Thursday, October 30, 2014

St. Teresa of Avila and Fr. Dubay on the First Mansions

FIRST MANSIONS

[81] [...] St. Teresa's starting point is the absolutely basic condition for a serious prayer life: an earnest, continuing effort to rid oneself of sins, imperfections and attachments. [...] Christic communion cannot be produced by techniques, because it is above all a love matter before it is anything else—and precisely because interpersonal intimacy is its heart, it is suffocated, even killed, by selfishness in any form. Hence, in writing of the first three mansions, the saint wisely spends much time explaining how the beginner, even though in the state of grace, can and must emerge from a whole web of more or less petty faults. [...]

[The saint] is speaking of men and women who want to avoid offending God and who "may perform good works". Yet they are, at this early stage, still absorbed in worldly matters and pleasures, and they are "puffed up with worldly honours [sic] and ambitions". Because they are free from serious sin, the King does dwell in their castle, but they have only a tenuous relationship with Him, and they scarcely see His light, so submerged are they in things of the world. [...] Neither Jesus nor Teresa explains spiritual retardation as resulting from a lack of techniques or methods. In almost identical terms they lay the blame on the free-will choice of worldliness in its sundry forms.

What, then, is a beginner to do? Most people cannot leave the world in a bodily sense, but every follower of Christ who is serious about genuine growth must leave the spirit of the world. Everyone, says Teresa, who wishes to go on to the second mansions [82]
will be well advised, as far as his state of life permits, to try to put aside all unnecessary affairs and business. For those who hope to reach the principal Mansion, this is so important that unless they begin in this way I do not believe they will ever be able to get there. (Interior Castle, mans. 5, ch. 2)
The New Testament has already admonished us that we must not love the passing world or anything that is in it, for the love of the Father cannot exist in the person who loves the world, the sensual body, the lustful eye, pride in possessions (1 Jn. 2:15–17). God's grace has taught us "that what we have to do is to give up everything that does not lead to God, and all our worldly ambitions" (Titus 2:12). The main business of the beginner, therefore, is to make a determined turnabout from preoccupation with this worldly life to a life centered in the Trinity. The struggle will be long and at times arduous, but there is no other way to accomplish the ascent of the mountain and reach the rewarding outcome that awaits one at the submit.

We direct our attention now to some of what St. Teresa says about the methods of discursive meditation. While, in her mind, procedures in prayer are clearly secondary, they do have their proper place for beginners. She valued thoughtful reflection, and she herself had a keen sense of the marvels of nature. [...] [The saint] found in a worm or a bee matter for meditating "upon the wonders and the wisdom of our God. [...] It will be a great help to us if we occupy ourselves in thinking of these wonderful things and rejoice in being the brides of so wise and powerful a King" (IC, mans. 5, ch. 1).

Yet splendid as nature is, it is not sufficient. The mysteries of the supernatural order are still more fruitful sources of meditative prayer, and in the presentation of these mysteries nothing can surpass the Gospels. "I have always been fond of the words of the Gospels," she notes, "and have found more recollection in them than in the most carefully planned books—especially books of which the authors were not fully approved, and which I never wanted to read" (Way of Perfection, ch. 21). [...]

There are no complicated steps and substeps. [...] She offers the same advice to a layman [83] to whom she writes: "You must not tire yourself by trying to think a great deal, nor worry about meditation... keep occupying yourself all the time with the praise of the Lord" (Letter 57 to Don Antonio).

SECOND MANSIONS

[...] What are these people like who have made some progress but are as yet still far from their destination? They are still engaged in worldly pastimes, half giving them up and half clinging to them. They see imperfectly, and they act imperfectly, but nonetheless some growth has occurred. God is calling them ceaselessly, and they are able to hear Him now. In the first mansions they were both deaf and dumb, notes Teresa, but now the message is beginning to get through. Yet these people are not able to do the divine bidding immediately, for they are weak and irresolute. God's appeals to them come in several ways: conversations with good people ... sermons and homilies ... good reading ... sickness and other trials ... divine light during prayer itself.

The man or woman in the second mansions is a battleground where the conflict between the world and the divine call is being waged. There is a tug-of-war going on, and the individual experiences the two opposing pulls. The world's tug is experienced in several ways: earthly pleasures remain attractive, and they appear as though almost eternal. The soul finds it hard to give up esteem in the world and a selfish clinging to family and friends. It unreasonably fears doing penances to which it now feels called, and it vacillates, says Teresa, as to whether to return to the first mansions or to strive bravely on. In the opposite direction God's tug is likewise felt in diverse manners: reason itself shows the person how mistaken the world's message is and why it is mistaken. Significant growth has now taken place and has instilled a conviction that only in God is one's surety. Thus the will is inclined to love Him and to press on to leave worldliness with all of its falsehoods.

Given this conflict between the human and the divine, it is not surprising that the person in the second mansions is still a child in the practice of humility, obedience, love and patience. In her charming manner the saint observes that the virtues are "young", that they "have not yet learned to walk—in fact, they have only just been born". Hence, if prayer is to grow in depth, Gospel living must be perfected—the first cannot happen without the second.

What, then, is the program for those in the second mansions? St. [84] Teresa's first bit of advice concerns companionship: the soul should avoid a close association with "evil" and mediocre people and make it a point to mix with the good, that is, not only with those in the early mansions but also with those who have advanced into the mansions "nearer the center", where the King is. To be in close touch with these latter is a great help, for they tend to bring others to higher things along with themselves. Second, there is need to "embrace the Cross" along with the suffering Lord. Resignation is not enough; there must be a generous, willed welcome to hardships and dryness in prayer. Third, there is the typical teresian insistence on daily fidelity to the divine will: "All that the beginner in prayer has to do ... is to labour [sic] and be resolute and prepare himself with all possible diligence to bring his will into conformity with the will of God." The more one does this, the more "he will receive of the Lord". In the divine will "our entire welfare is to be found". In saying this the saint is, of course, reflecting the teaching of Jesus Himself: it is not those who merely proclaim "Lord, Lord" who enter the kingdom but those who do the Father's will (Mt 7:21). Fourth, when one falls, there is no reason to lose heart but rather to continue making serious efforts toward progressing. People in the second mansions surely do fall, and if they repent and persevere in their efforts, God will bring good even out of the failures. St. Paul himself, noting that he was not yet perfect, forgot what was behind and pressed on; indeed, he raced toward the finish (Phil. 3:12–14). Finally, adds Teresa, people in the second mansions need to exercise fidelity to prayer. We cannot enter heaven without first entering our own souls, getting to know ourselves better, reflecting on the divine goodness and our need for mercy: "The door by which we can enter this castle is prayer." There is no other, for Jesus is Himself the door (Jn. 10:7).

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Source: Fr. Thomas Dubay, Fire Within (San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 1989), 81–84.

Fray Deigo de Yepes on the Light of God in the Saint

Among the depositions of the processes for St. Teresa's canonization, Fray Deigo de Yepes, confessor and member of her traveling party, gives an account of how she received the idea of this approach to prayer growth from God Himself.
She [St. Teresa of Avila] was asked to write a treatise on prayer as she knew it from her own experience. On the eve of Holy Trinity when she was wondering what theme to take for her treatise, God gave it to her by showing her a very beautiful globe of crystal like a castle with seven concentric dwellings. The seventh which was in the centre [sic] was the King of Glory in great splendour [sic] who lit up and adorned all the dwellings as far as the outer ring. The nearer the centre the greater the light. This light did not shine beyond the outer ring.
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Source: Deigo de Yepes, Depositions, p. 70, in Thomas Dubay, Fire Within (San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 1989), 79.

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This quotation from Fr. Diego suggests that the mystical experience that occurs interiorly cannot be shared outside of the individual; its existence is known only by its effects in the behavior of the mystic. Hence the light experienced within shines out by way of charity towards one's neighbor.

Friday, October 24, 2014

Monday, October 20, 2014

Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange on Holy Church's Aids to Contemplation

[385] We recognize the fact that environment has its importance; also that a calm temperament is much better disposed to the contemplative life than a restless and agitated spirit. It may indeed be that among these [386] last, some, even though quite generous, would reach the mystical life only after a period longer than the ordinary span of life. And it is certain that bad spiritual direction often allows souls to vegetate or turns them away from infused contemplation, whereas another type of direction would definitely turn them toward contemplation.

However important these conditions may be, they remain superficial compared to others which are the chief ones. Here again the same rule holds true as in the matter of salvation, which is possible to all who possess a developed conscience, even to those not born in a Christian environment, who are strongly inclined to evil, and who have not had an opportunity to hear the Gospel preached. If they ordinarily follow the dictates of their conscience, they will be mysteriously led from grace to grace, from fidelity to fidelity, to eternal life.

Anyone who wishes to advance in the spiritual life and to prepare himself for the grace of contemplation must, to the best of his ability, use the great means which the Church gives us all. The assiduous reception of the sacraments, daily hearing of mass, frequent communion, love of the Eucharist, devotion to the Holy Ghost, filial and incessant recourse to the Sacred Heart of Jesus [1] and to the Blessed Virgin, mediatrix of all graces, are evidently necessary.

Contemplation is a fruit of true devotion to the Blessed Virgin, as explained by Blessed Grignion de Montfort (True Devotion, ch. 4, art. 5). He says that, without a great love for her, a soul will attain union with God only with extreme difficulty. "It is necessary to pas through dark nights, combats, strange agonies, sharp thorns, and frightful deserts. By the way of Mary, the soul advances with greater sweetness and tranquillity. Along this way it encounters many crosses and great difficulties to [387] overcome, but our good Mother keeps so close to her faithful servants ... that, in truth, this virginal road is a path of roses in spite of the thorns." It thus leads more easily and surely to divine union. Mary, wonderful to relate, makes the cross easier and, at the same time, more meritorious: easier, because she sustains us with her gentle hand; more meritorious, because she obtains for us a greater charity, which is the principle of merit, and because, by offering our acts to our Lord, she increases their value. By reason of her pre-eminent charity, Mary merited more while performing the easiest acts than all the martyrs in their tortures.

Another great means to prepare for the grace of contemplation, a means within the reach of all interior souls, is found in the liturgy, in an ever more intimate union with the great prayer of the Church. "The graces of prayer and of the mystical state have their type and source in the hieratic life of the Church; they reflect in the members the likeness of Christ which is perfect in the body" (Fr. Clérissac, O.P., Le mystère de l'Église, p. 102). Liturgical prayer recited with recollection, in union with our Lord and His mystical body, obtains for us holy lights and inspirations which illumine and inflame our hearts. Consequently it is advisable to make mental prayer after the psalmody which prepares us for it [i.e. after the Divine Office]; just after mass and holy communion, it is well to prolong our thanksgiving, and if possible devote an hour to it [following St. Teresa of Avila's advice].

Lastly, the frequent reading of Scripture and the study of sacred doctrine, undertaken in a truly supernatural manner, are other excellent means to prepare the soul for contemplation. Thus the ancients used to say that divine reading (lectio divina) by pious study (studium) leads to meditation (meditatio), then to prayer (oratio), and finally to contemplation (contemplatio) (see 2a2ae.180.3).

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Footnotes:

1. It is fitting to unite ever more closely devotion to the Blessed Sacrament and that to the Sacred Heart of Jesus to the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus, in order to thank our Lord for the act of supreme love by which He gave us the Holy Eucharist.

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Source: Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, Christian Perfection and Contemplation, trans. by M. Timothea Doyle (St. Louis, MO: B. Herder Book Co., 1946), 385–387.

Repost: Seneca on the Philosopher's Relation to Society

Excerpts from Letter 5: "On the philosopher's mean."

The mere name of philosophy, however quietly pursued, is an object of sufficient scorn; and what would happen if we should begin to separate ourselves from the customs of our fellow-men? Inwardly, we ought to be different in all respects, but our exterior should conform to society. [...] Let us try to maintain a higher standard of life than that of the multitude, but not a contrary standard; otherwise, we shall frighten away and repel the very persons whom we are trying to improve. We also bring it about that they are unwilling to imitate us in anything, because they are afraid lest they might be compelled to imitate us in everything. [...]

"Well then, shall we act like other men? Shall there be no distinction between ourselves and the world?" Yes, a very great one; let men find that we are unlike the common herd, if they look closely. If they visit us at home, they should admire us, rather than our household appointments. He is a great man who uses earthenware dishes as if they were silver; but he is equally great who uses silver as if it were earthenware. It is the sign of an unstable mind not to be able to endure riches.

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Dr. Jeffery Bell's commentary:

The overarching concern that motivates Seneca’s fifth letter is that philosophy, by its very nature, is already contrary to the customary concerns of the “multitude.” Philosophy, in other words, is untimely and at odds with the concerns and motivations that are common to the time in which one lives. It is for this reason, no doubt, that Seneca recognizes that philosophy is already “an object of sufficient scorn,” and hence the philosopher would be best served by avoiding reinforcing this prejudice by willfully living contrary to the norms of society. Unlike the philosopher who broadcasts their untimely status through “repellent attire, unkempt hair, [and a] slovenly beard,” the philosopher should inwardly be “different in all respects” but outwardly “conform to society” if they are to encourage others to the benefits of philosophy. And benefits indeed are to be had, Seneca argues, for philosophy enables a person to live a higher life, a life that is different from the common life, the life of the multitude, but a life that is not contrary to the “fellow-feeling with all men” that comes with the “sympathy and sociability” that philosophy can engender. Philosophy, in short, enables a higher level of adaptability to the present in that it encourages one to think through the relationship with ourselves and others in the present, to take what is “most essentially ours” and “lay hold of today’s task” rather than live with excessive thought for the events of the past or future [....]

If done right, this laying hold of our present is a philosophical task that constitutes what Seneca sees as a “happy medium between the ways of the sage,” who Seneca describes as one who foregoes all of the customary goods of society, including those that can be had “at no great price,” and “the ways of the world at large”—that is, the ways of the multitude whereby one largely engages with the thoughtless pursuit of luxuries and goods without concern for how well they adapt us to the present.

It is in the context of this discussion regarding the philosophical life that is a happy medium between the sage and the common life of the multitude that Seneca brings hope and fear into relationship with one another. Despite being as “dissimilar as they are,” hope and fear “keep step together; fear follows hope.” And they keep step together precisely because both belong, Seneca argues, “to a mind that is in suspense, a mind that is fretted by looking forward to the future.” A result of this fretful suspense that comes with hope and fear, Seneca claims, is that “foresight, the noblest blessing of the human race, becomes perverted.” Without forsaking foresight, therefore, the philosopher is to live a life without hope, or pursue a philosophy with no future in order to fully live with conscious engagement in the present, for the “present alone,” as Seneca closes the letter, “can make no man wretched.”

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Sources: Seneca, Moral Letters to Lucilius, trans. by Richard Mott Gummere, Wikisource, accessed October 20, 2014, http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Moral_letters_to_Lucilius.

Dr. Jeffery Bell, "A Higher Life; or No Future Revisited," Aberrant Monism (blog), April 7, 2014, http://schizosoph.com/2014/04/07/a-higher-life-or-no-future-revisited/.

Tolerating People vs. Tolerating Sins

In the story of the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1–11), Jesus tells the woman, "Neither do I condemn you." People usually stop there when recounting the story, but it doesn't end there. Our Lord then tells the woman, "Go and sin no more."

Why do people stop before the last line? Because they usually tell this story as an example of what compassion and tolerance look like. They say, with Pope Francis, "Who am I to judge?" They end up mistaking compassion with blindness, and divesting mercy of truth, they end up with self-congratulation that will lead them all straight into Hell.

Christ made a judgment of this woman's behavior but not her being. Look at His words:

"Neither do I condemn you" in your very being, which is good, created in God's image, and called to a life of union with Him. No matter what you do or fail to do, I love you in your being, being a person, being a creature, called to be a daughter.

"Go and sin no more" because what you are doing and have been doing will lead you only to destruction. If you therefore value your life and what is good, you will do what is good because our actions follow our desire and our values.

Christ tells the woman to stop sinning. By implication, Christ is judging her actions and saying, "You have been sinning." We might say in protest, "Who are you to tell me what to do?" But Christ is truth, and He knows better. Christ doesn't threaten her because He doesn't need to. Why doesn't He need to? Because he made clear the distinction between who we are and what we do. Who we are is good, but what we do is not always good.

Compassion is for people, not for actions. Tolerance is for people, not for actions. Actions and beliefs are open to praise or rejection. People are more than their actions and beliefs, and their value is determined by neither.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

St. Thomas Aquinas on States of Life and Temperament

He that is prone to yield to his passions on account of his impulse to action is simply more apt for the active life by reason of his restless spirit. Hence Gregory says (Moral. vi, 37) that "there be some so restless that when they are free from labor they labor all the more, because the more leisure they have for thought, the worse interior turmoil they have to bear." Others, on the contrary, have the mind naturally pure and restful, so that they are apt for contemplation, and if they were to apply themselves wholly to action, this would be detrimental to them. Wherefore Gregory says (Moral. vi, 37) that "some are so slothful of mind that if they chance to have any hard work to do they give way at the very outset." Yet, as he adds further on, "often . . . love stimulates slothful souls to work, and fear restrains souls that are disturbed in contemplation." Consequently those who are more adapted to the active life can prepare themselves for the contemplative by the practice of the active life; while none the less, those who are more adapted to the contemplative life can take upon themselves the works of the active life, so as to become yet more apt for contemplation.

Summa Theologiæ 2a2ae.182.4 ad 3