Ecstasis and Philosophy as the Practice of Dying

Piero Di Cosimo, Incarnation of Jesus (c.1485−1505; detail)

RICHARD OF ST. VICTOR discusses a mystical state of consciousness he calls alienatio mentis (alienation of the mind). [1] This is a type of ecstasy in which one loses contact with bodily senses.  Typically, however, both consciousness itself and awareness of oneself remain intact. That is, it is neither a state of complete unconsciousness, nor identityless consciousness.

What is, this, exactly?  A preliminary survey of the literature shows there are many opinions on the matter, but no clear agreement or decisive conclusions.

It seems possible to me that this is not a psychological state resolved for the few, privileged individual who can devote their lives entirely to contemplation.  Rather, perhaps it is a mental ability that we all have the capacity for (for example, it seems similar to certain dissociative states experienced under the influence of medical anesthesia), and we can activate this natural ability without too much difficulty.

It also seems possible there is a connection between this condition and Plato’s assertion that true philosophy is the ‘practice of dying’ — in the sense, that philosophers seek (according to him) a temporary separation of the soul/mind from the body and sensation.

His most sustained discussion of this occurs in the dialogue Phaedo.  There, Socrates is in jail, in the hours leading up to his drinking the hemlock; he wishes to explain to his pupils why he is not afraid of death.  Other parts of the dialogue present Socrates’ arguments for the immortality of the soul.  But in the section below, he explains that the body and senses are great hindrances to cognition of Eternal truths.  Philosophy, he implies, involves  learning to experience one’s soul detached from physical senses.

1. Richard discusses this in Benjamin Major 5.5 and in On the Extermination of Bad and the Promotion of Good 3.18, among other places.  In the Four Degrees of Fervent Love 35−38 he distinguishes between levels of contemplation associated with the ‘second heaven’ and ‘third heaven.’  In the latter the soul experiences a more profound ecstasy: “in this state, the human mind, forgetful of all external things, forgets even itself and passes entirely into its God.” (Kraebel, p. 291)

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Phaedo 65−67 (tr. Jowett, 1892)

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Socrates: In matters of this sort philosophers, above all other men, may be observed in every sort of way to dissever the soul from the communion of the body.

Simmias: Very true.

Whereas, Simmias, the rest of the world are of opinion that to him who has no sense of pleasure and no part in bodily pleasure, life is not worth having; and that he who is indifferent about them is as good as dead.

That is also true.

What again shall we say of the actual acquirement of knowledge? — is the body, if invited to share in the enquiry, a hinderer or a helper? I mean to say, have sight and hearing any truth in them? Are they not, as the poets are always telling us, inaccurate witnesses? and yet, if even they are inaccurate and indistinct, what is to be said of the other senses? — for you will allow that they are the best of them?

Certainly, he replied.

Then when does the soul attain truth? — for in attempting to consider anything in company with the body she is obviously deceived.

True.

Then must not true existence be revealed to her in thought, if at all?

Yes.

And thought is best when the mind is gathered into herself and none of these things trouble her — neither sounds nor sights nor pain nor any pleasure, — when she takes leave of the body, and has as little as possible to do with it, when she has no bodily sense or desire, but is aspiring after true being?

Certainly.

And in this the philosopher dishonours the body; his soul runs away from his body and desires to be alone and by herself?

That is true.

Well, but there is another thing, Simmias: Is there or is there not an absolute justice?

Assuredly there is.

And an absolute beauty and absolute good?

Of course.

But did you ever behold any of them with your eyes?

Certainly not.

Or did you ever reach them with any other bodily sense? — and I speak not of these alone, but of absolute greatness, and health, and strength, and of the essence or true nature of everything. Has the reality of them ever been perceived by you through the bodily organs? or rather, is not the nearest approach to the knowledge of their several natures made by him who so orders his intellectual vision as to have the most exact conception of the essence of each thing which he considers?

Certainly.

And he attains to the purest knowledge of them who goes to each with the mind alone, not introducing or intruding in the act of thought sight or any other sense together with

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reason, but with the very light of the mind in her own clearness searches into the very truth of each; he who has got rid, as far as he can, of eyes and ears and, so to speak, of the whole body, these being in his opinion distracting elements which when they infect the soul hinder her from acquiring truth and knowledge — who, if not he, is likely to attain to the knowledge of true being?

What you say has a wonderful truth in it, Socrates, replied Simmias.

And when real philosophers consider all these things, will they not be led to make a reflection which they will express in words something like the following? ‘Have we not found,’ they will say, ‘a path of thought which seems to bring us and our argument to the conclusion, that while we are in the body, and while the soul is infected with the evils of the body, our desire will not be satisfied? and our desire is of the truth. For the body is a source of endless trouble to us by reason of the mere requirement of food; and is liable also to diseases which overtake and impede us in the search after true being: it fills us full of loves, and lusts, and fears, and fancies of all kinds, and endless foolery, and in fact, as men say, takes away from us the power of thinking at all. Whence come wars, and fightings, and factions? whence but from the body and the lusts of the body? Wars are occasioned by the love of money, and money has to be acquired for the sake and in the service of the body; and by reason of all these impediments we have no time to give to philosophy; and, last and worst of all, even if we are at leisure and betake ourselves to some speculation, the body is always breaking in upon us, causing turmoil and confusion in our enquiries, and so amazing us that we are prevented from seeing the truth. It has been proved to us by experience that if we would have pure knowledge of anything we must be quit of the body — the soul in herself must behold things in themselves: and then we shall attain the wisdom which we desire, and of which we say that we are lovers; not while we live, but after death; for if while in company with the body, the soul cannot have pure knowledge, one of two things follows — either knowledge is not to be attained at all, or, if at all, after death. For then, and not till then, the soul will be parted

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from the body and exist in herself alone. In this present life, I reckon that we make the nearest approach to knowledge when we have the least possible intercourse or communion with the body, and are not surfeited with the bodily nature, but keep ourselves pure until the hour when God himself is pleased to release us. And thus having got rid of the foolishness of the body we shall be pure and hold converse with the pure, and know of ourselves the clear light everywhere, which is no other than the light of truth.’ For the impure are not permitted to approach the pure. These are the sort of words, Simmias, which the true lovers of knowledge cannot help saying to one another, and thinking. You would agree; would you not?

Undoubtedly, Socrates.

But, O my friend, if this be true, there is great reason to hope that, going whither I go, when I have come to the end of my journey, I shall attain that which has been the pursuit of my life. And therefore I go on my way rejoicing, and not I only, but every other man who believes that his mind has been made ready and that he is in a manner purified.

Certainly, replied Simmias.

And what is purification but the separation of the soul from the body, as I was saying before; the habit of the soul gathering and collecting herself into herself from all sides out of the body; the dwelling in her own place alone, as in another life, so also in this, as far as she can;—the release of the soul from the chains of the body?

Very true, he said.

And this separation and release of the soul from the body is termed death?

To be sure, he said.

And the true philosophers, and they only, are ever seeking to release the soul. Is not the separation and release of the soul from the body their especial study?

Source: Jowett, Benjamin. The Dialogues of Plato in Five Volumes, 3rd ed. Oxford University, 1892. Vol. 2

Did Plato and Socrates regularly practice contemplation?  At least in Socrates’ case, we there are two suggestive examples from his life.  In one, before the Battle of Potidea, he was observed to stand motionless in a ‘meditative trance’ for an entire day.  In another, on his way to the dinner party recounted in Plato’s dialogue Symposium, Socrates dropped behind the others and fell into “a fit of abstraction.”

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Bibliography

Kraebel, Andrew. Richard of St. Victor: On the Four Degrees of Violent Love (De quatuor gradibus violentae caritatis).    In: Hugh Feiss (ed.), Victorine Texts in Translation Vol. 2: On Love, Brepols, 2011; pp. 287−300.

Németh, Csaba. Paulus Raptus to Raptus Pauli: Paul’s Rapture (2 Cor 12: 2–4) in the Pre-Scholastic and Scholastic Theologies. In: A Companion to St. Paul in the Middle Ages, Brill, 2013; 349−392.

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

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Richard of St. Victor’s Psychological Interpretation of Nebuchadnezzar’s Dream

Ernest Wallcousins, Nebuchadnezzar in the Hanging Gardens (1915)

AS previously noted, Richard of St. Victor (1110−1173) is a master of psychological-allegorical interpretation of the Old Testament.  His important exegetical works include Benjamin Minor, Benjamin Major and On the Extermination of Bad and the Promotion of Good.

Another superb example is his On the Education of the Interior Man (De eruditione hominis interiori). This considers an important practical matter in contemplative life: after one attains a state of divine contemplation, inevitably, whether through inattention or fatigue, one will eventually (sometimes rapidly) lapse into an inferior mental state. Returning to a higher state can be difficult. Hence the contemplative has a threefold problem: (1) how to avoid lapsing from divine states of mind; and, if one does fall (2) how to return quickly and (3) how to avoid falling to an even lower state.

Note that Plato considers the same problem of falling from contemplative states in his Chariot Allegory, and there are parallels between his discussion and Richard’s.

Richard addresses the topic by an exegesis of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream of the composite statue in Daniel 2. Like Philo of Alexandria, Richard’s Old Testament interpretations are insightful, relevant and compelling.  Also like Philo, Richard applies a form of personification which sees each Old Testament figure as symbolizing some feature, component or disposition of the individual psyche.

Briefly, his interpretation is as follows. Nebuchadnezzar represents the ego operating in its proper and higher capacity: as the king of ones soul. His dream is an example of divine revelation — that is, the ego experiences through contemplation or attainment of spiritual mindedness some special knowledge. His forgetting the dream and not understanding the meaning symbolizes the once-enlightened ego in its lapsed state.

The king, frustrated and unhappy at having fallen and lost divine vision, calls his wise men to describe and interpret his forgotten dream. For Richard, the wise men are higher intellectual abilities and activities — including reading Scripture, study, meditation and orderly speculation, which assist us in rising to contemplation.

As the wise men are unable to help, Nebuchadnezzar becomes furious and vows to kill them. Analogously, when the ‘studious’ actions which aid our mental elevation cannot return us to a contemplative state, we — already distraught that we have lost contemplation’s sweetness and delights — become further agitated.  In this condition we are prone to reject studies as not only burdensome (which, in a sense, they always are), but fruitless, and to instead dissipate ourselves in worldly affairs, vanities, or concupiscence.

The true remedy, Richard teaches, lay in the entrance of Daniel, who symbolizes devotion. Our first (and only truly effective) response to falling must be devotion and prayer. We should not only pray for the grace to return to contemplation (and, Richard emphasizes, contemplation is a grace), but pray for the grace of such prayer.

Daniels companions, Ananias, Mishael, and Azariah, symbolize three supporting cognitive activities which help us reach a devout state of mind: circumspection, discretion, and deliberation. Richard associates these with attentive consideration of the past, present and future, respectively. Circumspection examines past sins, admitting faults and learning from mistakes. Discretion mindfully considers present choices, exercising discrimination to determine what is bad and what is good. Deliberation applies sound judgment to choose actions that will minimize cause for future regret and unhappiness.

Richard treats these functions many times throughout his works, and their meanings are not always consistent.  All three are forms, we might say, of practical wisdom or prudence.  So, speaking more generally, Richard’s point is that while devotion per se is a grace, we should not simply wait passively for it.  Rather we are called to labor with self-examination and active steps to organize our mental and physical life. Richard is emphatic on about this: we must at all costs avoid the temptation to cease our studies and disciplines in times of desolation, when the grace of contemplation is withheld.  However he is even more emphatic that our attitude must remain one of devotion and humility. All studies and disciplines must be performed with utmost recognition of the constant need for God’s guidance and assistance.

As to Nebuchadnezzar’s dream itself, that too symbolize the progressive lapse of the soul. The statue is of a man, composed of (in descending order) gold, silver, brass, iron and clay — i.e., from precious to base metals, and finally (describing complete fall into sensuality), mud. All of these are common mythological tropes.  Gold, for example, is a usual symbol for higher consciousness, and mud sensuality. The dream is very close in details and meaning to Hesiod’s Ages of Man myth, which similarly mentions phases of Gold, Silver, Bronze, Iron and complete degradation.

Without loss of meaning we may easily substitute for “contemplative states” mindfulness and mental integrity, and for “fallen condition” various forms of negative thinking and intrusive thoughts.  Hence Richard’s discussion also interests us at the level of the psychology of healthy-mindedness and optimal functioning (or, conversely, handling the psychopathology of everyday thought.)

Richard outlines the above in just the first 12 chapters of the three-book work.  Doubtless there is much more of interest.  The Latin text from Migne’s Patrologia Latina (1855) is available online (see Bibliography below). Unfortunately there is no critical edition or published English translation of the work. However I’ve placed online an automated English translation.

Victorine ascetico-mystical cognitive psychology deserves far more attention than it receives. Hugh, Richard and the others of the St. Victor school occupy an important position between patristic writers and the soon-to-arrive era of scholasticism. Drawing on writers like Cassian, Augustine, and Gregory, they begin to develop a complex set of psychological terms, and attempt to identify functional relationship among various intellectual and moral virtues.  Yet, unlike later scholastics, systematization and organization is not done for its own sake.  They are not writing for university students.  Rather, their concern always remains practical and pastoral.

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Bibliography

Palmén, Ritva. Richard of St. Victor’s Theory of Imagination. Brill, 2014.

Richard of St. Victor, De eruditione hominis interioris (On the Education of the Inner Man), J. P. Migne, Patrologia Latina vol. 196 1229D−1366A.  Paris, 1855.  [Latin text]

Uebersax, John.  Myths of the Fall.  Christian Platonism website. 2021.

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

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Richard of St. Victor — Philo Redivivus

RICHARD OF ST. VICTOR‘s (1110−1173) psychological-allegorical interpretations are exceptional — arguably as good as those of Philo of Alexandria. The two best known examples are his works Benjamin Minor and Benjamin Major.  The first interprets the 12 sons of Jacob allegorically, each son symbolizing a particular virtue — leading up to the youngest sons, Benjamin and Joseph, who symbolize contemplation and discretion, respectively.  Benjamin Major builds on this in a long discussion of contemplation.  Here the framework is a detailed interpretation of the details of the Ark of the Covenant.  In both these works Richard uses allegorical interpretation to great effect.  One never feels he is forcing interpretations or imposing foreign meanings.  Rather — as with Philo — one has the sense that he has, in an inspired way, tapped genuine, deeper spiritual meanings of Scripture.

Benjamin Minor and Benjamin Major are not the only works where Richard displays his remarkable skill in allegoresis.  Another example is the little known work, De exterminatione male et promotione boni (On the Extermination of Bad and the Promotion of Good).*  In a broad sense, the theme it treats is the advancement of the soul through the three ascetical-mystical stages of purification, illumination and unification.  For this, he refers to the two water crossings of the Israelites:  first the crossing of the Red Sea as they enter the wilderness, and second, their crossing of the Jordan into the Promised Land after 40 years of wandering.

* Draft English translation is here.  Latin version is here.

Like Philo, Richard sees Egypt as bondage to the flesh.  Hence the first crossing symbolizes the soul that attains contempt of the world.  In turning from the world, the soul turns inward.  Over time, as it comes to know itself, it realizes its own innate proneness to folly, pride and sin — the root cause of which is love of self.  Symbolically, crossing the Jordan into the Promised Land occurs when the soul reverses the course of its affective energies (just as, in Joshua 3, the Jordan reverses course, enabling the Israelites to cross) from cupidity to charity.

The actual crossing, for Richard, symbolizes contemplation. The twelve stones that Joshua gathers after the crossing and uses to build a memorial, symbolize twelve supporting virtues.  The spies that Joshua first sends into the Promised Land represent ‘pre-meditation’ upon the things that contemplation actually experiences.  Here Richard shows his practical insight into the contemplative life.  To reach high degrees of contemplation — e.g., the intoxication of divine ecstasy — we must yearn for them.  And to stimulate the affections to this yearning, first we must begin by meditating on and considering divine things.

In Joshua 3, first the priests carry the Ark of the Covenant across the Jordan.  Then the Jews follow at a distance of 2000 cubits.  As Richard discussed in Benjamin Major, the Ark of the Covenant is a symbol for contemplation.  The Jews that follow symbolize our other dispositions — including those that connect us with the material world.  These reach the Promised Land in a transformed condition, once the soul’s affections have been properly reoriented to charity through virtue, meditation and contemplation.  So Richard sees in all this not a dour, world-denying asceticism, but an integral psychology, in which our entire self — body, mind, soul and spirit — is transformed and renewed.

Also like Philo, Richard has remarkable attention to detail; no word in Scripture is seen as superfluous.  And also like Philo, his allegorical interpretations avoid excess by staying focused on a single psychological theme.  This is unlike St. Augustine and Origen, who often shift levels of interpretation — say, from psychological, to typological (i.e., interpretation based on the premise that figures and events in the Old Testament prefigure those of the New Testament), to ecclesial (seeing the Old Testament as symbolizing the Church and its sacraments).

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Bibliography

Richard of St. Victor, De exterminatione mali et promotione boni (On the Extermination of Bad the Promotion of Good), J. P. Migne, Patrologia Latina vol. 196 1073C−1116C.  Paris, 1855.  [Latin text]

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

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Richard of St. Victor: De exterminatione mali et promotione boni

Crossing the Jordan, William Hole (detail)

AWORK of Richard of St. Victor, De exterminatione mali et promotione boni (On the Extermination of Bad the Promotion of Good)*, has received little attention.  It’s subject is the process of self-transformation, beginning with such purgative virtues as contempt of the world, self-contempt and contrition, and proceeding to positive moral virtues, culminating in contemplation.  Below is a translation of the final chapter — a discussion of contemplation and ecstasy — and the subtitles of all chapters.  In the Bibliography is a link to the Latin text.

* Draft English translation is here.  Latin version is here.

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CHAPTER XVIII. On Quiet Contemplation.

We can find the twelfth stone, and the last of all, as I think, at the Lord’s tomb.* It has been said, as has been said above, that the stone is the tranquility of contemplation. Of this kind, that Joseph of Arimathea cut a stone for his tomb, but Jesus rested dead in it, because the rest which prudence seeks for itself through meditation, and describes through definition, wisdom through contemplation, he found it, and by experiment he apprehended it. True prudence always seeks, and must always seek that peace which Christ taught, that it may not be troubled or afraid. He always seeks where he can find such peace, he always strives to defend his true security, but he always finds something to grieve over the past, something to attack in the present, something to be wary of and afraid of the future. Therefore, the mind can skillfully seek this peace through prudence, and investigate it with precision through meditation, but it will never be able to find it except through wisdom and the grace of contemplation.

*Treatise 3 discusses twelve virtues that are essential to the soul’s good.  Throughout Richard refers allegorically to the 12 stones of the monument of Gilgal that Joshua built to memorialize the miracle of the Israelites’ crossing the Jordan. (Josh 4).  The 12th virtue/stone, contemplation, he also associates with the sepulchre in which Jesus’ body rested for 3 days.  Richard supplies a comparable moral-allegorical exegesis of the 12 sons of Jacob (and therefore the 12 tribes of Israel, each one of which is associated with a stone in Joshua 4) in his masterpiece, Benjamin Major.

But when the mind began to go beyond itself through pure intelligence, and into that clear, incorporeal light, to enter completely, and to draw from what he sees inwardly a certain taste of inmost sweetness, and from it to build his intelligence, and to turn it into wisdom; meanwhile, in this ecstasy [mentis excessu], that peace which neither disturbs nor frightens, is found and obtained, so that it becomes silence in heaven for half an hour [Rev. 8:1], so that the mind of the beholder is disturbed by no tumult of conflicting thoughts: you will find nothing at all, either to ask for through desire, or to argue with through disgust, or to accuse through hatred. He who is buried in this stone, who is completely collected and concluded within the tranquility of contemplation, is composed for the highest peace. For this stone, like that of Jacob*, is not placed on the head alone, nor, like the latter, is it placed under the feet, but on the whole it is grasped and applied to the body. This stone, therefore, surrounds the whole body, includes the whole, and grasps it from every side, because that peace which surpasses all sense, thoroughly absorbs all human sense, and turns into a certain divine attitude the purer part of the soul by a successful transfiguration. Here lies the body without sense or motion in this Sunday monument [Dominico monumento]; Sensuality does nothing, the imagination does nothing, and all the lower power of the soul is put on its proper duty in the meantime.

For this stone monument (like the stone recumbent of the patriarch Jacob) does not receive a living body, however asleep, nor does it receive a body unless it is mortified. It is one thing to sleep, it is another thing to endure. Another thing is to collect his whole spirit into himself, and it is another thing to rise above oneself and to abandon oneself. It is one thing to have controlled the appetite, and to have cut off the external cares of the heart, and it is another thing to forget oneself. It is necessary, therefore, before it is permitted to enter into that secret of the most intimate repose and the arcanum of the utmost tranquillity; it is necessary, I say, that it should be very serious and truly wonderful, not the dissolution of soul and body, but something else much more wonderful and much more glorious than this, namely, that of which this is the type, namely, the division of soul and spirit. But this is what the Apostle testifies, that he is the living and efficacious word of God, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit. [Heb 4:12]

What, I pray thee, is seen anywhere in this division of creatures, where that which is essentially one and an individual is divided into itself, and that which is simple in itself and consists without parts is divided and separated from itself? For in one man there is not one essence of his spirit and another essence of his soul, but one and the same simple substance of nature. For in this twin term a twin substance is not meant; but when the twin forces of the same essence are used for distinction, one superior is designated by spirit, the other inferior by soul. In this division, therefore, the soul and that which is animal remains in the bottom; but the spirit and that which is spiritual flies to the top.

That which is corpulent and stiff as a dead body fails, and falls back on itself and under himself; that which is subtle and exuded as a breathed-out spirit ascends and transcends within and beyond itself. O deep rest, O sublime rest, where everything that is usually moved by human beings loses all movement, where everyone who is then moved becomes divine and passes into God! This Spirit, breathed out, and entrusted to the hands of the Father, does not, like that dreamer Jacob, need a ladder, in order to fly to the third, not to say to the first, heaven. What need, I pray thee, of a ladder, which the Father holds between his hands, to rapture to the secrets of the third heaven, so that he may glory and say: Thy right hand received me. Did you hold my right hand and lead me in your will, and received me with glory? (Psa 18:35; cf. Psa 16:11, 17:7)

Therefore the Spirit has no work; here he is removed from the middle of the duty of the ladder, and does not need to be supported in that ascent of his subtlety by the shadow [adumbratione] of any bodily likeness, where he sees face to face, not through a mirror, and in an enigma. I would be lying if they did not say the same about themselves who are like him: But we all, they say, beholding the glory of the Lord with our face revealed, are transformed into the same image from brightness to brightness, as by the Spirit of the Lord (2 Cor. 3). You certainly see what he is doing, and you understand, as I think, what is the value of that division of soul and spirit, of which we have already spoken above.

The spirit is divided from the lowest in order to rise to the highest. The spirit is separated from the soul in order to unite with the Lord. For he who clings to the Lord is one spirit. A happy division, and an expectable separation, where what is recognized as passible, that which is corruptible, dies in the meantime by its passions, so much so that nothing of passibility, nothing of corruption is felt in the meantime; where also that which is spiritual, that which is subtle, is sublimated even to the contemplation of the divine glory, and is transformed into the same image. Therefore the lower part is composed for the utmost peace and tranquillity, while the upper part is sublimated for glory and delight. Thus we recognized the face of Moses (certainly the upper part of the body) glorified by the company of the Lord, so that the children of Israel could not focus on his face because of his brightness. Who, I pray thee, is worthy to say, who is sufficient to explain what excssive perfection the spirit acquires in its glorification, even though it does not extend the prolongation of its pilgrimage to the third day, even if it does not produce a delay of silence for half an hour, and may go and return in likeness a flash of lightning?

Thus Moses, from the company of the divine conversation, with a glorified countenance also brings back the horns, showing what valor and what courage he has contracted from his company, who gives courage and strength to his people, blessed God. Then at last it returns, and that spirit which had gone far beyond itself, and which it had placed as passible and corruptible, resumes, as it were, impassive and incorruptible, in comparison with its former state, and rises again into newness of life. What do you think of being cheerful at an injury, not blushing at an insult, and rejoicing in trouble? Is not this to walk in the newness of life, and in some way to show oneself impassible and not subject to ones passions? Behold how long those who rest on this stone advance.

Note: The soul acquires durable virtues, useful in the material world, from contemplation.

There are many things that could have been said about this matter, if they had to be said in this place and did not exceed the measure of moderate digression. For I think that this last kind of stone is the most worthy and precious of all. However, we must not reject anything, but at least ask each one about each one, and gather them together.

It must be noted that this is the first work that is commanded to be done in the Promised Land, so that an eternal memorial of the divine works may be established first of all. For without this heaping of stones, that Sunday promise of an eternal inheritance will never be firmly acquired, never securely possessed. For he who forgets the benefits received from God [beneficiorum divinitus] does not deserve to be promoted to obtain greater ones.

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FIRST TREATISE

CHAPTER I. (no subheading)

CHAPTER II. Of the double confession, and the double promotion [advancement].

CHAPTER III. How the confession of a crime is effective for the extermination of evil.

CHAPTER IV. How the confession of praise is useful for the promotion of good.

CHAPTER V. That the first promotion of virtue is in the contempt of the world.

CHAPTER VI The second promotion of virtue is in self-contempt.

CHAPTER VII. How by the contempt of the world is the extermination of evil.

CHAPTER VIII. That a contrite mind is now a helper, now a support of good.

CHAPTER IX Of useful and useless contrition.

CHAPTER X. Of the twin compunction of the heart.

CHAPTER XI. Of vain and true contempt of the world

CHAPTER XII. How difficult it is to reach complete self-contempt.

CHAPTER XIII. By these methods the mind is trained to complete self-contempt.

CHAPTER 14 That superfluous love of self is more difficult to overcome among the successes of the virtues.

CHAPTER XV. How gradually the mind is to be advanced to self-contempt.

CHAPTER XVI How the mind, exhausted by vain love, expands in the love of God.

CHAPTER XVII. Of the failure of vain love, and the beginning of true love.

CHAPTER XVIII. How through the want of vain love the disorders of the mind fail.

CHAPTER XIX With what caution we ought to remove disorders of the heart.

SECOND TREATISE
From this point on the subject is the study of contemplation, and how or how much it is worth for the reformation of true love.

CHAPTER I (no subheading)

CHAPTER II. How the investigation and revision of salubrious things is valid for correcting the mind.

CHAPTER III. It is easier to correct the mind than to penetrate into its inmost parts.

CHAPTER IV. It may be worth while to linger longer in the contemplation of our weakness with profound wonder.

CHAPTER V. How, after full self-correction, the soul is introduced to the contemplation of the eternal.

CHAPTER VI That in the future life, after the contemplation of the eternal, the mind is relaxed to all the satisfaction of its desire.

CHAPTER VII. How some, even in this life, are lifted up to the contemplation of the eternal.

CHAPTER VIII. It is always necessary to anticipate by the study of contemplation where we should aim by desire.

CHAPTER IX Of the twin imperfections which must always be kept in mind.

CHAPTER X. An example or form of a proposed consideration.

CHAPTER XI. Of those things which pertain to meditation or contemplation, and how much they are capable of promoting the virtue of such captives.

CHAPTER XII. On the double premeditation, that is, of rewards and merits.

CHAPTER XIII. How we must insist more strongly on the prospect of prizes.

CHAPTER XIV. The merits of this speculation consist in two things.

CHAPTER XV. What is meditation, and what is contemplation.

THE THIRD TREATISE
Hitherto the promotion of good, formerly of the confirmation of the same.

CHAPTER I. (no subheading)

CHAPTER II. On the confirmation of the mind in good and the hardening of the mind in evil.

CHAPTER III. Of the evil of presumption or despair.

CHAPTER IV. How, from the remembrance of our evils, we ought to check our presumption.

CHAPTER V. How we ought to repel despair from the remembrance of our goods.

CHAPTER VI Of the twelve principal virtues in which the mind is to be strengthened.

CHAPTER VII. On the solidity of fear.

CHAPTER VIII. On the severity of compunction.

CHAPTER IX On long-suffering hope.

CHAPTER X. On the integrity of charity.

CHAPTER XI. On mature pleasure.

CHAPTER XII. On rugged severity.

CHAPTER XIII. On austere abstinence.

CHAPTER XIV. On the strength of patience.

CHAPTER XV. The concern of the circumspection.

CHAPTER XVI On assiduous speculation.

CHAPTER XVII. Of the certainty of discretion.

CHAPTER XVIII. On quiet contemplation.

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Bibliography

Richard of St. Victor, De exterminatione mali et promotione boni (On the Extermination of Bad the Promotion of Good), J. P. Migne, Patrologia Latina vol. 196 1073C−1116C.  Paris, 1855.  [Latin text]

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Beyond the Epiphany Experience

LATELY I’ve been thinking about epiphany experiences.  I’ve written many posts about the subject — here and at my other blog, Satyagraha — sometime in connection with the theories of humanistic psychologist Abraham Maslow.  Maslow placed great emphasis on transcendent experiences (or ‘peak experiences’ as he sometimes called them).  His work is important because it brings these experiences into the realm of ‘respectable,’ empirical science.  Maslow makes no metaphysical claims.  He simply observes that (1) most people have these experiences, (2) the experience of transcendence has many positive and productive psychological effects, (3) it enhances a sense of life’s meaning, and (4) it connects the experiencer with core values (including Truth, Beauty and Goodness).

So on the one hand I applaud Maslow’s efforts. Yet my praise is qualified.  In bringing transcendence into the realm of academic psychology, it was necessary for him to ignore the essential religious aspect of these experiences.  Secular transcendence is a half-step to genuine religious mysticism.  The half-step is good as long as one continues to the next; but it’s a problem if one is content to remain at the secular level.

A secular epiphany proceeds as follows:

1. The experience itself (say, feeling of awe at a glorious sunset)

2. A feeling of calmness, completeness

3. A feeling of gratitude (but to whom?)

A complete, religious epiphany builds on these three:

4. Awareness of the greatness of ones soul such that one is capable of experiencing such a thing; the experience, even more than it reveals outer Nature, reveals one’s inner nature.

5. A recognition that God has made not only this experience, but your own capacity to have and appreciate the experience

6. A feeling of religious devotion; giving thanks and praise to God

Last is what I might call ‘an awareness of charitable duty.’  The purpose of the epiphany is not our enjoyment, but to remind us of who we are: an anamnesis.  When one stands in Nature during such an experience, the culmination is that one sees oneself not simply as a spectator, but a participant in the great, glorious TAO of Nature.  Your beholding the Beauty and Mystery of Nature completes Nature’s telos.  Or actually, it’s telos is completed when you, beholding the spectacle, you assume the role of priest, and on behalf of all living things praise God.

Some may object that this last point opposes the essentially passive nature of an epiphany experience.  True, the experience comes not so much by ones own doing, but by not doing.  But this re-emergence as agent of divine charity transcends the traditional distinction between passive and active: one acts in the world by being perfectly aligned with Nature, God’s plan and God’s will.  One does not ‘do’: one enters the dance.

Thus added to the experience of Nature is an ‘inward turn,’ then an ascent, and finally a descent back into the natural world infused with a sense of divine charity.  This is a basically Augustinian perspective on mental ascent, as, for example, most fully developed in St. Bonaventure and Richard of St. Victor.

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Cicero – Divine Grandeur of the Human Soul

PICO della Mirandola’s Oration on the Dignity of Man, an encomium on the greatness of the human being, is well known, and is often taken as a definitive statement of Renaissance humanism.  Less familiar to many are the classical roots of the Oration and Renaissance humanism in general.  One source is Plato, in whose writings several key ideas appear:  (1) the Intellect (Nous) as a higher organ of cognition; (2) the immortality of the human soul; (3) the beauty and exalted nature of virtue; and (4) likeness or assimilation to God (homoiosis theoi) as a prime ethical goal, among others.  But Cicero’s works are a second locus classicus.  Cicero returns several times to the theme of the dignity and greatness of human beings, and especially their souls.  The more important discussions are found in De legibus (Laws), Tusculan Disputations 1, De natural deorum (On the Nature of the Gods), and De officiis (On Moral Duties).

Each time Cicero works from the same basic list of reasons that point to the exalted status of human beings. (His main source may have been a lost work by the Stoic, Posidonius).  The list includes:

a) The human mind is divine, especially Reason, a capacity only gods and human beings have.

b) The unlimited nature of memory.  For Cicero, this means not so much a vast memory for facts, but that (per Plato) it appears as though (1) we have innate knowledge of principles and relations (mathematics, logic, forms), and (2) these seem unlimited in number.

c) Our capacity for extremely subtle judgments, including moral and aesthetic ones.

d) Virtue and moral excellence — again these are concerns we share with gods.

e) A unlimited capacity for invention and discovery.

f) Faculties of divination (prophecy, interpretation of oracles, etc.)

g) Finely attuned senses; for example, capable of subtle distinctions of hues,  musical pitch and tones.

h) Marvelous adaptations of the human body to support our higher nature

i) The capacity for knowledge of God (e.g., from created things and the orderliness of Creation)

j) A bounteous earth, and dominion over animals and plants, which serve man’s needs.

k) Man’s soul is immortal (a topic to which Cicero devotes all of Tusculan Disputations 1)

The religious foundation of Cicero’s arguments here is insufficiently appreciated by modern commentators. He constantly returns to the idea that these exalted attributes are gifts of the gods and also demonstrate our kinship with them.

While his lists and discussions are similar across works, his purposes vary.  His discussions of the topic and the broader context of each are summarized below:

De legibus (1.7.22−9.27)
Our divine attributes relate to the origin and nature of civil laws

Tusculan Disputations 1.24−28
How they derive from or are evidence for the immortality of the human soul

De natura deorum 2.54−66
Evidence that the gods exist and they are concerned with us

De officiis 1. 27, 30, 35−37
Moral excellence

These discussions are not of mere historical interest, but are helpful at a practical level.  First (as the early Renaissance writer Petrarch noted in On Sadness and its Remedies), to remind ourselves of the grandeur of the human soul is an antidote for sadness and negative thinking.  Second, they can form the basis of a contemplative or spiritual exercise — an ascent of the mind from considering natural phenomena, to attaining a religious state of consciousness, such as we see developed later by Richard of St. Victor and St. Bonaventure.

As Emerson said, “We are gods in ruins.”  We are divine beings who continually get caught up in the mundane.  Reminding ourselves of our exalted nature may stimulate an anamnesis, and an actual re-experiencing of ones divinity nature and immeasurable dignity.  Then we will have little patience for letting our minds fall into negative and worldly thinking.  Rather our concern will be to glorify God by having exalted thoughts.

Cicero understands the word dignity in a way somewhat different than the common modern usage.  For us today, ‘human dignity’ connotes certain legal rights and respect before the law to which all human beings are entitled.  Cicero goes beyond this, however, in seeing dignity as something it is our duty to preserve and cultivate.  The great dignity of human beings is, then, both a gift and a responsibility.

Here is Cicero’s discussion on human dignity in his early work, De legibus. This lacks some of the scope, eloquence and polish Cicero devotes to the topic in his later works, Tusculan Disputations 1 and De natural deorum, but it serves as a good starting point.

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Cicero, De legibus 1.7.22−1.9.27

VII. [22]
Marcus. I will not make the argument long. Your admission leads us to this that animal which we call man, endowed with foresight and quick intelligence, complex, keen, possessing memory, full of reason and prudence, has been given a certain distinguished status by the supreme God who created him; for he is the only one among so many different kinds and varieties of living beings who has a share in reason and thought, while all the lest are deprived of it. But what is more divine, I will not say in man only, but in all heaven and earth, than reason? And reason, when it is full grown and perfected, is rightly called wisdom.

[23]
Therefore, since there is nothing better than reason, and since it exists both in man and God, the first common possession of man and God is reason. But those who have reason in common must also have right reason in common. And since right reason is Law, we must believe that men have Law also in common with the gods. Further, those who share Law must also share Justice, and those who share these are to be regarded as members of the same commonwealth. If indeed they obey the same authorities and powers, this is true in a far greater degree, but as a matter of fact they do obey this celestial system, the divine mind, and the God of transcendent power. Hence we must now conceive of this whole universe as one commonwealth of which both gods and men are members.

And just as in States distinctions in legal status are made on account of the blood relationships of families, according to a system which I shall take up in its proper place, so in the universe the same thing holds true, but on a scale much vaster and more splendid, so that men are grouped with Gods on the basis of blood relationship and descent.

VIII. [24]
For when the nature of man is examined, the theory is usually advanced (and in all probability it is correct) that through constant changes and revolutions in the heavens, a time came which was suitable for sowing the seed of the human race. And when this seed was scattered and sown over the earth, it was granted the divine gift of the soul. For while the other elements of which man consists were derived from what is mortal, and are therefore fragile and perishable, the soul was generated in us by God. Hence we are justified in saying that there is a blood relationship between ourselves and the celestial beings; or we may call it a common ancestry or origin. Therefore among all the varieties of living beings, there is no creature except man which has any knowledge of God, and among men themselves there is no race either so highly civilized or so savage as not to know that it must believe in a god, even if it does not know in what sort of god it ought to believe.

[25]
Thus it is clear that man recognizes God because, in a way, he remembers and recognizes the source from which he sprang.

Moreover, virtue exists in man and God alike, but in no other creature besides; virtue, however, is nothing else than Nature perfected and developed to its highest point, therefore there is a likeness between man and God. As this is true, what relationship could be closer or clearer than this one? For this reason, Nature has lavishly yielded such a wealth of things adapted to man’s convenience and use that what she produces seems intended as a gift to us, and not brought forth by chance; and this is true, not only of what the fertile earth bountifully bestows in the form of grain and fruit, but also of the animals; for it is clear that some of them have been created to be man’s slaves, some to supply him with their products, and others to serve as his food.

[26]
Moreover innumerable arts have been discovered through the teachings of Nature; for it is by a skilful imitation of her that reason has acquired the necessities of life.

Nature has likewise not only equipped man himself with nimbleness of thought, but has also given him the senses, to be, as it were, his attendants and messengers; she has laid bare the obscure and none too [obvious] meanings of a great many things, to serve as the foundations of knowledge, as we may call them; and she has granted us a bodily form which is convenient and well suited to the human mind. For while she has bent the other creatures down toward their food, she has made man alone erect, and has challenged him to look up toward heaven, as being, so to speak, akin to him, and his first home.

[27]
In addition, she has so formed his features as to portray therein the character that lies hidden deep within him, for not only do the eyes declare with exceeding clearness the innermost feelings of our hearts, but also the countenance, as we Romans call it, which can be found in no living thing save man, reveals the character. (The Greeks are familiar with the meaning which this word “countenance” conveys, though they have no name for it.)

I will pass over the special faculties and aptitudes of the other parts of the body, such as the varying tones of the voice and the power of speech, which is the most effective promoter of human intercourse, for all these things are not in keeping with our present discussion or the time at our disposal; and besides, this topic has been adequately treated, as it seems to me, by Scipio in the books which you have read. But, whereas God has begotten and equipped man, desiring him to be the chief of all created things, it should now be evident, without going into all the details, that Nature, alone and unaided, goes a step farther; for, with no guide to point the way, she starts with those things whose character she has learned through the rudimentary beginnings of intelligence, and, alone and unaided, strengthens and perfects the faculty of reason.

Source: Keyes, Clinton Walker (tr.). Cicero: De re Publica (On the Republic), De Legibus (On the Laws). Loeb Classical Library 213. New York: Putnam, 1928; pp. 323−329.

As noted, here Cicero is setting the stage for a discussion on the origin of civil laws.  However the topic is so lofty and valuable that his interlocutor, Atticus, is prompted to exclaim:

You discourse so eloquently that I not only have no desire to hasten on to the consideration of the civil law, concerning which I was expecting you to speak, but I should have no objection to your spending even the entire day on your present topic, for the matters which you have taken up, no doubt, merely as preparatory to another subject, are of greater import than the subject itself to which they form an introduction. (Source: ibid.)

A nice way of summing up is to quote the North African Church Father, Lactantius (c. 250 – c. 325), sometimes called the ‘Latin Cicero.’  In a polemic against pagan philosophers titled, On the Wrath of God, he wrote:

Why God Made Man

It follows that I show for what purpose God made man himself. As He contrived the world for the sake of man, so He formed man himself on His own account, as it were a priest of a divine temple, a spectator of His works and of heavenly objects. For he is the only being who, since he is intelligent and capable of reason, is able to understand God, to admire His works, and perceive His energy and power; for on this account he is furnished with judgment, intelligence, and prudence. On this account he alone, beyond the other living creatures, has been made with an upright body and attitude, so that he seems to have been raised up for the contemplation of his Parent. On this account he alone has received language, and a tongue the interpreter of his thought, that he may be able to declare the majesty of his Lord. Lastly, for this cause all things were placed under his control, that he himself might be under the control of God, their Maker and Creator. If God, therefore, designed man to be a worshipper of Himself, and on this account gave him so much honour, that he might rule over all things; it is plainly most just that he should worship Him who bestowed upon him such great gifts, and love man, who is united with us in the participation of the divine justice. For it is not right that a worshipper of God should he injured by a worshipper of God. From which it is understood that man was made for the sake of religion and justice. And of this matter Marcus Tullius is a witness in his books respecting the Laws, since he thus speaks: But of all things concerning which learned men dispute, nothing is of greater consequence than that it should be altogether understood that we are born to justice. And if this is most true, it follows that God will have all men to be just, that is, to have God and man as objects of their affection; to honour God in truth as a Father, and to love man as a brother: for in these two things the whole of justice is comprised. But he who either fails to acknowledge God or acts injuriously to man, lives unjustly and contrary to his nature, and in this manner disturbs the divine institution and law.
Source: Lactantius, On the Wrath of God (De ira Dei) 14

Bibliography

de Plinval, Georges. M. Tullius Cicero: De Legibus. Paris. Belles Lettres, 1959. (Online Latin text).

Fletcher, William (tr.). Lactantius: On the Anger of God. In: Eds. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson and A. Cleveland Coxe, Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 7, Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1886; online version by Kevin Knight (ed.).

Keyes, Clinton Walker (tr.). Cicero: De re Publica (On the Republic), De Legibus (On the Laws). Loeb Classical Library 213. New York: Putnam, 1928.

Zetzel, James E. G. Cicero: On the Commonwealth and On the Laws. Cambridge University, 1999; translation based on: K. Ziegler (ed.), M. Tullius Cicero: De legibus, (3rd ed, rev. by W. Goerler, Heidelberg, 1979).

First draft: 17 Oct 2022

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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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