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With respect to the first sign whereof we are
speaking -- that is to say, that the spiritual person
who would enter upon the spiritual road (which is
that of contemplation) must leave the way of
imagination and of meditation through sense when he
takes no more pleasure therein and is unable to
reason -- there are two reasons why this should be
done, which may almost be comprised in one.
The first is, that in one way the soul has
received all the spiritual good which it would be
able to derive from the things of God by the path of
meditation and reasoning, the sign whereof is that it
can no longer meditate or reason as before, and finds
no new sweetness or pleasure therein as it found
before, because up to that time it had not progressed
as far as the spirituality which was in store for it;
for, as a rule, whensoever the soul receives some
spiritual blessing, it receives it with pleasure, at
least in spirit, in that means whereby it receives it
and profits by it; otherwise it is astonishing if it
profits by it, or finds in the cause of it that help
and that sweetness which it finds when it receives
it.
For this is in agreement with a saying of the
philosophers, Quod sapit, nutrit. This is: That which
is palatable nourishes and fattens. Wherefore holy
Job said: Numquid poterit comedi insulsum, quod non
est sale conditum?[303] Can that which is unsavory
perchance be eaten when it is not seasoned with salt?
It is this cause that the soul is unable to meditate
or reason as before: the little pleasure which the
spirit finds therein and the little profit which it
gains.
2. The second reason is that the soul at this
season has now both the substance and the habit of
the spirit of meditation. For it must be known that
the end of reasoning and meditation on the things of
God is the gaining of some knowledge and love of God,
and each time that the soul gains this through
meditation, it is an act; and just as many acts, of
whatever kind, end by forming a habit in the soul,
just so, many of these acts of loving knowledge which
the soul has been making one after another from time
to time come through repetition to be so continuous
in it that they become habitual.
This end God is wont also to effect in many souls
without the intervention of these acts (or at least
without many such acts having preceded it), by
setting them at once in contemplation. And thus that
which aforetime the soul was gaining gradually
through its labour of meditation upon particular
facts has now through practice, as we have been
saying, become converted and changed into a habit and
substance of loving knowledge, of a general kind, and
not distinct or particular as before.
Wherefore, when it gives itself to prayer, the
soul is now like one to whom water has been brought,
so that he drinks peacefully, without labour, and is
no longer forced to draw the water through the
aqueducts of past meditations and forms and
figures[304] So that, as soon as the soul comes
before God, it makes an act of knowledge, confused,
loving, passive and tranquil, wherein it drinks of
wisdom and love and delight.
3. And it is for this cause that the soul feels
great weariness and distaste, when, although it is in
this condition of tranquillity, men try to make it
meditate and labour in particular acts of knowledge.
For it is like a child, which, while receiving the
milk that has been collected and brought together for
it in the breast, is taken from the breast and then
forced to try to gain and collect food by its own
diligent squeezing and handling.
Or it is like one who has removed the rind from a
fruit, and is tasting the substance of the fruit,
when he is forced to cease doing this and to try to
begin removing the said rind, which has been removed
already. He finds no rind to remove, and yet he is
unable to enjoy the substance of the fruit which he
already had in his hand; herein he is like to one who
leaves a prize[305] which he holds for another which
he holds not.
4. And many act thus when they begin to enter this
state; they think that the whole business consists in
a continual reasoning and learning to understand
particular things by means of images and forms, which
are to the spirit as rind. When they find not these
in that substantial and loving quiet wherein their
soul desires to remain, and wherein it understands
nothing clearly, they think that they are going
astray and wasting time, and they begin once more to
seek the rind of their imaginings and reasonings, but
find it not, because it has already been removed.
And thus they neither enjoy the substance nor make
progress in meditation, and they become troubled by
the thought that they are turning backward and are
losing themselves. They are indeed losing themselves,
though not in the way they think, for they are
becoming lost to their own senses and to their first
manner of perception; and this means gain in that
spirituality which is being given them.
The less they understand, however, the farther
they penetrate into the night of the spirit, whereof
we are treating in this book, through the which night
they must pass in order to be united with God, in a
union that transcends all knowledge.
5. With respect to the second sign, there is
little to say, for it is clear that at this season
the soul cannot possibly take pleasure in other and
different objects of the imagination, which are of
the world, since, as we have said, and for the
reasons already mentioned, it has no pleasure in
those which are in closest conformity with it --
namely, those of God. Only as has been noted above,
the imaginative faculty in this state of recollection
is in the habit of coming and going and varying of
its own accord; but neither according to the pleasure
nor at the will of the soul, which is troubled
thereby, because its peace and joy are disturbed.
6. Nor do I think it necessary to say anything
here concerning the fitness and necessity of the
third sign whereby the soul may know if it is to
leave the meditation aforementioned, which is a
knowledge of God or a general and loving
attentiveness to Him. For something has been said of
this in treating of the first sign, and we shall
treat of it again hereafter, when we speak in its
proper place of this confused and general knowledge,
which will come after our description of all the
particular apprehensions of the understanding.
But we will speak of one reason alone by which it
may clearly be seen how, when the contemplative has
to turn aside from the way of meditation and
reasoning, he needs this general and loving
attentiveness or knowledge of God.
The reason is that, if the soul at that time had
not this knowledge of God or this realization of His
presence, the result would be that it would do
nothing and have nothing; for, having turned aside
from meditation (by means whereof the soul has been
reasoning with its faculties of sense), and being
still without contemplation, which is the general
knowledge whereof we are speaking, wherein the soul
makes use of its spiritual faculties[306] -- namely,
memory, understanding and will -- these being united
in this knowledge which is then wrought and received
in them, the soul would of necessity be without any
exercise in the things of God, since the soul can
neither work, nor can it receive that which has been
worked in it, save only by way of these two kinds of
faculty, that of sense and that of spirit.
For, as we have said, by means of the faculties of
sense it can reason and search out and gain knowledge
of things and by means of the spiritual faculties it
can have fruition of the knowledge which it has
already received in these faculties aforementioned,
though the faculties themselves take no part herein.
7. And thus the difference between the operation
of these two kinds of faculty in the soul is like the
difference between working and enjoying the fruit of
work which has been done; or like that between the
labour of journeying and the rest and quiet which
comes from arrival at the goal; or, again, like that
between preparing a meal and partaking and tasting of
it, when it has been both prepared and masticated,
without having any of the labour of cooking it, or it
is like the difference between receiving something
and profiting by that which has been received.
Now if the soul be occupied neither with respect
to the operation of the faculties of sense, which is
meditation and reasoning, nor with respect to that
which has already been received and effected in the
spiritual faculties, which is the contemplation and
knowledge whereof we have spoken, it will have no
occupation, but will be wholly idle, and there would
be no way in which it could be said to be employed.
This knowledge, then, is needful for the abandonment
of the way of meditation and reasoning.
8. But here it must be made clear that this
general knowledge whereof we are speaking is at times
so subtle and delicate, particularly when it is most
pure and simple and perfect, most spiritual and most
interior, that, although the soul be occupied
therein, it can neither realize it nor perceive it.
This is most frequently the case when we can say that
it is in itself most clear, perfect and simple; and
this comes to pass when it penetrates a soul that is
unusually pure and far withdrawn from other
particular kinds of knowledge and intelligence, which
the understanding or the senses might fasten upon.
Such a soul, since it no longer has those things
wherein the understanding and the senses have the
habit and custom of occupying themselves, is not
conscious of them, inasmuch as it has not its
accustomed powers of sense. And it is for this reason
that, when this knowledge is purest and simplest and
most perfect, the understanding is least conscious of
it and thinks of it as most obscure.
And similarly, in contrary wise, when it is in
itself least pure and simple in the understanding, it
seems to the understanding to be clearest and of the
greatest importance, since it is clothed in, mingled
with or involved in certain intelligible forms which
understanding or sense may seize upon.[307]
9. This will be clearly understood by the
following comparison. If we consider a ray of
sunlight entering through a window, we see that, the
more the said ray is charged with atoms and particles
of matter, the more palpable, visible and bright it
appears to the eye of sense;[308] yet it is clear
that the ray is in itself least pure, clear, simple
and perfect at that time, since it is full of so many
particles and atoms.
And we see likewise that, when it is purest and
freest from those particles and atoms, the least
palpable and the darkest does it appear to the
material eye; and the purer it is, the darker and
less apprehensible it appears to it. And if the ray
were completely pure and free from all these atoms
and particles, even from the minutest specks of dust,
it would appear completely dark and invisible to the
eye, since everything that could be seen would be
absent from it -- namely, the objects of sight. For
the eye would find no objects whereon to rest, since
light is no proper object of vision, but the means
whereby that which is visible is seen; so that, if
there be no visible objects wherein the sun's ray or
any light can be reflected, nothing will be seen.
Wherefore, if the ray of light entered by one
window and went out by another, without meeting
anything that has material form, it would not be seen
at all; yet, notwithstanding, that ray of light would
be purer and clearer in itself than when it was more
clearly seen and perceived through being full of
visible objects.
10. The same thing happens in the realm of
spiritual light with respect to the sight of the
soul, which is the understanding, and which this
general and supernatural knowledge and light whereof
we are speaking strikes so purely and simply. So
completely is it detached and removed from all
intelligible forms, which are objects of the
understanding, that it is neither perceived nor
observed. Rather, at times (that is, when it is
purest), it becomes darkness, because it withdraws
the understanding from its accustomed lights, from
forms and from fancies, and then the darkness is more
clearly felt and realized.
But, when this Divine light strikes the soul with
less force, it neither perceives darkness nor
observes light, nor apprehends aught that it knows,
from whatever source; hence at times the soul remains
as it were in a great forgetfulness, so that it knows
not where it has been or what it has done, nor is it
aware of the passage of time. Wherefore it may
happen, and does happen, that many hours are spent in
this forgetfulness, and, when the soul returns to
itself, it believes that less than a moment has
passed, or no time at all.
11. The cause of this forgetfulness is the purity
and simplicity of this knowledge which occupies the
soul and simplifies, purifies and cleanses it from
all apprehensions and forms of the senses and of the
memory, through which it acted when it was conscious
of time,[309] and thus leaves it in forgetfulness and
without consciousness of time.[310] This prayer,
therefore, seems to the soul extremely brief,
although, as we say, it may last for a long period;
for the soul has been united in pure intelligence,
which belongs not to time; and this is the brief
prayer which is said to pierce the heavens, because
it is brief and because it belongs not to time.[311]
And it pierces the heavens, because the soul is
united in heavenly intelligence; and when the soul
awakens, this knowledge leaves in it the effects
which it created in it without its being conscious of
them, which effects are the lifting up of the spirit
to the heavenly intelligence, and its withdrawal and
abstraction from all things and forms and figures and
memories thereof.
It is this that David describes as having happened
to him when he returned to himself out of this same
forgetfulness, saying: Vigilavi, et factus sum sicut
passer solitarius in tecto.[312] Which signifies: I
have watched and I have become like the lonely
bird[313] on the house-top. He uses the word 'lonely'
to indicate that he was withdrawn and abstracted from
all things. And by the house-top he means the
elevation of the spirit on high; so that the soul
remains as though ignorant of all things, for it
knows God only, without knowing how.
Wherefore the Bride declares in the Songs that
among the effects which that sleep and forgetfulness
of hers produced was this unknowing. She says that
she came down to the garden, saying: Nescivi.[314]
That is: I knew not whence. Although, as we have
said, the soul in this state of knowledge believes
itself to be doing nothing, and to be entirely
unoccupied, because it is working neither with the
senses nor with the faculties, it should realize that
it is not wasting time. For, although the harmony of
the faculties of the soul may cease, its intelligence
is as we have said. For this cause the Bride, who was
wise, answered this question herself in the Songs,
saying: Ego dormio et cor meum vigilat.[315] As
though she were to say: Although I sleep with respect
to my natural self, ceasing to labour, my heart
waketh, being supernaturally lifted up in
supernatural knowledge.[316]
12. But, it must be realized, we are not to
suppose that this knowledge necessarily causes this
forgetfulness when the soul is in the state that we
are here describing: this occurs only when God
suspends in the soul the exercise of all its
faculties, both natural and spiritual, which happens
very seldom, for this knowledge does not always fill
the soul entirely.
It is sufficient for the purpose, in the case
which we are treating, that the understanding should
be withdrawn from all particular knowledge, whether
temporal or spiritual, and that the will should not
desire to think with respect to either, as we have
said, for this is a sign that the soul is occupied.
And it must be taken as an indication that this is so
when this knowledge is applied and communicated to
the understanding only, which sometimes happens when
the soul is unable to observe it.
For, when it is communicated to the will also,
which happens almost invariably, the soul does not
cease to understand in the very least degree, if it
will reflect hereon, that it is employed and occupied
in this knowledge, inasmuch as it is conscious of a
sweetness of love therein, without particular
knowledge or understanding of that which it loves.
It is for this reason that this knowledge is
described as general and loving; for, just as it is
so in the understanding, being communicated to it
obscurely, even so is it in the will, sweetness and
love being communicated to it confusedly, so that it
cannot have a distinct knowledge of the object of its
love.
13. Let this suffice now to explain how meet it is
that the soul should be occupied in this knowledge,
so that it may turn aside from the way of spiritual
meditation, and be sure that, although it seem to be
doing nothing, it is well occupied, if it discern
within itself these signs. It will also be realized,
from the comparison which we have made, that if this
light presents itself to the understanding in a more
comprehensible and palpable manner, as the sun's ray
presents itself to the eye when it is full of
particles, the soul must not for that reason consider
it purer, brighter and more sublime. It is clear
that, as Aristotle and the theologians say, the
higher and more sublime is the Divine light, the
darker is it to our understanding.
14. Of this Divine knowledge there is much to say,
concerning both itself and the effects which it
produces upon contemplatives. All this we reserve for
its proper place,[317] for, although we have spoken
of it here, there would be no reason for having done
so at such length, save our desire not to leave this
doctrine rather more confused than it is already, for
I confess it is certainly very much so.
Not only is it a matter which is seldom treated in
this way, either verbally or in writing, being in
itself so extraordinary and obscure, but my rude
style and lack of knowledge make it more so. Further,
since I have misgivings as to my ability to explain
it, I believe I often write at too great length and
go beyond the limits which are necessary for that
part of the doctrine which I am treating.
Herein I confess that I sometimes err purposely;
for that which is not explicable by one kind of
reasoning will perhaps be better understood by
another, or by others yet; and I believe, too, that
in this way I am shedding more light upon that which
is to be said hereafter.
15. Wherefore it seems well to me also, before
completing this part of my treatise, to set down a
reply to one question which may arise with respect to
the continuance of this knowledge, and this shall be
briefly treated in the chapter following. |