Jacob vs. Esau, Joseph vs. his brothers, Moses vs. Pharaoh, the Israelites vs. their enemies, etc.

Similarly, in Greek myths this fundamental inner war (psychomachia) is symbolized by, for example, the conflicts of the Olympians vs. the Titans, and, in the Iliad, the Greeks vs. the Trojans. The same symbolic trope is expressed in a very elaborate and psychologically complex form in the great Indian epic, the Mahabharata (see Uebersax, 2021).

We should note that, although in an actual war the goal may be to completely destroy an enemy, that seems less feasible in the case of internal ‘war.’  Even though they may seem to oppose virtuous tendencies, worldly concerns are part of us, and they tend to have some foundation in instinct and biology.  Hence a more productive goal may be to seek harmonization or subordination of our lower nature to the higher.  In effect, rather than raze the heathen cities of our soul, we may wish to make them client states.

A simple way to sum up the preceding is this:  that within each person’s psyche there are inner correspondents to all the main figures of the Old Testament.  We have an inner Adam and Eve, and inner Cain and Abel, an inner Noah, Abraham, Jacob, and Moses, inner Israelites and Egyptians, etc.  But the Bible is doing more than reminding us that these inner characteristics exist.  It uses this figurative language to explain how we can achieve a more happy, harmonious and productive inner organization.

4. Ethics

Philo adheres closely to the virtue ethics that run consistently — whether implicitly as in Hesiod’s myths, or explicitly as in Platonism and Stoicism — throughout Greek philosophy. According to this view, the common or unredeemed condition of the human mind is fallen.  We see this view graphically expressed as Plato’s cave (Republic 7.514a–521d).  The fallen condition affects both the intelligence and the will.  Until we are redeemed, our minds are habitually sunk in folly, delusion and chronic negative thinking, and we are unhappy, unproductive and unfulfilled.

In the three books of his Allegorical Interpretation, Philo uses the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden to supply an insightful and detailed analysis of the cognitive psychology of the fall of the psyche.

While this fallen state is our usual condition, it is not our natural one: we are intended and designed for a better and higher psychological life — to which it is the task of true philosophy and religion to restore us.  For Philo, the process of return and redemption basically follows the already mentioned three stages of ascetico-mysticism: moral purification (ascesis), illumination and union (Underhill, 1928).

The ethical summum bonum for Philo is union with God.  This means becoming like God (being holy, virtuous and wise; cf. Plato, Theateus 176a−b), gaining in some sense a vision or knowledge of God, and, finally, having a personal loving relationship with God.

Again, various events and figures in the Old Testament, for Philo, are associated with each of these stages.  For example, Jacob is a symbol for the practicer of ascesis.

5. Spirituality

Ultimately Philo sees the ideal human life as spiritually oriented. This involves the moderation of appetites and passions, the practice of prayer and contemplation, the development of spiritual senses, and an influx of spiritual inspirations, insights and guidances.

In modern (e.g., Jungian) psychology this has various counterparts, including the integration of conscious and unconscious mental operation, the ‘sacred marriage’ of ego and Self, the harmonious cooperation of the brain hemispheres (McGilchrist, 2009), and Being-cognition (Maslow, 1971).

St. Paul — a contemporary of Philo, and, like him, familiar with the prevailing currents of Stoic ethics, as well as steeped in the psychology of the Old Testament — summed up our condition as a tension between carnal mindedness (concern with worldly things) and spiritual mindedness (a personality organized by spiritual concerns). He also uses the terms ‘old man’ and ‘new man’ to refer to these conflicting dimensions of our personality. This is what St. Paul means when he says the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other (Gal. 5:17).  The redeemed psychological condition then, for both St. Paul and Philo, can be understood as the return to spiritual mindedness.  To jump ahead a little historically, the movements of psychological fall and salvation correspond, in the system of Neoplatonism’s founder, Plotinus, to what he calls the descent and ascent of the soul (Uebersax, 2014).

Jungian Psychology

Besides its connection with subpersonality theory, Philo’s system finds counterparts in the archetypal psychology of Carl Jung (in fact, Jung admits borrowing the term ‘archetype’ from Philo). While they are by no means identical, Philo’s and Jung’s systems agree on these points:

• Scripture and myth serve the purpose of communicating universal psychological truths;

• Their chief aims include the amelioration of mental dysfunction and attaining of self-realization; and

• The characters of myths and scripture are images of archetypes, that is, representations of universal structures and processes of the human psyche. Philo does not, though, as do some neo-Jungians, see archetypes as existing autonomously as somewhat like living metaphysical entities; for example, Abraham in Genesis is an archetypal symbol, but not an ‘Archetype’ with independent existence.

In consequence, both Philo and Jungian writers like Jung himself and Campbell (1949) understand exegesis of myth and scripture as in large part a deciphering of the universal psychological meanings of the figures and stories therein.

The Jungian psychiatrist, Edward Edinger, wrote several books applying archetypal exegesis to the Bible. His works are interesting and worth reading, but must be approached cautiously, as they are often no more than half-true. To his credit Edinger writes well and draws into discussion an interesting array of works from numerous disciplines — for example, Ginzberg’s Legends of the Jews and Milton’s Paradise Lost. On the negative side he bears an undisguised and militant antipathy towards organized religion, especially Christianity.  He implies that traditional Christianity is obsolete and will be replaced by a new system based on Jungian psychology!  As a result, his interpretations frequently miss the mark.  His prejudice filters out any conclusion that might present traditional religion in any but an unflattering light

These cautions notwithstanding, Jungian psychology supplies a vocabulary and conceptual scheme very helpful for understanding Philo’s system — and the psychological meaning of Psalms — in modern terms. It also supplies an alternative perspective — something valuable, if not indispensable in any scientific-minded investigation to help prevent the close-minded dogmatism to which the human ego is always vulnerable.

Related Literature

As noted, Philo does not cite Psalms often, but the handful of examples in his works suffice to show that he did not hesitate to apply the same exegetical methods there that he used for interpreting Genesis and Exodus.  Evagrius of Ponticus — strongly influenced by Origen (who himself used Philo’s exegetical methods) authored Scholia on Psalms (Dysinger, 2005), but these unfortunately has not been fully translated into English.  Pseudo-Procopius of Gaza (an anonymous author, possibly Byzantine) wrote a Commentary on Proverbs (Gohl, 2019) that adheres closely to the Platonic/Philonic psychology.

St. Augustine learned Bible interpretation from St. Ambrose — who himself was well acquainted withe Philo’s works, producing Latin paraphrases of several of them.  Therefore we are not surprised to find in Augustine’s Annotations on Psalms many examples of Philo-like interpretation.  However these are mixed with several other levels of interpretation.

A modern compilation of patristic interpretations of Psalms can be found in Blaising and Hardin (2014) and Wesselschmidt (2007; cf. Neale & Littledale, 1869−1874). Spurgeon’s Treasury of David contains many choice excerpts on the inner meaning of Psalms by writers from 16th through the 19th centuries.

Themes of Psalms

The 150 psalms all express a relatively small set of interacting and interpenetrating psychological themes.  These are expressed in the voice of the psalmist, but as it is we who pray the psalms, they must be understood as applying to ourselves:

• Lamentation. We lament being persecuted, oppressed, threatened or held captive by powerful opponents.

• Penitence. We acknowledge and experience regret for past wrongdoings, and for our own weakness and propensity for sin.

• Trust. We trust, hope, and have confidence in salvation from God.

• Thanks. We thank God for deliverance,.

• Praise. We praise God for His goodness, glory and countless blessings.

• Contemplation and ascent. We express a desire to ascend to a more contemplative and spiritual condition of mind.

• God’s Name. Frequent reference is made to God’s name.  Here God’s name seems to be understood in the sense of reputation.  Confidence is expressed that God will want to redeem us that much more, because in doing so his reputation is enhanced, leading other people to seek salvation.

• Suffering servant. Many verses refer to a suffering servant: a virtuous character who endures hardship and makes sacrifices to aid the process of salvation.  Conventionally this has been taken as a prophecy of the life and death of Jesus.  That interpretation may have had some value as an apologetic device in the early years of Church history.  However that meaning has little practical value today.  As we believe Psalms has enduring relevance, it seems reasonable to prefer a psychological meaning.  Hence the suffering servant would, to put the matter in the broadest of terms, be some aspect of the psyche which willingly undergoes suffering as part of the process of psychological and moral salvation.

These are not independent themes, but interact in a complex way as saga of our salvation.  It seems fairly clear that a kind of cyclicity is involved, such that there is a process of fall into sin and mental disorder, and return.  This cycle repeats itself in ones life — perhaps on a daily basis.  There is something like a holographic quality to Psalms, such that each psalm helps illumine the meaning of the others.

Finally, we may briefly note the range of characters in Psalms.  There is, first, the psalmist.  Sometimes this is explicitly identified as David, and sometimes someone else.  It seems uncertain — if not plainly unlikely — that any of the psalms were written by a historical King David.  Besides speaking to himself, the psalmist addresses several other parties, including God (the LORD) and his persecutors (a term used more or less synonymously with ‘heathen’).  A figure that often appears is the “Son.”  Again, it does us little practical good to equate this reflexively with an allusion to Jesus Christ.  From a psychological standpoint, rather, the Son might be understood as a new component of the psyche which develops to facilitate the inner process of salvation.  In short, we might think of this as an ‘inner Christ,’ or Christ consciousness.  Finally, references are made to a judge who condemns and punishes the wicked.  Once again the most productive course is to try to associate this figure with some inner psychic mechanism.

Let this suffice, then, as an introduction.  Everything said here must be regarded as tentative.  Nothing is stated dogmatically, and everything said here is really just an example of what might be true — an initial approximation.  To arrive at true meanings is something that requires dedicated and repeated reading, prayer and inspiration. In the end, perhaps these things cannot be communicated by words to others.  It is hoped merely that this short introduction will convince readers that there is a valuable psychological message in Psalms, and help motivate people to seek it.

Because so much depends on personal effort, the last thing that would be appropriate, I believe, is an exhaustive line-by-line commentary on Psalms.  It’s much better to illustrate how the reader may apply the interpretive rules implicit in the above to arrive at personally relevant meanings.  Accordingly, I will simply perform a commentary on a few representative psalms — which should be sufficient to demonstrate the ‘Philonic’ method of interpretation.

Interpretation

From here the plan is to apply the principles above to the Book of Psalms.  To begin, we will initially consider Psalms 1 and 2.  More material will then be added over time.

To avoid repetition, symbols and meanings once discussed in an earlier psalm will not be repeated when the appear in later ones.  Therefore it will not be necessary to treat every verse, or every psalm.

Psalm 23 (the Good Shepherd) and Psalm 119 (the Great Psalm) have previously been considered (Psalm 23, Psalm 119).

Text and numbering of the psalms follows the King James Version (KJV).

Psalm 1

The first psalm has traditionally been seen as a preface to the entire book, summarizing and touching on all it’s main themes.  (Fuller discussions of Psalm 1 along the present lines can be found here and here.)

[1] Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.

• Blessed.  Makarios.  At the beginning we see that the aim is the condition of blessedness.  This can be understood here as the telos or ethical summum bonum of human life.

• Next follows three principal obstacles to blessedness, which can be interpreted as corresponding to characteristic problems associated with the three Platonic divisions of the psyche.

• Counsel of the ungodly.  The rational part of our mind is subjected to impious counsels — that is, thoughts that originate from purely material and worldly concerns.

• Way of sinners.  Mental temptations associated with aberrations of the desiring/appetitive part of the psyche.

• Seat of the scornful.  The scornful (also translated as scoffers) represent cynical, overly critical and hostile thoughts that originate in the ambitious or spirited part of the mind.

[2] But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.

• Delight.  Hedone: what the will seeks, what is in a broad sense pleasurable.

• Law of the Lord.  Not written commandments, but a more subtle concept: remaining in a state of continuing communion with God, attentive and responding to God’s mental guidances, inspirations, directions, etc.

• Meditate.  Directing ones mind to, making the effort to focus attention on.

• Day and night.  Day may be understood as times of mental clarity.  Nights, as in ‘dark nights of the soul,’ where the clear and tangible signs of God’s activity in ones life are not present; one must then exert effort to persevere in the Way.

[3] And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.

• Rivers of water.  Streams of spiritual nutrition, flowing from the unconscious — but ultimately from God.

• Fruit.  Spiritual fruits of insight, wisdom, virtue.  Also acts of charity, including socially relevant creative activity.

• Prosper.  We cannot prosper when we are not focused on God and God’s ways, because in that case (1) we are divided against ourselves, (2) were we to prosper in this condition, it would fuel pride and draw us away from God; and (3) it glorifies God and inspires other people if we prosper through inner righteousness.

[4] The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.

• Ungodly.  Ourselves, when our thoughts and actions are directed by worldly concerns.

• Chaff, wind.  This trope, which includes the notion of scattering, is most interesting, and evidently important as it is found throughout Psalms, as well as elsewhere in the Bible. Here it may mean that when we are in a worldly condition of mind, our thoughts are inevitably scattered.  Scattering of thoughts may be a kind of punishment, as in the confusion of tongues in the Tower of Babel story.

[5] Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.

• Judgment.  Not a historical Last Judgment, but some existential, ultimate inner cognitive judgment.  This may allude to an ultimate arbiter and judge of our thoughts within the psyche.  We will return to this topic in the next psalm.

• Congregation of the righteous.  Following our hermeneutic rules, this would suggest some kind of assembly or congregation of virtuous elements of the psyche. The word suggests a large number, rather than a small band.  This is a lofty topic about which we simply know virtually nothing, nor has it been the subject of much rational speculation.  Compare this, however, with what vast choirs of angels may symbolize at the psychological level (cf. Pseudo-Dionysius).

[6] For the LORD knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish.

• Shall perish.  Our ungodly thoughts, the fruits of our worldly dispositions, have no permanence.  They are ultimately unreal (in a Platonic sense); and, as we have said above, conflict with other worldly thoughts.  Only thoughts that originate in or comport with our spiritual nature are harmonious, within and without.  That which is internally inconsistent and incongruous with Nature will be short-lived.

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Psalm 2

The second psalm is, again, sometimes understood as a preface, as it introduces basic themes that are repeatedly addressed later.

Whereas the first psalm excites our hopes, the second presents difficulties now to be faced.

[1] Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing?

• Heathen rage.  The heathen are worldly dispositions or subpersonalities, those concerned with achievement of ambitions and satisfaction of appetites.  Rage, rebellion, agitation and disquietude may accompany the frustration of the aims of these elements.

• imagine a vain thing.  This suggests a connection between the activity of our frustrated carnal nature and deluded thinking.  This view is not implausible or without precedent.  In Plato’s cave, prisoners’ thinking is imaginary and deluded, as they consider mere shadows on the wall.  The chains that prevent them from turning away from delusion are their attachments to unmoderated passions. Recall the paradox of Socrates: are we ignorant because we are unvirtuous, or unvirtuous because we are ignorant?

• We should not necessarily assume, however, that passions automatically become unruly when frustrated.  Rather, it would seem we are designed to seek inner harmony, and it is in the interests of all sub-egos to cooperate with this.  It could be, then, that some outside or additional element — a free-floating urge to disharmony — exists.  And, if so, we may find this and its remedy described in Psalms and elsewhere in myth and scripture.

[2] The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the LORD, and against his anointed, saying,
[3] Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us.

• kings of the earth. As already mentioned, certain higher-order carnal dispositions exist that somehow control and organize others.  Insight into the psychological meaning of ‘kings of the earth’ can be found in Philo’s writings, as he addresses theme as it occurs throughout Genesis and Exodus.  Pharaoh is the most important example of such a king of the earth.

• take counsel together.  Implying some capacity of these sub-egos to communicate and form confederations.  This confederation potential of sub-egos has been noted by both Rowan (1990) and Lester (2012).

• his anointed. See below.

[4] He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh: the Lord shall have them in derision.

• He that sitteth in the heavens.  This could refer either to God, or a Higher Self.  Perhaps one can say that both are meant.  Importantly, from the perspective of the ego, this almost doesn’t matter.  The ego knows only there is something above it — some benevolent, saving power to which it must turn.

• Further, assuming God and a Higher Self are separate entities, it is possible that the latter mediates the relationship of the ego to God.  In humbling itself before a Higher Self, then, the ego is also humbling itself before God.

[5] Then shall he speak unto them in his wrath, and vex them in his sore displeasure.

• Commentators on Psalms have long found a stumbling block in the frequent references to a wrathful God, whom the psalmist asks to bring about the destruction of enemies.  Taken literally this is diametrically opposed to the sound Gospel principle of loving and forgiving ones enemies.  Our strong-psychological reading of Psalms removes this difficulty.  The enemies are inner enemies.  The right use of anger and wrath is to empower the overcoming of ones own vice. Wrath is misused when directed against other human beings.

[6] Yet have I set my king upon my holy hill of Zion.
[7] I will declare the decree: the LORD hath said unto me, Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee.

• set my king; my Son. In Psalms we must note the clear distinction between God (the LORD) and the Son.  The latter we propose is a new ruling, kingly and priestly sub-personality that develops, ordained by God with the express purpose of leading a spiritualization and moral reformation of the entire personality.  We might see it as a Christ principle, a keystone of a new edifice of the personality which is being constructed in the process of psychological salvation.

[8] Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession.
[9] Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron; thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel.

• heathen for thine inheritance. The LORD will assist the new, king/priest sub-ego to gain authority over the personality.

• rod of iron.  This personality element has the power to control heathen subpersonalities.

• dash them in pieces. The Son is also an inner judge and, avenger.  He is able to scatter the thoughts of heathen sub-egos, rendering them ineffectual.

• This presents us with an important question.  If thoughts are (as so often is the case) scattered and confused, is this (1) a sign of oppression by frustrated heathen sub-egos, or (2) the result of punitive actions of a righteous inner judge upon rebellious inner heathens?  Could it even be both are the same thing, viewed from the perspectives of different sub-egos? Perhaps this will become more clear as we continue this exercise of interpretation.  Regardless, scattering and confusion of thoughts is eliminated when the personality is harmonized by holiness; gratitude, humility, trust, hope and the condition of giving God thanks and praise.

[10] Be wise now therefore, O ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the earth.
[11] Serve the LORD with fear, and rejoice with trembling.
[12] Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in him.

• Kiss the Son. The kings of the earth may be reconciled to the overall project of harmonization, integration, holiness and ascension (a topic we have not yet addressed).  Therefore the goal is not to destroy, but convert them.

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Notes

1. Philo quotes Psalms about two-dozen times, often supplying a psychological interpretation consistent with his exegesis of Genesis and Exodus.

2. A monitoring of ones thoughts for five minutes suffices to show how many mental characters, roles and orientations we regularly assume and how rapidly these change.

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References

Asrani, U. A. The psychology of mysticism. In: John White (ed.), The highest state of consciousness 2nd ed., White Crow, 2012. (Article originally appeared in Main Currents in Modern Thought, 25, 1969, 68–73.)

Blaising, Craig A.;  Hardin, Carmen S. (eds.). Psalms 1−50. Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture. InterVarsity Press, 2014.

Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Princeton, 1949.

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

Dysinger, Luke.  Evagrius Ponticus: Scholia on Psalms.  Web article. 2005.

Edinger, Edward F. The Sacred Psyche: A Psychological Approach to the Psalms. Inner City Books, 2004

Gohl, Justin M. Pseudo-Procopius of Gaza, Commentary on Proverbs 1-9 (Ἑρμηνεία εἰς τὰς Παροιμίας). 2019.

Huxley, Aldous. The Perennial Philosophy. London: Chatto & Windus, 1947.

Lamberton, Robert. Homer the Theologian: Neoplatonist Allegorical Reading and the Growth of the Epic Tradition. Berkeley: University of California, 1986.

Lester, David. A multiple self theory of the mind. Comprehensive Psychology, 2012, 1, 5.

Maslow, Abraham H. The farther reaches of human nature. New York: Arkana, 1993 (first published Viking, 1971).

McGilchrist, Iain. The Master and His Emissary: The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World. New Haven: Yale, 2009.

Neale, John Mason; Littledale, Richard Frederick. A Commentary on the Psalms. 2nd ed. 4 vols. London: Masters, 1869−1874.

Rowan, John. Subpersonalities: The People Inside Us. Routledge, 1990 (repr. 2013).

Russell, Donald Andrew; Konstan, David. Heraclitus: Homeric Problems. Atlanta, 2005.

Spurgeon, Charles Haddon. The Treasury of David. 7 vols. London: 1881−1885.

Uebersax, John. Psychological Allegorical Interpretation of the Bible.  Camino Real, 2012.

Uebersax, John.  The monomyth of fall and salvation. Christian Platonism (website). 2014.

Uebersax, John. The soul’s great battle of Kurukshetra. Satyagraha: Cultural Psychology (website). 2021.

Uebersax, John. Pitirim Sorokin’s personality theory. Satyagraha: Cultural Psychology (website). 2015.

Underhill, Evelyn. Mysticism. 12th ed. New York: E. P. Dutton, 1930.

Wesselschmidt, Quentin F. (ed.). Psalms 51−150. Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture. Intervarsity Press, 2007.

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Celestial Ascent in Philo of Alexandria

Andromeda Galaxy. (If Andromeda were brighter as viewed from Earth, it would appear as large as the full moon!)

THE WRITINGS of ancient philosophers contain main beautiful and inspiring passages concerning the contemplation of the splendors of the starry vault.  Famous examples include Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations 1.25.62−28.70 and On the Nature of the Gods (De natura deorum) 2.15.40−17.44. These all address the sense of awe, wonder and aesthetic pleasure that the night sky invokes. Some authors also use contemplation of the heavens as a kind of rational demonstration of the existence, power, wisdom and beneficence of a Supreme Author.  Others go still further, making stargazing a spiritual exercise: a means of experiencing — and perhaps developing — the divinity and immortality of the soul.  One of the finest passages of this variety is found Philo of Alexandria’s commentary on the first book of Genesis (On the Creation of the World; De opficio mundi).  The entire section occupies section 18.55−23.71, but the most important part is shown below:

18.
[55] It was with a view to that original intellectual light, which I have mentioned as belonging to the order of the incorporeal world, that He created the heavenly bodies of which our senses are aware. These are images divine and exceeding fair, which He established in heaven as in the purest temple belonging to corporeal being. […]

23.
[69] … for after the pattern of a single Mind, even the Mind of the Universe as an archetype, the mind in each of those who successively came into being was moulded. It is in a fashion a god to him who carries and enshrines it as an object of reverence ; for the human mind evidently occupies a position in men precisely answering to that which the great Ruler occupies in all the world. It is invisible while itself seeing all things, and while comprehending the substances of others, it is as to its own substance unperceived; and while it opens by arts and sciences roads branching in many directions, all of them great highways, it comes through land and sea investigating what either element contains.

[70]
Again, when on soaring wing it has contemplated the atmosphere and all its phases, it is borne yet higher to the ether and the circuit of heaven, and is whirled round with the dances of planets and fixed stars, in accordance with the laws of perfect music, following that love of wisdom [έρωτι σοφίας] which guides its steps.

[71]
And so, carrying its gaze beyond the confines of all substance discernible by sense, it comes to a point at which it reaches out after the intelligible world, and on descrying in that world sights of surpassing loveliness, even the patterns and the originals of the things of sense which it saw here, it is seized by a sober intoxication, like those filled with Corybantic frenzy [ενθουσιά], and is inspired, possessed by a longing far other than theirs and a nobler desire. Wafted by this to the topmost arch of the things perceptible ίό mind, it seems to be on its way to the Great King Himself; but, amid its longing to see Him, pure and untempered rays of concentrated light stream forth like a torrent, so that by its gleams the eye of the understanding is dazzled [Runia: “overwhelmed by the brightness”]. (trans. Colson & Whittaker, pp. 41, 43, 55, 57; italics added)

As David Runia observes in his excellent commentary, Philo alludes to two of Plato’s discussions of contemplative ascent: Diotima’s ladder of love in Symposium 210e −212a and the Chariot Myth in Phaedrus 247c-e. Note that Philo connects the Symposium ascent with contemplation of heavenly bodies — in contrast to the more or less usual modern reading of Diotima’s speech as proceeding from love of beautiful human bodies to higher things.

Also to appreciate is how Philo implies this contemplation is not, at least at the end, something accomplished by force of will: at some point the mind is drawn or pulled upward involuntarily. At the end, the mind is ‘dazzled’ — connoting elements of both kataphatic (that is, illuminative) and apophatic (that is, beyond comprehension) mysticism.

Philo’s and other such passages are beautiful and inspiring — yet even the most magnificent words pale by comparison to the genuine spectacle of the night sky!

p.s.  Other examples from Philo:

• Philo, On Rewards and Punishments 7.40−46
• Philo, On the Change of Names 179−180
• Philo, Allegorical Interpretation 3.32.97−99

And links to two long passages in Cicero:

• Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods (De natura deorum) 2.15.40−17.44
• Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 1.25.62−28.70

 

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References

Colson, F. H; Whitaker, G. H. (trs.). On the Creation of the World. (De opificio mundi).  In: Philo: With and English Translation. Ten volumes and two supplementary volumes. Vol. 1.  Loeb Classical Library.  Harvard University Press, 1929.

Runia, David T. (tr.).  Philo: On the Creation of the Cosmos According to Moses: Introduction, Translation and Commentary. Leiden: Brill, 2001.

Yonge, Charles Duke (tr.). On the Creation. In: The Works of Philo. Hedrickson Publishers, 1995. (Orig. edition 1854).

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The Allegorical Meaning of Jesus Walking on Water

Jesus Walks on the Water, Ivan Aivazovsky (1888)

Walking on Water: Aisthesis vs. Hedone?

THE story of Jesus walking on the water occurs in three of the Gospels (Matt 14:22–34; Mark 6:45–53; John 6:15–21). Water is often a symbol for passions and emotions.  For example, the storms that beset Odysseus symbolize unregulated passions that threaten to shipwreck us (cf. the deluge in Genesis).

At the simplest level, then, Jesus walking on the water might be interpreted as a metaphor for rising above the storm of passions by means of holiness, virtue, temperance, Stoic apatheia and the like. However a different incident (Matt 8:23–27, Mark 4:35–41, Luke 8:22–25) describes Jesus, riding inside a boat with his disciples, calming a storm — which fits this interpretation better.  Here the details are structurally different (Jesus outside the boat and walks on the water), suggesting there is a different meaning.

Perhaps we can understand it as follows. As we encounter the material world, the first thing that happens is sensation. Ideally we direct our sensation to good and beautiful objects, finding them  pleasant. But there is commonly a second step: our attention is drawn beyond simple sensation/perception into the experience — such that our higher cognitive powers are distracted, diminished or ‘sedated.’  We become entranced, as it were, or feel attachment to the sense experience.  Our mind then easily falls from right, clear reason, veering into fantasy-laden and egoist thought.  “How can I have more of this sensory pleasure?” “How can I control this beautiful thing, or be sure to have it in the future?”

We become, that is, fixated on the delight of the experience. We go from mere aisthesis (perception, including the simple pleasure inherent in perception) to hedone (delight).  That step might be seen as the difference between simply walking on the water of sensory experience, vs. sinking into it, becoming worldly minded instead of spiritually minded.

We most definitely should notice, appreciate and enjoy sensory experience and the objects of the world. But these things must be seen in their proper relation to God.  In walking on water, our higher cognitive powers remain intact. Our delight is in God, not in material things. When our hearts and minds remain properly oriented, the sense world becomes more meaningful.

This seems a possible meaning, at least, and is also suggested by Philo’s psychological interpretation of the Garden of Eden myth in Allegorical Interpretation: the fruit of the Tree is beautiful to behold, but don’t eat it. (More on this in the next post.)

Finally, there is also a possible parallel here with the myth of Narcissus.

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Myths of the Fall

Polyphemus, Babel, Satan, Deluge, Eden, Pharaoh, Tyranny, Phaeton, Icarus  

M

YTHS  of the Fall of Man ought to interest us intensely, because it’s so obvious that human beings, individually and collectively, live mainly in a markedly fallen condition.  Individually this is manifest as the various forms of negative thinking that characterize much or most of our waking consciousness: anxiety, worry, greed, anger, hated, fear, confusion, distraction, delusion, folly, envy, resentment, fantasy, daydreaming, grandiosity, obsession, etc. Examples of collective chronic psychological and social dysfunction are just as many and obvious.

Yet the academic establishment has gotten virtually nowhere trying to understand what myths of the fall are trying to tell us about what the psychological fall is, why it happens and how to prevent it.

Concerning the opposite condition – the blessed or ascended state – there are also many valuable and important myths.  Indeed, we might be easily persuaded that the natural condition of the human mind is happy, blessed, active and extremely capable.

In the Western tradition we have three parallel sources of fall myths:  Greek mythology, Plato’s dialogues and the Old Testament.  Examples:

Greek: Pandora, Ages of Man, Deucalion, Phaeton, Narcissus, Odyssey (Lotus eaters, Cyclops, Circe, Scylla & Charybdis), Icarus; Judgment of Paris; cf. Choice of Hercules.

Plato: Cave allegory, Cronos myth (Statesman), Tyrant’s progress, Atlantis; cf. Chariot myth.

Old Testament: Garden of Eden, Cain & Abel, Deluge, Tower of Babel, Sodom and Gomorrah, Pharaoh’s army

Plato’s ethics and epistemology supply a clear framework for interpreting his myths, and, by extension, related Greek myths.  Philo of Alexandria, in turn effectively applies Platonic formulae to interpret the Old Testament myths of the fall.

The Platonic interpretation of myths of the fall has a long tradition, and is arguably more relevant than modern Jungian interpretations, which downplay the ethical and religious meanings.

To be clear, my conviction is that these myths are not mere historical recollections of ancient deluges or a cultural transition from a happy primitive hunter-gatherer society.  They are humanity’s attempt to understand that most significant fact of human psychology: that we spend the bulk of our lives in a dreadful fallen state, virtually asleep, a ‘life that is not life.’   Until we solve this problem, we won’t be able to see or think clearly enough to solve our social problems.

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References

Uebersax, John.  The monomyth of fall and salvation.  Christian Platonism website. 2014.

Uebersax, John. Plato’s Myths as Psychology.  2015.
www.john-uebersax.com/plato/myths/myths.htm

 

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.

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Reference

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

On the Six Levels of Contemplation – Richard of Saint-Victor

Seraphim, Petites Heures de Jean de Berry (14th century)

CHRISTIAN mystics have an elaborate system for classifying contemplative experience. In fact, possibly it’s too systematized; at least I personally have never been able to fully understand it. Accordingly, I’d like to de-mystify (no pun inteded) things by going back early in the tradition, to when this effort to classify and arrange experiences was getting started: systematized, but perhaps not overly so.

To begin then, in the 12th century, Richard of St. Victor proposed a classification of contemplative experience into six ascending grades. The six forms of contemplation are associated with the six winged seraphim in Isaiah’s famous vision (Isaiah 6:1–3). His system strongly influenced St. Bonaventure, who, a century later proposed his own six-fold classification of contemplative experiences.

Richard’s classification is not simply derived from experience (i.e., phenomenological observation), but also relies on a theoretical premise. Specifically, he sees the human mind as having three divisions: (1) sense perception and sensory imagination; (2) discursive reasoning or ratiocination (Latin: ratio; Greek: dianoia); and (3) pure intellection (i.e., immediate intuitive grasp; Greek: noesis). From this three-fold division he derives his six ascending grades of contemplation, as follows:

1. Sense experience alone. Example: contemplating natural beauty for its own sake; a purely aesthetic experience.)
2. Sense experience combined with reasoning. Example: contemplating natural beauty, and then thinking about what it implies (e.g., a providential and wise Creator).
3. Reasoning guided by imagination. Example: admiring a flower and considering how its unfolding petals correspond to human mental development.
4. Reasoning alone. Example: noticing some process within ones own mind, and that leading to some further self-insight.
5. Insight above, but not contrary to ratiocination. Example: an insight into some aspect of God’s nature or being that conforms to logic.
6. Insight above and contrary to or completely uninterpretable by ratiocination. Example: an insight into some aspect of God’s nature or being that is beyond or contradicts logic.

This discussion appears in Benjamin Major (The Mystical Ark) 1.6.

The arrangement is systematic, but not overwhelmingly so. He emphasizes that contemplation is something fluid and dynamic. That is, during contemplation the mind moves freely among these levels. He likens things to a hawk or kestrel that flies higher or lower, sometimes hovering, sometimes diving, sometimes returning for a second look, and so on. This is an intriguing analogy not only because of its aptness, but also because it’s likely an insight derived from his own contemplative practice (level 3 contemplation).

In Book 5 he supplies another classification concerning contemplation at the highest levels, noting that one may experience (1) mental expansion (dilatatio mentis), (2) mental elevation (sublevatio mentis), and finally (3) ecstatic loss (alienatio) of consciousness.

Benjamin, youngest of Jacob’s 12 sons, is, for Richard, is a symbol of contemplation. He basis this on the Vulgate version of Psalm lxvii.: Ibi Benjamin adolescentulus in mentis excessu: “There is Benjamin, a youth, in ecstasy of mind.” (whereas the modern English Bible reads: “Little Benjamin their ruler.”)

His two works, Benjamin Minor (The Twelve Patriarchs) and Benjamin Major (The Mystical Ark) consider the ascetical/moral preparation for contemplation, and contemplation itself, respectively.

At the birth of Benjamin, his mother Rachel dies, and Richard writes: “For, when the mind of man is rapt above itself, it surpasseth all the limits of human reasoning. Elevated above itself and rapt in ecstasy, it beholdeth things in the divine light at which all human reason succumbs. What, then, is the death of Rachel, save the failing of reason?” (Benjamin Minor 73).

So in sum, we can see that Richard’s ‘system’ (if that’s a fair term to apply) is a felicitious combination of knowledge derived from experience and dialectic. As such it represents, arguably, a remarkably high level of synthesis between experience, creative imagination, insight and rational analysis.

A century later Scholasticism would be in full swing, the balance leaning progressively more and more (up to this day!) towards intellectual analysis (or perhaps we should say, towards a dissociation of rationalism and mysticism).

References

Aris, Marc-Aeilko (ed.). Contemplatio: Philosophische Studien zum Traktat Benjamin Maior des Richard von St. Victor. Improved edition of text. Frankfurt am Main, 1996.

Palmén, Ritva. Richard of St. Victor’s Theory of Imagination. Brill, 2014. Dissertation, University of Helsinki, 2013.

Richard of Saint-Victor. Omnia opera. Patrologia Latina, ed. J. P. MIGNE (Paris 1878–90) 196.

Zinn, Grover A. (tr.). Richard of St. Victor: The Twelve Patriarchs, The Mystical Ark and Book Three of The Trinity. Paulist Press, 1979.