The Seven Vices and Fifty Subvices of Medieval Christianity

Tree of Vices” from Speculum Virginum, Walters Art Museum Ms. W.72, fol. 25v

AS  a previous post on the Seven Virtues and Fifty Subvirtues of Medieval Christianity is one of the most oft-visited here, it seems fitting to supply a sequel on vices and subvices.  Joint diagrams of virtues and vices are found in many medieval manuscripts.  The closest we have to a text source is De fructus carnis et spirits, a work of the 11th century, today tentatively attributed to Conrad of Hirsau  (c. 1070 – c .1150) and previously to Hugh of St. Victor (c. 1096 –1141).

An important patristic source for the medieval diagrams is Gregory the Great’s Moralia in Job, 31.xlv.87−88. Spencer (2014, 177 f.; cf. Straw, 2005, 38 f.) lists the vices/subvices as found both in Gregory and Cassian. Medieval tree diagrams are fairly consistent concerning the vices, but variation exists in subvices (these vary in number from 48 to 52; again we’ll just say roughly 50).

Just as the virtues and subvirtues are rooted in Humility, the vices and subvirtues derive from a common parent, Pride (superbia).

We should not look at these vices and subvices as mere historical curiosities.  They have modern relevance at the level of practical cognitive psychology: each corresponds to a significant form of negative thinking common to us all,  which we need to overcome.  There is considerable interest in the application of ancient Stoic virtue ethics to modern life.  The patristic and medieval literature on the virtues and vices is an extension (and arguably more refined version) of Stoic moral psychology and ought to interest us at least as much.

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I. VAINGLORY (vana gloria)

1. Hipocrisy (hypocrisis)
2. Disobedience (inobedientia)
3. Boasting (lactantia)
4. Presumption (praesumptionis)
5. Arrogance (arrogantia)
6. Talkativeness (loquacitas)
7. Obstinacy (pertinacia)

II. ENVY (invidia)

1. Hatred (odium)
2. Envying others’ good fortune (afflictio in prosperis)
3. Exulting in others’ adversity (exsultatio in adversis)
4. Malice (malitia)
5. Detraction (detractio)
6. Bitterness (amaritudo)
7. ‘Whispering’ (susurratio); “by which, either by a hiss of hateful flattery or contempt, one is roused to the hatred of the other.”

II. ANGER (ira)

1. Accusation (clamor)
2. Blasphemy (blasphemia)
3. Insult (contumelia)
4. Mourning or dwelling on an injury by another (luctus)
5. Reckless outburst (temeritas)
6. Fury (furor)
7. Indignation (indignatio)

IV. SADNESS (tristitia)

1. Despair (desperatio)
2. Rancor (rancor)
3. Mental torpor (torpor)
4. Fear and anxiety (timor; menti fluctuans angustia)
5. Acidie (acidia)
6. Complaint (querela)
7. Pessimism (pusillanimitas)

V. AVARICE (avaritia)

1. Love of money (philargyria)
2. Perjury (perjurium)
3. Violence (violentia)
4. Usury (usura)
5. Fraud (fraus)
6. Robbery (rapina)
7. Deceit (fallacia)

VI. GLUTTONY (Ventris ingluvies)

1. Drunkenness (ebrietas)
2. Overeating (crapula)
3. Dulness of sense and in understanding (mentis hebetatio)
4. Laziness (languor)
5. Delicacy of appetite; desire for delicious foods beyond one natural needs (delicatio)
6. Disregard of health (oblivio)

VII. LUST (Luxuria)

1. Voluptuous pleasure (voluptas)
2. Lewdness (lascivia)
3. Languid rejection of virtue (ignavia)
4. Rash, consuming desire (petulantia)
5. Weakness of spirit or body given over to indulgence (titubatio)
6. Enticement (blanditiae)
7. Excessive sensual delight (deliciae)

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Bibliography

Bliss, James and anonymous (trs.). St. Gregory the Great: Morals on the Book of Job. Three vols. Library of the Fathers. Oxford, 1844−1850. Book 31.

Bloomfield, Morton. The Seven Deadly Sins: An Introduction to the History of a Religious Concept, with Special Reference to Medieval English Literature. East Lansing, 1952; repr. 1967.

Goggin, Cheryl Gohdes. Copying manuscript illuminations: The Trees of Vices and Virtues. Visual Resources, 2004, 20:2-3, 179−198. https://doi.org/10.1080/0197376042000207552

Hugo de S. Victore (attr.). De fructibus carnis et spiritus. J. P. Migne. Patrologia Latina, Paris, 1854; cols. 997−1010 (rough diagrams of the Tree of Vices and Tree of Virtues appear at the end of the work).  Latin text is online: http://mlat.uzh.ch/?c=2&w=HuDeSVi.DeFrCaE

Katzenellenbogen, Adolf. Allegories of the Virtues and Vices in Medieval Art from Christian Times to the Thirteenth Century. Alan J. P. Crick (tr.). London: Warburg Institute, 1939.

Kerns, Brian (tr.). Gregory the Great: Moral Reflections on the Book of Job. Six vols. Liturgical Press, 2014−2022. (English translation of Latin critical edition.)

Mews, Constant J. (ed.). Listen, Daughter: The “Speculum virginum” and the Formation of Religious Women in the Middle Ages. The New Middle Ages Series. Palgrave, 2001.

Newhauser, Richard G. In the Garden of Evil: The Vices and Culture in the Middle Ages. Toronto, 2005.

Robertson, D. W. The Doctrine of Charity in Mediaeval Literary Gardens: A Topical Approach through Symbolism and Allegory. Speculum, vol. 26, no. 1, 1951, pp. 24–49. Reprinted in: Robertson, Durant Waite. Essays in Medieval Culture. Princeton University Press, 1980 (repr. 2014); pp. 21−50.

Powell, Morgan. Gender, Reading, and Truth in the Twelfth Century: The Woman in the Mirror. Arc Humanities Press, 2020.

Straw, Carole E. Gregory and Cassian on the cardinal vices. In: Richard G. Newhauser (ed.), In the Garden of Evil: The Vices and Culture in the Middle Ages, Toronto, 2005, pp. 35−58.

Tucker, Shawn R. The Virtues and Vices in the Arts: A Sourcebook. Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2015.

Young, Spencer E. Scholarly Community at the Early University of Paris: Theologians, Education and Society, 1215–1248. Cambridge University Press, 2014; Ch. 5, Parisian theologians and the seven deadly sins. (pp. 168−207).

Watson, Arthur. The Speculum Virginum with special reference to the Tree of Jesse. Speculum, vol. 3, no. 4, 1928, pp. 445–69.

Wenzel, Siegfried. The Seven Deadly Sins. Speculum 43, 1968, 1−22.

Art: “Tree of Vices” from Speculum Virginum, Walters Art Museum Ms. W.72, fol. 25v; early 13th century manuscript from the Cistercian abbey of Himmerode, Germany.

Jean Gerson’s Mountain of Contemplation

Illumination, Master of Cardinal of Bourbon,  Livre de la contemplation,  MS FR 1847, KBR

THE PURPOSE of this post is to describe and recommend a short devotional work, the Mountain of Contemplation (Montaigne de contemplation; 1400) by the French theologian and contemplative, Jean Gerson (1363–1429).  This work is not well known, but very valuable and well worth consideration as an addition to ones reading list.

Jean Gerson is best known as a theologian, educational reformer (a Chancellor of the University of Paris) and Church reformer (e.g., instrumental in resolving the multiple claims to the papacy during the Great Schism). The last earned him the enmity of powerful French political officials, and for a while he was forced into exile.  Gerson was far from a stuffy Canon Law authority and intellectual. He championed the development of spirituality amongst the laity and denounced the intellectual pretensions of academics.

This authentic pietistic interest is reflected in the Mountain of Contemplation, which he wrote as a guide to contemplative life for two of his sisters. Unlike most of his works, written in Latin, this was composed in vernacular French.  It has a warm unpretentious style, full of common sense advice, and abounds in practical analogies taken from ordinary life.

The work takes the form of 45 short sections, numbered and titled, followed by an appendix with 11 rules of conduct. I will try within my limited ability to supply a short summary below.  However I can’t do justice to this helpful and charming work and would rather encourage people to read the whole thing — which, as I say, is not very long.

The guiding image Gerson uses is that of ascending a mountain. Three stages of the ascent are identified, which he calls (1) humble penitence, (2) silence and solitude, and (3) strong perseverance.  This simple three-fold division is very useful because it allows him considerable flexibility in discussing each stage.

The following is a short paraphrase/summary.

Summary

Contemplative life has both degrees and parts. The parts involve affect, on the one hand, and knowledge on the other.  The way of knowledge seeks rational understanding and explanations of the nature of God and his works. This is useful because (1) it can find new truths, (2) it can make truths explicit and teachable; (3) it permits refutation of false or heretical beliefs.  Nevertheless, the way of affect is higher still, and reaches a wisdom greater than knowledge.  An analogy can be drawn with honey:  it’s one thing to analyze the physical properties of honey, and quite another to taste and savor the goodness of its flavor. Affective contemplation, then, is like tasting God.  It supplies ‘savory wisdom’ by means of direct experience (§§ 1−5).

The contemplative life is open to ordinary people as well as theologians. The main requirements are deep-rooted faith and belief in God and in His power, wisdom, goodness and plan for our redemption. The end of contemplative life is love of God.  In order to attain this, the contemplative will want to give up all unnecessary other pursuits and occupations (§§ 6−10).

Opposing our love of God is our love of the world, and the latter must be removed if we are to make spiritual progress.  The adverse effects of love of the world are illustrated by several analogies, including a bird that is snared, one encaged, mortar that clings to the feet of the soul and prevents ascent, a chain or leash, an evil queen who founds a city of confusion, and the clamorous household of a mad woman (§ 11).

Love of the world is very hard — much more than most people realize — to give up. Therefore God assists us in many ways, both by means of gifts and by adversity. Gifts may include direct inspirations and inner motions of the soul, angelic assistance, and other people who supply good teaching and instruction. Forms of instructive adversity may include illness, poverty and war. Blessings we may provide for ourselves include reading about the lives of saints, consciously dedicating ourselves to good, and meditating on salvation.  Every day it is within our power to provide such an experience (§§ 12−15).

At this point he states the three stages of the journey: humble penitence, secrecy of place and silence, and strong perseverance.  Humble penitence seeks to mortify worldly love.  Gerson does not dwell on this topic, leaving its details more or less implicit, but he does mention such traditional penitential practices for chastising the flesh as fasting, lack of sleep, abstinence, tears, and manual labor.  The last leads to a discussion of the active versus contemplative life.  One should not seek the latter without some experience in the former.  The active life involves difficulties and adversities, the overcoming of which will aid us. Like Jacob, we must first marry Leah (active life) before winning as our bride Rachel (contemplative life). Regardless, we will always need to manifest both the qualities of Martha (active life) and Mary (contemplative life), but in different relative degrees.

Love of God is the aim of contemplative life. Humble penitence helps to produce a healthy contempt for worldly and strong yearning for heavenly things. Consider the example of people obsessed with earthly loves (e.g., for money, fame or carnality). We should love God with this much single-minded devotion, and consider every worldly thing in comparison like a dream, a fable, a nonentity (§§ 16−20).

The second level of contemplative ascent consists of stillness and privacy by which means one returns to oneself.  This retreat into a secret place or silence can be understood both in a physical and mental sense. In the exterior sense, one may seek privacy in a secluded place — woods, forest, desert, fields, hidden parts of churches, or merely a hidden part of ones own domicile.  For this preferences differ, and one cannot give a general rule. Bodily posture, including kneeling, sitting and lying down, may contribute to clarity of thought (§§ 21−25).

Three specious criticisms are commonly raised against lay people who follow a contemplative life.  These are (1) that such a person does good only for herself and not others, (2) she wants to know too much and reaches too high; and (3) in the end it only leads to disappointment, madness and melancholy.  These objections are easily refuted (§§ 26−29).

As he prepares to consider the highest stage, he discusses generally the nature and fruits of contemplation. He reaffirms the necessity of grace for spiritual progress. In contemplation the soul experiences elevation, unity and simplicity. To reach this condition involves a combination of powerful and holy meditation, and burning love.  The soul suspends other operations, wholly concentrated and absorbed, oblivious to all else, like painters, or as in a famous story about Archimedes.

Here follows a short summary of Richard of St. Victor’s multidimensional taxonomy of contemplative experience as given in his work, The Mystical Ark.  There Richard describes six levels, three modes, and three qualities of contemplation.

Of the levels, two are in the imagination, two in the reason (ratio), and two in the intelligence (intellectus). The three modes of experience are enlargement (dilatatio mentis), ascent (sublevatio mentis) and cutting off (alienatio mentis) of conscious awareness.  The three qualities of contemplative experience are a sense of wonder, of deep devotion, and of spiritual enjoyment or comfort. Gerson refers readers to Richard for more details (§§ 30−32).

We now proceed to consider the third level of strong perseverance, the summer to which the preceding levels are like winter and spring, respectively, or the noon to which they are like night and morning. Here the soul is consumed in its quest for union with the divine. Nothing remains for this person but to serve and love God, to think and to speak of Him. The soul has taken root again in the good earth and bears fruit. Chastisements are seen as signs of God’s love, good and necessary (§ 33).

Common obstacles and hindrances that occur at this point are discussed. Several are suggested by the analogy to climbing a physical mountain: some people give up the climb too easily, stopping and descending as soon as they meet with difficulty. Others climb to impatiently, trying to master the summit without beginning at the base and the middle.  The base is the humble consideration of one’s sins and faults. Still others carry too weighty a burden in the form of worldly occupation and the great amount of thought one puts into it. Others believe that they already are at the summit when they are not. Many neglect to always hold their right hand out to the One who must pull them up from above. Our guide is God’s grace.

Other common hindrances include mortifying ones body too much, reading too much (in reading one should seek devotion more than acquisition of knowledge), and frequently jumping from one path to another, instead of staying on a single course (§§ 34−36).

There is diversity in the methods employed and experiences in this phase, as illustrated in the lives of such saints as Saint Augustine, St. Gregory the Great, St. Jerome and St. Bernard (§§ 37−38).

Another example (probably from his own experience) is of a man who, upon experiencing spiritual dryness, resolved to sit at the foot of a tree for several hours each day, praying to and imploring the intercession of angels and many saints, one by one.  While difficult at first, before long the practice became easier, and eventually he could enter a contemplative state with less effort (§ 39).

Continuing with the same theme, he relates an idea of William of Auxerre (c.1145–1231): that we should follow the example of paupers, pilgrims, prisoners or alms seekers — and earnestly and humbly plead for help from God, angels and saints. No books will serve one so well as strong perseverance.  Other helpful methods include remembrance of ones own death, and the great spiritual needs of friends who must likewise face death.  Let us have pity and mercy on ourselves and others (§§ 40−42).

By way of summary, a helpful analogy is proposed.  Imagine a sea filled with all kinds of people sailing hither and thither on various ships, mostly ending in wrecks.  On the shore a person watches, detached, from a very high rock. The rock has three levels, which correspond to faith, hope and charity.  This is the rock of contemplation, and the three theological virtues correspond to the aforementioned levels of penitence, withdrawal, and strong perseverance.  Those who endure may reach no end of beautiful acts of contemplation.  One may know and sense God ineffably, as in grasping a sweetness, a fullness, a taste, a melody (§§ 43−44).

Contemplation is something vast and abundant, with countless forms of experience. In the end we may say that God’s grace can be especially present to the soul in three ways:

1. By justification, which cannot be felt but which makes the soul pleasing to God.

2. By consolations and spiritual joys, such as:

a. A feeling of melting into some sweetness;

b. A wondrous certitude, wherein one is greatly displeased with oneself and takes ones sole pleasure in God;

c. A sense of expansion of the heart or intelligence that finds God to be so excellent and infinitely majestic, all on Earth seems as nothing except as it reveals God’s presence;

d. A spiritual, sober intoxication causing one to praise God and see everything as full of God’s glory and praise (Ps 19:1; Ps 96:11−12; Ps 150:6) .

3. Ecstatic union such as St. Paul experienced (2 Cor 12:2−4), concerning which Gerson considers himself not worthy to discuss (§§ 45).

Discussion

As a practical work I enjoyed Mountain of Contemplation very much.  It whets my appetite to read his more technical On Mystical Theology, as well as another vernacular piece, On Spiritual Begging (Mendicité spirituelle).

I’d also like to learn more about his proposed reforms to theological education.  Gerson maintained that universities’ over-emphasis on rationalism and book-learning contribute to pride and elitism in the academic ranks. Clerical education, he believed, also needs to cultivate piety, humility and personal holiness.  Clearly there are parallels here with modern universities.

I also found the work helpful in supplying perspective on the historical relationship between affective and rational forms of Christian mysticism. In St. Augustine these two strands are inseparable and mutually reinforcing. Augustine was a Platonist, and Platonism is rational mysticism par excellence. For the Platonist, Intellect is no hindrance to affect. Rather, the more we develop our Intellect, the more we can understand God’s works in the world, giving greater cause to love and praise Him.  Moreover, the more we experience the greatness of human Intellect and its seemingly unlimited capacity, the more cause we have for gratitude to, awe of, and love for God.

Then why did affective and rational mysticism become separated?  Did it simply happen when the works of Pseudo-Dionysius — for whom affective and apophatic mysticism dominate — reached the West?  But in that case, why were Richard of St. Victor and St. Bonaventure able to maintain a fully integral mysticism, combining affective and rational components, in the 13th century?  These two influential writers successfully blended the Augustinian and Dionysian traditions.

Gerson may supply us with a clue: that as the universities grew to dominate theology, integral spirituality — one combining affect and intellect — gave way to a dry, radical rationalism.  In seeming to emphasize affect, Gerson is not so much dismissing the intellectual component of mysticism (indeed, he plainly has a high opinion of Richard of St. Victor and St. Bonaventure), as much as countering the radical rationalism of the universities.  At the same time Gerson is trying to democratize contemplation and mystical theology by stressing that it is available to all, not just the educated elite, and even to illiterate people. These considerations may have caused him to overstate the case for affectivity in Mountain of Contemplation.

Regardless, it does appear that about this time the paths of affective and rational mysticism, which had already begun to diverge, now did so more starkly and permanently.  After this we see a flourishing of affective mysticism (the trend continues today in the form of  ‘centering prayer’), yet few good examples of a rational or fully integral approach (possible exceptions might be Cambridge Platonism, Neothomism and American Transcendentalism).

However today the average education is much higher than it was in the Middle Ages.  It therefore makes less sense to argue that a large section of the population cannot understand or profit from the intellectual component of Christian mysticism, and can only operate at the level of  ‘simple faith.’  Therefore an integral mysticism that combines affective and intellectual parts (while still allowing for the ultimate primacy of the former — something on which all Christian mystics agree) is arguably more broadly appropriate.

We might question his comments about using fasts, vigils and other physical ascetical practices to develop humble penitence. These seem not only antiquated, but unnecessary and counterproductive. Is it not enough to look honestly within ones own breast to bring one to abject penitence? To, like Socrates, see a multitudinous beast lurking within (Plato, Republic 8)? Will not any honest person say with St. Paul, O wretched man that I am! (Rom 7: 24a) and arrive at deep humility? A sober appraisal of the world’s pomp and vanity reveals clearly enough the necessity of looking to God alone. Beyond these it’s unclear what physical mortification of the flesh accomplishes, except to tax strength and produce its own kind of pride. Gerson does, however, explicitly warm against excess here.

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Bibliography

Glorieux, Palémon (ed.). Jean Gerson, Oeuvres Complètes. 10 vols. (Paris, 1960–1973); volume 7.

Combes, André. Ioannis Carlerii de Gerson de Mystica Theologia (Lugano, Switzerland: Thesaurus Mundi, 1958).

Combes, André. Théologie Mystique de Gerson: Profil de son évolution. Paris, 1963−1964.

McGuire, Brian Patrick (tr.). Jean Gerson: Early Works. Classics of Western Spirituality. Paulist Press, 1998; Mountain of Contemplation, pp. 75−127.
https://books.google.com/?id=Ed2Mzyn9WtsC&pg=PA75

McGuire, Brian Patrick (ed.). A Companion to Jean Gerson. Brill, 2006.

Severin, Renée M. Teaching Contemplation: The Role of Humility and Dialogue in Jean Gerson’s Mystical Works. Mystics Quarterly 32.1/2 (2006): 1−34.

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

Art:  Master of the Cardinal de Bourbon.  Illuminations, Le secret parlement de l’homme contemplatif à son âme = Livre de la mendicité spirituelle; Livre de la contemplation; [Ars moriendi]. 1475? Bibliotheque Nationale de Belgique (KBR) MS FR 1847. https://belgica.kbr.be/BELGICA/doc/SYRACUSE/16972996/

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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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The City-Soul Analogy in Isaiah

The Siege and Destruction of Jerusalem. Print by Louis Haghe based on David Roberts’ 1848 painting .

Isaiah 1 (KJV)

[1] The vision of Isaiah the son of Amoz, which he saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah.
[2] Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth: for the LORD hath spoken, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me.
[4] Ah sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a seed of evildoers, children that are corrupters: they have forsaken the LORD, they have provoked the Holy One of Israel unto anger, they are gone away backward.
[7] Your country is desolate, your cities are burned with fire: your land, strangers devour it in your presence, and it is desolate, as overthrown by strangers.
[18] Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.
[19] If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land:
[20] But if ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword: for the mouth of the LORD hath spoken it.
[21] How is the faithful city become an harlot! it was full of judgment; righteousness lodged in it; but now murderers.
[25] And I will turn my hand upon thee, and purely purge away thy dross, and take away all thy tin:
[26] And I will restore thy judges as at the first, and thy counsellers as at the beginning: afterward thou shalt be called, The city of righteousness, the faithful city.

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TAKEN literally, Isaiah is condemning the faithlessness and corruption of the kingdom of Israel.  But a literal and historical interpretation has little relevance to our present lives. Rather, the timeless and vital meaning concerns the fall of the city of our soul — and our strong hope for its salvation from God.

Thus the real significance relies on the analogy between a city and our soul.  This is the same analogy Plato explored in his greatest work, the Republic, and which constitutes its core and power.  Plato makes explicit (e.g., at 2.368) — though many miss this — that his real concern is the salvation of the soul through virtue, Wisdom, and righteousness.  His references to a city constitute an elaborate and highly effective metaphoric language, by which things concerning the soul can be discussed that would otherwise be impossible.

Was Isaiah, like Plato, consciously aware of this trope?  That is, was it intentional, or only something governed by his unconscious creative imagination?  To me it seems very likely that the symbolism is conscious.

Why? For several reasons. One is that to suppose otherwise makes the common mistake of thinking we moderns are much more sophisticated than the ancients.  (Rather a strange supposition, given that we’re still reading and learning from Isaiah after 2500 years!)  Second, it would be similarly absurd to think that the ancient Jewish prophets were less psychologically and poetically sophisticated than Plato and other Greeks.

Yet another possibility is that the original version of Isaiah (or versions, as the present book appears to be a compilation drawn from several sources) was in fact written with an aim to literal social criticism and reform, but then a later, philosophically-minded author edited and revised the text to make it a powerful psychological metaphor.

Why does the question of conscious intention matter?  Because if Isaiah is intentionally and knowingly applying the city-soul analogy, then we will be more alert to particular details that apply to our own mental and moral life.  We will look for psychological correspondents of individual symbols.  The Book of Isaiah becomes a means of self-knowledge, as well as a call for personal reform and renewal.

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Psalm 2

Quare turbabuntur gentes

Psalm 2 (KJV)

WHY do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing?

[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.

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

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

[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.

[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.

[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.

❧

Hebrew, Latin, Greek versions, tools, commentaries

The Archetypal Meaning of Hercules at the Crossroads

Annibale Carracci, The Choice of Hercules (1596)

THE ATHENIAN philosopher and rhetorician, Prodicus, a contemporary of Socrates, wrote an essay commonly known as Hercules at the Crossroads, which he often delivered orally to appreciative crowds. A moral allegory of deep psychological significance, it describes a young Hercules at a crossroads confronted by two women who personify Vice and Virtue.  Each appeals to him to take a different route: Lady Vice claims the easy path will lead to pleasure and happiness; Lady Virtue reminds him that the road to true and lasting satisfaction is the harder and more toilsome route.

Our best source of the story is Xenophon’s dialogue Memorabilia (2.1.21–34), wherein Socrates is presented as relating Prodicus’ story to a young protege named Aristippus (evidently not the eponymous founder of the Cyrenaic philosophical sect).

Thanks to Xenophon, the story was well known and often alluded to throughout antiquity and beyond. Philo of Alexandria (fl. ca. 20 AD), the Jewish Middle Platonist philosopher (and, as it happens, the virtual father of Christian allegorical interpretation of the Bible), expanded on Prodicus’ theme in a discussion of the ‘two wives of the soul’ (On the Sacrifices of Cain and Abel 1.5.21−34).  Philo’s treatment is quite interesting in its own right, in part because of his remarkable list (section 1.5.31) of over 150 negative adjectives to describe a votary of Pleasure.  Readers of Philo will recognize the connection of the story with his allegorical interpretation of the Garden of Eden myth.

Centuries later, St. Ambrose of Milan (fl. 390 AD), in Cain and Abel 4.13−5.15, paraphrased Philo’s discussion and connected it with the ‘strange woman‘ (Uebersax, 2009) in the Book of Proverbs (Prv 2:16−19; 5:3−8; 5:15−19; 5:20; 6:24−26; 7:5−27; 9:13−18; 20:16; 22:14; 23:27−35; 27:13, 15), a personification of pleasure and/or folly, and opponent of the virtuous ‘wife of thy youth.’ (Prv 5:15−19).

Cicero, in On Moral Duties (1.32.118; 3.5.25), a work addressed to his son, mentions Prodicus’ tale in the context of choosing ones career.  Others, too, have understood the tale as referring choosing one’s long term course in life.  However we have good reason to believe the story has a deeper psychological and more existential meaning. One clue to the deeper meaning is the strong appeal of the story throughout the centuries to the artistic imagination.  As Erwin Panovsky (1930) in a seminal work on art history describes, Prodicus story elicited scores of paintings and drawings beginning in the Renaissance.

Another clue to a deeper meaning is to see how this same theme is expressed in many variations throughout antiquity.  The earliest and best known example in the Greek tradition is Hesiod’s Works and Days 1.287−294.

Wickedness (κακότητα; kakotes) can be had in abundance easily: smooth is the road and very nigh she dwells. But in front of virtue (ἀρετῆς; arete) the gods immortal have put sweat: long and steep is the path to her and rough at first; but when you reach the top, then at length the road is easy, hard though it was.
Source: Hesiod, Works and Days 1.287−294 (tr. Evelyn-White)

This passage serves as a virtual epitome of book 1 of Works and Days, which also contains the Pandora and Ages of Man myths, both allegories of the moral fall.

The Judgment of Paris

Sandro Botticelli, Judgment of Paris (c. 1488)

In Greek mythology, a similar trope is found in the Judgment of Paris, where Paris (prince of Troy and brother of Hector) must choose which goddess is more beautiful: Athena, Hera or Aphrodite — allegorically symbolizing Wisdom, domestic virtue, and sensory pleasure, respectively.  His choice of Aphrodite over Athena and Hera led to the Trojan War.  If we understand the Trojan War as allegorically symbolizing the principle of psychomachia, or conflict between virtuous and unvirtuous elements of the human psyche, then the Judgment of Paris may be understood as symbolizing a depth-psychological dynamic that precipitates a fundamental form of  inner conflict.

Plato cites the above passage of Hesiod in two of his works (Republic 2.364d  and Laws 4.718e−719a). Moreover, in two underworld myths presented in his dialogues (Republic 10.614c−d and Gorgias 524a−527a), he describes a parting of two paths — one associated virtue and leading to the Isles of the Blest, and one associated with vice and leading to punishment in Tartarus. If we understand the underworld as symbolizing depth-psychological processes, it suggests that Plato is saying that orienting our mind wrongly leads to internal self-inflicted punishments, the ultimate aim of which is to educated and reform us (Gorgias 525b−c).

The Pythagorean Y

The same trope of a parting of the ways in an underworld journey is found in Book 6 of Virgil’s Aeneid (Smith, 2000).  Further, an epigram attributed (probably incorrectly, but perhaps written within a century of Virgil’s death) describes what is commonly called the Pythagorean Y (so-named because of the resemblance of ‘Y’ to a forking path):

This letter of Pythagoras, that bears
This fork’d distinction, to conceit prefers
The form man’s life bears. Virtue’s hard way takes
Upon the right hand path, which entry makes
(To sensual eyes) with difficult affair ;
But when ye once have climb’d the highest stair,
The beauty and the sweetness it contains,
Give rest and comfort, far past all your pains.’
The broadway in a bravery paints ye forth,
(In th’ entry) softness, and much shade of worth;
But when ye reach the top, the taken ones
It headlong hurls down, torn at sharpest stones.
He then, whom virtues love, shall victor crown
Of hardest fortunes, praise wins and renown:
But he that sloth and fruitless luxury
Pursues, and doth with foolish wariness fly
Opposed pains (that all best acts befall).
Lives poor and vile, and dies despised of all.
(tr. George Chapman)

Like Hercules at the Crossroads, the Pythagorean Y inspired many Renaissance works of art.

The theme of two paths associated with a choice or judgment concerning virtue vs. wickedness occurs throughout the Old and New Testament.  Perhaps best known is Psalm 1 (traditionally called The Two Paths).

When we find the same theme like this so prominently expressed across many times and traditions, it implies some universal, archetypal psychological dynamic of fundamental significance. That, I believe, is the case here. This is not a simple, prosaic morality tale such that “one must choose good and not evil.” Rather it confronts us with the existential fact — readily verifiable by introspection and close attention to thoughts — that we are always, every moment at our lives, faced with the two paths:  we can direct the immediate energies of our mind towards seeking physical pleasure, or to virtue, spirituality and higher cognitive activity.  When we choose the latter, all is well. Our mind is a harmony.  This is the path of life. But the moment we stop actively choosing virtue, our mind lapses into its immature state dominated by the pleasure principle; we are no longer true to our genuine nature, and a cascading sequence of negative mental events ensues.

This is not unlike the Freudian distinction between the pleasure principle and the reality principle, which, according to him, it is the principal task of the ego to broker.  However in this case, the reality principle is replaced by what we might call the virtue principle:  that our psyche is, in its core, fundamentally aligned with virtue.  In a sense this is still a reality principle — but, here the reality is that our nature seeks virtue.

To choose the path of virtue, wisdom and righteousness on an ongoing basis is not easy. It is, rather, as Plato calls it, the contest of contests (Gorgias 526e) and requires a degree of resolve and effort we may perhaps rightly call Herculean.

❧

Bibliography

Colson, F. H.; Whitaker, G. H. (trs.). Philo: On the Sacrifices of Abel and Cain. In: Philo, Volume 2. Loeb Classical Library L227. Harvard University Press, 1929.

Evelyn-White, Hugh G. (tr.). Hesiod: Works and Days. In: Hesiod, Homeric Hymns and Homerica. Loeb Classical Library L057. Harvard University Press, 1943.

Marchant, E. C. Xenophon: Memorabilia and Oeconomicus. Harvard University Press, 1923. http://data.perseus.org/texts/urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0032.tlg002.perseus-eng1

Miller, Walter (tr.). Cicero: De Officiis. Loeb Classical Library L030. Harvard University Press, 1913. https://archive.org/details/deofficiiswithen00ciceuoft

Panofsky, Erwin. Hercules am Scheidewege und andere antike Bildstoffi in der neueren Kunst, Studien der Bibliothek Warburg 18, Leipzig, 1930.

Rochette, Bruno. Héraclès à la croissé des chemins: un topos dans la literature grécolatine. Études Classiques 66, 1998, 105−113.

Savage, John J. (tr.). Saint Ambrose: Hexameron, Paradise, and Cain And Abel. Fathers of the Church 42. Catholic University of America, 1961.

Smith, Richard Upsher. The Pythagorean letter and Virgil’s golden bough. Dionysius 18, 2000, pp. 7−24. https://dialnet.unirioja.es/revista/10126/A/2000

Uebersax, John S.  The strange woman of Proverbs. 2009. https://catholicgnosis.wordpress.com/2009/05/19/the-strange-woman-of-proverbs/

1st draft, 1 Mar 2020

The Seven Virtues and Fifty Subvirtues of Medieval Christianity

Tree of Virtues from Speculum Virginum, Walters Art Museum Ms. W.72, fol. 26r.

BEGINNING in the 11th century we find in Western medieval manuscripts frequent portrayal of virtues and vices as tree diagrams.  These vary in details, but always include the four cardinal virtues of the Greek ethical tradition (Fortitude, Temperance,  Prudence and Justice) and the three theological virtues (Faith, Hope and Charity) of Christianity.  Each virtue is shown as a branch of the tree accompanied by seven sub-virtues (Charity may have up to ten sub-virtues, so we’ll say roughly fifty subvirtues in total) as leaves.  Often a parallel tree of the seven deadly vices and their sub-vices accompanies the Tree of Virtues.  Pride (superbia) is considered the common root of all vices, and Humility (humilitas) of all virtues.

The best-known of these figures appear in a 12th century work called the Speculum virginum (Mirror of Virgins), a devotional work intended for the spiritual formation of nuns and attributed to Conrad of Hirsau. (Mews, 2001 supplies a wealth of information on the Speculum virginum.)

The Speculum virginum shows the Tree of Virtue and Tree of Vices side by side on facing pages, as below:

Tree of Vices (left) and Tree of Virtues (right), Walters MS W.72, fols. 25v-26r

The trees in the Speculum virginum are based on an earlier work, De fructibus carnis et spiritus (On the Fruits of the Flesh and Spirit), sometimes attributed to Hugh of St. Victor, but possibly written by Conrad of Hirsau.  The Prologue of De fructibus introduces the two trees as follows:

SINCE every word of Divine Scripture aims to convince one of the good of humility, and to advise more attentively to decline the evil of pride, especially since on the one hand it is the beginning of salvation and life, and on the other of ruin, it seems necessary that the fruit and efficacy of humility and pride itself should be seen as a form visible to the devotee of virtues, to show … in so far one is the imitator of either species, of pride, or of humility, the quality of the fruits, and what reward one obtains from the execution of either. Therefore, we present two trees, different in fruit and growth, both rough and young, to each of the opposites, with vices or virtues attached to them; with a few definitions, from whose root the fruits proceed, and which tree is to be chosen from the two, attracted by the fruit, one can discern. Indeed pride is the root of the fruit of the flesh, humility the fruit of the spirit. This diversity, looking at the roots, shows the appetite of those who seek their fruits in moderation. Old Adam places himself in the castle of the wicked tree. The new Adam obtains the guidance of the spiritual results. If, therefore, the more excellent is the worse, that is, you have joined the good to the evil from the other side, which stands out in these, and which you have strongly understood to predominate. For when the qualities of the opposites are compared, a better estimation will soon be evident. Therefore, having looked at our roots, branches, and fruits, it is up to you to choose what you will.
(Source: De fructibus carnis et spiritus; Prologue; my translation)

At issue is a fundamental distinction between a soul organized by (in St. Paul’s terms; e.g., Romans 8) carnal mindedness or by spiritual mindedness.  St. Augustine’s elaboration of the distinction — love of the world and love of God — respectively came to virtually define ethical psychology in the Middle Ages. 

The evil tree on the left appears under the rubric Vetus Adam (Old Adam), or man unredeemed. Rooted in superbia (Pride),  its crowning fruit is luxuria (Sensory Pleasure) and it is prominently labeled Babylonia, or a city of confusion.

The good tree on the right appears under the rubric Novus Adam (New Adam), or a regenerated person in a state of grace. Rooted in Humilitas (Humility), its crowning fruit is Caritas (Charity) and it is labeled Hierosolyma (Jerusalem; city of peace). For more discussion on the significance of these trees, and especially how they relate to medieval Christianity’s central empahsis on Charity, see Robertson (1951).

Humility, we should note, is meant in the Christian sense as (1) an accurate recognition of one’s own sinfulness, frailty, ignorance and utter dependence on God, and (2) a subordination of one’s own will to God’s. Pride does not mean arrogance, conceit, or self-aggrandizement so much as self-will.

More than a simple device to assist in the memorization of ethical doctrine, these and the several other figures in the Speculum are conceptual tools.  They supply an interiorly retained image, with which one may visualize internal psychological processes and form productive associational structures, promoting integration of spiritual mindendess into ones personality.

The seven Virtues and their sub-virtues are listed below.  The selection of sub-virtues and their definitions appears influenced by a variety of patristic and biblical sources. The vices and subvices are described in a separate post here.

Update:  Since posting this I’ve added a related article, The Thirty Seraphic Virtues of the Middle Ages.

❧

PRUDENCE (prudentia)

• Fear of God (timor Domini)
• Promptness (alacritas)
• Counsel (consilium)
• Memory (memoria)
• Intelligence (intelligentia)
• Foresight (providentia)
• Deliberation (deliberatio)

JUSTICE (justitia )

• Law (lex)
• Strictness (severitas)
• Equity (aequitas)
• Correction (correctio; Correctio est erroris innati vel consuetudine introducti freno rationis inhibitio.)
• Honoring a pledge (jurisjurandi observatio; Jurisjurandi observatio est quae, plebescito civibus promulgato, transgressionem ejus temerariam arcet praestito juramento de conservatione illius perpetua.)
• Judgment (judicium)
• Truth (veritas)

COURAGE (fortitudo)

• Magnanimity (magnanimitas)
• Fidelity (fiducia)
• Tolerance (tolerantia)
• Rest (requies)
• Stability (stabilitas)
• Constancy (constantia)
• Perseverance (perseverantia)

TEMPERANCE (temperantia)

• Discernment (discretio)
• Obedience; acquiescence (morigeratio)
• Silence (taciturnitas)
• Fasting (jejunium)
• Sobriety (sobrietas)
• Physical penance; mortification of flesh (afflictio carnis; Afflictio carnis est per quem lascivae mentis seminaria castigatione discreta comprimuntur.)
• Contempt of the world (contemptus saeculi)

FAITH (fides)

• Pratice of religion (religio)
• Decorum (munditia; Munditia est consummata integritas utriusque hominis intuitu divini vel amoris vel timoris.)
• Obedience (obedientia)
• Chastity (castitas)
• Reverence (reverentia)
• Continence (continentia)
• Good desire (affectus)

HOPE (spes)

• Heavenly contemplation (contemplatio supernorum; Contemplatio supernorum est per sublevatae mentis jubilum mors carnalium affectuum).
• Joy (gaudium)
• Modesty (modestia)
• Confession (confessio)
• Patience (patientia)
• Sorrow for faults (compunctio)
• Longsuffering (longanimitas)

CHARITY (caritas)

• Forgiveness (gratia)
• Peace (pax)
• Piety (pietas)
• Mildness; leniency(mansuetudo)
• Liberality (liberalitas)
• Mercy (misericordia)
• Indulgence (indulgentia)
• Compassion (compassio)
• Benignity (benignitas)
• Concord (concordia)

❧

Bibliography

Goggin, Cheryl Gohdes. Copying manuscript illuminations: The Trees of Vices and Virtues. Visual Resources, 2004, 20:2-3, 179−198. https://doi.org/10.1080/0197376042000207552

Hugo de S. Victore (attr.). De fructibus carnis et spiritus. J. P. Migne. Patrologia Latina, Paris, 1854; cols. 997−1010 (rough diagrams of the Tree of Vices and Tree of Virtues appear at the end of the work).  Latin text is online: http://mlat.uzh.ch/?c=2&w=HuDeSVi.DeFrCaE

Katzenellenbogen, Adolf. Allegories of the Virtues and Vices in Medieval Art from Christian Times to the Thirteenth Century. Alan J. P. Crick (tr.). London: Warburg Institute, 1939.

Mews, Constant J. (ed.). Listen, Daughter: The “Speculum virginum” and the Formation of Religious Women in the Middle Ages. The New Middle Ages Series. Palgrave, 2001.  Pages 15−40.

Powell, Morgan. Gender, Reading, and Truth in the Twelfth Century: The Woman in the Mirror. Arc Humanities Press, 2020.

Robertson, D. W. The Doctrine of Charity in Mediaeval Literary Gardens: A Topical Approach through Symbolism and Allegory. Speculum, vol. 26, no. 1, 1951, pp. 24–49. Reprinted in: Robertson, Durant Waite. Essays in Medieval Culture. Princeton University Press, 1980 (repr. 2014); pp. 21−50.

Tucker, Shawn R. The Virtues and Vices in the Arts: A Sourcebook. Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2015.

Watson, Arthur. The Speculum Virginum with special reference to the Tree of Jesse. Speculum, vol. 3, no. 4, 1928, pp. 445–69.

Art: “Tree of Virtues” from Speculum Virginum, Walters Art Museum Ms. W.72, fol. 26r; early 13th century manuscript from the Cistercian abbey of Himmerode, Germany. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Virtues_Speculum_Virginum_W72_26r.jpg

 

Philo: The Allegorical Meaning of Cain’s City and His Descendants

Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld, Cain building the city of Enoch (1860)

DEAR PHILOTHEA, Here, as you requested, are some remarks on Philo’s allegoresis of Cain’s descendants (Genesis 4:17−24), supplied as a continuation of what I previously wrote concerning the sacrifices of Cain and Abel.  As before, I wish to supply only brief pointers, believing that the spiritual meanings of the Old Testament — which are always anagogical or upward leading — require a dedicated personal effort to ascertain: so that meanings and the means of their understanding (effort) coincide.

The basic narrative of these verses, which follows upon the death of Abel, is as follows:

Cain fled God’s presence and dwelt in Nod.
Cain married and begat Enoch.
Cain builded a city.
Enoch begat Irad.
Irad begat Mehujael.
Mehujael begat Methusael.
Methusael begat Lamech.
Lamech had two wives: by Adah he begat Jabal and Jubal.
And by Zillah, Lamech begat Tubal and Naamah.

There is, as you noted, a tendency of readers to gloss over these verses, as though the author of Genesis merely inserted stray folklore.  However that view is inconsistent with how we know we should approach Holy Scripture, which is to assume that all there is placed intentionally and for some definite purpose: sometimes the more irrelevant a detail seems, the more strongly it alerts us to the existence of spiritual meanings.

That is certainly how Philo, our guide for interpreting Genesis, approached these verses.   I like to remind myself that Philo was once believed to be the author of the Wisdom of Solomon.  That is no longer thought to be the case, but the point is that he might have been the author; that is, he is without doubt a profoundly wise, devout and learned representative of the Alexandrian Jewish culture from which Wisdom of Solomon also originated.  Since we look upon the anonymous author of that work as divinely inspired, may we not consider Philo as well one of the eminent line of Jewish prophets?  And if that’s so, we are most fortunate to have, in addition to the Old Testament itself, a spiritually inspired, providential explanation of how to approach interpreting it.

But even to consider inspiration merely as a phenomenon of the human collective unconscious, we may see Philo as a gifted sage and great artist: a man of wide learning, pure intentions and immense zeal to edify others — an extraordinary creative genius, whose works reflect the supraconscious. Enough on this, then.

Philo performed a careful exegesis of these verses from Genesis 4 in his work titled On the Posterity of Cain (De posteritate Caini).  Here, as in his other allegorical interpretations of the Old Testament, Philo applies what we may call the principle of psychological correspondence: each person signifies a specific disposition of the human mind or personality, and each incident symbolizes a psychological event or process (Uebersax, 2012).

As previously described (Uebersax, 2018), for Philo, Cain and Abel symbolize the struggle (psychomachia) within each person between what, lacking better terms, we may follow St. Paul in calling carnal-mindedness and spiritual-mindedness (Romans 8:6). In brief, Cain symbolizes a certain fundamental condition of egoism and impious self-will, and stands in contrast with Abel, who represents an attitude of childlike trust in God.

For Philo, then, Cain’s descendants represent a progressive degradation and corruption of our mind when we leave an uplifted condition — where thinking is holy — to one ruled by egoistic, material concerns. We join the ‘race of Cain’ when we let worldly concerns predominate over spiritual ones.

We can observe this pattern of cognitive descent on various time-scales and with varying severity: from a major mutations in personality lasting months or years, to lesser shifts that occur throughout each day (Uebersax 2014). Hence the issue here is not only descent of the personality into major vices like obsession, gambling, addiction, etc., which ruin ones life entirely, but also daily descents into agitation, distraction, frustration, anger and despondency.  These lesser forms of descent, though perhaps brief, may still amount to a temporary death of ones soul.

Sequential ordering. Philo is describing the phenomenology of mental descent.  While each figure in Cain’s lineage corresponds to a different disposition and to associated cognitive processes, we need not assume these mental events always follow a strict order. However in some cases there does seem to be a tendency of one of these dispositions to ‘beget’ another.

In any case, Philo’s interpretations correspond to mental events that we may, with practice, learn to observe as they occur.  By attending closely to them, and to the transitions from one disposition to another, we may potentially learn how to arrest or even reverse mental descent as it happens. One may think, for example, “Ah, at this point I have become like Mehujael!” and then take appropriate corrective action.

Even if his analysis is not complete, or not correct in every detail, it nevertheless supplies considerable material for personal reflection.

Etymology. Philo applies here what may seem to us some very speculative etymologies in associating each descendant of Cain with a mental disposition. However we shouldn’t overestimate the importance of these etymologies for Philo. There’s no reason to think that they came first in his thinking, and then led him, based on a name, to derive a psychological meaning.  Another and perhaps more likely possibility is that he relied here more on his knowledge of human psychology and on self-observation. That is, he may sometimes have chosen an etymological association after the fact, as it were, to accommodate a prior psychological insight or theory. Alternatively, he may sometimes merely suggest questionable etymologies as helpful mnemonic devices for readers (or his hearers, if, as some suggest, he originally composed this material as homilies).

In any case we shouldn’t let questionable etymologies prejudice our minds against Philo or his interpretations. We should rather focus on his deep insight and remarkable powers of phenomenological analysis. This is superb philosophizing!

Finally, to avoid confusion, please note that in Genesis there are two Enochs, two Methuselahs and two Lamechs; in each case one is bad (Cain’s lineage) and one is good (Seth’s lineage).  Here Philo’s interest is with the bad line.

Now we’ll proceed to Philo’s allegoresis verse by verse.  As much as possible we’ll use his own words. Unless otherwise indicated all paragraph numbers refer to On the Posterity of Cain.

~*~
Genesis 4 (KJV)
[16] And Cain went out from the presence of the LORD, and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden.

Land of Nod (22, 32; Cher. 12f.)

Nod is similar to the Hebrew word for “toss.”  “Eden” symbolizes an opposite mental condition characterized by peace, joy and right reason.

IT IS worth while to notice the country also into which he betakes himself when he has left the presence of God: it is the country called ‘Tossing’ In this way the lawgiver indicates that the foolish man, being a creature of wavering and unsettled impulses, is subject to tossing and tumult, like the sea lashed by contrary winds when a storm is raging, and  has never even in fancy had experience of quietness and calm. And as at a time when a ship is tossing at the mercy of the sea, it is capable neither of sailing nor of riding at anchor, but pitched about this way and that it rolls in turn to either side and moves uncertainly swaying to and fro; even so the worthless man, with a mind reeling and storm-driven, powerless to direct his course with any steadiness, is always tossing, ready to make shipwreck of his life. (22; cf. DeCherubim. 12f.)

Having now shown each side of the picture, calm in a good man, restlessness in a foolish one, let us devote our attention to the sequel. The lawgiver says that Naid, ‘Tumult,’ to which the soul migrated, is over against Eden. ‘Eden’ is a symbolic name for right and divine reason, and so it is literally rendered ‘luxuriance.’ For right reason above all others finds its delight and luxury in the enjoyment of good things pure and undiluted, yea complete and full, while God the Giver of wealth rains down His virgin and deathless boons. And evil is by nature in conflict with good, unjust with just, wise with foolish, and all forms of virtue with all forms of vice. That is the meaning of Naid being over against Eden. (32)

[17] And Cain knew his wife; and she conceived, and bare Enoch: and he builded a city, and called the name of the city, after the name of his son, Enoch.

Cain’s wife (33−39)

‘WIFE’ … [means] the opinion which the impious man (habitually) assumes touching (all) matters. … Of what sort then is an impious man’s opinion? That the human mind is the measure of all things. (34f.)

For if man is the measure of all things, all things are [incorrectly seen as] a present and gift of [ones own] mind … including … thought, resolves, counsels, forethought, comprehension, acquisition of knowledge, skill in arts and in organizing, other faculties too many to recount. Why … deliver … discourses about holiness and honouring God … seeing that you have with you the mind [that presumes] to take the place of God? (36f.)

Enoch (41−43; cf. 35f.)

Philo interprets “Enoch” to mean “thy gift,” here understood as “my gift to myself.”  He connects this with the preceding discussion of Cain’s wife, viz. the opinion that ones sensations and thoughts belong to ones ego.

THOSE who assert that everything that is involved in thought or perception or speech is a free gift of their own soul, seeing that they introduce an impious and atheistic opinion, must be assigned to the race of Cain, who, while incapable even of ruling himself, made bold to say that he had full possession of all other things as well. (42)

Builded a city (49−62)

A characteristic of egoistic thinking is that one builds a veritable city of false beliefs, wrong opinions and supporting rationalizations, populated by inauthentic dispositions.

NOW, every city needs for its existence buildings, and inhabitants, and laws. Cain’s buildings are demonstrative arguments. With these, as though fighting from a city-wall, he repels the assaults of his adversaries, by forging plausible inventions contrary to the truth.  His inhabitants are the wise in their own conceit, devotees of impiety, self-love, arrogance, false opinion: men ignorant of real wisdom, who have reduced to an organized system ignorance, lack of learning and of culture, and other pestilential things akin to these. His laws are various forms of lawlessness and injustice, unfairness, licentiousness, audacity, senselessness, self-will, immoderate indulgence in pleasures … Of such a city every impious man is found to be an architect in his own miserable soul, until such time as God takes counsel (Gen. 11:6), and brings upon their sophistic devices a great and complete confusion. (52f.)

[18] And unto Enoch was born Irad: and Irad begat Mehujael: and Mehujael begat Methusael: and Methusael begat Lamech.

Irad (66−68)

THE SON of Enoch is named Gaidad [Irad], which means ‘a flock.’ Such a name follows naturally upon his father’s name. For it was fitting that the man who deems himself beholden to mind, which is incapable of comprehending its own nature, should beget irrational faculties [dunameis], collected into a flock. (66)

Now every flock that has no shepherd over it necessarily meets with great disasters, owing to its inability by itself to keep hurtful things away and to choose things that will be good for it. (67)

For when the protector, or governor, or father, or whatever we like to call him, of our complex being, namely right reason (orthos logos), has gone off leaving to itself the flock within us, the flock itself being left unheeded perishes, and great loss is entailed upon its owner, while the irrational and unprotected creature, bereft of a guardian of the herd to admonish and discipline it, finds itself banished to a great distance from rational and immortal life. (68)

Mehujael (Mahujael, Maiel; 69−72)

THIS IS why Gaidad is said to have a son Maiel, whose name translated is ‘away from the life of God.’ For since the flock is without reason, and God is the Fountain of reason, it follows that he that lives an irrational life has been cut off from the life of God. (69)

Methusael (Methuselah; 73, 44f., cf. 41)

This descendant of Cain is not to be confused with the long-lived Methuselah of Seth’s lineage in Genesis 5.

WHAT issue awaits him who does not live according to the will of God, save death of the soul? And to this is given the name Methuselah, which means (as we saw) ‘a dispatch of death.’ Wherefore he is son of Mahujael, of the man who relinquished his own life, to whom dying is sent, yea soul-death, which is the change of soul under the impetus of irrational passion. (73f.)

He who receives [this] death is an intimate of Cain, who is ever dying to the way of life directed by virtue. (45)

Lamech (74−79; 46−48; cf. 41)

WHEN the soul has conceived this passion, it brings forth with sore travail-pangs incurable sicknesses and debilities, and by the contortion brought on by these it is bowed down and brought low; for each one of them lays on it an intolerable burden, so that it is unable even to look up. To all this the name ‘Lamech’ has been given, which means ‘humiliation,’ [or ‘brought low’] … a low and cringing passion being [an] offspring of the soul’s death, [and] a sore debility child of irrational impulse. (74)

[19] And Lamech took unto him two wives: the name of the one was Adah, and the name of the other Zillah.
[20] And Adah bare Jabal: he was the father of such as dwell in tents, and of such as have cattle.
[21] And his brother’s name was Jubal: he was the father of all such as handle the harp and organ.

Adah (79−83)

For Philo, Ada means “witness” — in the sense of self-witness and attention directed to ones thoughts and acts.

THE LOW and grovelling Lamech marries as his first wife Ada, which means ‘Witness.’ He has arranged the marriage for himself, for he fancies that the prime good for a man is the smooth movement and passage of the mind along the line of well-aimed projects, with nothing to hinder its working towards easy attainment. ‘For what,’ says he, ‘could be better than that one’s ideas, purposes, conjectures, aims, in a word one’s plans, should go, as the saying is, without a limp, so as to reach their goal without stumbling, understanding being evidenced in all the particulars mentioned?’ (79)

If a man has used a natural aptness and readiness not only for good and worthy ends, but also for their opposites … let him be deemed unhappy. … for verily it is a desperate misfortune for the soul to succeed in all things which it attempts, although they be utterly base. (81)

Therefore, Ο mind, have nothing to do with Ada, who bears witness to (the success of) worthless things, and is borne witness to (as helping) in the attempts to accomplish each of them. (83)

Jabal (Jobel; 83−99)

IF you shall think well to have her [Ada] for a partner, she will bear to you a very great mischief, even Jobel (Gen. iv. 20), which signifies ‘one altering.’ For if you delight in the witness borne to (the goodness of) everything that may present itself, you will desire to twist everything and turn it round, shifting the boundaries fixed for things by nature. (83)

The man who removes the boundaries of the good and beautiful both is accursed and is pronounced to be so with justice. These boundaries were fixed … on principles which are divine and are older than we and all that belongs to earth. This has been made clear by the Law, where it solemnly enjoins upon each one of us not to adulterate the coinage of virtue, using these words: ‘thou shalt not remove thy neighbour’s boundaries, which thy fathers set up.’ (Deut. 19:14) (88f.)

How, then, should Jobel escape rebuke, whose name when turned into Greek is ‘altering’ the natures of things or making them other than they are? For he changed the forms of wisdom and endurance and justice and virtue in general, forms of Godlike beauty, substituting contrary shapes of folly, intemperance, injustice, and all wickedness, obliterating the shapes that had been impressed before. (93)

Jubal (100−111)

‘JUBAL’ is akin in meaning to ‘Jobel,’ for it means ‘inclining now this way now that,’ and it is a figure for the uttered word, which is in its nature brother to mind. It is a most appropriate name for the utterance of a mind that alters the make of things, for its way is to halt between two courses, swaying up and down as if on a pair of scales, or like a boat at sea, struck by huge waves and rolling towards either side. For the foolish man has never learned to say anything sure or well-grounded. (100)

[He swerves aside from the] royal road, which we have just said to be true and genuine philosophy, is called in the Law the utterance and word of God. (102)

Jubal is the father of musical instruments because music, like foolish thought and speech, has infinitely many variations:

RIGHT well then is Jubal, the man who alters the tone and trend of speech, spoken of as the father of psaltery and harp, that is of music. (111)

[22] And Zillah, she also bare Tubal-cain, an instructer of every artificer in brass and iron: and the sister of Tubal-cain was Naamah.

Zillah (Sella; 112−113)

LET us contemplate Lamech’s other wife Sella (Zillah) and her offspring. Well, ‘Sella’ means ‘a shadow,’ and is a figure of bodily and external goods, which in reality differ not a whit from a shadow. (112)

Tubal (Thobel; 114−119)

OF this shadow and its fleeting dreams a son is born, to whom was given the name of Thobel, meaning ‘all together.’ For it is a fact that those who have obtained health and wealth … think that they have secured absolutely all things. (115)

He goes on to say: This man was a wielder of the hammer, a smith in brass and iron work. For the soul that is vehemently concerned about bodily pleasures or the materials of outward things, is being ever hammered on an anvil, beaten out by the blows of his desires with their long swoop and reach. Always and everywhere you may see those who care for their bodies more than anything else setting lines and snares to catch the things they long for. You may see lovers of money and fame dispatching on expeditions to the ends of the earth and beyond the sea the frenzied craving for these things. They draw to them the produce of every region of the globe, using their unlimited lusts as nets for the purpose, until at last the violence of their excessive effort makes them give way, and the counter pull throws down headlong those who are tugging. All these people are war-makers, and that is why they are said to be workers in iron and bronze, and these are the instruments with which wars are waged. (116f.)

It is an invariable rule that broils and factions arise among men scarcely ever about anything else than what is in reality a shadow. For the lawgiver [Moses] named the manufacturer of weapons of war, of brass and iron, Thobel, son of Sella the shadow… . For he was aware that every naval or land force chooses the greatest dangers for the sake of bodily pleasures or to gain a superabundance of things outward, no one of which is proved sure and stable by all-testing time; for those things resemble pictures that are mere superficial delineations of solid objects, and fade away of themselves. (119)

Tubal, who signifies a state of complete inner strife and self-tyranny, is the culmination of the entire line of Cain: hence his full name, Tubal-cain.  His association with bronze and iron is reminiscent of the Bronze and Iron races in Hesiod’s Ages of Man myth (Works and Days 109–201), another allegory of the soul’s progressive descent.

Naamah (Noeman; 120−123)

WE are told that the sister of Thobel was Noeman, meaning ‘fatness’; for when those, who make bodily comfort and the material things of which I have spoken their object, succeed in getting something which they crave after, the consequence is that they grow fat. Such fatness I for my part set down not as strength but as weakness, or it teaches us to neglect to pay honour to God, which is the chiefest and best power of the soul. (120)

From this we see that the Divine word dwells and walks among those for whom the soul’s life is an object of honour, while those who value the life given to its pleasures, experience good times that are transient and fictitious. These, suffering from the effects of fatness and enjoyment spreading increasingly, swell out and become distended till they burst; but those who are fattened by wisdom which feeds souls that are lovers of virtue, acquire a firm and settled vigour, of which the fat taken from every sacrifice to be offered with the whole burnt offering is a sign. For Moses says all the fat is a due for ever to the Lord (Lev. 3:16f.), showing that richness of mind is recognized as God’s gift and appropriated to Him. (122f.)

Final Remarks

In verses 23 and 24, the slain young man whom Lamech refers to is Abel, the disposition of piety, innocence and childlike trust in God, whose death is brought to completion by the line of Cain.

So much for Philo’s exegesis of Cain’s progeny and how they relate to the moral/cognitive descent of the psyche.  Philo continues his analysis of descent in his interpretations of the giants mentioned in Genesis 6 (On the Giants) and the Tower of Babel (On the Confusion of Tongues). In addition to considering the descending lineage of Cain, Philo also allegorically interprets the improving race of Seth, Adam and Eve’s third son (Genesis 5). Future articles will discuss these.

References

Colson, F. H. & Whitaker, G. H. Philo: On the Posterity of Cain.  In: Philo, Volume 2. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, MA: 1929.

Uebersax, John. Psychological Allegorical Interpretation of the Bible. Paso Robles, CA: El Camino Real, 2012.

Uebersax, John. The monomyth of fall and salvation. Christian Platonism. 2014. Accessed 22 April 2018.

Uebersax, John. Philo’s psychological exegesis of Cain and Abel. Christian Platonism. 2018. Accessed 22 April 2018.

John Uebersax
First draft: 27 April 2018 (please excuse typos)

Nothing Further Can Be Found in Man: St. Athanasius on Interpretation of the Psalms

Introduction

ONE of the finest Patristic works on Psalms is the letter of St. Athanasius of Alexandria to his friend, Marcellinus, Ad Marcellinum.  Ostensibly relaying what he learned from an “old man” — perhaps a saintly desert ascetic — St. Athanasius exhorts us not only to read the Psalms, but to read them “intelligently.”  He also affirms the benefits of singing the Psalms, by which means a uniting and harmonization all one’s faculties and powers occurs.

The letter is not long, and all who are drawn to Psalms and wish to profit from them are encouraged to read it in its entirety (links in Bibliography).  Some passages of special interest are supplied below.

(Note: square brackets indicate sections as enumerated in the Migne edition; translation is by Anonymous 1953/1998).

To Marcellinus

All the books of Scripture, both Old Testament and New, are inspired by God and useful for instruction (2 Tim 3:16), as it is written; but to those who really study it, the Psalter yields especial treasure. … Each of these books, you see, is like a garden which grows one special kind of fruit; by contrast, the Psalter is a garden which, besides its special fruit, grows also some those of all the rest. [2]

And herein is yet another strange thing about the Psalms. In the other books of Scripture we read or hear the words of holy men as belonging only to those who spoke them, not at all as though they were our own … [however with] Psalms it is as though it were one’s own words that one read; and anyone who hears them is moved at heart, as though they voiced for him his deepest thoughts. [11]

[T]he Psalms thus serve him who sings them as a mirror, wherein he sees himself and his own soul … [12]

Just as in a mirror, the movements of our own souls are reflected in them and the words are indeed our very own, given us to serve both as a reminder of our changes of condition and as a pattern and model for the amendment of our lives. [13]

The whole divine Scripture is the teacher of virtue and true faith, but the Psalter gives a picture [more particularly] of the spiritual life. [14]

It is possible for us …  to find in the Psalter not only the reflection of our own soul’s state, together with precept and example for all possible conditions, but also a fit form of words wherewith to please the Lord on each of life’s occasions …  [15]

… unifying effect which chanting the Psalms has upon the singer. For to sing the Psalms demands such concentration of a man’s whole being on them that, in doing it, his usual disharmony of mind and corresponding bodily confusion is resolved, just as the notes of several flutes are brought by harmony to one effect; and he is thus no longer to be found thinking good and doing evil. [27]

When, therefore, the Psalms are chanted, it is not from any mere desire for sweet music but as the outward expression of the inward harmony obtaining in the soul, because such harmonious recitation is in itself the index of a peaceful and well-ordered heart. To praise God tunefully upon an instrument, such as well-tuned cymbals, cithara, or ten-stringed psaltery, is, as we know, an outward token that the members of the body and the thoughts of the heart are, like the instruments themselves, in proper order and control, all of them together living and moving by the Spirit’s cry and breath. … he who sings well puts his soul in tune, correcting by degrees its faulty rhythm so that at last, being truly natural and integrated, it has fear of nothing, but in peaceful freedom from all vain imaginings may apply itself with greater longing to the good things to come. For a soul rightly ordered by chanting the sacred words forgets its own afflictions and contemplates with joy the things of Christ alone. [29]

For I think that in the words of this book all human life is covered, with all its states and thoughts, and that nothing further can be found in Man. [30]

Bibliography

English translations

Anonymous (tr.). Letter to Marcellinus on the Interpretation of the Psalms. In: Anonymous (tr.), Athanasius: On the Incarnation. St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1998. (Appendix; pp. 97−119; ‘Letter’ orig. publ. 1953). [online version]

Elowsky, Joel C. (tr.), Athanasius: Letter to Marcellinus on the Psalms. New Haven, CT: ICCS Press, 2017.

Gregg, Robert C. (tr.). Athanasius: The Life of Antony and the Letter to Marcellinus, Paulist Press, 1980. (pp. 101−129).

Greek and Latin text

Epistula ad Marcellinum de interpretatione Psalmorum. [Greek text, digital].

Migne, Jacques-Paul (ed.). Patrologia Graeca 27, 1857. (cols. 11−46). [Greek text with Latin translation.]

Secondary sources

Kolbet, Paul R. Athanasius, the Psalms, and the Reformation of the Self. The Harvard Theological Review, vol. 99, no. 1, 2006, pp. 85–101.

Your Greatest Psychological Enemy

Today my readings took me to St. Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians, and an interesting passage where he warns them against what he calls the great Rebel (2 Thess. 2:3) This is in a modern (Jerusalem Bible) translation. The King James Version renders the Greek expression (anthropos hamartia) as that man of sin. Usually I am wary of modern translations, but here one suspects that the international team of scholars who translated the Jerusalem Bible had good grounds for their more evocative choice of words.

In any case this reading serves as a welcome stimulus to address a topic I have too long delayed. I wish to call attention to the reality of this great Rebel as a psychological phenomenon , and as a major obstacle to human happiness.

Now as to whether Satan, in the traditional sense, exists or not does not concern me here. What is of concern is a satanic principle as it exists within the psyche of each individual. That I am convinced does exist.   And it is this inner satanic principle which is, I believe, our most immediate concern, and perhaps ultimately our greatest adversary and obstacle to well-being.

What is the evidence for this? To begin with, I call attention to the psychological theories of Carl Jung. Jung’s theories are not always right, and much of what he wrote is either inconsistent with — or has been interpreted (perhaps wrongly) in ways that make it inconsistent with — Christianity. However, points of incorrectness or disagreement should never make us hesitate to accept whatever else is true and useful. And there is indeed much true and useful in Jung’s theories.

In this case, Jung’s theories make a very strong case that the Bible, as well as the sacred writings and myths of all cultures, (1) can be interpreted psychologically, and (2) that this can be done more or less along the same lines as one interprets dreams psychologically.

One proviso or explanation must be made immediately: to say that the Bible can be interpreted psychologically in no way denies that it has other levels of meaning. Most importantly, it does not deny that the New Testament is literally true. (Whether the Old Testament is literally true is, of course, another matter.) Thus, rather than detract from the grandeur of the Bible, this view actually enhances it: it allows that God, the Supreme Author, uses all modes of meaning which literature may carry — literal and symbolic — to communicate with our souls.   But having stated this, I will not further defend the premise here, having done so elsewhere. In any case, many readers will be willing to accept this key premise prima facie.

A corollary of this premise is that each figure in the Bible has some counterpart, and thus serves as a symbol for some part or process of the individual psyche. Again, many, especially those already familiar with Jungian theory, will accept this without further explanation. It is a standard element of psychological interpretation of dreams, as well as of mythology, art and literature.

However, from the preceding, fairly unimpressive propositions, logic leads us necessarily to a momentous one: this means that the figure of Satan — or the great Rebel — must also correspond to something within the individual psyche.

If true, this is a huge concern. It means that, at virtually all times, in whatever we do or think, in whatever way we seek to improve ourselves on the road of virtue, or to love others, or to contribute to a better word, something within us opposes our efforts. Moreover this energy, force, or principle of opposition is extremely strong, crafty, utterly callous and unloving, devoid of virtue, and, in every way corresponds to the figure of Satan in the Bible!

Evidence of the reality of this adversarial principle can be found in ancient philosophy. I refer, in particular, to the writings of the Jewish Middle Platonist, Philo of Alexandria (c. 25 BC–c.50 AD). Philo is most famous for his complex and amazingly astute psychological interpretations of Genesis and Exodus. However in the process of his interpreting Scripture he contributed quite a bit of philosophical and psychological theory as well. In particular, Philo sees human nature as containing two opposed energies — one salvific and salutary, which he calls soteria (so-tay-ree’-ah; the Greek work for salvation), and the other, its antithesis: a destructive force, which he calls phthorá (fthor-ah’; Liddell-Scott; Strong G5356).

Even this much is quite valuable to know. Now we have a name for this opposing principle, our great enemy: phthorá. This is a great advance over not having a name, in which case we must simply experience the effects of this force. With a term, however, we have the ability to form a definite concept, to associate that concept with other concepts, and to think rationally and productively about it.

There would appear to be at least a vague connection between this negative principle and Freud’s concept of death wish, or thanatos. However, for reasons I won’t go into here, I think that phthorá is something more — and more problematic for us — than the Freudian death wish.

As would be expected for something of such vital and fundamental psychological importance, this principle is represented in the world’s mythologies. In Greek mythology, for example, it corresponds to the god Typhon, a many-headed serpent of inconceivable strength and virulence, who is also the god of storms (hence our word, typhoon.)

Each of us is concerned, both each day and moment to moment, with constructing a stable, integrated personality. This corresponds to the state of unity or harmony discussed in my previous article on the monomyth of fall and restoration. Phthorá is that force within us which actively seeks our fall, and, once we’ve fallen, prevents us from rising again to wholeness.

At a phenomenological level, this is experienced as disturbing thoughts which agitate our mind, and distract us from positive, creative, loving and productive cognition. In a very real sense, at least phenomenologically speaking, life is virtually the same as clear and whole awareness of our outer and inner experience. If we look at a meadow and our mind is tranquil, we see the beauty, the details —we are alive to it. The more our mind is agitated, the more our experience comes to approximate semi- and even un-consciousness — and, in that degree, we are only partly alive. In a state of complete mental agitation we could be said to be dead, in the sense that, if we are conscious at all of our surroundings or inner life, the mental impressions are devoid of vitality and vividness (i.e., of life)

I wish to do no more here than to expose this deadly foe by naming him (or her or it). Knowing phthorá exists alone will not stop it. But better to know your foe than to let it wreak havoc unobserved.

I would only add a few additional points:

1. As already noted, this force is opposed by soterias, the principle of self-actualization, which is stronger. In Christianity, Jesus Christ corresponds to (among having other meanings and levels of reality), or perhaps is, soterias. This means that remedy for phthorá is to be found in the complex system of mythos, religion, psychology and philosophy that surrounds the figure of Jesus Christ.

2. There is possibly some legitimate reason, biologically and/or psychologically, for the existence of phthorá. Perhaps goodness needs an adversary to stay in trim and so that we can grow in virtue. Nevertheless, in this case a little goes a long way: if we need the devil, keep it chained, well guarded, and hopefully with Jesus Christ standing on its head.

3. Again, it is very important to recognize how this force operates within us. Otherwise (as Jung pointed out), there is a strong tendency for us to project our own satanic tendencies onto others. Our great enemy, adversary and antagonist is within.   Whatever harm anyone else can do us is negligible in comparison with the ferocity and malice of this opponent.

4. In keeping with everything said here, it follows that there is a serious danger our identifying with this principle, of becoming it. This, in fact, happens routinely. It occurs, for example, when we become so harshly condemning of others that we literally take the attitude of an avenging angel towards them. To take an example from today’s news, political conservatives may condemn progressives, angrily denouncing them and insisting they are great sinners, etc. But in doing this, in relinquishing the reign of love and goodness in their psyche, they become literally possessed by phthorá. And, of course, the exact same can be said of progressives who condemn, rather than try to engage or reason with conservatives.   But this is only an example; a hundred others could serve equally well as illustrations.