And now with this posting, we’ll read and discuss the second
part of Chapter 4, paragraphs 8-14 (pages 16-18) as they are listed in our previous posting.
Paragraph 8 begins with the bright Middle English interjection
“Loo!” which Butcher translates as “See” with a question mark as though
Anonymous is asking us if we’re catching on to the brevity of contemplative
time. Other translations put an
exclamation point after “Loo” as did Anonymous in the original text and so
render it “Look!” James Walsh combines
both “look” and “see” to have us read Anonymous this way: “Look and see what
comfort there is here.” However we understand this “Lo and behold,” it’s
important to realize that we are moving toward new considerations in the second
half of this chapter. “Loo!” works as a pivot word, a turning point. Something new is being introduced.
Having emphasized the wee-ness of contemplative time, we are
ready to see what a difference contemplative prayer will make in our
lives. Importantly, such prayer will
often come “like a spark from a burning coal.”
The image here, as Butcher notes, is one that comes from the writings of
Dionysius, whom Butcher mentioned earlier in her Introduction:
Dionysius the Areopagite |
[He was] an anonymous monk and mystic . . . thought to have lived in Syria in the later fifth to early sixth century. He took the pseudonym (pen name) of St. Paul’s Athenian convert—“Dionysius the Areopagite” (Acts 17.34)—to give his writing more authority. It worked. In the Middle Ages, from East to West, his writings were viewed with a quasi-apostolic authority. (xix)
Our desires to be with God come like sparks from
a lump of coal; they are gifts from God himself, gifts we receive as openings
to contemplative prayer. Such sparkings
occur often in our lives, for some frequently on a daily basis. Yes, we extinguish them, but then they return
as the next spark or scintilla of desire “rises up again as fast as it did
before.
The sparks, impulses, and heartfelt flarings to be with God
are certainly not like daydreams, delusions, superstitious thoughts, mental
machinations, or “queynte (quaint) opinion[s]” as Anonymous distinguishes the
latter from the contemplative giftings. God-given
sparks come from the “humble blind stirrings of love” as spiritual gifts. As such, any flying-ups to God are not to be
analyzed under our mental microscopes.
“The self-important, hyper-analytical intellect,” Anonymous tells us, “must
always and in every way be squashed,” stomped under foot if ever we want “to do
the work of contemplative prayer with integrity.”
Contemplative prayer is thus not an activity of the
mind. Anyone who thinks contemplative
prayer has something to with analytical thinking is off-base and dangerously
misled--so misled, Anonymous asserts, that he or she may experience forms of
spiritual madness. Such people will
require nothing less than the miraculous counsel of other contemplatives if
they ever are to be healed of their
delusions. Anonymous’ warning against
equating contemplative prayer with thinking is emphatic:
So, for the love of God, be careful in this work. Don’t in any way approach contemplation with your intellect or your imagination. I’m telling you the truth—those won’t help you. Leave them be and don’t try to do the work of contemplation with them.
Indeed, we are not even to take Anonymous’ own word-work as
something of a platform for linguistic or empirical analysis. Even his use of words like “darkness” and
“cloud” are not to be thought of in any literal sense. Moreover, we are to avoid them as mental
pictures and imaginative metaphors. In The Cloud the word “darkness” is simply
a brief pointing toward “the absence of knowing.” “Whatever you don’t know and whatever you’ve
forgotten are ‘dark’ to you.” Any
mention of a “cloud” simply indicates “a cloud of unknowing between you and
God. Within contemplative prayer we do not find it necessary to pursue the
meaning of words and images. All
semantics, epistemological conundrums, lexical wanderings, and everything to do
with language and the visual arts is unlearned and undone. Contemplations moves us toward the darkness
of unknowing.
There will be more of this unknowing, especially
in Chapters 51-61.
How is it then—ironically? paradoxically?-- that the employment
of a single sacred word, used when needed in Centering Prayer, can help us enter the
absence of the knowing?“
Centering Prayer
at St. Jane House
www.visitationmonasteryminneapolis.org |
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