Dark Night of the Soul

In the late 1570s, the Spanish Carmelite monk who would become St. John of the Cross was imprisoned by his brothers, opposing his attempted reformations within the Order. Alone, betrayed, hard work dashed and life left seemingly aimless, St. John proceeded to compose the wonderful poem, La Noche Oscura del Alma. Later in 1584, he proceeded to write a theological commentary of the same title on the poem, discussing each stanza.

Dark Night of the Soul is, as with most mystical texts, not an easy read, and not one for every reader. Beautiful as his ideas are, most translations (particularly of E. Allison Peers, from which this author uses as reference) are bulky and wordy. In some cases, this is necessary, but in most areas - notably Book 1 Chapter 1 - many terms are overly specified and repetitive.

In recent (relatively speaking) years, the concept of the Dark Night of the Soul has been given a more scientific treatment and title: Positive Disintegration, the theory of personality development that sees tension, anxiety, despair, and other severe negative experiences as vital to human growth. It is comparable to a snake shedding its skin, or to better reflect its horrible agony, a phoenix arising from the ashes. But like the serpent and his skin, it is a key part part of his maturing, though the Disintegration is a spiritual phenomenon rather than a biological.

The Dark Night, though, is best described as spiritual desolation: sorrow becomes the norm, sensations become caustic and uncomfortable, and, darker than any night on earth, all light fades away. St. Therese of Lisieux once told her Carmelite sisters about such an experience concerning the afterlife, saying "If you only knew what darkness I am plunged into."

John of the Cross, for his part, attempts to describe the experience of his joy of union with divinity versus the unspeakable pain of arriving there. He looks back on the terror of the night with such words as "O guiding dark of night!" and "O dark of night more darling than the dawn!" His life is so much larger and so much more wonderful for this harrowing; "My cares all fall away / Forgotten in the lilies on that day."

Left distant, blackened fear and misery becomes an abstract grey. We grow complacent to it, sometimes condemn those trapped within it ("Why don't they just get over it?"). Sometimes we take the fortunes of the light for granted, forgetting why we crossed what bridges we did and why we burned others. In either case, contemplation alone cannot provide a satisfactory result. The best comparison is that all food is better when one is starving; the same applies to most aspects of man's nature.

Kant / Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals

Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals

In his work, the Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals, Immanuel Kant utilizes an innovative method to overcome the tendency of relativizing morals to some non-rational and contingent standard (such as emotions as his contemporary, David Hume, had done) and offers an interesting analysis of morality from the perspective of universal principles demanded by the very nature of a rational moral agent.  He defends the universality and absolute character of moral principles by positing categorical imperatives, known a priori (i.e. before experience).  The scope of his work is clearly stated in the preface: to simply establish “the supreme principle of morality” (255).  The method that Kant employs to discover and formulate this principle is to work from the common experience of moral obligation and, by analyzing this experience, to seek the a priori prerequisites necessary for the possibility of such an experience.

The progression of his argument follows logically connected steps: the experience of moral obligation leads to positing freedom; freedom leads to the idea that the will is autonomous (i.e. able to have causal efficacy apart from external influences: desires, inclinations and so forth); the will’s autonomy leads to its formulation of a universal principle of morality as the ideal foundation of all actions of rational beings.    

What rule can explain the absolute and universal character of moral obligation?  According to Kant, the only rule/law that fits this requirement is a categorical imperative, which commands certain behaviors as necessary without reference to any subordinate ends, as contrasted with hypothetical imperatives, which can only command something as a means to an end (265).  His first and most fundamental formulation of this imperative clearly emphasizes universality: “Act only on that maxim whereby thou canst at the same time will that it should become a universal law” (268).  From this formulation, it is clear that an act of lying could never be permitted because, if a liar sincerely intended his untruthfulness to be universally commanded, his intention would cancel out the very meaning of truth and would thereby be self-contradictory.

 It is noteworthy that the categorical imperative is merely formal: referring neither to the object of the action, nor to any consequences/results of the action, but merely to the maxim itself, intended as the guiding principle.  Although Kant offers a compelling argument for excluding any reference to the object and consequences of an action – traditionally considered as important elements in moral judgment – by pointing out that the contingent character of particular objects and situations compromises the universality of moral obligations, his final position ends up being alarmingly “content-less”.  Man is to judge his morality purely according to how his intention conforms to the universal principle, which has its origin in himself.  The problem with this position is that, without any positive content (such as the notion of a transcendent natural law indicating certain objects of the will as good or evil), arguments could plausibly be made by people, who truly feel themselves to be intending universality, for actions that are, in fact, objectively evil.  In addition, the categorical imperative is not able to handle moral questions specific to particular situations.  For example, the moral law binding for a man committed to celibacy could never be willed universally without losing the man’s very possibility for existence; but such a law would certainly be appropriate for those people whose function in society required celibacy (for example, priests).

The second formulation of the categorical imperative could be seen as Kant’s attempt to satisfy the need for acknowledging an objective content in morality.  According to this formulation one ought to treat oneself and others “in every case as an end withal, never as means only” (272).  Kant necessarily deduces this formulation from his idea that the will of each rational being is self-legislating (though, paradoxically, also subject to its own law).  Although the second formulation is laudable for the dignity it ascribes to each person, it seems to contradict a basic point of Kant’s epistemology (i.e. his theory on the way man obtains knowledge) as presented in the Critique of Pure Reason.  According to his epistemology, man cannot know a thing as it is in itself (noumenon), but merely as it appears to him (phenomenon), the knowing subject, through forms of knowing imposed by him on otherwise unintelligible sense perceptions.  However, the second formulation implies a knowledge of “what is” because, by saying that a person is an end in himself and therefore deserves manifestations of respect appropriate to this fact, Kant is essentially saying that what is should inform what ought to be (which in fact was the basis of most classical views on morality – founded on metaphysics).  This fact is in complete contradiction to his epistemology and to his oft repeated principle that morality must be derived completely a priori, without any reference to human nature, anthropology, the objective good in real things and so forth.

In the final analysis, Kant’s effort to found morality solely on an a priori principle leaves much to be desired.  By placing the origin of the imperatives in the subject, he opens the door to moral subjectivism; what is to prevent a person who is a “self-legislator” from deciding to modify his own laws?  In spite of his best efforts to the contrary, Kant’s Fundamental Principles seems to be only a short step away from falling into the very moral relativism that he strove to eliminate. 

 

Immanuel Kant, Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals. Trans. W. Hastie, ed. Wallace Brockway et al.. Chicago, IL: Encyclopedia Britannica Inc., 1952. 34pp.

Manifesto of the Communist Party

The Manifesto of the Communist Party was written in 1848 by Karl Marx, with the assistance of Friedrich Engels. It opens with a presentation of the views of the Communist party: essentially, that throughout history, there have always been class struggles, necessarily ending in either a revolution or in the termination of both classes. The current class struggle, as presented by Marx and Engels, is between the modern bourgeois (the employers of wage laborers, and the owners of the means of production) and the proletariat (the class of modern wage-laborers). Their main argument against the bourgeois is that it exploits the proletariat and concentrates the means of production and property into the hands of a few.

Once their views are established, the writers then discuss various objections against the Communist party followed by their rebuttal of those objections. The final two chapters describe various Socialist and Communist literature and the position of Communists in relation to the various existing opposition parties. The writers end with an irresistible call to arms: “Workingmen of all countries, unite!

Although the authors of this book do make several important points – the dangers of Capitalism and the inhumanity of treating the proletariat simply as a means of production and increasing capital – some of their views should be questioned.

First, the entire argument for Communism is based on a materialistic philosophy. In materialism, all ideas, including moral, political, artistic, social, and philosophical ideas, are determined by economic factors. Therefore, when the economic atmosphere changes, the ideas valued by society also necessarily change, even affecting moral views. The problem with this philosophy is that it looks only at the quantitative aspect of reality, neglecting the evident fact that when we speak of morals a qualitative aspect is necessarily implied. In addition, materialism completely ignores the spiritual nature of man, making no distinction between matter and spirit. Within this train of thought, there is no room for the idea of God.

Second, the stance of the Manifesto towards the family is questionable. The writers claim that the present-bourgeois family is based only on capital and private gain. In addition, they wish to take away the most basic right of the parents to educate their children by forcing their children into public education. Furthermore, they treat all marriage and family solely as a civil institution, depriving them of their sacred character. As a result, communists wish to form a community of women, essentially dissolving marriage altogether and placing the responsibility of raising children in the hands of the community. The problem with this theory is of course that the family is the most basic unit in any society. To do away with it would be to do away with all society and would result in a mass of humanity incapable of relation.

Finally, the process of the revolution itself seems to rest on an overly optimistic view of human nature. Marx and Engels admit that in order for Communism to get started, it must be initiated by a form of despotism. This is very dangerous. Due to the fallen nature of man, when one or a group of people are given absolute power and control over things, they don’t easily give it up. Thus we see throughout history that Communist governments tend to remain in either a state of despotism or totalitarianism.

The Manifesto of the Communist Party is certainly both educational and entertaining. The writers employed a convincing tone by appealing to an experience common to all men: those who have been exploited in some way wish to stop it, and those who have not been exploited wish to prevent it. The detailed exposé of the struggles of the proletariat captures the emotions to such an extent that, by the end of reading, one is ready to fight! But, readers beware! If I were to recommend reading it even just for educational purposes, then I would recommend a very cautious, careful, and critical reading of it. Furthermore, I would suggest reading it in conjunction with Divini Redemptoris by Pope Pius XI.

A Case Against the Canonization of G.K. Chesterton by an Adoring Fan

I cannot profess to have read every single work that Gilbert Keith Chesterton has produced - frankly, I don’t think anyone really can; more are discovered each year - but all the same, he is among the greatest writers in all of history from the invention of language. Every time I read one of his works, I find myself not reading just a remarkable writer who is talented at the English language, but someone who is having fun; someone who is playing with words like toys. One can almost hear Chesterton giggling to himself after a particularly witty remark.

As an apologist, Chesterton effortlessly takes the most elaborate, complex, and compelling arguments, sticks a sewing needle into its gears, and the entire effort of the argument disintegrates due to the most innocent of observations. His knowledge and talent was nearly superhuman, in some truly genius paragraphs you can almost feel him becoming an instrument of virtue and divinity.

That said, I cannot quite say I agree with his canonization. Even as he fits many of my personal criteria for holiness, he was not quite a saint, as I see it. A saint, to me, is possessed of different sort of spirit, something almost alien to them. There should be an enigmatic quality to them, one foot in the cosmos and another in the divine realm.

Chesterton most certainly knew of this matter, but I maintain he did not particularly experience it, anymore than the average God-loving person would. As with any life, there was mystery and mysticism, but somehow I feel that most men and women of the saintly accord are acutely aware of such experiences, seeing them where we do not, and in some cases, knowing why they occur. One of the best examples is likely Simeon Stylites, described best by Mr. Edward Gibbon in History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, chapter 37, “Conversion of the Barbarians to Christianity,”

In this last and lofty station, the Syrian Anachoret (anchorite - ed.) resisted the heat of thirty summers, and the cold of as many winters. Habit and exercise instructed him to maintain his dangerous situation without fear or giddiness, and successively to assume the different postures of devotion. He sometimes prayed in an erect attitude, with his outstretched arms in the figure of a cross, but his most familiar practice was that of bending his meagre skeleton from the forehead to the feet; and a curious spectator, after numbering twelve hundred and forty-four repetitions, at length desisted from the endless account. The progress of an ulcer in his thigh might shorten, but it could not disturb, this celestial life; and the patient Hermit expired, without descending from his column.

Another story I heard from a friend seems to sum up the matter beautifully.

I remember hearing a story about a monk named Ajaan Panya.

A younger monk was sitting next to him, and a Thai laywoman was talking to Ajaan Panya.

Eventually the young monk stops, does a double take, and realizes what they were saying. "Ma'am, did you say that the molar (the tooth) of Ajaan Panya's that he gave you split into three pieces?"

She said, "No, venerable sir: there are now three versions of the same molar."

The young monk looks at Ajaan Panya, who is staring into the middle distance with the expression of a wry, seemingly knowing, but utterly silent smile.

The young monk says, "...any explanation, Ajaan?"

Ajaan Panya takes another sip of tea and says nothing.

I love G.K. Chesterton with all my heart, but there are no tales of such things with him. Not even the most isolated fleeting mentions in his own works give notice, and all his friends - well-read and most of them famous authors themselves (George Bernard Shaw, H.G. Wells, Hilaire Belloc, etc.) - give no mention of them. It is very safe to say they simply never occurred. Every last thing Chesterton did, which is part of the reason why I have such a sincere and deep admiration for him, was well within the bounds of reason. It seems that with most saints, such was not the case.

He had the love of Fred Rogers and the wit of Shakespeare, but somehow I do not think he shall be, or should be counted among the colossal stoic fury of the saints. Perhaps he would rather make a tremendous chronicler of Heaven; but a saint, I cannot quite agree.

As he said when receiving the title of ‘Honourary Crusader’ on his visit to Worcester College, “I am not so sure I am a Crusader, but I am at least sure I am not a Mohammedan.”

Sonnet 1 (On the Faded Light of Virtue)

O sinful state where mankind lay

To kiss a hand, to list inspire

Thou curseth love with hope burnt gray

Impossible beneath thy ire  

Where gone virtues simple ways?

Whither went the bygone times

To refrain vice through all our days

When men did suffer for their crimes?

Favour not the greed and lust

Drink in joy and not for health

Long the chains that bind us rust

Work for honour, not for wealth

Sadness, those days, we miss them so

Of course, those days, no one hath known

Interview with Fr. Sebastian Glentz

After reading the Communist Manifesto, I had some thoughts which I present in the form of this interview.


Sources Used in Interview:
Fry, O.S.B., Timothy, ed. The Rule of Saint Benedict. New York: Vintage Spiritual Classics, 1998.

Engels, Friedrich, and Karl Marx. Manifesto of the Communist Party. Chicago: Encyclopaedia Britannica, Inc., 1952

Fatima - A Timeline

Fatima Timeline

Source Used aside from web links:

Apostoli, C.F.R., Fr. Andrew. Fatima For Today: The Urgent Marian Message of Hope. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2010.

Same song, different verse: Dark Night of the Soul and Silent Hill

In 1999, the company Konami published a video game for the Playstation called Silent Hill, a psychological horror with fearful aspects focused on the usual surprise and shock that any slasher movie or ghost story could convey, but toned with very heavy personal spiritual experiences. Given the nature of the horror genre, it is almost invariably negative, but I am personally fascinated by its wonderful parallels (that I see) between it and the work of St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the Soul.

The major theme of both these works is known as Positive Disintegration, a theory of personality development that sees anxiety, tension, despair, and other severe negative experiences as vital to human growth. It can be compared to the snake shedding its skin (which in many ancient cultures, was seen as a symbol of immortality), though very obviously in a violent and agonizing way. But like the snake, it is a key part to their growth and shaping; though for man, it is a spiritual progression as opposed to a natural phenomenon. With this in mind, I’d like to proceed to parallel the shared themes of Silent Hill and Dark Night of the Soul in accord with this idea of positive disintegration.

Very simply, the Dark Night is any experience of spiritual desolation. Sorrow is the norm, all sensations feel caustic, and worse than any natural night, all light fades away. Doubt, despair, and fear prevail. This is precisely what the Everyman characters experience in Silent Hill, a physical representation of the Dark Night: mists envelop everything, the sun never shines, life is either absent or distorted - indeed, the entire world is distorted. Reality seems to crumble before your eyes, materiel apparently burning and evaporating, some sights randomly vanishing into thin air. I find the key mark of comparison is the incredible distortion, a sense of wrongness to everything.

What variously occurs in Silent Hill is a loved one of the Everyman is somehow trapped in this other-world that the titular town, Silent Hill, has some horrid connection to (revealed to be the effect of a Satanic cult later on), and the protagonist must endure terrible experiences to find the beloved. Were it merely the living dead and other monstrosities encountered, the story would not be so disturbing and despondent.

John of the Cross seems to say that the material reality, the universe, is itself more in kind with Silent Hill’s grotesquery and dissonance, pervaded by anger, lust, despair, fear, and arrogance. I do not mean to say that St. John proposes that the world is inherently evil, but here we must be very aware of its encroachment. The Divine has no threat of desire for savagery, lust, or domination.

Like the Everymen of Silent Hill, our love must surpass our fear and aversion to pain in order to recover our beloved; and like St. John of the Cross, St. Thérèse of Lisieux, Saint Paul of the Cross, and Mother Teresa of Calcutta, our love for God must surpass our desires for aught else.

Denials of the Incarnation throughout History

"God has decided that for all eternity his eternal Word, his divine Son will become human, and in his glorified humanity, we will have access to God. Just as the divinity of God was made visible in the human life of Jesus Christ, so the divinity of God is also accessible in the Body of Christ, in the Church, in her sacraments and sacramentals, including the icons." 

Rev. Wojciech Giertych, O.P., "On Aquinas' Vision of Christian Morality",http://www.thomasaquinas.edu/news/lecture-rev-wojciech-giertych-op-faith-reason).

Motet in Honor of St. Anne

Many of the Catholic sacred music compositions made during the Counter-Reformation period tended to bear the marks of the ideals articulated by the Council of Trent (though the Council said very little concerning music directly, the ideals of clarity of doctrine and fidelity to the Church's traditional teaching were certainly important for the Council).  This period marked the flourishing of a great many composers, who are widely recognized as the greatest of the Renaissance polyphonic composers: Palestrina (c. 1525-1594), Lassus (c. 1532-1594) and Byrd (c. 1540-1623), to name only a few.  The clarity, simplicity and noble elegance of these composers' music was manifest in an intelligible delivery of the sacred texts, along with fitting musical embellishments.  In addition,their musical compositions are especially recognizable for fidelity to the spirit of Gregorian Chant; in fact, many of their pieces were simply embellishments of chant melodies. ^1^

My composition is an attempt to imitate the ideals of the Counter-Reformation composers.  It is deeply inspired by the chant hymn, which is woven about it, especially in the way that it emphasizes freedom in the rhythmic flow to allow for the text to be delivered clearly.  The text for this hymn comes from Cardinal Silvio Antoniano (1540-1603), who was one of several men, selected by Pope Clement VIII, to revise the Breviary.  This hymn is one of two texts, written by the Cardinal, that have remained even through the current edition of the Breviary. ^2^ 

^1^ Cf. Burkholder, J. Peter, Donald Jay. Grout, and Claude V. Palisca. A History of Western Music, (New York: W. W. Norton &, 2010), 211-38.  

^2^ Cf. http://oce.catholic.com/index.php?title=Cardinal_Silvio_Antoniano

A Village of Finns learns of Christianity circa 400 A.D.

Nets were cast, lumber was cut, and wheat was threshed, much as it had been for time immemorial for the people of Naantali. The world beyond may well have changed a great deal, but a mixture of disinterest and difficulty kept the settlement isolated.

Oh, there was much trade, to be sure: Balts, Danes, Geats, Nords, Swedes, and maybe the occasional Sarmatian once in thirty years, but the folk of Naantali never went out of their way to see what these foreigners spoke of. To them, stories had sufficed thus far. For every golden hall, there was a dragon; for every land of plenty, there were jealous trolls and other cretins. If it meant not risking life, limb, and spirit against defiant beasts and fiends of the underworld, the tales and glories of wayfarer’s would do.

But then there came different stories. Golden halls and lands of plenty, to be sure, but they also spoke of a wild joy as well. There was a people, far to the south, down the Dneiper, who claimed to have killed their gods!

No. No, not gods. A god. To them, the God. Such barbarity was repugnant among the most selfish of pillagers! More than this, they celebrated this murder every day they could, by invoking terrible rites that transfigured the humblest of life’s bounties - bread and wine - into flesh and blood of this god. And they would then, with great solemnity, devour it. This mad faith had spread rapidly, and eventually it became the law of the land, despite the best attempts of the kings and thanes to squelch it.

But more was learned of it - this god was slain, yes, but had allowed himself to be. He was not overwhelmed, nor beset by fell magics. It was as if he wanted to die; were these people delighting in the end of their god’s misery when they celebrated as they did?

But there was more! It was said these people were not celebrating death at all, but their god’s return to life. How can this be? Even the gods must die: Yggdrasil withers, and Ragnarok consumes existence, and the new creation arises... But all must be consumed to be renewed, no? Not so according to they.

To these odd men, these “Christians,” a god had let his people murder him and then rise from death. Was this to show his might? That he is beyond life and death?

It seems not. This god had to become man to die at all, and died as such. By being a man, and committing such a sacrifice, all debts had been paid. The sacrifice of animals, and offerings to Odin and Freyja? These were all mere niceties, it seemed; the obligations of man to the divine had been fulfilled by the perfect human sacrifice.

Such was their delight and freedom, then. Oblivion’s jaws had been shut forever; Asgard was not reserved for the few anymore. The former lines had been broken. Aesir and Vanir, man and woman, highborn and lowborn, ancient and new, strong or limp, it no longer mattered. There was a new measure of man’s worth, it seemed - righteousness. A ship was set upon the Dneiper, to journey south to this fabled faith, to the city of Constantinopolis...

Religion and War

The notion of a “holy war” reverberates in the human heart with odd implications. On one hand, we are stirred and ignited with the prospect of the flourishing of goodness with the destruction of evil. On the other, we see how labelling something as sacred can often - intentionally or no - give it a free pass, in regards to its otherwise horrific vices. The temple prostitutes of Sumeria and Babylon, for example, come to mind; were a faith to encourage such behaviour today, I imagine many would flock to it but those of a sincere spiritual mindset would find it somewhere between repugnant and laughable.

Among atheist circles is the concept of the “Flying Spaghetti Monster,” meant to scoff at the words of some believers that say “Well, God has not been proven not to exist, therefore he must,” etc. While such statements do deserve their share of scoffing, the lesson I take away from the Flying Spaghetti Monster is somewhat different: anything can be labelled as sacred, but what actually is? What, in a real way, is truly holy? To bring the question around, what can be a holy war?

A quick purveyance of the Catholic Encyclopedia has no entries at all on “holy war.” The Torah refers to a hundred wars, none of them considered holy. Indeed, that readily misunderstood faith, Islam, has no concept of a holy war, despite popular belief, the term “jihad” referring to the internal struggle of the soul between good and evil. Even the faith most obliged to promote conflict  - Sikhism, which calls its believers to be sacred warriors - never engages a war as a holy or aspirant matter.

The common theme I find, rather, is precisely what jihad means to be the matter of a holy war: elemental and spiritual, with shells of lust and love, with bullets of despair and hope. I imagine militant parallels are used in describing these matters because it is as equally desperate a conflict. A frequently forgotten virtue is the counter to sloth: diligence. The only proper real-world example that can be used in parallel for diligence is conflict and protection.

I think this was understood well in the 7th century; war was not sacred nor profane, it was like a hurricane or an earthquake. It was treated like a force of nature - it was attempted to be understood, dealt with, and from the Church, maybe even communicated with, as we see with the encounter of Attila the Hun. Violence was not something to love and endorse, but not to fear, either.

Now, wars are a human matter, obviously - we do not see mice and cats arraying against each other with spears and bows - yet, I think we should not dismiss the elemental concept of war. If nothing else, it keeps the brutality and excuses of “holy war” at bay. There is nothing sacred about war, and anyone caught in the matter knows that all too intimately. No war is considered sacred unless they who call it such have given themselves over to the abyss, to madness, or both. Fighting can be holy; struggle is enlightening. War is, as they so rightly say, Hell.

The Growth of the Franciscans and Dominicans

Order of Friars Minor

The Order of Friars Minor was founded by St. Francis of Assisi in 1209 with the verbal approval of Pope Innocent III. St. Francis was soon joined by many disciples who he sent abroad. By the time of his death in 1226, St. Francis or his disciples had made their presence known in seven different countries.

Sources:

Catholic Encyclopedia. At New Advent, www.newadvent.org. 20 June 2013.

Ordo Fratrum Minorum. At Ordo Fratrum Minorum, www.ofm.org. 20 June 2013.

A 4th Century News Pamphlet

Note: Sorry about the small text. I had to go a round about way to post this. But if you zoom in (Ctrl +), it is readable.

Not all quotes are historical

The Cloude of Unknowyng

The Cloude of Unknowyng is an extremely intimidating text, coming to the modern audience from an age long past, where Germanic pines still teemed with fey spirits, the basket-hilted sword was a few decades away, and the saints were believed to have fought alongside the men-at-arms and knights. The language is romantic, flowery, exciting, bombastic, demanding, and yet for all this, remains honest and plain. Were I to retitle this book for the modern reader, I would call it “Practical Spirituality 101.”

 The title is possesses, however, is not insignificant to the matters discussed. The “cloud of unknowing” rather means in modern vernacular, a cloud unable to be known: in this sense, God, Heaven, and divinity. These things are, fundamentally, unknowable to us, their magnitude overwhelming and their greatness so remarkable as to be surreal. And yet, to be not able to be known does not mean not able to be comprehended. That is to say, we can learn intimately about a handful of tuna, but to learn everything about the ocean is a task that would split our skulls like a shattered dam.

 For its part, the Cloud of Unknowing elects to examine just these parts: what do we know we can do, as spiritual beings in our garments of flesh and bone, to enrich ourselves and live wholesomely? The repeated answer sounds off like a theme with each chapter - virtue. Nothing else works; nothing else lasts.

 The chapters are organized in such a way as to address various struggles or trials of virtue, with titles as “Which is chaste love; and how in some creatures such sensible comforts be but seldom, and in some right oft,” and “That men should have great wariness so that they understand not bodily a thing that is meant ghostly; and specially it is good to be wary in understanding of this word in, and of this word up.” Some are indeed profoundly short, giving small writs of advice mundane advice one could find in a fortune cookie. Others span long paragraphs, giving myriad examples of conduct or raising and smiting objections.

 If I may be so bold, I would posit that the Cloud of Unknowing was the first self-help book of our world. This is neither to decry the mastery of the work nor endorse the publication of the various sacred texts of Mammon (some books do indeed wish to help souls in pain, yet others hardly veil their “get rich quick” sermons), but a point of fact.

Since the ink dried on the first edition, I hope it will not be forgotten until the true referenced cloud of unknowing has been lifted, when the grey curtains of the mundane are drawn, and divinity welcomes us.

Origen On Prayer

Over the centuries, countless authors have written on the subject of prayer. Saints such as St. Augustine, St. Teresa of Avila, St. Thomas Aquinas come to mind. Pre-dating all of these is Origen. Although not declared a Saint by the Church, Origen is a Church Father. He was a prolific writer, whose works are still studied today in the tradition of the Church.

Origen On Prayer is a discourse for anyone who might be just beginning the practice of prayer, or even for those who are accustomed to some form of prayer and would like to deepen it. Well versed in the scriptures, he begins with an overview of the different uses of the words for prayer in scripture. He describes those who say that nothing is accomplished by prayer and is therefore superfluous, gives their reasoning for such an argument, then proceeds to refute it by discussing topics such as: Man’s freewill and God’s foreknowledge, conditions necessary for prayer, and the place of prayer in man’s life. After his refutation he writes about the content of prayer, the recipient of prayer and the objects of prayer. The last half of the discourse is an exegesis on The Lord’s Prayer.

The chapter discussing the objects of prayer is particularly delightful. It seems that discussion on prayer these days centers around asking God for anything and everything. Whatever need you may have, bring it before God and he will help you. Petitioning God is not a bad thing; we can and should ask God for what we need. However, this has a tendency to treat prayer simply as petition for mere things that we want. Furthermore it often sets us up to be disappointed, as the things we desire are not always in accord with God’s will. There is much more to prayer. Origen reminds us that our prayer to God should be for the great, heavenly things. As for the little, earthly things, they will be added unto us.

Also beneficial is the entire section on the Lord’s Prayer. This prayer is the greatest way to teach us to pray, as it was given by Jesus himself. In reading any scripture, often commentaries are helpful in opening the scripture up to us for better understanding. Modern commentaries are coming more and more frequently, but the writers of these commentaries are sometimes loose in their interpretation. The best source for commentary is always the Church Fathers. Origen’s commentary on the Lord’s Prayer goes at length to explain each phrase, without being too wordy.

While most of this discourse is easily understood and could be a teaching for all peoples of all times, there are a few things that might lead to confusion and also may be considered dated. In one instance, going back to the objects of prayer, Origen goes so far as to say that, “God is incapable of bestowing anything either earthly or little” (p.32). Of course we should pray for the greater, heavenly things, but that does not mean that the omnipotent God is not capable of granting the lesser things as well.

As mentioned before, there are many treatises on prayer. Some are confusing, some are boring, some leave you falling asleep, some leave you exhausted and certain that you will never be able to attain great heights in prayer. Origen On Prayer is none of these. It is a basic discourse on prayer, giving one a simple understanding of what prayer should be. As prayer ultimately is a communication with God, I would recommend this discourse to everyone.

Origen, Origen On Prayer, at Christian Classics Ethereal Library, http://www.ccel.org/origen/prayer.html. (20 May 2013)

Interview with Justin Marytr

Interview with St. Justin Martyr

 

Time: AD 165 – during the reign of Marcus Aurelius.

Place: Rome; tried under the prefect Rusticus, a philosopher and teacher of Marcus Aurelius.

Charge: Bearing the name of Christian.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________

 

Interviewer – Welcome back everyone.  You are listening to Meet the Martyrs with yours truly, Dr. Montgomery Montgomery III.  This is the show where we conduct live interviews with Christians who are condemned to death for their beliefs.  Today I am joined live by Justin.

Justin – Thank you doctor for having me on the show.

Interviewer – Justin, can you describe for our listeners today the predicament you are in right now.

Justin – Sure . . . although I wouldn’t call it a predicament so much as a blessing.  In just a few moments, I and six of my companions are scheduled to be executed by order of the prefect Rusticus, under charges brought against by Crescens, a so-called Cynic philosopher. 

Interviewer – What charges?

Justin – Well, if you want my own answer . . . for speaking the truth.  Not that this is a surprise; I have been predicting my death for some time now.  It is a pattern attested to throughout history that those who strive to live according to right reason are hated and often even killed.  Thus evil and unreasoning men killed the true philosophers; certain of the Stoics and in particular Socrates are perfect examples of this fact.  These philosophers were men who in their lifetimes attained glimpses of truth, and by their exhortations to others, which the truth they discovered demanded them to make, they brought the scorn of unthinking men upon their heads.   I knew it would only be a matter of time before they also would kill me and my companions.  Men are not executed for their beliefs – for as you know many varied and contradictory beliefs are tolerated within this empire – but men are persecuted for holding to the Truth.

Interviewer – It seems that a just sentence should only be made in response to some crime.  What crime are you being accused of?

Justin – That is just the point; this sentencing is completely unjust: not only in our case, but Christians all over the empire are being killed not because we are fornicators or adulterers or murders or thieves, indeed, not for any crime at all – in fact Christians are the most exemplary in avoiding these heinous acts.  It is only the name “Christian” which condemns us to be killed.

Interviewer – You say all this, and yet, don’t your accusers themselves claim to be philosophers?

Justin – They are merely pseudo-philosophers.  They do not truly seek wisdom, but rather are lovers of false opinion.  These vile and evil men are willing to condemn others to death for simply bearing the name of Christian, and yet they themselves do nothing to learn the beauty and power of the teaching which that name expresses.  They do not deserve the name ‘philosopher’!  Indeed, they are worse than ignorant slaves; even a slave is wary to press a charge in a matter of which he is ignorant.  However, these men press charges concerning a teaching of which they know nothing – a fact which my frequent debates with them has made evident.  Such willful ignorance is opposed to the very notion of philosophy.

Interviewer – Now, you yourself have been recognized as a philosopher.  Could you tell us how you came to philosophy? 

Justin – Sure . . . I was attracted to philosophy from a young age and thus spent many years studying under the various schools of thought in the Greek philosophical tradition; but these studies never satisfied my desire for truth; the contradictory opinions which I discovered there at times even led me to despair of ever finding the whole truth.  One day, when I had sought a lonely place by the sea to turn some of these thoughts in my mind, I came upon a mysterious man who, enquiring into my downcast appearance, told me to look to the prophets, those men who had lived and taught long before the philosophers.  These prophets, he told me, were holy men, loved by God, who, inspired by the Holy Spirit, were able to communicate the truth – they proved this by predicting many future events, chief among them being the coming of Christ, which were proved true.  After thinking over this mysterious man’s words, I came to realize that the Christian religion was the only true philosophy.  Yes, many philosophers certainly gained and continue to gain access to some parts of the truth (and I do not cease even now to admire and look up to them for their achievements), but with the coming of Word Incarnate, Christ Himself, that Truth is in its fullness found only within the Church which He established.

Interviewer – Did your conversion cause tensions with the philosophy you had spent so many years studying?

Justin – Certainly not.  True, there were points that had to be critically examined, but many elements were true, in fact some pointed almost directly to Christ.  As I have often said, two roads have been leading to Christ throughout history: the Old Testament prophets pointed to Him in typologies; the philosophers pointed to Him as parts to the whole.

Interviewer – Do you see any value now in using philosophy in the Christian faith?  Or is there not rather some danger of mixing pagan thought with revealed truth?

Justin – On the contrary, the real danger is to think that the truth comes in two completely separate and irreconcilable packages.  Obviously this cannot be the case because truth is not truth if it is not one.  Authentic truth is one!  And for this reason, I have no fear of the truths gained in philosophy; inasmuch as they are true, they belong to the Christian heritage: they are “seeds of truth.” In fact, I would not hesitate to call those philosophers who strove to act according to right reason Christians.  On the other hand, you don’t need to look very far to see the result of a religion that is clearly afraid of reason.

Interviewer – Would you mind explaining that?

Justin – It should be obvious to all your listeners that the pagans practice foolishness in their idol worship.  We Christians do not simply make bare statements about our faith, for we are always ready and able to answer any reasonable question put to us.  The pagans on the other hand, practice foolishness on the authority of un-provable myths alone.  They apply the title of “god” to manmade and corruptible likenesses, which, oddly enough, require constant care.  What stupidity, that men should carve and shape gods out of vile materials and demand veneration towards these images!  How do these men worship as creator an image they themselves have created!  Furthermore, their pagan practices often are in contradiction with each other: some of them worship mice and crocodiles, while others do not consider these to be gods, but rather use mice and crocodiles as sacrificial victims to be offered before the real gods, which they believe to be cats.  I’m sure you can see the logic problem here.

Interviewer – I certainly do.  One last question, as I can see that your executioners are already making their final preparations.  Why don’t you Christians all commit suicide, and thus go directly to God?

Justin –  I’m glad you asked, for many are in the dark on this point.  We certainly will go directly to God because we are suffering death in defense of the truth; but we are not bringing death upon ourselves directly.

Interviewer – If you do not will your own death, then why don’t you just offer the incense to save yourselves?

Justin – Offering incense to a false god is an ungodly act and not worthy of those who serve the Truth.  We believe that the true God created us for a purpose: so that we might seek to imitate Him in His perfections and so be found pleasing in His sight.  To either practice idolatry or to commit suicide are both actions which would bring us away from God.  However, to be martyred for refusing to give up the truth for the sake of preserving mere earthly existence is not only pleasing to God, but is in imitation of His Son.

Interviewer – And with those final words, I must let you go.  Thank you Justin for spending some of your last moments sharing your thoughts with our listeners, and I sincerely hope that you attain the happiness which you long for.

Justin – Thank you Dr. Montgomery for having me.  And let me just give a final message to your listeners.  If you have found the Truth, don’t renounce it, even at the cost of your own life.  And if you have not found it, do not rest until you rest in that Truth, without which your life will be meaningless.

Interviewer – And there you have it folks.  That was Justin, philosopher, Christian and soon to be martyr.  Who knows, perhaps they might change his name to Justin Martyr one of these days.  You’ve been listening to Meet the Martyrs; I’m Dr. Montgomery Montgomery III wishing you all a pleasant afternoon.

 

Sources used in the production of this fictional interview:

Justin Martyr, The First Apology & The Second Apology & Dialogue with Trypho, trans. Thomas B. Falls. New York: Christian Heritage, 1948.

Pope Benedict XVI, Church Fathers. San Fransisco: Ignatius Press, 2008.

Eusebius, Church History. At New Advent, www.newadvent.org.