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| Metéora cliffs |
SYMBOLS
OF THE SPIRITUAL JOURNEY
Since
the ninth century the rock cliffs of Metéora have towered, practically
inaccessible, high above the plains of Thessaly, Greece. In order to escape the
tumult of the world, intrepid monks have ascended the forbidding natural
formations, resorting to a combination of folding ladders, ropes, baskets, and
nets.
Hundreds
of years passing, they built and inhabited up to 24 monasteries. Only six
remain today.
Early
last century steps were cut into the rock and the government after the Second
World War constructed roads all the way up to the very perimeter of the
remaining monasteries. St. Stephen’s Monastery, for example, is accessible
without any climbing at all. Motoring up the road, visitors have but to step
across the concrete footbridge spanning a windy chasm to arrive at the
monastery door.
Metéora
illustrates the truism that there is more than one route to a single
destination. It is a metaphor that invites us to visit historic conceptions of
the spiritual journey from the standpoint of multiple routes. We will touch
upon watershed conceptions—the ladder, the threefold way, the mountain, the
interior castle.
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| Le Songe de Jacob (c. 1500) by Nicolas Dipre |
The
Ladder
A
common image in monastic literature is that of the ladder. Jacob’s ladder is
probably the origin of this image. “Then he had a dream: a stairway rested on
the ground, with its top reaching to the heavens; and God’s messengers were
going up and down on it.” (Genesis 29:13)
In
the Eastern Orthodox tradition, the most famous—and elaborate—exposition of the
image of the ladder is found in Saint John Climacus’ The Ladder of Divine
Ascent. It is a mature exposition of a long tradition. In this work Saint John
divides progress in the spiritual life into 30 steps, organized into three
major groupings. The first part describes the break with the world and the
exile into the desert and consists of three steps. The second part, consisting
of 23 steps, describes the practice of the virtues of the active life. They
include virtues at the foundation of the monastic life, such as obedience or penance;
virtues invoked in the struggle against the passions; and virtues of a higher
attainment, such as simplicity or discernment. The third part consists of four
steps describing the virtues of the contemplative life—stillness, prayer,
dispassion, love.
The
image of a ladder is also a central motif in the Rule of Saint Benedict,
written about one century before The Ladder of Divine Ascent. The Father of
Western monasticism describes the spiritual life as an ascent in twelve degrees
of humility leading up to the “perfect love of God that casts out fear.”
Hence,
brethren, if we wish to reach the very highest point of humility and to arrive
speedily at that heavenly exaltation to which ascent is made through the
humility of this present life, we must by our ascending actions erect the
ladder Jacob saw in his dream, on which angels appeared to him descending and
ascending.
By that
descent and ascent we must surely understand nothing else than this, that we
descend by self-exaltation and ascend by humility.
And the
ladder thus set up is our life in the world, which the Lord raises up to heaven
if our heart is humbled. [1]
In
Concerning the Four Rungs of the Ladder of Monks, or The Ladder of Monks, for
short, Guigo II, third prior of La Grande Chartreuse, originates the scheme of
prayer in four steps—reading, meditation, prayer, contemplation. Lectio,
meditatio, oratio, contemplatio. It is a scheme that has long endured.
“This
is a ladder for monks,” Guigo II says, “by means of which they are raised up
from earth to heaven. It has only a few separate rungs, yet its length is
immense and incredible: for its lower part stands on the earth while its higher
part pierces the clouds and touches the secrets of heaven.” [2]
The
Threefold Way
One
of the most influential schemes describing progress in the spiritual life
originates in Pseudo-Dionysius, late fifth century, whose true identity is lost
to history. Imbued with Neoplatonism, Pseudo-Dionysius divided the spiritual
life into the threefold way of purgation, illumination, and perfection as an
ascent à la Proclus back to God.
The
threefold way of purification, illumination, and perfection is prominent in The
Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, where Pseudo-Dionysius assigns a different function
of the threefold way to each of the three clerical orders of deacon, priest,
and hierarch or bishop, respectively. [3]
Pseudo-Dionysius
holds the honor of originating “mystical theology” as a descriptive term and of
advancing negative theology following the pioneering The Life of Moses by Saint
Gregory of Nyssa.
The
threefold way has been notably influential among spiritual writers.
The
threefold way undergirds Saint Bonaventure’s The Life of Saint Francis, for
example, where Saint Francis of Assisi’s life is described according to virtues
corresponding to the three stages of purification, illumination, and union,
culminating in the intimate identification of Saint Francis with the crucified
Jesus, shown forth by the charism of the sacred stigmata.
Dominican
Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange’s Three Ages of the Interior Life is also based on
the threefold way. He uses the threefold way as a framework to synthesize
theological principles of the spiritual life according to the rich Roman
Catholic tradition.
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| Mount Kanchenjunga, view from India |
The
Mountain
Another
image of progress in the spiritual life is that of the mountain. This image of
the spiritual life is very apt. Because God is transcendent, ruling over all
creation, the soul must ascend, literally and metaphorically, to encounter God.
In
the Bible, Mount Hebron, Mount Sinai, and Mount Tabor are all important
symbols. They invoke the ascent to God, who is essentially unapproachable.
Sixteenth-century
mystic Saint John of the Cross describes the spiritual life as the ascent of
Mount Carmel. He assumes the threefold division of souls into beginners,
proficients, and the perfect—a scheme which originates in the Carthusian Hugh
of Balma—and uses the framework of scholastic theology throughout, bringing
together important threads in Neoplatonism and Aristotelianism to accomplish a
synthesis notable in the history of mystical theology.
Saint
John of the Cross begins The Ascent to Mount Carmel by establishing a theme:
The following
stanzas include all the doctrine I intend to discuss in this book, The Ascent
to Mount Carmel. They describe the way that leads to the summit of the
mount—that high state of perfection we here call union of a soul with God.
Since these stanzas will serve as the basis for all I shall say, I want to cite
them here in full that the reader may see in them a summary of the doctrine to
be expounded. [4]
He
presents his poem describing the passage of the soul through the “dark night”
of the purification of sense and spirit, arriving at the ecstatic union of love
with God.
One dark
night,
fired with
love's urgent longings
—ah, the
sheer grace!—
I went out
unseen,
my house
being now all stilled. [5]
The
famous poem, The Dark Night of the Soul, eight stanzas long, is the basis for
the exposition of The Ascent, which remains unfinished.
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| Walls of Avila, Spain |
The
Interior Castle
Saint
John of the Cross’ spiritual confrere, Saint Teresa of Avila, in contrast,
invokes the image of an interior castle. It maps out a journey not upward, but
inward.
The
image of an interior dwelling-place has antecedents, for example, the inner
cell of the heart of Saint Catherine of Siena. However, Saint Teresa uniquely
employs the metaphor of an interior castle in a highly developed manner. Her
account is based on the extraordinary fullness of her mystical experience, so
that her book has no precedent in the spiritual literature.
In
the first chapter of The Interior Castle, Saint Teresa exclaims:
Today while
beseeching our Lord to speak for me because I wasn’t able to think of anything
to say nor did I know how to begin to carry out this obedience, there came to
my mind what I shall now speak about, that which will provide us with a basis
to begin with. It is that we consider soul to be like a castle made entirely
out of a diamond or of very clear crystal, in which there are many rooms, just
as in heaven there are many dwelling places. [6]
She
continues: “Well, let us consider that this castle has, as I said, many
dwelling places: some up above, others down below, others to the sides; and in
the center and middle is the main dwelling place where the very secret
exchanges between God and the soul take place.” [7]
The
way inside the castle, she explains, is through prayer: “Insofar as I can
understand the door of entry to this castle is prayer and reflection.” [8]
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| California desert oasis |
The
Desert
In
all images—the ladder, the threefold way, the mountain, or the interior
castle—the spiritual journey is always conceived as a progression and often as
an ascent, so that some charting of progress in the spiritual life is
inevitably entailed.
An
alternative image of the spiritual life is suggested by the journey of Elijah
the prophet to Mount Horeb when he fled from the murderous Jezebel.
Mortally
afraid, Elijah flees a day’s journey into the desert until, overwhelmed by
exhaustion, he lays himself down beneath a broom tree, praying, “This is
enough, O Lord! Take my life, for I am no better than my fathers.” Roused by an
angel from sleep, he is refreshed by a hearth cake and a jug of water.
Descending into sleep a second time, he is awakened by the angel, who exclaims,
“Get up and eat, else the journey will be too long for you!” Afterwards, so
fortified is he that at once he walks forty days and forty nights to Mount
Horeb. (1 Kings 19:1-8)
In
this image of the desert the traveller is preoccupied not with their progress
upward or inward but with advancing in love toward their destination, often in
darkness and struggle, but also as God wills resting in oases of light and
peace.
The
image offers the advantage that it is a spur to prayer and ascetical practice
yet at the same time a check upon self-conscious introspection or prideful
dwelling upon “spiritual progress.”
The
image of a journey across a flat desert combines the images of the dark night
of the soul of Saint John of the Cross and the desert oasis of Saint Bruno the
Carthusian.
The
dark night of the soul is a desert because it is a period of purification of the
senses and the spirit—painful, mysterious, yet despite it all, ardent. Saint
John of the Cross says it cannot be adequately described:
So numerous
and burdensome are the pains of this night, and so many are the scriptural
passages we could cite that we would have neither the time nor the energy to
put it all in writing; and, doubtless, all that we can possibly say would fall
short of expressing what this night really is. [9]
Saint
John compares it to a “dark dungeon” where a prisoner, “bound hands and feet,”
is “able neither to move nor see nor feel any favor from heaven or earth.” The
soul in this condition is “humbled, softened, and purified, until it becomes so
delicate, simple, and refined that it can be one with the Spirit of God,
according to the degree of union of love that God, in his mercy, desires to
grant.” [10]
Souls
who endure this suffering “know that they love God and that they would give a
thousand lives for him (they would indeed, for souls undergoing these trials
love God very earnestly)” yet “they find no relief. This knowledge instead
causes them deeper affliction.” [11]
In
contrast, the desert oasis is the foretaste of the fruits of Paradise, the
vision of God in purity of heart that for reasons entirely hidden to the soul
and out of sheer gratuitousness God wishes to bestow upon the soul.
Saint
Bruno’s letter to his friend, Raoul, offers us glimpses of this rarefied
spiritual attainment. He writes, “In any case only those who have experienced
them can know the benefits and divine exultation that the solitude and silence
of the desert hold in store for those who love it.” They “enter into
themselves,” “rest in quiet activity,” “eat the fruits of Paradise with joy,”
even “see God himself.” [12]
Of
this divine exultation, Saint John speaks as well.
There are
intervals in which, through God's dispensation…the soul, like one who has been
unshackled and released from a dungeon and who can enjoy the benefit of
spaciousness and freedom, experiences great sweetness of peace and loving friendship
with God in a ready abundance of spiritual communication. [13]
Thus
the spiritual journey may be conceived and understood as a trek across the
flats of Elijah’s desert.
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| Elijah Taken Up in a Chariot of Fire (c. 1740-55) by Giuseppe Angeli |
Notes
[1]
Rule of Saint Benedict, Chapter 7, retrieved on April 2, 2017 from http://www.osb.org/rb/show.asp?month=1&day=25&toMonth=1&toDay=1
[2]
Guigo II, The Ladder of Monks, retrieved on April 2, 2017 from http://www.soulshepherding.org/2011/08/guigos-ladder-of-monks/
[3]
Pseudo-Dionysius, “The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy,” 5, in Pseudo-Dionysius: The
Complete Works, translation by Colm Luibheid, foreword, notes, and translation
collaboration by Paul Rorem, preface by Rene Roques, introductions by Jaroslav
Pelikan, Jean Leclercq, and Karlfield Froelich (New York: Paulist Press, 1987),
pp. 235-37.
[4]
Saint John of the Cross, “The Ascent of Mount Carmel, Theme,” in The Collected
Works of St. John of the Cross, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and
Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D. (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1991), p. 113.
[5]
Saint John of the Cross, “The Ascent of Mount Carmel, Stanzas,” op. cit., p.
113.
[6]
Saint Teresa of Avila, “The Interior Castle,” I, 1 in The Collected Works of
St. Teresa of Avila, Volume II, translated by Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D. and
Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1980), p. 283.
[7]
Ibid., p. 284.
[8]
Ibid., p. 286.
[9]
Saint John of the Cross, “The Dark Night of the Soul,” II, 7, op. cit., p. 406.
[10]
Ibid., pp. 407-408.
[11]
Ibid., p. 409.
[12]
Saint Bruno the Carthusian, Letter to Raoul, Dean of the Cathedral Chapter at
Rheims, 7, retrieved on April 2, 2017 from http://www.chartreux.org/en/texts/bruno-raoul-le-verd.php
[13]
Saint John of the Cross, op. cit., p. 408.
Originally
published in Catholic Exchange (June 19, 2017)
