Cicero: Decorum as a Transcendent Virtue

Cicero presenting De officiis to his son (illustration, 1508 edition).

I have said, Ye are gods. (Psalms 82:6)

IN A PREVIOUS post we observed that (1) in several works Cicero presents evidence for the divinity and grandeur of the human being (especially our soul), and (2) while his evidence is basically the same in each work, he uses it for different purposes. In De officiis (On Moral Duties), Book 1, XXVII.93 to XXXIII.133, Cicero’s exhorts us to behave with the dignity that befits our divine nature and station — as participating in both the Eternal and temporal realms, a mediator of  heaven and earth and especially beloved of God. He does this in the context of discussing the virtue of decorum:

93.
We have next to discuss the one remaining division of moral rectitude. That is the one in which we find considerateness and self-control, which give, as it were, a sort of polish to life; it embraces also temperance, complete subjection of all the passions, and moderation in all things. Under this head is further included what, in Latin, may be called decorum (propriety); for in Greek it is called πρέπον. Such is its essential nature, that it is inseparable from moral goodness;

Decorum, Cicero admits, is not easily defined, but is nonetheless familiar from experience, something very fundamental, and no less important than the four cardinal virtues:

94.
for what is proper is morally right, and what is morally right is proper. The nature of the difference between morality and propriety can be more easily felt than expressed. For whatever propriety may be, it is manifested only when there is pre-existing moral rectitude. And so, not only in this division of moral rectitude which we have now to discuss but also in the three preceding divisions, it is clearly brought out what propriety is. For to employ reason and speech rationally, to do with careful consideration whatever one does, and in everything to discern the truth and to uphold it — that is proper. … And all things just are proper; all things unjust, like all things immoral, are improper.

The relation of propriety to fortitude is similar. What is done in a manly and courageous spirit seems becoming to a man and proper; what is done in a contrary fashion is at once immoral and improper.

95.
This propriety, therefore, of which I am speaking belongs to each division of moral rectitude; and its relation to the cardinal virtues is so close, that it is perfectly self-evident and does not require any abstruse process of reasoning to see it. For there is a certain element of propriety perceptible in every act of moral rectitude; and this can be separated from virtue theoretically better than it can be practically. As comeliness and beauty of person are inseparable from the notion of health, so this propriety of which we are speaking, while in fact completely blended with virtue, is mentally and theoretically distinguishable from it.

He distinguishes between a general and what he calls subordinate forms of propriety. The exact meaning of this distinction is somewhat unclear, but his definition of the general form is noteworthy:

96.
The classification of propriety, moreover, is twofold: (1) we assume a general sort of propriety, which is found in moral goodness as a whole; then (2) there is another propriety, subordinate to this, which belongs to the several divisions of moral goodness. The former is usually defined somewhat as follows: “Propriety is that which harmonizes with man’s superiority in those respects in which his nature differs from that of the rest of the animal creation.” And they so define the special type of propriety which is subordinate to the general notion, that they represent it to be that propriety which harmonizes with nature, in the sense that it manifestly embraces temperance and self-control, together with a certain deportment. [italics added]

Decorum, then, is not merely to act and think in harmony with nature.  It is specifically related to our higher abilities — those which no other animal has, and which to relate to our special role in the plan of Creation. As he goes on to explain,

97.
to us Nature herself has assigned a character of surpassing excellence, far superior to that of all other living creatures, and in accordance with that we shall have to decide what propriety requires.

Among these unique higher human abilities are our reason, our religious nature, our refined senses, our power of discovery and invention, and our dominion over the earth and its creatures. Cicero’s most important discussion of the unique excellences of human nature is in De natural deorum 2, LIII.133 – LXVI.167.

Among other things, decorum implies propriety, grace and dignity of our outward actions and appearance:

101.
Again, every action ought to be free from undue haste or carelessness; neither ought we to do anything for which we cannot assign a reasonable motive; for in these words we have practically a definition of duty.

Later, in par. 128 he says, “So, in standing or walking, in sitting or reclining, in our expression, our eyes, or the movements of our hands, let us preserve what we have called ‘propriety.'”  As he explains in De legibus, this also applies to our countenance:

Nature … has so formed [Man’s] 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 [vultus], as we Romans call it, which can be found in no living thing save man, reveals the character.
Source: De legibus 1.IX.27; tr. Keyes.

Cicero doesn’t mean actions that are artificial or stilted, but rather to behave with natural poise, nobility and grace.

Decorum also applies to our inner life:

100.
For it is only when they agree with Nature’s laws that we should give our approval to the movements not only of the body, but still more of the spirit.

Cicero provides two practical tools for developing the habit of decorum in action and thought: to remind ourselves (1) that we have a divine nature, and (2) how much below our dignity it is to behave as animals; we must not dwell at the level of sensual pleasure, but rather seek pleasure in higher things and subordinate our sensual appetites to Reason and virtue:

105.
But it is essential to every inquiry about duty that we keep before our eyes how far superior man is by nature to cattle and other beasts:

106.
From this we see that sensual pleasure is quite unworthy of the dignity of man and that we ought to despise it and cast it from us; but if some one should be found who sets some value upon sensual gratification, he must keep strictly within the limits of moderate indulgence. One’s physical comforts and wants, therefore, should be ordered according to the demands of health and strength, not according to the calls of pleasure. And if we will only bear in mind the superiority and dignity of our nature, we shall realize how wrong it is to abandon ourselves to excess and to live in luxury and voluptuousness, and how right it is to live in thrift, self-denial, simplicity, and sobriety.

Ideally, he argues, we would avoid sensual pleasure altogether.  But, if not, we should always moderate it, measuring it by the criteria of health and strength.

Cicero is doing much more than explaining the social etiquette proper for a Roman statesman.  Decorum relates integrally to the Christian and Platonic notion of assimilation to God. It is an essential, but often neglected feature of the perennial philosophy. We are designed for godliness. Decorum is to behave and think harmonized with God’s will, the High Priest of creation and mediator of heaven and earth.  Through the divine human — the crown of creation — Nature achieves its telos.

Importantly, decorum at the level of behavior is something bodily: when we behave as incarnate gods, God enters material creation in a new and different way.

Decorum in action also inspires others to a life of virtue. As Seneca wrote:

3. 
If ever you have come upon a grove that is full of ancient trees which have grown to an unusual height, shutting out a view of the sky by a veil of pleached and intertwining branches, then the loftiness of the forest, the seclusion of the spot, and your marvel at the thick unbroken shade in the midst of the open spaces, will prove to you the presence of deity. Or if a cave, made by the deep crumbling of the rocks, holds up a mountain on its arch, a place not built with hands but hollowed out into such spaciousness by natural causes, your soul will be deeply moved by a certain intimation of the existence of God. We worship the sources of mighty rivers; we erect altars at places where great streams burst suddenly from hidden sources; we adore springs of hot water as divine, and consecrate certain pools because of their dark waters or their immeasurable depth.

4. 
If you see a man who is unterrified in the midst of dangers, untouched by desires, happy in adversity, peaceful amid the storm, who looks down upon men from a higher plane, and views the gods on a footing of equality, will not a feeling of reverence for him steal over you? Will you not say: “This quality is too great and too lofty to be regarded as resembling this petty body in which it dwells? A divine power has descended upon that man.”

5.
When a soul rises superior to other souls, when it is under control, when it passes through every experience as if it were of small account, when it smiles at our fears and at our prayers, it is stirred by a force from heaven. A thing like this cannot stand upright unless it be propped by the divine. Therefore, a greater part of it abides in that place from whence it came down to earth. Just as the rays of the sun do indeed touch the earth, but still abide at the source from which they are sent; even so the great and hallowed soul, which has come down in order that we may have a nearer knowledge of divinity, does indeed associate with us, but still cleaves to its origin; on that source it depends, thither it turns its gaze and strives to go, and it concerns itself with our doings only as a being superior to ourselves.
Source: Seneca, Letter XLI to Lucilius, On the God within Us (tr. Gummere)

Seneca’s comments highlight an important social dimension of acting with decorum and dignity: not only do we benefit ourselves, but others do as well. Moral virtue is more beautiful than anything earthly. When others see sage-like decorum in another, they admire and delight in it, the transcendent becomes more salient in their mind, and they are encouraged in their own pursuit of virtue.

We do well here also to recall the words of Seneca’s contemporary, St. Paul: whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things (Phil 4:8) and edify one another (1 Thess 5:11). We are to not only to edify ourselves, but others as well. The two duties are interpenetrating: by edifying ourselves we edify others, and by edifying others we edify ourselves.

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Bibliography

Griffin, M. T. (ed.); Atkins, E. M. (tr.). Cicero, On Duties. Cambridge University Press, 1991.

Gummere, Richard Mott. Seneca: Moral letters to Lucilius (Epistulae morales ad Lucilium). 3 vols. Loeb Classical Library. 1917−1925; vol. 1. Letter XLI. On the God within Us.

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

Miller, Walter (tr.). Cicero: De officiis. Loeb Classical Library. Macmillan, 1913.

First draft 27 Oct 2022

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Gionozzo Manetti − On the Dignity and Excellence of the Human Being

Manetti, De dignitate et excellentia, British Library ms Harley 2593, f. 1

AROUND 1194, Pope Innocent III penned a treatise with the rather depressing title, On the Misery of the Human Condition (De miseria condicionis humane). He promised to write a companion work, On the Worth and Excellence of Human Life, but never did so. In the 14th century the great humanist Petrarch decided to supply the missing enomium of Man himself. This is his work, Remedies for Fortunes (De remediis utriusque fortunae), and in particular the section titled, “Of sadness and misery,” a dialogue between Sorrow and Reason.

Several centuries later, an Italian Benedictine monk, Antionio da Barga, not knowing of Petrarch’s piece, also decided a reply to Innocent III was needed. Lacking time to do it himself, he made a detailed outline and asked a friend, Bartolomeo Facio, to write a complete book around it — which Facio did.

Somehow a mutual colleague of theirs — the Florentine statesman and scholar Gionozzo Manetti (1396 – 1459) — received of the outline and decided to write his own version.  This, much longer and more skillfully executed than Facio’s work, is On the Dignity and Excellence of the Human Being (De dignitate et excellentia hominis libri IV; 1452).

While not not a literary masterpiece, it is ably written and comprehensive — drawing primarily on Cicero, Lactantius, Augustine and Aristotle. (Copenhaver: “His originality lay rather in his capacity to make a coherent synthesis of the Christian image of man and the new Renaissance experience and admiration of man as a doer and creator.”) It’s comprised four books:  I. deals with the human body; II with the human soul; III with man’s nature as a union of body and soul; and IV a rebuttal of opposing arguments.

To the traditional Ciceronian themes of human excellence, Manetti adds several important Christian elements, including:

a) That we have guardian angels;

b) Christ’s incarnation — God becoming man — reveals the great dignity of the human body;

c) That God deemed us worthy to sacrifice is Son for our salvation; and

d) The promise of resurrected human life.

The following paragraphs from the end of Book IV — addressed to all future readers — are excellent and well worth reading.

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71.
So now let me finally bring my account to an end and at last give this work of mine a conclusion, having started in the three preceding books with a full and satisfactory explanation of the worth of man’s body and how admirable it is, next how exalted the loftiness of his soul and then besides how splendid the excellence of the human composed of those two parts. Last of all, since I have recorded in this fourth book all the points that resolve and refute the main arguments thought to oppose and contradict my own stated views what remains is briefly to urge those present, and those to come: toward a careful and exact observance of God’s commandments, our only way to rise to that heavenly and eternal home.

72.
Therefore, Fairest Prince, while coming back after so long and returning to you, I humbly and meekly beg Your Majesty, and any others who may come upon these writings of mine, to choose to follow every single one of God’s commandments and fulfill them all. Whoever does his utmost to act on the commandments and put them into practice will certainly get temporal privileges here as well as rewards that last, both for this life and the next, with the undoubted result that all who keep heaven’s rules carefully seem always — right from the moment of birth — to be those who have been fortunate, are happy and will be blessed for eternity.

73.
This is why I beg and beseech all readers of this work, such as it is, to set other things aside and pay close attention to this short and friendly little plea of mine — that they may take action to do as I shall try to persuade them in the few words that follow.

My fellow humans — no, you brave men, rather, you kings, princes and generals — you have been created with such immense value and appointed to a rank so high that no doubt at all remains, given what I have written, about this: all there is in this universe, whether on land or sea or in the waters, whether in the air or the aether or the heavens, has been made subject to your command and put under your control: attend to virtue, then. With vices pressed upon you in abundance, cherish virtue with all your strength of mind and body. Love virtue and preserve it, I beg you, grasp, seize and embrace it so that by putting virtue in action, constantly and ceaselessly, you may not only be seen as fortunate and happy but also become almost like the immortal God.

In fact, your roles of knowing and acting are recognized as shared with Almighty God. Then, if by acquiring and practicing virtue you receive the blessing of serene immortality, your appearance, when you return home, will surely be like that of the eternal Prince. For with constant rejoicing and endless, jubilant song — in bliss perpetual and eternal, with pleasure unique and simple like God’s own — you will always rejoice in understanding, acting and contemplation, which properly are considered God’s roles alone. [cf. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics 1177a11 et seq.]

Source: Manetti, On the Dignity and Excellence of the Human Being 4.71−73; tr. Copenhaven pp. 251ff.

Manetti exhorts readers to “a careful and exact observance of God’s commandments (divinorum mandatorum).”  We might suppose here he doesn’t mean by this a legalistic forcing of ourselves to adhere to a set of fixed behavioral rules (though neither do we want to violate them), but more to live constantly attentive and responsive to God’s ongoing directions and guidances supplied to the soul,

Bibliography

Copenhaver, Brian (tr.). Giannozzo Manetti: On human worth and excellence. Harvard University Press, 2018. App. I: Antonio da Barga, On Mankind’s Worth and the Excellence of Human Life; App. II: Bartolomeo Facio, On Human Excellence and Distinction.

Trinkaus, Charles. In Our Image and Likeness: Humanity and Divinity in Italian Humanist Thought. London and Chicago, 1970. 2 volumes; vol. 1, pp. 200−270.

Trinkaus, Charles. Renaissance Idea of the Dignity of Man. In: Wiener, Philip P. (ed.), Dictionary of the History of Ideas: Studies of Selected Pivotal Ideas, 4 vols,  New York, Scribner, 1973−74 , vol. 4., 136–147.

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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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Celestial Ascent in Philo of Alexandria

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

p.s.  Other examples from Philo:

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

And links to two long passages in Cicero:

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

 

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References

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

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

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

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My Mystical Experience

Mourning Dove, (c) Donna Pomeroy  

RECENTLY I read a quote attributed to the psychologist, Roberto Assaglio, to the effect that a problem with most books about mysticism is that they weren’t written by mystics. I certainly see his point, and agree. His quote prompted me to overcome some earlier hesitation to post about a recent mystical experience of mine. It’s representative of many I’ve had, though a little stronger than most. The details are as follows.

After working on my computer for a couple of hours, I felt I needed to take a break outside and get some fresh air. Accordingly I stepped out onto my front porch and began to mentally recite and meditate on the interior meaning of the Beatitudes (a regular spiritual exercise for me). I approached the second beatitude (Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted) with special attention. It had special relevance, as I’d been experiencing distress involving my teeth and was concerned that I might be facing an impending root canal. I found myself thinking, “Lord I’m trying to do the best I can, and you know what a setback this would be. I’m trying to do work for you. Why would you put such an obstacle in my way?”

I then experienced what seemed like a direct answer. In a way as never before, it was as though I felt God’s presence. Moreover, it seemed as though God  wanted to make it very clear that I understood he was present, and was saying, or as much as saying, “Fear not, for I am with you.”

Immediately what came to mind was something I’ve heard before in my  Catholic upbringing: that never is God more present with us than in our times of distress and trials. I also recall reading a quote attributed to scripture, wherein God asks, “Am I not enough for you?” (cf. 1 Sam 1:8).

I realized that, yes God’s presence — and my ability to feel that directly — was enough. It was more than enough —in fact, all I could ever want, the sum of all my desires. I could see directly that if God was with me during trials, the trials did not matter. Even were I to lose my life, if God were with me and I were certain of that, it would not matter. If you have God you have everything

Suddenly a mourning dove flew onto to my roof, perching two or three feet directly above me, I have many doves on the lot where I live, and I make it a practice to avoid disturbing them when I walk in the yard.  Sometimes this is successful, and other times not. But never before have I had a one actually approach me like this. I stood motionless, trying as long as possible to keep the dove there.  But within a minute or two, I felt my consciousness shift, and the dove flew away.

When I first became interested in mysticism many years ago, my great desire was to obtain the ultimate mystical experience — Cosmic Consciousness, or a blinding flash that reveals the knowledge of everything on Heaven and Earth. Yet the truth is that here I found the ‘simple’ experience of God’s loving presence more appealing, satisfying and fulfilling even than such a dramatic peak experience.

This left a lasting impression on me. I have not since felt God’s presence so directly, but neither have I lost the strong conviction that this experience is so fulfilling and worth seeking.  It also has occurred to me that the experience has elements of both kataphatic (the prayer and meditation that led up to it) and apophatic (the wordless, expressible sense of God’s loving concern) mystical experience.  For me, at least, it renders that distinction of little practical importance.

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Communing With Animals as a Spiritual Exercise

Francis Preaching to the Birds, Giotto (1299)

HERE is a spiritual or contemplative exercise that’s served me well. The source is Anthony de Mello’s book, Sadhana: A Way To God. De Mello presents the exercise as applicable even to inanimate objects (e.g., a coffee mug), but personally I’ve found it more rewarding when applied to animals and plants (or, possibly, astronomical objects). The text below borrows freely from De Mello’s description (Awareness Exercise 14):

This exercise will help you to develop an attitude of reverence and respect for all animate creation, for all the living things. Some of the great mystics tell us that when they reach the stage of illumination they become mysteriously filled with a sense of deep reverence. Reverence for God, reverence for life in all its forms, reverence for inanimate creation too. And they tend to personalize the whole of creation.

Francis of Assisi was one such mystic. He recognized in the sun, the moon, the stars, the trees, the birds, the animals, his brothers and sisters. They were members of his family and he would talk to them lovingly. Saint Anthony of Padua went sor far as to preach a sermon to fish! Very foolish, of course, from our rationalist point of view. Profoundly wise and personalizing and sanctifying from the mystical point of view.

For this you will have to temporarily put aside your adult prejudices and become like a little child. If you become a little child, at least temporarily, you might discover a kingdom of heaven — and learn secrets that God ordinarily hides from the wise and prudent.

Choose some animal or plant you happen to encounter on a walk or in daily activities. Let your gaze rest on it. . . . Become as fully aware of it as possible. Visually explore its shape, color, texture, its various parts. See every possible detail in it. Hear it. Notice its smell, if possible.

Now, with the creature in front of you, mentally speak to it . . . Begin by asking it questions about itself . . . its life, its origins, its future . . . And listen while it unfolds to you the secret of its being and of its destiny . . . Listen while it explains to you what existence means to it . . .

The creature has some hidden wisdom to reveal to you about yourself . . . Ask for this and listen to what it has to say . . . There is something that you can give creature . . . What is it? What does it want from you? . . .

Now place yourself and this creature in the presence of Jesus Christ, the Word of God, in whom and for whom everything was made. Listen to what he has to say to you and to the creature . . What do the two of you say in response? . . .

Now look at your creature once more . . . Has your attitude toward it changed? . . . Is there any change in your attitude toward the objects around you . . .

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Reference

De Mello, Anthony. Sadhana: A Way To God. Christian Exercises in Eastern Form. New York: Doubleday, 1984; pp. 53−56.

 

Edward Herbert, Conjectures Concerning Heavenly Life

Edward  Herbert  (1583–1648) 

THE eminent metaphysical poet, George Herbert (1593–1633), had an even more famous brother, Edward (1583–1648).  Whereas George lived the life of a simple country parson, Edward was immersed in military and state affairs, first a friend of King James I (for which he was appointed 1st Baron Herbert of Cherbury) and later an opponent.  But like George, he had great literary ability and was deeply pious.  The following poem, composed originally in Latin, is a meditation on the possibility of infinite felicity in heaven, and what that might mean.  The English translation comes from the well-known American Transcendentalist and literary figure, Margaret Fuller (1810–1850; more on her below).  The Latin version can be found in Edward Herbert’s autobiography (ed. Horace Walpole) and his collected poems; links are supplied in the Sources section.

Conjectures Concerning the Heavenly Life (De Vita Cælesti Conjectura)

Purified in my whole genius, I congratulate myself
Secure of fate, while neither am I downcast by any terrors,
Nor store up secret griefs in my heart,
But pass my days cheerfully in the midst of mishaps,
Despite the evils which engird the earth,
Seeking the way above the stars with ardent virtue.
I have received, beforehand, the first fruits of heavenly life—
I now seek the later, sustained by divine love,
Through which, conquering at once the scoffs of a gloomy destiny,
I leave the barbarous company of a frantic age,
Breathing out for the last time the infernal air—breathing in the supernal,
I enfold myself wholly in these sacred flames,
And, sustained by them, ascend the highest dome,
And far and wide survey the wonders of a new sphere,
And see well-known spirits, now beautiful in their proper light,
And the choirs of the higher powers, and blessed beings
With whom I desire to mingle fires and sacred bonds—
Passing from joy to joy the heaven of all,
What has been given to ourselves, or sanctioned by a common vow.
God, in the meantime, accumulating his rewards,
May at once increase our honour and illustrate his own love.
Nor heavens shall be wanting to heavens, nor numberless ages to life,
Nor new joys to these ages, such as an
Eternity shall not diminish, nor the infinite bring to an end.
Nor, more than all, shall the fair favour of the Divine be wanting—
Constantly increasing these joys, varied in admirable modes,
And making each state yield only to one yet happier,
And what we never even knew how to hope, is given to us—
Nor is aught kept back except what only the One can conceive,
And what in their own nature are by far most perfect
In us, at least, appear embellished,
Since the sleeping minds which heaven prepares from the beginning—
Only our labor and industry can vivify,
Polishing them with learning and with morals,
That they may return all fair, bearing back a dowry to heaven,
When, by use of our free will, we put to rout those ills
Which heaven has neither dispelled, nor will hereafter dispel.
Thus through us is magnified the glory of God,
And our glory, too, shall resound throughout the heavens,
And what are the due rewards of virtue, finally
Must render the Father himself more happy than his wont
Whence still more ample grace shall be showered upon us,
Each and all yielding to our prayer,
For, if liberty be dear, it is permitted
To roam through the loveliest regions obvious to innumerable heavens,
And gather, as we past, the delights of each,
If fixed contemplation be chosen rather in the mind,
All the mysteries of the high regions shall be laid open to us,
And the joy will he to know the methods of God,—
Then it may be permitted to act upon earth, to have a care
Of the weal of men, and to bestow just laws.
If we are more delighted with celestial lave,
We are dissolved into flames which glide about and excite one another
Mutually, embraced in sacred ardours,
Spring upwards, enfolded together in firmest bonds,
In parts and wholes, mingling by turns,
And the ardour of the Divine kindles (in them) still new ardours,
It will make us happy to praise God, while he commands us,
The angelic choir, singing together with sweet modulation,
Sounds through heaven, publishing our joys,
And beauteous spectacles are put forth, hour by hour,
And, as it were, the whole fabric of heaven becomes a theatre,
Till the divine energy pervades the whole sweep of the world,
And chisels out from it new forms,
Adorned with new faculties, of larger powers.
Our forms, too, may then be renewed—
Assume new forms and senses, till our
Joys again rise up consummate.
If trusting thus, I shall have put off this mortal weed,
Why may not then still greater things be disclosed?

The poem appears to have never been translated into English before or since Margaret Fuller.  It appeared in an essay titled The Two Herberts, which was originally published in the short-lived literary journal, The Present (1844), and republished in various editions of her collected essays.  The essay is not very well known, but is one of her best.  In it she portrays an imaginary dialogue between George Herbert and Edward.  The dialogue is very engaging.  Instead of both figures merely serving as artificial mouthpieces for the authors own view, here we see two distinct personalities, with important similarities and divergences of thought.  Further, Fuller displays considerable sensitivity to their religious views.  Edward was one of the founders of English Deism, while George was a devout Anglican.  One main disagreement concerns the personal nature of ones relationship with God. The contrast between Edward, a man of action, and George, a pure contemplative, is also highlighted — biographers have noted the similarity here with this split in Fuller’s own personality (she eventually left New England for Italy, becoming active in the revolution there). But arguably the real significance of her essay is its religious dimension.  I could extol its praises and expand on its subtle points, but ultimately it’s a work of art, appreciated more by reading than analyzing it.

Sources

Fuller, Margaret. The Two Herberts.  In: Margaret Fuller, Art, Literature and the Drama, ed. Arthur B. Fuller, Boston, 1874; pp. 25−44. Orig. publ. in The Present, Vol. 1, March 1844, pp. 301−312.

Grey, Robin. Margaret Fuller’s “The Two Herberts,” Emerson, and the Disavowal of Sequestered Virtue. In: The Complicity of Imagination: The American Renaissance, Contests of Authority, and Seventeenth-Century English Culture, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1997; pp. 87−106.

Herbert, Edward. The Life of Edward Lord Herbert of Cherbury. Horace Walpole (ed.).  London: Cassell, 1887; pp. 33−34. (First ed. Strawberry Hill, 1764).

Higginson, Thomas Wentworth. Margaret Fuller Ossoli. Houghton Mifflin, 1890.  Ch. 18. Literary Traits (pp. 281−298).

Smith, George Charles Moore. The Poems of Lord Herbert of Cherbury. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1923; pp. 103−106.

1st draft: 17 Jan 2021

Mental Ascent in St. Augustine’s De quantitate animae

THROUGHOUT his works St. Augustine presents descriptions of the ascent of the mind through fixed levels or stages (Van Fleteren, 2009).  These are of interest not only because of their influence on later Christian contemplative thought, especially in the Middle Ages (for example, in the Victorines and St. Bonaventure), but also for their possible practical relevance today as aids for mindfulness and contemplation.

His earlier writings especially show the influence of Plotinus’ Enneads and possibly a lost of work of Porphyry, De regressu animae (On the Return of the Soul).  An important example is Chapter 33 of De quantitate animae (On the Greatness of the Soul).  In this work, purporting to describe a dialogue Augustine had with his friend, Evodius, several questions about the ‘magnitude’ of the soul are considered.  Magnitude is understood in two senses: (1) in regard to extension in space and time, and (2) concerning the soul’s power and capacity.  Chapter 33 — the work’s centerpiece — proposes a seven-fold categorization of the soul’s powers, which can also be interpreted as a scheme for ascent to contemplation, the highest activity of the mind.

The first level, animatio (animation) corresponds to simple vegetative and regulatory processes — which plants also possess.  Next are sensus (sensation) and ars (arts); ars is construed very broadly and encompasses directed thought, planning, and constructive activity.  Animals also, Augustine notes, possess these two powers.  It is the last four levels, however, that are of most interest.

In the fourth stage, virtus (moral virtue), the soul turns its interest away from vain and empty worldly concerns, realizing that its true treasure and source of happiness is itself.  It therefore sets out with a fervent desire for self-purification.

As a result, the soul reaches the fifth level, tranquillitas (tranquility).  Tranquility is indispensable for the mind of the eye to see clearly, so that the soul may advance further.

Once tranquility is attained, the soul must now exert itself to advance towards higher cognitions.  That is, an act of will is required.  This is the stage of ingressio, or approach.

Finally, the seventh level, contemplatio (contemplation) is reached.

Relative to the traditional three stages of Western mysticism — as, for example, found in the writings of St. John Cassian — virtus and tranquillitas roughly correspond to purification, ingressio to illumination, and contemplatio to union.

Augustine allows that contemplation has varying degrees.  The pinnacle is an ultimate mystical experience of union with God, such as “great and peerless souls” reach; for example, Porphyry reports that Plotinus attained this four times.  At this point in his life, young Augustine was very intent on achieving this ultimate experience.  However I believe his system might be applied to daily experience as we continually struggle to rise from our usual vain preoccupations with transient, delusory, worldly concerns to spiritual mindedness.  In a more secular sense, we can interpret this as an ascent from what the humanistic psychologist Abraham Maslow called ‘deficiency cognition’ to ‘Being cognition’, from distraction to mindfulness, or from various forms of folly to right cognition.

Note:  The translation here is that of Colleran (1950).

CHAPTER 33. The seven levels of the soul’s greatness.

The Fourth Level of the Soul (virtus)*

73. Take hold now and swing yourself onto the fourth level, which goodness and all true worth call their home. Here it is that the soul ventures to take precedence not only over its own body, acting some part in the universe, but even over the whole body of the universe itself. The goods of the world it does not account its own, and comparing them with its own power and beauty, it keeps aloof from them and despises them. Hence, the more the soul turns to itself for its own pleasure, the more does it withdraw from sordid things and cleanse itself and make itself immaculately clean through and through. It steels itself against every effort to lure it away from its purpose and resolve. It shows high consideration for human society and desires nothing to happen to another which it does not wish to happen to itself. It submits to the authority and the bidding of wise men and is convinced that through them God speaks to itself. Yet, this performance of the soul, noble as it is, still requires strenuous effort and the annoyances and allurements of this world engage it in a mighty struggle, bitterly contested. […]**

Yet, so great is the soul that it can do even this, by the help, of course, of the goodness of the supreme and true God — that goodness which sustains and rules the universe, that goodness by which it has been brought about not only that all things exist, but that they exist in such a way that they cannot be any better than they are. It is to this divine goodness that the soul most dutifully and confidently commits itself for help and success in the difficult task of self-purification.

The Fifth Level of the Soul (tranquillitas)

74. When this has been accomplished, that is, when the soul will be free from all corruption and purified of all its stains, then at last it possesses itself in utter joy and has no fears whatever for itself nor any anxiety for any reason. This, then, is the fifth level. For it is one thing to achieve purity, another to be in possession of it; and the activity by which the soul restores its sullied state to purity and that by which it does not suffer itself to be defiled again are two entirely different things. On this level it conceives in every way how great it is in every respect; and when it has understood that, then with unbounded and wondrous confidence it advances toward God, that is, to the immediate contemplation of truth; and it attains that supreme and transcendent reward for which it has worked so hard.

The Sixth Level of the Soul (ingressio)

75. Now, this activity, namely, the ardent desire to understand truth and perfection, is the soul’s highest vision: it possesses none more perfect, none more noble, none more proper. This, therefore, will be the sixth level of activity. For it is one thing to clear the eye of the soul so that it will not look without purpose and without reason and see what is wrong; it is something else to protect and strengthen the health of the eye; and it is something else again, to direct your gaze calmly and squarely to what is to be seen. Those who wish to do this before they are cleansed and healed recoil so in the presence of that light of truth or that they may think there is in it not only no goodness, but even great evil; indeed, they may decide it does not deserve the name of truth, and with an amount of zest and enthusiasm that is to be pitied, they curse the remedy offered and run back into the darkness engulfing them and which alone their diseased condition suffers them to face. Hence, the divinely inspired prophet says most appositely: Create a clean heart in me, O God, and renew a right spirit within my bowels. [Psalms 51: 10] The spirit is “right,” I believe, if it sees to it that the soul cannot lose its way and go astray in its quest for truth. This spirit is not really “renewed” in anyone unless his heart is first made clean, that is to say, unless he first controls his thoughts and drains off from them all the dregs of attachment to corruptible things.

The Seventh Level of the Soul (contemplatio)

76. Now at last we are in the very vision and contemplation of truth, which is the seventh and last level of the soul; and here we no longer have a level but in reality a home at which one arrives via those levels. What shall I say are the delights, what the enjoyment, of the supreme and true Goodness, what the everlasting peace it breathes upon us? Great and peerless souls — and we believe that they have actually seen and are still seeing these things, have told us this so far as they deemed it should be spoken of. This would I tell you now: if we hold most faithfully to the course which God enjoins on us and which we have undertaken to follow, we shall come by God’s power and wisdom to that supreme Cause or that supreme Author or supreme Principle of all things, or whatever other more appropriate appellative there may be for so great a reality.

And when we understand that, we shall see truly how all things under the sun are the vanity of the vain. For “vanity” is deceit; and “the vain ” are to be understood as persons who are deceived, or persons who deceive, or both. Further, one may discern how great a difference there is between these and the things that truly exist; and yet, since all the other things have also been created and have God as their Maker, they are wonderful and beautiful when considered by themselves, although in comparison with the things that truly exist, they are as nothing. […] Furthermore, in the contemplation of truth, no matter what degree of contemplation you reach, the delight is so great, there is such purity, such innocence, a conviction in all things that is so absolute, that one could think he really knew nothing when aforetime he fancied he had knowledge. And that the soul may not be impeded from giving full allegiance to the fullness of truth, death — meaning complete escape and acquittal from this body — which previously was feared, is now desired as the greatest boon.

* We omit here his discussion of animatio, sensus and ars, which are not directly related to contemplation.
** In the omitted material St. Augustine describes how at this stage an exaggerated fear of death may arise as a person, increasingly aware of faults, fears condemnation by God.  This concern seems rather foreign to the thought of Plotinus and Porphyry.

Bibliography

Augustine, Saint, Bishop of Hippo: De quantitate animae. J. P. Migne (Paris, 1841), Patrologia Latina (PL) 32:1035−1080 (Latin text). CSEL 89 (1986), pp. 129−231.

Colleran, Joseph M. (tr.). St. Augustine: The Greatness of the Soul, The Teacher. Ancient Christian Writers 9. Newman Press, 1950; 1−112.

Fokin, Alexey. St. Augustine’s paradigm: ab exterioribus ad interiora, ab inferioribus ad superiora in Western and Eastern Christian mysticism. European Journal for Philosophy of Religion 7.2 (2015): 81−107.

Garvey, Mary Patricia. Saint Augustine: Christian or Neo-platonist? Marquette University Press, 1939. (See pp. 146−160.)

Maslow, Abraham H. (1971). The farther reaches of human nature. New York: Viking (republished: Arkana, 1993). Ch. 9. Notes on Being-Psychology. pp. 121−142.

McMahon, John J. The Magnitude of the Soul. Fathers of the Church: Writings of Saint Augustine 2. New York, 1947; 51−149.

Tourscher, Francis Edward. De Quantitate Animae: The Measure of the Soul; Latin Text, with English Translation and Notes. Peter Reilly Company, 1933.

Van Fleteren, Frederick. Ascent of the Soul. In: Allan D. Fitzgerald (ed.), Augustine Through the Ages: An Encyclopedia, Eerdmans, 2009; pp. 63−67.

1st draft, 13 Oct 2020

Christian Platonism as Spirituality


Art: Fyodor Bronnikov, Pythagoreans Celebrate Sunrise, 1869.

FOR some time I’ve hesitated to address the question, ‘What is Christian Platonism?’, believing this is something too important to treat lightly.  Just when it seemed I could delay no longer, W. R. Inge’s book, The Platonic Tradition in English Religious Thought (Hulsean Lectures, 1925−1926), became available online. As Inge’s definition and understanding of Christian Platonism, it turns out, corresponds closely to my own, and also has the imprimatur of a respected authority, let this suffice as a working definition for now.

As Inge explains in the first lecture, the key features of Christian Platonism might be summarized as follows:

• Christian Platonism is, first and foremost, a form of personal spirituality. It is not the abstract application of Platonic philosophy by Christian theologians (whom we might rather call Platonizing Christians).  It is, as Inge puts it, a religion of the spirit.  As such, it is based on personal religious experience, and, for that reason, not infrequently poses a challenge to dogmatic, authoritarian religion.

• This form of spirituality is very much — if not almost exactly — what St. Paul described as spiritual mindedness. As such, Christian Platonism is concerned with achieving a certain higher level of consciousness or awareness opposed to, or at least different from, our usual concerns for material and worldly things (carnal-mindedness).

• A religion of the spirit is the perennial philosophy, although this has evolved over time. It was the basis of Christ’s original teachings, which sought more to spiritually liberate individuals than to establish church hierarchies and dogmas.

• In each age there have been specific obstacles opposing the emergence of spiritual Christianity. Despite this, there have been periodic flowerings of it at opportune moments of history. Hopefully now is such a time.

Below are excerpts from this lecture, along with a few comments.

Religion of the Spirit

He begins by stating the axial age hypothesis: that during the 1st millennia before Christ, certain social and/or environmental changes led to the emergence of a different form of religion across Asia and the Mediterranean:

The study of comparative religion has revealed the remarkable fact that a new spiritual enlightenment, quite unique in character, came to all the civilised peoples of the earth in the millennium before the Christian era. The change was felt first in Asia, but the same breath passed over Greece and South Italy in the sixth and fifth centuries B.C. … The essence of the new movement was the recognition of an unseen world of unchanging reality behind the flux of phenomena, a spiritual universe compared with which the world of appearance grew pale and unsubstantial and became only a symbol or even an illusion.

With this new outlook upon life came the conception of salvation as deliverance…. The chief aim … should be to escape from the ‘weary wheel’ of earthly existence, and to find rest in the bosom of the Eternal. The way to this deliverance is by the observance of discipline, which whether ascetic, in the ordinary sense of the word, or not, involves a renunciation of the world of surface experience. (pp. 7−8)

Inge tends to characterize this new spiritual religion in dualistic, world-denying terms. What this excludes (but should not) is the possibility that more integrated forms of spirituality — i.e., harmonious combination of concerns for this and the Eternal world — existed at this time.  Ancient myths could be interpreted as reflecting such integral spirituality. Further, to assume no ‘religion of the spirit’ existed before the 1st millennium BC seems rather arbitrary.  However neither of these points are crucial to his main argument.

Plato, according to Inge, inherited this newly coalescing spirituality from earlier philosophers, organizing and presenting it more clearly than ever before:

[I]t is in Plato, the disciple of the Pythagoreans as well as of Socrates … that this conception of an unseen eternal world, of which the visible world is only a pale copy, gains a permanent foothold in the West. What (he asked) if man had eyes to see that pure Beauty, unalloyed with the stains of material existence, would he not hasten to travel thither, happy as a captive released from the prison-house? Such was the call, which, once heard, has never long been forgotten in Europe. It was revived with an even more poignant longing in the New Platonism of the Roman Empire, from which it passed into the theology and philosophy of the Christian Church. (pp. 9−10)

Christian Platonism

He then proceeds to discuss how Platonism passed into Christianity.  Jesus Christ, while not, that we know of, aware of Platonism, nevertheless sought to teach the perennial spiritual religion, and in an improved form:

A Christian will be disposed to find, in this independent growth of spiritual religion, which began to influence the Jews of the Dispersion not later than the second century before Christ, a divinely ordered preparation for the supreme revelation in the Gospel. For although we cannot trace any foreign influence, either Western or Oriental, upon the recorded teaching of Christ, which seems rather to point back to the highest flights of Jewish prophecy, it is unquestionable that most of the canonical books of the New Testament, especially the epistles of St. Paul and the Johannine group, do not belong to the Palestinian tradition. (p. 10)

Christ was primarily concerned with awakening into activity the consciousness of God in the individual soul; His parting promise was that this consciousness should be an abiding possession of those who followed in His steps … . The path of life, as He showed it by precept and example, was superior to anything that either Greeks or Indians traced out; but the conception of salvation is essentially the same — a growth in the power of spiritual communion by a consecrated life of renunciation and discipline. (p. 19)

It might be mentioned here that Jesus Christ, who likely knew Greek, may indeed have known something about Greek philosophy. At the very least (and this is not inconsistent with what Inge says above), the Jewish prophetic tradition and Plato’s writings may have had certain influences in common.

As distinct from the ‘original teachings’ of Christ, Inge allows for Platonic influence of the written Gospels, especially John’s.  He passes over this rather briefly, however, seeing a much clearer connection to Platonism in St. Paul’s writings:

We are on surer ground when we look for a Platonic element in St. Paul’s theology than when we discuss possible borrowings from the mystery-cults.

The whole doctrine of the Spirit in his epistles corresponds closely to the Platonic Νους. The equation was made by some of the Greek Fathers; and the associations of the two words are so similar that I have thought ‘Spirit ’ less misleading than any other English word in translating the Νους of Plotinus. The words, ‘The things that are seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen are eternal,’ [2 Cor 4:18] are pure Platonism; and this is not an isolated instance. In Rom. i. 20 ‘the invisible things’ (νοούμενα) are understood through the things that are made, and 1 Cor. xiii. 12 [‘For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.’] reminds us of Plato’s parable of the cave. The immateriality of Spirit was perhaps not quite clearly asserted by any writer before Plotinus. …

Other examples may be given of St. Paul’s affinity with Plato. The use of νους in Rom. vii. 23 (‘I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind’) is Platonic. … In 2 Cor. iii. 18 we read ‘we all, reflecting as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are transformed into the same image.’ Col. iii. 1, ‘If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above,’ reminds us of Plato’s exhortation to ‘cleave ever to the upward path and follow after righteousness and wisdom.’ [Rep. 10.621c]. We must turn away from material things, for ‘flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.’ … They share the tripartite psychology which divides human nature into νους (or πνεύμα in Christian theology), ψυχή and σώμα. ‘The earthly house of our tabernacle in which we groan’ is very un-Jewish, and very like the σώμα σημα of Orphism. Lastly, in the Phaedrus as in i Corinthians, love is the great hierophant of the divine mysteries, which forms the link between divinity and humanity. (pp. 11−13).

Much more could be said here concerning the connection of St. Paul and Platonism and many more verses cited.  Especially emblematic is Rom. 12:2, And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind [νοῦς], that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God. Curiously, whereas Stoic influences on St. Paul have elicited considerable interest lately, any Platonic elements to his writings — which are arguably even more salient and important — have received little attention.

Inge describes how each historical epoch of Church history has presented special obstacles to the wide acceptance of spiritual Christianity, treating in succession the early centuries, Dark Ages, Middle Ages, Reformation and post-Reformation periods.

My point is that the religion of the Spirit, that autonomous faith which rests upon experience and individual inspiration, has seldom had much of a chance in the world since the Christian revelation, in which it received its full and final credentials. … [T]he luck of history, we may say, has hitherto been unfavourable to what I, at least, hold to be the growth of the divine seed. It has either fallen on the rock or by the wayside, or the thorns have grown up with it and choked it. (pp. 27,  29).

In the early centuries, both Eastern and Western Christianity suffered from excessive institutionalization, theocracy, and what he terms “caesaropapism”:

The religion of the Spirit has not fared much better in the West [than Buddhism in the East]. Scarcely had the persecutions ceased when the Church began to develop into the centralised autocracy which had become the type of civil government. Caesaropapism — the Byzantine type of state, which till lately survived in Russia, established itself in the East and produced a deadly stagnation in religious as well as secular life. In the West there was, in theory at least, a dual control; but the theocracy proved too strong for the Empire, which was rather an idea than a fact; and a fierce intolerance, which may be regarded as mainly Jewish in origin, but was strengthened by the Roman theory of rebellion against an Empire de iure universal, quenched or drove underground the free activities of religious thought. (p. 15)

In the Dark Ages, the loss of Greek learning in the West made it necessary to “bind the fetters of Church authority” on the masses.  Later, with the Middle Ages came the stranglehold of scholasticism and dogmatism.

Inge’s comments on the Reformation are especially interesting:

[T]he Reformation checked the progress of the religion of the Spirit. This was not the fault of the Reformers, but the inevitable result of the civil war which disrupted and distracted Christendom. In time of war the prophet and seer are not wanted. Effective partisan cries have to be devised, which will appeal to and be understood by the masses. If one side appeals to ancient and sacrosanct authority, the other side has to find a rival authority equally august and compelling.

… In the long and bitter struggle which was to decide which parts of Europe were to be Catholic and which Protestant, both sides were narrowed and hardened. The Roman Church was never again Catholic, and the Protestant Churches forgot the principles which justified their independent existence. The gains of the Renaissance were, within the religious domain, almost entirely lost. … Two religions of authority confronted each other, and real Christianity was once more driven underground. (pp. 23−24)

Inge sees both Catholicism and Protestantism as never having recovered from a descent into exaggerated dogmatism during the Reformation.  Among other things, this has left both camps ill-equipped to adapt to modern scientific discoveries.

Nevertheless, “The religion of the Spirit has an intrinsic survival value, and there have continually been “rare flowering-times of the human spirit which come and pass unaccountably, like the wind which bloweth where it listeth”:

We find it explicitly formulated by Clement and Origen, and we may appeal to one side of that strangely divided genius, Augustine. It lives on in the mystics, especially in the German medieval school, of which Eckhart is the greatest name. We find it again, with a new and exuberant life, in many of the Renaissance writers, so much so that our subject might almost as well be called the Renaissance tradition. Our own Renaissance poetry is steeped in Platonic thoughts. Later, during the civil troubles of the seventeenth century, it appears in a very pure and attractive form in the little group of Cambridge Platonists, Whichcote, Smith, Cudworth, and their friends. In the unmystical eighteenth century Jacob Bohme takes captive the manly and robust intellect of William Law, and inspires him to write some of the finest religious treatises in the English language. … The tradition has never been extinct; or we may say more truly that the fire which, in the words of Eunapius, ‘still burns on the altars of Plotinus,’ has a perennial power of rekindling itself when the conditions are favourable. (p. 28)

Whether these rare flowering-times are, as Inge suggests, unpredictable, or are connected with scientifically understandable socio-economic or evolutionary factors is unclear. The sociologist, Pitirim Sorokin, for example, saw in human cultural history a cyclical alternation of Idealism, materialism, rationalism and integralism that follows more or less lawful principles.

In a very helpful passage, Inge lists what he considers the essential features of Christian Platonism:

My contention is that besides the combative Catholic and Protestant elements in the Churches, there has always been a third element, with very honourable traditions, which came to life again at the Renaissance, but really reaches back to the Greek Fathers, to St. Paul and St. John, and further back still. The characteristics of this type of Christianity are

— a spiritual religion, based on a firm belief in absolute and eternal values as the most real things in the universe;

— a confidence that these values are knowable by man;

— a belief that they can nevertheless be known only by whole-hearted consecration of the intellect, will, and affections to the great quest;

— an entirely open mind towards the discoveries of science;

— a reverent and receptive attitude to the beauty, sublimity, and wisdom of the creation, as a revelation of the mind and character of the Creator;

— a complete indifference to the current valuations of the worldling. (p. 33)

See also Inge (1899, p. 79).  This is a good starting point, but we could easily expand it.  Christian Platonists also have a strong interest in understanding Goodness itself and in gaining the beatific vision. The are often perennialist in their interest in ancient traditions, and latitudinarian towards other religions and Christian denominations.  In terms of actual ascetical practices, Christian Platonists typically understand the cardinal virtues and contemplative practices as essential.  Many follow Philo in interpreting the Old Testament in allegorical terms corresponding to Platonic ethics and psychology.

He then adds:

The Christian element is supplied mainly by the identification of the inner light with the Spirit of the living, glorified, and indwelling Christ. This was the heart of St. Paul’s religion, and it has been the life-blood of personal devotion in all branches of the Christian Church to this day. (pp. 33−34)

Far more could — and ultimately should — be said about how Christianity improves on pagan Platonist spirituality.  Perhaps the very vastness of the topic caused Inge to settle on a very general, summary statement here.  Among the Christian innovations (besides the complex and multidimensional role of Christ in personal salvation), is a stronger view of a personal, loving God in Christianity: in Platonism Man seeks to ascend to God; in Christianity, God’s love is understood as so personal, so fervent, that God reaches out to Man.  It is God’s grace, ultimately, that leads one to liberation and salvation.  Further, in Christianity social charity is integral to spiritual salvation in a way not found (or at least not emphasized) in Platonism.

Future Prospects

Inge closes as follows:

In such a presentation of Christianity lies, I believe, our hope for the future. It cuts us loose from that orthodox materialism which in attempting to build a bridge between the world of facts and the world of values only succeeds in confounding one order and degrading the other. It equally emancipates us from that political secularising of Christianity which is just a characteristic attempt of institutionalism to buttress itself with the help of the secular power. This, as we have seen, has always been the policy of the religion of authority. The religion of Christ, the religion of the Spirit, will not have a chance till it is freed from these entanglements.

It will be a pleasure to me to consider briefly three periods in English History when there was a fruitful return in the Church to ‘her old loving nurse the Platonick philosophy’ … and I hope we are only at the beginning of a new Reformation on these lines. (pp. 34 – 35).

Unfortunately, we’ve seen no such renaissance of Christian Platonism or spiritual Christianity in the nearly 100 years since he wrote. Why?  Surely part of the answer lay in the twin juggernauts of materialism and globalization. Material technological advances will likely continue unabated for the indefinite future.  Will Western society be able to resist ever-more alluring gadgetry?  Or will it be recognized that advanced technology alone is unable to supply a fulfilling, meaningful and happy life?

But while the United States and Europe may by this point be ready for a new spiritual renaissance, developing countries may still find the appeal of materialism irresistible. At the same time, globalization has produced multi-national corporations that rival in wealth and power civil governments, and which are both able and willing to manipulate public tastes and opinions for self-interest.

To the extent that organized Christianity has changed since Inge wrote (as opposed to merely declined), we have seen emerge a fairly radical dominance of the social Gospel — radical in the sense that social justice and human rights are seen as more important than spirituality, prayer and worship.  In part, this is a necessary consequence of globalization, as the conditions of the world’s poor can no longer be ignored.  Yet amidst the clamor for social change we seem to have lost sight of spirituality — including the traditional view that personal love of God (and awareness of God’s personal love for us) is by far the most powerful and productive impetus for social charity.

If we survey the current situation, then, there seems little reason to believe that a new flowering of Christian Platonism will simply happen on its own today.  However if we leave the forces that shape human consciousness to history and economics, we are slaves of blind forces, of chaos.  Plato’s Timaeus suggests that chaos is the default state of matter, and that Form must be imposed upon it from without.  For Christianity to become a genuine religion of the spirit at this time, then, may require the conscious efforts of a dedicated minority.

Bibliography

Inge, William Ralph. Christian Mysticism: Considered in Eight Lectures Delivered Before the University of Oxford. New York: Scribner; London: Methuen, 1899. (Chs. 3 & 4, “Christian Platonism and Speculative Mysticism”, pp. 77−164).

Inge, William Ralph. The Platonic Tradition in English Religious Thought. London: Longmans, 1926.

1st draft: 21 Sep 2020