Mystical Theology and the Truth about Humanity

Last year, the International Theological Commission released a document entitled Theology Today: Perspectives, Principles and Criteria.  The commission distinguishes scientific theology from mystical theology, and recognizes a kind of secondary role for mystical theology in theological research.  In doing this, the commission is bringing back into the theological discussion a kind of contemplative knowing that modern thinkers have often held in disdain.  There is after all a prejudice against prayer living in the abstract idealism which drives mainstream culture to nihilism.  The Commission is inviting us to consider that the mystical knowledge given in contemplation is no anachronistic or sentimental exercise.  On the contrary, the life of the Church suggests that it is the only way forward toward what is genuinely human and fully alive in this world.

Grace Imbued Reason in the Womb of Wisdom

Reason in the womb of wisdom, this is how William of St. Thierry's Golden Epistle describes the intellectual life of a Christian who disciplines his mind according to the Gospel of Christ.  Such a disciple strains to see, to behold the wonder of what God is doing in the world, so that he might live with the freedom of the sons and daughters of God.  

This pursuit of reason can take many forms. The pursuit of reason can also take up the Holy Bible and all that God has revealed in the life of the Church.  It might also seek meaning in the beauty of nature through any number of sciences, as long as in which ever science it is reason seeks out what in fact exists.  The pursuit of reason can also take up the Holy Bible and all that God has revealed in the life of the Church.  Yet, even the most natural forms of such study are open to flashes of a higher contemplation.  Dedicated study of the truth whereever it leads, as one of the highest exercises of human freedom, disposes those who genuinely love the truth to even more marvelous moments of liberty.

Yet the truth that is sought in this way is opposed to all forms of vain curiosity or the desire to manipulate for selfish purpose or any other effort to selfishly attain power or wealth or influence.  When reason seeks out of the brutality of such human wisdom, it remains out of harmony with reality and in a state of self-contradiction - such enslaving wisdom cannot attain any real freedom.

Reality, what is, does not admit of manipulation because it is endowed with so much meaning a created mind limited to its own resources not only is not able to exhaust its mystery -- such limited reason is barely able to scratch its surface.  This is why a prideful and arrogant glance at reality never really sees true beauty and, as a result of this superficial observation, is incapable of wonder or adoration.  The only reason such servile reason ever attains is a futile grasping of what can never fully satisfy.  In the end, though it decorate itself in all kinds of data and the production of all kinds of results, such a pursuit never finds the firm ground on which alone humanity is able to be rectified, to stand tall.

God sent His Wisdom into the World so that human reason might be born in truth.  When reason pursues the truth with the first movements of humility, of faith, of love, of service to neighbor, of reverence to God, it is as if an embryo, the conception of a new form of life.  Striving to implant itself, to find the nourishment it needs to grow, grace moves such new embryonic reason to grace and from glory to glory: leaving behind what is safe and familiar, dying to old judgments that only hold it back, the converted mind seeks a new nourishment of which it is not yet familiar.  Such movements of graced reason find a place to rest only in the womb God has fashioned for it, the womb of His own Wisdom - a sacred place meant for life and love.    In the womb of Wisdom, human reason, like a fetus, is nourished for explosive growth in maturity and freedom.

Baptised in such wisdom, the Christian is born, the mind is renewed, and one discovers the confidence to offer bodily sacrifices which give true spiritual worship to God.   The Womb of Divine Wisdom, the womb where men and women learn by love and for love to see God's vision of things, this is where reason imbued with grace begins to delight in the truth for which it was made, the spiritual life is born, and the dignity of humanity is raised up. 

Prayer as a Theological Act

Some look at prayer as merely the indulgence of devout feelings or a pious exercise of the imagination or else a plunge into an empty abyss of meaninglessness.   Still others approach prayer as something to be mastered by technique, program or method.   Probably, there are religious traditions that advocate such approaches to prayer.   But the Catholic tradition, and traditional Christianity as a whole, discerns prayer as essentially theological: a sacred conversation with the Hidden God revealed by the Word made flesh.

An exchange of hearts between the Living God and dying humanity, true prayer involves the ordering of one's whole being to the saving truth communicated through sacred doctrine.  This is perhaps why we argue about our teachings so fiercely and why theology which is merely intellectual prattle falls so far short of its task: the truth is a matter, not only of the mind, but also of the heart.

This saving truth is at once ecclesial, scriptural, sacramental, objective and personal.   To pray as a Christian, our hearts must be vulnerable to this truth.  This is what faith is - faith assents to the truth so that we might suffer it in our hearts.  At the same time, faith connects our suffering, our misery, our inadequacies, our voids to the truth - and the truth fills all of this with eternal meaning.  One never prays as an isolated individual suffering outside of space and time - but with the communion we share in Christ one's prayer can order the full extent and duration of every suffering to eternity.  

Christian prayer is a theological act because it unites one's whole being, from one's highest thoughts to one's deepest needs, to the paschal mystery, the saving work Christ accomplished on the Cross.   Christian prayer is cruciform - it stretches from one horizon of human activity to the other, protecting us from every evil and allowing us to manifest God's glory in every situation.  This is because in this doctrinally informed prayer we learn to die to ourselves so that we might live by the life of Christ in us.

In this transformed existence we resist conforming to what is merely politically correct, socially acceptable or culturally safe - whoever beholds the loving eyes of the Crucified reflected in sacred doctrine can never be indifferent to the plight of the helpless.  Love's bold courage drives us to offer even our bodies as a living sacrifice and this becomes our true spiritual worship.  Prayer rooted in true doctrine is embodied and engaged.  As a theological reality, Christian prayer pushes to new horizons of human freedom because it infuses our frailty and brokenness with divine power.

Study of the Sacred Page

An important part of Christian prayer is identified in our tradition as "the study of the Sacred Page."  It refers to the study of Sacred Scripture but extends also to the writings of the Fathers and Doctors of the Church as well as the great saints and mystics and even other Christian authorities.  Prayer and theology converge on this point.  Indeed, the original meaning of theology took up the mystical gaze (that is, contemplation) to which study of the sacred page inclines the soul.

Such a study is the soul of theology - it gives theology life.  Without this life, theology is dead.  This is because, carried on the propositions of the faith and handed on in the words of "the Sacred Page" is the gaze of Christ, the Word made flesh, who is risen from the dead and ever present to those who seek Him in faith.  So beautiful is this gaze that there are no words to describe it.  Whenever anyone glimpses the eyes of the Redeemer while pondering sacred texts of our faith, that person's heart is pierced and so to the hearts of those he or she teaches - they share together a loving knowledge, a heart to heart with the Lord.  He regards each person with such intense love - and those who discover this piercing glance have found something worth dedicating themselves to completely. 

Not just any kind of study can find Him - indeed our sacred patrimony proposes such study must be grace filled contemplation, guided by true devotion for the Lord, humbly open to conversion of heart.  Such a study must readily suffer the loss of all things in following Christ - counting all else as rubbish save knowing Him.  This study must be open to suffering the truth - the truth about one's own self before God and the truth about God who laid bare his heart for our sakes.

Theological Contemplation and the Lord's Gaze of Love

There are many ways to enter into silence.  Teresa of Avila was told to think about scenes of the Lord's passion.  St. Augustine in the first nine books of his Confessions reflects on the patient presence of the Lord in his life, even throughout the time he rejected his faith.  St. John of the Cross also mentions a contemplation on the doctrines of our faith - a kind of mental prayer he describes in Spiritual Canticle, stanza twelve.  Because it is a way of prayer which involves reflecting on sacred doctrine, I like to call this theological contemplation.

St. John of the Cross uses a beautiful image to illustrate what happens when we prayerful ponder sacred doctrine in deep silence. He describes this prayerful reflection on the content of our faith as peering into the reflective surface of a spring of water.  When our faith is pure, when we faithfully receive the teachings passed on to us through the Church, he suggests this opens up a deep loving knowledge of the Lord which matures us and raises our friendship with Him onto a whole new level.

The basis for this description is the fact that the propositions of our faith, the articles we believe, are "truth-bearing."  These doctrines (like the Incarnation, or the Trinity, or Christ's work of redemption) bear First Truth, the ineffable mystery of God Himself.  Another way to consider this is that the articles of the faith are like veils which disclose the substance of our faith.  They are like silver plated gold jewelry explains St. John of the Cross.  The golden substance under the shining silver of the propositions we believe is the Living God.  Like all veils, the content of what we believe serves to both protect and disclose something unspeakably beautiful.   The veil of our faith protects God from being misunderstood.  It also discloses Him to us, as we learn to see Him in it.

In this life, limited and frail human intelligence lacks the capacity to behold the incomprehensible love radiating from the face of God.  So the Lord has adapted Himself to our capacity, permitting himself to be reflected in truths we can understand.  In other words, we believe what we believe because this faith helps us find the Lord.  He has chosen to reveal himself, to allow Himself to be reflected, through sacred doctrine.

Now St. John of the Cross's description of a reflection on a watery surface comes in.  A prayerful reflection on sacred doctrine is like looking into a pool of water that your friend is looking into.  If you are patient for the water to smooth out, if you allow your grasp of the faith to be pacified by prayer, you will see the eyes you search for.  What a wonderful description of the truths of our faith!  As we assent to them, they make a enchanting spring in the soul where a beautiful encounter is meant to take place, where friends find a mirror into each others heart.

St. John of the Cross describes this reflection in terms of a remarkable presence of God.  While God is reflected in all creation, this special reflection of the Lord in sacred doctrine pierces the heart.  It is a look of love that binds us to the Lord in a new way.  John of the Cross describes seeing the eyes of the Lord gazing on us in love.   Our gaze meets His gaze.  Something of God is impressed deep into the soul.  We realize He has been searching for us, waiting for our friendship.  This loving gaze of God captures the heart.  For those who glimpse this presence, catch a glimpse of the Lord in the truths we believe, this experience of the substance of our faith is sketched into their hearts.

Anyone who has experienced this theological contemplation can never live the same way again.  It not only changes the way one thinks, but it goes deeper, transforming even the affections of one's own heart.  Everything that once seemed so important in life takes second place to a new priority of the heart, a new hunger and thirst for God.  The heart turns to the Lord with love enflamed.

Theological Contemplation

Spiritual theology or mystical theology is the knowledge we gain by living faith in the Lord God.  St. John of the Cross describes it as general and obscure - but also as beautiful and as enchanting as exotic unexplored islands of some new world waiting to be discovered.   English mystics call it a cloud of unknowning.  St. Gregory of Nyssa describes it as the cloud and darkness that covered Mt. Sinai at the great theophany of Moses. For St. Augustine this is an encounter with the Light from which all light comes, that Light that made us - not a knowledge of what but of Who.  St. Thomas explains that this knowledge is the most certain even if it is not the clearest kind of knowing.  St. Teresa describes it as a gaze into the eyes of the One who was wounded for oursakes.  For her, this knowledge is the principal cause of compunction, the water which alone quenches the gardens of our hearts.  For Catherine of Siena this knowledge is gained by plunging deep into the wounds of Christ and venerating him with kisses from his feet to his lips - the bridge from our misery to the Father's mercy.  All these saints are agreed that such knowledge is a sheer gift which we can only fully recieve by spending time in prayer and a life disciplined by taken up our own crosses.  Though it costs dearly, the whole theological enterprise limps along without it -- such contemplation is the life blood of any meaningful study of God and of anything in relation to Him.  Even after 2000 years of great saints, theologians and mystics, theological contemplation remains a vast barely known frontier of human existence -- for most of the inexhaustible riches of Christ are still waiting to be discovered.

That Loving Knowledge

Although the Almighty is beyond the power of human understanding to grasp, Christians believe that knowing God's Will is possible because Jesus, in his humanity offered for our sakes, has given us real access to God.

The kind of knowledge the Risen Lord gives us is different than the merely factual kind of knowing. Such factual knowledge is all about simply knowing what to do - how to make or fix something. There is nothing to be gained in approaching the Mystery of the Living God like a service manual.

Knowing God and his Holy Will is, instead, deeply personal. In this loving knowledge, St. John of the Cross explains, love (not naked reasoning) leads us forward into the Divine Mystery. What the intellect understands follows behind our love for the One who discloses Himself. The loving will knows the Loving Will of God and a union of wills, each given to the other, becomes possible. This love is a friendship love - it sees the goodness and beauty of God because it has loved Him and been loved by Him first. St. Paul calls this the Wisdom of God (see 1 Cor. 6-13). Some theologians call this experimental or experiential knowledge of God. There really is not words to describe this kind of knowledge - yet those who know the Lord in this way really have something to say, something the world needs to hear, something we need in our lives.

With this kind of loving knowledge, a joy, peace and a dynamic self-possession grows in the heart. Every time someone acts in accord with this loving knowledge of God, these fruits increase -sometimes exponentially. This fruit, which St. Paul enumerates in his letter to the Galatians, is produced by the Holy Spirit (Gal. 5:22). When we choose to act in accord with the loving knowledge the Lord shares with us, it frees the Holy Spirit to be fruitful in our hearts.

It is possible to act against this knowledge, to act as if we were ignorant of God. St. Paul warns against living with our minds conformed to this age or like those whose minds are darkened (Rom 12:2, Eph. 4:18). It is possible for those who believe in Christ to choose to live in the flesh - to allow the unconscious hidden drives of our nature to make our decisions for us, not only in big things, but especially in the little things we think no one knows and no one will be hurt by. This living in intentional ignorance is what keeps us immature spiritually - acting against what we know in our hearts.

There is no reason for discouragement if we suddenly realize that most of our lives we have chosen to live in ignorance. Teresa of Avila lived like this until she was almost forty years old. The Lord however would not let her continue - and when she was off her guard, He pierced her to the heart with His Love. Just as He touched her to the core, He can touch any one of us - it is something worth asking for, something worth enduring every kind of trial to obtain.

So the spiritual life really begins when we take up the struggle to make room in our lives for the loving knowledge of God that only Jesus gives. This is why Christians must make silent prayer a priority in their lives. It is a knowledge that comes from the Cross and doing all we can to gain this knowledge is worth it.

Spiritual Theology -- What is it?

For Catholics, in its broadest sense, spiritual theology studies the relations between what God has revealed about himself and what the Church experiences in her pilgrimage to Him.  Some look at this study as a specialized part of moral theology (a study of how Christians ought to live).  Others look at it in terms of an approach to dogmatic theology (a study of what Christians ought to believe).  It is probably best to look at it as both - because the object of study is more simple than both morals and dogma.  What I mean by this is that what we believe and how we live is completely rooted in the Church's ongoing encounter of Jesus Christ leading her into the arms of God.

It must be pointed out that what I just wrote is not accepted by most people.  The very name of this science makes it very easy to misunderstand.  There is a widespread and mistaken idea of what "spiritual" means.   The general assumption is that spiritual things are less real than physical things.  It is also assumed that the physical world is the main place for "real life."  The spiritual world is a place we check out to quench our curiosity for the weird or else a place in which we seek comfort because "real life" is too painful to deal with.  So the spiritual is reduced to prosaic, enchanting and consoling myths that help people get by.   For those who think of the spiritual life in this way, spiritual theology is primarily in the realm of imagination and emotions.  The problem with this is that the merely sentimental might help someone feel good for a little while, but it is never really enough in the long run.  Myths can be a way to avoid reality, and reality is not the kind of thing one can safely turn his back on.

The truly spiritual is in the realm of what is good, beautiful and true.  We find these things in the physical world, but what is merely visible does not limit them.  In fact, they witness to something beyond the tangible stuff of life.  In the ugliest moments of life, our most humiliating moments, and those times we really hurt someone entrusted to us - even in these moments, we can be tormented by the desire for truth and goodness which ought to be there.  If our conscience cries out, it is because there is a standard of goodness against which we have not measured up.  We did not make this standard.  Nor did any culture produce it.  Even though we cannot see this standard, it is no less real.  And, our awareness or lack of awareness of it influences the way we see and experience everything.

When we look at what God has revealed about Himself and see the relations this has with the pilgrimage of the Church, we can glimpse a beautifully unfolding tapestry into which our own lives are weaved.  The Church is the Bride of the Living God.  She pilgrimages to her wedding feast.  Each life expresses something contained in the mystery of the Church because each of us can accept or reject this journey for ourselves.   Those who study and contemplation the tapestry or tradition of this pilgrimage find the most beautiful and difficult truths of all: God's unquenchable desire for real friendship with us, the complete extent of our rejection of Him, and the unfathomable depths to which He descends to win back our hearts.  This study must deal with the stark realities of sin and death, and our aching desire for something beyond our own existence.  It also must deal with penance, prayer and the discipline of the Christian life.  Finally, and most important of all, it must strain to see our coming home, to where we really belong -- and this, in comprehensibly, in the embrace of God himself, his arms outstretched on the Cross.

Christian Knowledge and Mysticism

Christian mysticism is rooted in the mystery of Christ, and the only secret knowledge it provides is the knowledge of faith.   Faith's secret is the secret of love. The Bride of Christ lives in the presence of her Beloved from whom she receives the secret of love. All who share this secret discover a whole new way of life, a supernatural kind of living in this world but not of it. This is true mystical knowledge, a kind of knowing that results from the members of Christ body encountering Christ Himself.

This ‘hidden’ knowledge should not be confused with esoteric experiences which some non-Christian spiritualities claim to provide.  Esoteric knowledge or enlightenment is arrived at by meditation technique and is at best an admirable human achievement. Christian mysticism does not culminate in this sort of enlightenment nor is it the result of what is mastered by techniques. The knowledge which Christian faith provides is “mystical” insofar as it involves a union with the mystery of Christ through the holy mysteries unto union with the Holy Trinity. It is a contemplative knowledge that anticipates the ultimate end of the Divine Economy, the perfect unity of creatures with the Holy Trinity in which the fulfillment of all desire is realized – that eternal beatific vision of inexhaustible and exceeding Love.

In itself, such knowledge is beyond the ability of human speech to fully communicate because it exceeds the power of human intelligence to conceptualize. The mystery of Christ cannot be contained in the narrow confines of any created intelligence’s categories of thought.  This kind of knowledge is so different from natural knowledge that some comtemplatives refer to it as "unknowing."   All other thought loses its dynamism, except the thought of Christ.  The only reason this kind of mystical knowing is possible is because in the fullness of time, the Word became flesh.

Because the Word dwelt among us and poured out his substance on the Cross, the truth bearing statements of our faith, the articles of our faith, bear the Truth which is the Lord. It is this Truth that is encountered in Christian prayer and to which our faith holds fast. Because the natural power of the human mind is incapable of attaining it, it is described as a dark night, a cloud of unknowing, a wound and a ray of darkness. Because it surpasses all intellectual operations this knowledge is described as a loving glance, a touch and a divine kiss which goes beyond the intellect into the very substance of the soul. The mind receives this heart to heart by way of gift – the gift of faith. Under the fruitful power of the Holy Spirit, this gift opens up a purified understanding of divine things and the very wisdom of God. This kind of seeing which faith avails is called contemplation, a seeing which is at the same time a hearing of the Word.

Though the simplest of children can enjoy this loving knowledge, theologians and mystics struggle to articulate it. Yet, as St. Augustine observes, woe to us if we do not try because “No one can know the true meaning of the language of the spiritual writers if he is unable to explain it theologically; and, on the other hand, no one can know the sublimity of theology if he is ignorant of its relation to mysticism.” Garrigou-Lagrange, Three Ages of the Spiritual Life, trans. Sr. Timothea Doyle, OP, London: Herder (1948) pp 16 and 20.

Although theologians and mystics struggle to articulate this experience of the Church, anyone who has tasted such loving knowledge can no longer live as he once did.  The merest of children experience this.  Perhaps this is why Christianity is not the religion of aged gurus on top of mountains, but the faith of the children of God.  When one meets the Lord in prayer, one finds oneself pierced to the heart, preoccupied with the magnitude of the friendship love of God revealed in Christ Jesus. Even if such a person were to fall back into his former way of life, he would have to contend with something profoundly unsettling and painfully haunting: namely, the indescribable joy discovered in meeting the Lord, and the unrequited sorrow of having turned away from him.  (Think of the rich young man.)

To know Jesus Christ is not reducible to an intellectual experience – it is an experience that takes up one’s whole person and demands the response of one’s whole life. This kind of knowledge is transformative, making one’s life so completely different that some, like St. Paul, will “count all else as rubbish” save for this knowledge of Christ Jesus. Such knowledge demands a new way of life – a life in and for love alone. It is a performative knowledge. It leads to a life of fruitfulness, a life rooted in Christ’s salvific mission.  But here I must end this already too long post!

The Task of Spiritual Theology

As a student of spiritual theology, I am occasionally asked about it.  The simple answer is that I teach prayer.  But this is the longer answer:

Spiritual theology is that part of theology that, proceeding from the truths of divine revelation and the religious experience of individual persons, defines the nature of the supernatural life, formulates directives for its growth and development, and explains the process by which souls advance from the beginning of the spiritual life to its full perfection. (Jordan Aumann, Spiritual Theology, Westminister: Christian Classics (1987) 22)


Spiritual theology seeks the connection between the articles of the faith, the perfection of the Christian life, and a kind of knowledge called “mystical,” a kind of knowledge arrived at through an ecclesial and personal encounter with the Living God.   In doing so, it is not primarily concerned with individual religious experience although considering such experience is not beyond its scope.   More properly it considers the spiritual life of the Church: how is Christ communicating his divine life to his mystical body, his bride? 

The answer to this question involves mystical knowledge that results from encountering Christ. This kind of knowledge is “mystical” insofar as it involves a union with the mystery of Christ through the holy mysteries unto union with the Holy Trinity. It is a contemplative knowledge that anticipates the ultimate end of the Divine Economy, the perfect unity of creatures with the Holy Trinity in which the fulfillment of all desire is realized – that eternal beatific vision of inexhaustible and exceeding Love. The object of spiritual theology as a science is the encounter of the Holy Trinity in the contemplation of the Church. In this sense, spiritual theology corresponds with what the ancients called theology or mystical theology.  Namely, a participated knowing of the ineffable inner life of the Trinity by grace.

Those who attempt to study this kind of knowledge aim at true theological wisdom, a wisdom that ought to inform all the various branches of theology.  In itself, this knowledge is beyond the ability of human speech to fully communicate. But the truth bearing statements of our faith, the articles of our faith, bear the truth of this knowledge above all. Theologians and mystics struggle to articulate it. Garrigou-Lagrange observes, “The mystics … explain the hyperbole and antithesis to which they have recourse in order to draw us from our somnolence and to try to make us glimpse the elevation of divine things.” He goes on to conclude, “No one can know the true meaning of the language of the spiritual writers if he is unable to explain it theologically; and, on the other hand, no one can know the sublimity of theology if he is ignorant of its relation to mysticism.” Three Ages of the Spiritual Life, trans. Sr. Timothea Doyle, OP, London: Herder (1948) pp 16 and 20.

After the great scholastics who revived interest in a disciplined pursuit of these questions, one of the earliest pioneers of this study was Rev. Jean Gerson, Chancellor of the University of Paris.  He believed that the knowledge which flowed from Christ's presence in the soul or mystical knowledge could not be a direct object of theological research, yet at the same time he acknowledged its importance for the Christian life and attempted to elucidate those parts fo the Christian life he believed could be studied.  From the 16th to the 20th centuries, spiritual theology became divided between what was called “ascetical” theology and “mystical” theology. Ascetical theology had more a moral element and concerned the day to day discipline of the Christian life and the ordinary life of grace. Mystical theology tended toward a theology of prayer and contemplation as well as speculative considerations of the mysteries of the faith in relation to extraordinary mystical phenomenon. Twentieth century theologians began to question the wisdom of separating these areas of study. They also became concerned that this kind of theology was not considered ‘academic’ or ‘scholarly’ or in any other sense a serious field of knowledge.

The 20th century pioneers of this field, mostly Thomists, began an apologetic to establish the field as a legitimate science with its own object and appropriate method of research. At the same time, theologians coming from the Ressourcement schools also became aware that this branch of theology should not be separated from other theological efforts, that these other branches needed reference to spiritual theology if they were to remain with the stream of the tradition of the Church. Spiritual theologians, especially those out of the Thomistic and Ressourcement schools, see that research in spiritual theology is vital to the life and mission of the Church because if it is forgotten, the very raison d’etre of the Church is at risk. As one of the pioneers of the twentieth century renewal of this field, Fr. Juan Arintero, explains: “We must examine and consider attentively the hidden and mysterious development of the inner life of the Church. This consideration is fundamental and the most important of all, because this inner life and the exigencies of this vital process are the course of the Church’s development in doctrine and organization.” Mystical Evolution, vol. 1., trans. Jordan Aumann, Tan: Rockford (1978) 1.

Prayer and Theology

"Prayer and theology are inseparable.  True theology is the adoration offered by the intellect.  The intellect clarifies the movement of prayer, but only prayer can give it the fervour of the Spirit.  Theology is light, prayer is fire.  Their union expresses the union of the intellect and the heart.  But it is the intellect that must 'repose' in the heart, and theology must transcend it in love."  Olivier Clement, Roots of Christian Mysticism, p. 183.

Christian Enlightenment

Nescivi – I no longer knew anything. This is the first word of the last retreat reflections Elisabeth of the Trinity would author. These words denote an experience of Christian enlightenment different from any other kind of enlightenment ever known. Faith gives us a certain but general kind of knowledge different from any natural light by which we might see things. In this kind of knowledge, love leads and understanding follows. It is the knowledge of of one moved by eros - but not simply a natural love, divine eros drives the heart.

It is August 16, 1906. She is suffering from Addison’s disease and will die within three months. She is racked in pain and weakening, unable to nourish herself or sleep. She has been struggling with this illness for a year. Severe pain for long periods of time has a way of purifying what we see in life. But this kind of knowledge, the knowledge one recieves by suffering chronically and acutely at a young age, is not that to which Elisabeth is trying to draw attention. Merely enduring suffering was not really the driving force of her life. What drove her more than ought else was her desire for Jesus. She was so focused on this pursuit that she even saw her illness as just one more way that she might find him. And she found him all the time, in ever new and deeper ways. Each time she found him, a new supernatural light beckoned her to seek Him even more.

Nescivi, as is the case in most all her reflections, has layers of meaning. Some of these are obvious and others subtle, requiring prayerful attention to ascertain. In this case, she asserts that Nescivi is the Bride’s song in the Canticle of Canticles 6:11 and 12. If we look at the Scripture passage itself, it does not quite suggest Elisabeth's explanation. She did not have access to the actual full text of the Canticle of Canticles. Her understanding of the actual scriptural passage draws from a secondary resource: John of the Cross's poetic reinterpretation Spiritual Canticle.

In the Spanish poem, more than the Scripture verse itself, nescivi expresses the effect of having encountered the Beloved. Truly meeting Jesus has the tendency of changing everything we thought we knew about life. It is not that what we knew was completely wrong. It is just that the way we knew it missed the point. We discover in a single lingering instant, He is the point. John of the Cross tries to convey the weight of this kind of encounter of Christ by poetically describing it in terms of the nuptial romantic love celebrated in the Canticle of Canticles. In this endeavor, his poem focuses on the interior movements of the Bride and the Bridegroom, the particular quality of their shared eros. After entering into a secret wine cellar to tryst with her beloved, the Bride recalls how overcome with love she was and begins to sing, “I no longer knew anything.”

Elisabeth identifies with this experience. It is the music of a certain kind of knowledge, which St. John of the Cross explains, is unlike any other kind of knowledge we could ever possibly have. It is personal knowledge of Christ in which the heart leads the intellect. This loving knowledge moves our entire being, dragging the intellect with it. This knowledge is not irrational, but superrational - something which merely human insight cannot arrive at. St. Augustine explains that it is not merely a light above our minds like oil on water -- it is a participation in the light from which our intellects come. It is a kind of divine knowing in us.

When we know the Lord in this way, we no longer desire to know anything else. This encounter with Jesus is so magnificent, so absorbing that it envelops our whole existence, captivates the full capacity of our awareness. At the same time, this absorbtion, envelopment, and captivation deepens our uniqueness, makes us even more ourselves. If we lose ourselves, it is only so that we more profoundly find out who we really are. Elisabeth contemplated in this experience her true identity - at once particularly hers and eternally the destiny of those who love the Lord, "to be the praise of his Glory."

When we are overwhelmed by the love of the Lord and in this love see who He has called us to be, we have a new supernatural kind of knowing. St. Paul calls it the renewed mind, the mind of Christ. In relation to everything we once thought was important, this kind of knowing instills a sense of not knowing anything at all. Elisabeth herself explains this experience in the words of St. Paul, "I no longer want know anything" but “to know Him.”

This is different than any natural sort of enlightenment because of its particular and, at the same time, supernatural character. When the Bride encounters the Bridegroom, her particular identity is realized in their loving encounter as is the truth about the Bridegroom. By analogy, the encounter with Jesus reveals at once the truth about who he is and at the same time, the truth about the soul who encounters Him. But unlike the encounters of nuptial love, this truth does not end in death. Something about this encounter is deeper and more ancient than death itself, and reveals something that the mortal light of nature cannot see. Supernatural enlightenment, the gift of knowledge, allows us to see the world as the Risen Lord sees it - no longer subject to death but a glorious pathway to the Father's House.

For Elisabeth, the source and ground of this kind of knowledge is rooted in the knowledge of Christ himself, the song that echoes in the heart of the eternal Son of the Father. No one knows the Father but the Son and those to whom the Son reveals Him.

In supernatural enlightenment, each particular human heart is known in relation to God from the perspective of Christ crucified. In turn, Jesus sees each one of us and all of us together with the eyes of his Father. Jesus knows the deep recesses of the Father's heart and suffers the Father's love for us. Christ's heart actually aches to share this love particularly and universally. Similarly, in the Father's wisdom and love, He foreknew each of us and all of us together in his Son. The Father knows how much Jesus aches for love of us. And so, the Father searches for us and waits for us in his Son. His Son is our way to Him.

How do we set on this way? Accordingly to Blessed Elisabeth, we must join the music of Christ's soul - the movement of love in his heart, his divine eros must move our hearts as well. His love and confidence in the Father must become our own love and confidence. His love for the world and desire that all might have eternal life, must become the burning passion of our own hearts. When, in our own uniqueness, we imitate Christ, not only exteriorly by our efforts to love but interiorly by faith on which all real love depends, the Father is delighted because now He knows his Son in us. This delight of the Father in us is what Jesus allows us to taste when we encounter Him. As we follow Jesus in this loving kind of knowledge, paradoxically, we become more fully human, more authentically ourselves.

How different this is from every other form of enlightenment where we are either absorbed into a greater reality or unmaksed as a mere illusion to hide nothingness. The Father created each unrepeatable and unique human heart outside himself not so that it might be absorbed in Him, but rather that it might be loved and learn to love. Such is divine eros - the love revealed in the household of God. This is the inheritance of the saints.

Elisabeth is pointing to this as she begins her reflections for the sisters of her community. This kind of enlightenment, this kind of knowledge, is the most important of all human pursuits. Without it, the true destiny of our humanity remains obscure. It lacks the certainty that only God's love can bring. How do we find this enlightenment? The passion to love God in real friendship, divine eros, is a gift. It is something to be asked for in earnest. Like a Bride, we must utilize our full human capacity, all our effort, all our might, to seek the Bridegroom - for in Christian enlightenment, the one who asks, recieves; the one who seeks, finds; and the one who knocks discovers the welcoming eyes of the Lord.

The Spiritual Classics

This week I provided the final lecture for a class entitled the spiritual classics. This concludes a course that I have had the privilege of offering for the last ten years to men in their very first year at our seminary. We call this year "The Spirituality Year." It is a year of prayer and community which prepares men for the six years of study required for the priesthood. The courses we offer in this context, including Spiritual Classics, are all non-academic in nature. This means these courses mainly introduce seminarians to the whole idea of making personal appropriations through a prayerful reading of the texts. During the year they also study the Scriptures and the Catechism of the Catholic Church in the same way.

The purpose of Spiritual Classics is to expose seminarians to the wisdom of the saints, especially those who wrote about prayer and growth in the spiritual life. Using the Scriptures and the Catechism of the Catholic Church as reference points, this year we surveyed selected writings from St. Athanasius, St. Gregory of Nyssa, St. Augustine, St. Bernard, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Catherine of Siena, Bl. Charles de Foucauld, St. John of the Cross, St. Therese of Lisieux, and Bl. Elisabeth of the Trinity. We concluded the course with brief reflections on Pope Benedict's Spes Salvi and Deus Caritas Est.

A theme throughout the course is the unique importance of personal prayer and the greatness of vocations dedicated to helping people grow in prayer. In particular, I always want the men to understand that pursuing the priesthood is a great and noble enterprise because there is nothing more beautiful than to lead souls into union with God and into the communion of the Body of Christ. The writings of some of the saints and mystics, particularly of the 20th Century, draw our attention to this great task. Although all of us bear responsibility to one another to this end, priests have a special mission, an irreplaceable role. During the Year of the Priest which will start in June, I will post on this idea. For now, at the end of a semester, I am very proud of these students and what they endeavor. They are great and generous men. For them, this is not an end but a beginning. Indeed, they are all about to make a month long Ignatian retreat - so keep them in your prayers.