"For where two or three are gathered together in my name,
there am I in the midst of them." ~ Matthew 18:20
Melissa Hannay Saulnier
we were talking about animals...
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Stephen Valus
yeah, they're all so neat
all holy
unimaginable creations
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
well, Someone imagined them...
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Stephen Valus
i was reading this esoteric book*
and it was saying that the parable of the prodigal son is also an allegory of the soul's descent into the cycle of incarnations and then it's return to God...
The soul returns with self-awareness... it knows what it has
remember the t.s. eliot quote?
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
That makes sense...
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Stephen Valus
"[The end of our journey shall be to arrive at the place where we began and to know it for the first time.]"
yeah.. remember the parable
the other brother
who is always with him
but it is right that we should celebrate.. your brother was dead and is alive again.. the killing of the fatted calf supposedly symbolizes the relinquishing of the physical body
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
ok, makes sense...
I'm with you...
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Stephen Valus
this is why the calf could not be killed for the brother who never incarnated
he never had a body to relinquish... and because he never knew evil, he never knew good
he was good without knowing
innocent
but not wise
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
So we cant be innocent and wise...?
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
I guess that would make sense too...
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Stephen Valus
nor did he know himself as a soul distinct from the Father
innocent can be used in various ways
for the present purposes, yes, they are mutually exclusive
When the prodigal son says "Even the servants in my father's house have enough to eat."
He is talking about the angels
but he himself is a child of God
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
That makes sense because the Father doesn't know any earthly experience except through Jesus...
He only experienced it through a human form
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Stephen Valus
Yes... God.. The Unmanifest.. Manifested Itself/Himself in Christ... but Christ is the first-fruits.. the prototype of us all..Jesus said, when they asked him about his claim to be the son of god, "does it not say in your scripture, 'ye are all gods'?"
we are all christ
we are the christ child
we are not yet grown to full maturity
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Stephen Valus
Jesus was the Christ, because the One True Spirit of God was able to manifest through him.. but anyone who truly receives Jesus becomes the Christ; dies to himself or herself, and is born again in Spirit. Then the One True Spirit speaks through them as well. Was Francis in any way inferior to Jesus? Yet Jesus was chosen of the Father to play a pivotal role, and to reflect his light more directly than the others, but he was just a mirror like the others. He is well placed. His calling was higher than any other. But this was due to the grace of God the Father which was in him. Jesus told us that he came in the Father's name, not in his own. But many accept him in his own name, without understanding.
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
somewhat...
I'm not sure if I buy that completely...
I cant raise the dead, or heal the sick
and I dont expect to resurrect...
the way Jesus did
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Stephen Valus
you cannot do those things because you have not given yourself to God... George Fox could do those things. Paul could do them. Christ gave the disciples power to cast out evil spirits. And he said, "He who believeth on me shall do the things that I do, and even greater things than these shall he do."
something like that
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
maybe eventually... who knows...?
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Stephen Valus
But we must also consider the possibility that the raising of Lazarus, and other stories, may be symbolic. Christ raised men's souls from the "death" of ignorance.
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
Thats possible, i suppose...
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Stephen Valus
From the spiritual point of view, the literal raising of a person from the dead is a parlor trick. But to uplift a man's soul is the work of God, the saints, and the angels.
he brought them into a higher life
he raised them from the death of ordinary awareness into the life of the spirit
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
Eh...
I thought it was proven he did live...
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Stephen Valus
There's conflicting evidence, theories, and claims about that. I cannot say for sure, but religion is, for me, a deeply meaningful symbolical language, a construction of the imagination of humankind, and a projection of our highest wisdom and impulses. Jesus is a symbol, but he is not an abstraction, not an airy idea, but a representation of God "made in the image of man", and fit to be an example to men. It is one thing to hear of some lofty or noble idea, and another thing to see a man bleeding and dying on a cross for the love of all creatures.
Jesus is the Logos.. The Eternal Word.. he has exercised an enormous influence on the course of history, perhaps more than anyone else, and his influence is still growing... it doesnt matter if he existed in the flesh. He is all of us. We all exist in the flesh. And we all have the potential to be filled with the grace of God.
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Stephen Valus
He is Spirit, Immortal.. Should he be located in any single point in space and time? And yet the idea of him had soemhow to enter history.
I don't know if he walked the earth or not.
I don't know if he was God.
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
Of course he was...
God in flesh...
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Stephen Valus
But I know there is no more powerful idea in all the world than Jesus Christ
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
I agree, but if he didnt resurrect the whole basis for christianity is gone...
and for that he must have walked the earth...
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Stephen Valus
But he does resurrect. Ask the saints. He died for them, for love of them, and was reborn in their hearts.
resurrected, not reborn
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
He died for all of us...
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Stephen Valus
yes, that we might become saints
throught his example
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
lofty aspirations... :)
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Stephen Valus
They were Christ's.
Of course they are lofty. ;)
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
He has such high hopes for us...
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Stephen Valus
YES! He does.
He has such faith in us.
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Melissa Hannay Saulnier
yes... and never gives up on us... :)
no matter how we disappoint him...
[*The book referred to is "The Magus of Strovolos" by Kyriacos Markides]
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Tolstoy Excerpt
From his essay "The First Step":
I have long wished to write a fairy-tale of this kind:
A woman, wishing to revenge herself on one who has injured her, carries off her enemy's child, and, going to a sorcerer, asks him to teach her how she can most cruelly wreak her vengeance on the stolen infant, the only child of her enemy. The sorcerer bids her carry the child to a place he indicates, and assures her that a most terrible vengeance will result. the wicked woman follows his advice; but, keeping an eye upon the child is astonished to see that it is found and adopted by a wealthy, childless man. She goes to the sorcerer and reproaches him, but he bids her wait. The child grows up in luxury and effeminacy. The woman is perplexed, but again the sorcerer bids her wait. And at length the time comes when the wicked woman is not only satisfied, but has even to pity her victim. He grows up in the effeminacy and dissoluteness of wealth, and owing to his good nature is ruined. Then begins a sequence of physical sufferings, poverty, and humiliation, to which he is especially sensitive and against which he knows not how to contend. Aspirations toward a moral life and the weakness of his effeminate body accustomed to luxury and idleness; vain struggles; lower and still lower decline; drunkenness to drown thought, then crime and insanity or suicide.
And, indeed, one cannot regard without terror the education of the children of the wealthy class in our day. Only the cruellest foe could, one would think, inoculate a child with those defects and vices which are now instilled into him by his parents, especially by mothers. One is awestruck at the sight, and still more at the results of this, if only one knows how to discern what is taking place in the souls of the best of these children, so carefully ruined by their parents. Habits of effeminacy are instilled into them at a time when they do not yet understand their moral significance. Not only is the habit of temperance and self-control neglected, but, contrary to the educational practice of Sparta and of the ancient world in general, this quality is altogether atrophied. Not only is man not trained to work, and to all the qualities essential to fruitful labor, concentration of mind, strenuousness, endurance, enthusiasm for work, ability to repair what is spoiled, familiarity with fatigue, joy in attainment, but he is habituated to idleness, and to contempt for all the products of labor: is taught to spoil, throw away, and again procure for money anything he fancies, without a thought of how things are made. Man is deprived of the power of acquiring the primary virtue of reasonableness, indispensable for the attainment of all the others, and is let loose in a world where people preach, and praise, the lofty virtues of justice, the service of man, and love.
It is well if the youth be endowed with a morally feeble and obtuse nature, which does not detect the difference between make-believe and genuine goodness of life, and is satisfied with the prevailing mutual deception. If this be the case all goes apparently well, and such a man will sometimes quietly live on with his moral consciousness unawakened till death.
But it is not always thus, especially of late, now that the consciousness of the immorality of such life fills the air, and penetrates the heart unsought. Frequently, and ever more frequently, it happens that there awakens a demand for real, unfeigned morality ; and then begin a painful inner struggle and suffering which end but rarely in the triumph of the moral sentiment.
A man feels that his life is bad, that he must reform it from the very roots, and he tries to do so; but he is then attacked on all sides by those who have passed through a similar struggle and have been vanquished. They endeavor by every means to convince him that this reform is quite unnecessary: that goodness does not at all depend upon self-control and self-renunciation, that it is possible, while addicting himself to gluttony, personal adornment, physical idleness, and even fornication, to be a perfectly good and useful man. And the struggle, inmost cases, terminates lamentably. Either the man, overcome by his weakness, yields to the general opinion, stifles the voice of conscience, distorts his reason to justify himself, and continues to lead the old dissipated life, assuring himself that it is redeemed by faith in the Redemption or the Sacraments, or by service to science, to the State, or to art or else he struggles, suffers, and finally becomes insane or shoots himself.
It seldom happens, amid all the temptations that surround him, that a man of our society understands what was thousands of years ago, and still is, an elementary truth for all reasonable people: namely, that for the attainment of a good life it is necessary, first of all, to cease to live an evil life ; that for the attainment of the higher virtues it is needful, first of all, to acquire the virtue of abstinence or self-control, as the pagans called it, or of self-renunciation, as Christianity has it, and therefore it seldom happens that, by gradual efforts, he succeeds in attaining this primary virtue.
I have long wished to write a fairy-tale of this kind:
A woman, wishing to revenge herself on one who has injured her, carries off her enemy's child, and, going to a sorcerer, asks him to teach her how she can most cruelly wreak her vengeance on the stolen infant, the only child of her enemy. The sorcerer bids her carry the child to a place he indicates, and assures her that a most terrible vengeance will result. the wicked woman follows his advice; but, keeping an eye upon the child is astonished to see that it is found and adopted by a wealthy, childless man. She goes to the sorcerer and reproaches him, but he bids her wait. The child grows up in luxury and effeminacy. The woman is perplexed, but again the sorcerer bids her wait. And at length the time comes when the wicked woman is not only satisfied, but has even to pity her victim. He grows up in the effeminacy and dissoluteness of wealth, and owing to his good nature is ruined. Then begins a sequence of physical sufferings, poverty, and humiliation, to which he is especially sensitive and against which he knows not how to contend. Aspirations toward a moral life and the weakness of his effeminate body accustomed to luxury and idleness; vain struggles; lower and still lower decline; drunkenness to drown thought, then crime and insanity or suicide.
And, indeed, one cannot regard without terror the education of the children of the wealthy class in our day. Only the cruellest foe could, one would think, inoculate a child with those defects and vices which are now instilled into him by his parents, especially by mothers. One is awestruck at the sight, and still more at the results of this, if only one knows how to discern what is taking place in the souls of the best of these children, so carefully ruined by their parents. Habits of effeminacy are instilled into them at a time when they do not yet understand their moral significance. Not only is the habit of temperance and self-control neglected, but, contrary to the educational practice of Sparta and of the ancient world in general, this quality is altogether atrophied. Not only is man not trained to work, and to all the qualities essential to fruitful labor, concentration of mind, strenuousness, endurance, enthusiasm for work, ability to repair what is spoiled, familiarity with fatigue, joy in attainment, but he is habituated to idleness, and to contempt for all the products of labor: is taught to spoil, throw away, and again procure for money anything he fancies, without a thought of how things are made. Man is deprived of the power of acquiring the primary virtue of reasonableness, indispensable for the attainment of all the others, and is let loose in a world where people preach, and praise, the lofty virtues of justice, the service of man, and love.
It is well if the youth be endowed with a morally feeble and obtuse nature, which does not detect the difference between make-believe and genuine goodness of life, and is satisfied with the prevailing mutual deception. If this be the case all goes apparently well, and such a man will sometimes quietly live on with his moral consciousness unawakened till death.
But it is not always thus, especially of late, now that the consciousness of the immorality of such life fills the air, and penetrates the heart unsought. Frequently, and ever more frequently, it happens that there awakens a demand for real, unfeigned morality ; and then begin a painful inner struggle and suffering which end but rarely in the triumph of the moral sentiment.
A man feels that his life is bad, that he must reform it from the very roots, and he tries to do so; but he is then attacked on all sides by those who have passed through a similar struggle and have been vanquished. They endeavor by every means to convince him that this reform is quite unnecessary: that goodness does not at all depend upon self-control and self-renunciation, that it is possible, while addicting himself to gluttony, personal adornment, physical idleness, and even fornication, to be a perfectly good and useful man. And the struggle, inmost cases, terminates lamentably. Either the man, overcome by his weakness, yields to the general opinion, stifles the voice of conscience, distorts his reason to justify himself, and continues to lead the old dissipated life, assuring himself that it is redeemed by faith in the Redemption or the Sacraments, or by service to science, to the State, or to art or else he struggles, suffers, and finally becomes insane or shoots himself.
It seldom happens, amid all the temptations that surround him, that a man of our society understands what was thousands of years ago, and still is, an elementary truth for all reasonable people: namely, that for the attainment of a good life it is necessary, first of all, to cease to live an evil life ; that for the attainment of the higher virtues it is needful, first of all, to acquire the virtue of abstinence or self-control, as the pagans called it, or of self-renunciation, as Christianity has it, and therefore it seldom happens that, by gradual efforts, he succeeds in attaining this primary virtue.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
The 3 Forms of Mysticism and Why It Doesn't Matter
It amounts to very little, whether we conceive mysticism as a means of escaping (or transcending) the material realm or as a means of entering more deeply into the spiritual substructure of materiality. Though philosophers, and even mystics themselves, have often taken sides in this issue, it seems to be rather a question of temperament than ontology.
In both instances, there is something indicated, -- something more, -- which is not readily apparent, which calls into question the significance of all appearances, and which requires a sincere, devoted effort to realize.
To one man, it is fitting to speak of such things as lofty, while another prefers to call them deep; one wishes to rise, another to penetrate. But these are semantic trifles; in the subtle realms there is no above or below; these are merely metaphors taken from our present experience, and we may embrace or reject them as we will. The result is the same.
Nor ought we to omit here that there are some mystics (though they might object to being called such) who deny any world but the world of appearances, and say that all our difficulty is the result of striving after that "something more". These are the ones who like to speak of enlightenment as "the ultimate disappointment". Many of them, too, despite their reputation for passionlessness, seem rather passionate in their defense of this view, and their derision of the other, aforementioned views. Nevertheless, I maintain that even this distinction is rather paltry.
Whether the mystic sets out to deny the world utterly, embrace it fully, or just take it at face value, the result is a heightened experience of presence and unity. To my mind, the only truly relevant significators of genuine mystical experience are these two: presence and unity. In all the cases we have mentioned, there is agreement on these two principles, and on a third, as well, -- which seems to be rather the synthesis of the two; namely, love, or goodwill toward all.
In conclusion, it would appear that even mystics, and those interested in debating the finer (or flimsier?) points of mysticism, sometimes need to be diverted from their differences, and reminded of their commonalities.
In both instances, there is something indicated, -- something more, -- which is not readily apparent, which calls into question the significance of all appearances, and which requires a sincere, devoted effort to realize.
To one man, it is fitting to speak of such things as lofty, while another prefers to call them deep; one wishes to rise, another to penetrate. But these are semantic trifles; in the subtle realms there is no above or below; these are merely metaphors taken from our present experience, and we may embrace or reject them as we will. The result is the same.
Nor ought we to omit here that there are some mystics (though they might object to being called such) who deny any world but the world of appearances, and say that all our difficulty is the result of striving after that "something more". These are the ones who like to speak of enlightenment as "the ultimate disappointment". Many of them, too, despite their reputation for passionlessness, seem rather passionate in their defense of this view, and their derision of the other, aforementioned views. Nevertheless, I maintain that even this distinction is rather paltry.
Whether the mystic sets out to deny the world utterly, embrace it fully, or just take it at face value, the result is a heightened experience of presence and unity. To my mind, the only truly relevant significators of genuine mystical experience are these two: presence and unity. In all the cases we have mentioned, there is agreement on these two principles, and on a third, as well, -- which seems to be rather the synthesis of the two; namely, love, or goodwill toward all.
In conclusion, it would appear that even mystics, and those interested in debating the finer (or flimsier?) points of mysticism, sometimes need to be diverted from their differences, and reminded of their commonalities.
The Present Moment and Practicing What You Preach
If we contemplate such things as Heaven and Hell, Karma, or The Law of Consequence, it is not in order to draw attention away from the present moment or the present world, so as to fix our hopes and fears upon some other time and place. Rather, it is precisely to awaken within ourselves a consciousness of the supreme importance of the present time and place, when and where all things are decided; we cast an eye toward the effects, only so as to better appreciate the cause.
Here is your opportunity. Are you seeking peace in this moment, not merely for yourself but for the benefit of all creatures? If not, how then can you hope to find peace in the future? In this very moment, is it your intention to understand the ways of God? Is it your intention to heal the nations of the world, and to remind all people of the rightful and exalted place of Love? Do you wish to enter into the inexpressible experience of divine union? Do it now. The present moment is everything.
If you seek Heaven, seek it in the present moment, for that is where it lies, infinitely and eternally. But if you look into the future, you might as well be looking into Hell; for the future has no reality if it is not in Hell, and Hell as no reality if it is not in the future. Only be here now, and all futures, all hells, must vanish into the nothingness from which they came. Be here now, and discover what is real, -- namely, The Kingdom Of Heaven On Earth.
The spiritual life has less to do with what you believe than with what you are and what you do. The atheist who gives without selfish considerations is closer to God than many so-called religious people who live less charitably. In fact, we may do positive harm to ourselves by seeking knowledge before we have experienced within ourselves, and (as a natural consequence of that direct inner experience) put into practice, the knowledge which we have already received.
With childlike simplicity, we should endeavor to do much, and to know little. Knowledge becomes a burden to the man who knows more than he puts to use. Such knowledge is like a candle which gives light to others, but blinds the one who holds it. Let us, rather, be like those good and simple men, whose minds are darkened but whose hearts are lit from within. A heart which is full may easily overflow the limits of a narrow mind, and spur a man to noble actions which he does not fully understand. A full mind, though, can do nothing but oppress a narrow heart. It is something for which a man receives honor from the world, but which he knows to be a sure mark of his disgrace.
It is not enough to know that one must renounce all things which hinder one's intimacy with God. On the contrary, it is best to know nothing of this, but to do it purely from simplicity. To do good simply because it is one's own will is infinitely better than merely to know that doing good is the will of God.
Prefer that you should know nothing of God, not even the name of "God", if this knowing prevents, rather than encourages, your ability to approach the emanations of God; to partake of the actual experience of the Spirit of God, which surpasses all understanding and all names, and (being emboldened by the Spirit) to give one's life as a sacrifical offering for the sake of all beings.
What a mockery these priests make of themselves and of their calling, who preach and preach, and are not yet full of the very Spirit of which they speak! Their words may seem to provide for the spirit, but their actions primarily make provision for the flesh. They speak of renouncing the world, who have not yet renounced their drink! They talk of giving everything to God, who have given Him little more than lip-service. You vocal churchmen, when will you weigh the diminishing silence of your hearts against the increasing din of your tongues? Though it is a paradox impossible to practice, yet it is a wise saying nonetheless, that one should speak not, if one cannot hold silence.
Now I, too, have spoken, when I ought to have held silence.
Does this not prove that I myself am the subject of my speech?
Here is your opportunity. Are you seeking peace in this moment, not merely for yourself but for the benefit of all creatures? If not, how then can you hope to find peace in the future? In this very moment, is it your intention to understand the ways of God? Is it your intention to heal the nations of the world, and to remind all people of the rightful and exalted place of Love? Do you wish to enter into the inexpressible experience of divine union? Do it now. The present moment is everything.
If you seek Heaven, seek it in the present moment, for that is where it lies, infinitely and eternally. But if you look into the future, you might as well be looking into Hell; for the future has no reality if it is not in Hell, and Hell as no reality if it is not in the future. Only be here now, and all futures, all hells, must vanish into the nothingness from which they came. Be here now, and discover what is real, -- namely, The Kingdom Of Heaven On Earth.
The spiritual life has less to do with what you believe than with what you are and what you do. The atheist who gives without selfish considerations is closer to God than many so-called religious people who live less charitably. In fact, we may do positive harm to ourselves by seeking knowledge before we have experienced within ourselves, and (as a natural consequence of that direct inner experience) put into practice, the knowledge which we have already received.
With childlike simplicity, we should endeavor to do much, and to know little. Knowledge becomes a burden to the man who knows more than he puts to use. Such knowledge is like a candle which gives light to others, but blinds the one who holds it. Let us, rather, be like those good and simple men, whose minds are darkened but whose hearts are lit from within. A heart which is full may easily overflow the limits of a narrow mind, and spur a man to noble actions which he does not fully understand. A full mind, though, can do nothing but oppress a narrow heart. It is something for which a man receives honor from the world, but which he knows to be a sure mark of his disgrace.
It is not enough to know that one must renounce all things which hinder one's intimacy with God. On the contrary, it is best to know nothing of this, but to do it purely from simplicity. To do good simply because it is one's own will is infinitely better than merely to know that doing good is the will of God.
Prefer that you should know nothing of God, not even the name of "God", if this knowing prevents, rather than encourages, your ability to approach the emanations of God; to partake of the actual experience of the Spirit of God, which surpasses all understanding and all names, and (being emboldened by the Spirit) to give one's life as a sacrifical offering for the sake of all beings.
What a mockery these priests make of themselves and of their calling, who preach and preach, and are not yet full of the very Spirit of which they speak! Their words may seem to provide for the spirit, but their actions primarily make provision for the flesh. They speak of renouncing the world, who have not yet renounced their drink! They talk of giving everything to God, who have given Him little more than lip-service. You vocal churchmen, when will you weigh the diminishing silence of your hearts against the increasing din of your tongues? Though it is a paradox impossible to practice, yet it is a wise saying nonetheless, that one should speak not, if one cannot hold silence.
Now I, too, have spoken, when I ought to have held silence.
Does this not prove that I myself am the subject of my speech?
Thursday, February 23, 2012
the white face of now
slap words on the page
like sudden wet discovery
incantations unheard of
probe -- play upon the mind
draw out the soul with strange invention
slap paint on the white face of now
be thou light angelic unhurried
generously bending and lustingly
giving soft assenting benediction
yet bold like the devil on earth
shining out as a blazing cathedral
to startle the eyes of all people
throw open the innermost vaults
to bare the heart's ferocious longing
and down the draught of absolute truth
like sudden wet discovery
incantations unheard of
probe -- play upon the mind
draw out the soul with strange invention
slap paint on the white face of now
be thou light angelic unhurried
generously bending and lustingly
giving soft assenting benediction
yet bold like the devil on earth
shining out as a blazing cathedral
to startle the eyes of all people
throw open the innermost vaults
to bare the heart's ferocious longing
and down the draught of absolute truth
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Christianity and The Invisible Church
This is Christian prose, primarily intended for Christians, but also for any person or persons interested in exploring the Christian tradition; including any symbols, rituals, legends, parables, prayers, psalms, hymns, sermons, proverbs, principles, and practices belonging to it, and beloved by it. This piece puts forth the experience of Christians, from the perspective of Christians, and must not be mistaken as an attempt to persuade, provoke, coax, cajole, or convert anyone whose temperament and life experiences are not such as to render him or her an earnest, willing, and, therefore, fitting participant in this Tradition. If you are not drawn to this path, we ask that you respectfully tolerate it's existence, and give your attention to what brings out your best. If you feel you must pass judgement, we ask only what is fair; that you first aquaint yourself, more than superficially, with the subject upon which you are pressuming to pronounce sentence.
The Church, which here means, The True And Apostolic Tradition, along with every soul invested in it (whether fully or only partially invested), is not necessarily, nor always, present within, nor limited to, any single creed, denomination, nor aggregate of denominations. This Church is invisible. It has no capital city of which it may be said "Here it is!" or "There it is!" It has a hierarchy, but it's authorities, whatever be their manner of dress, all wear (in spirit) the white robes of sanctity; the whiteness of which is dependent upon each particular soul's degree of sanctity.
Membership in this Church cannot be confirmed merely by being claimed. To the extent that one has become a perfectly clear and open channel for Love, -- giving and receiving love without condition or distinction, -- one is either a deacon or a bishop, a saint or a member of the congregation. Now, since every person has some love in them, whether it is a blazing sun or a dying cinder, therefor everyone is a member of this Church; we all wear the invisible robes of sanctity, and none is entirely the color of soot. Yet, only to those of us who voluntarily take the name 'Christian', and hold the name of Christ in preeminence, may the term be freely applied, without risk of offense. This is all that distinguishes us, and it is essentially a matter of taste or, one might say, spiritual orientation. Nevertheless, while we embrace specific forms, both outward and inward, associated with Christianity, we esoterically distinguish the true Christian by the quality and sincerity of his love, without respect to titles and affiliations.
For the remainder of the piece, I will be "speaking in tongues", as far as those unfamiliar with the rich language of Christianity are concerned. Perhaps, though, if they follow closely, they will find themselves worthy translators of this ancient and modern tongue. Again, only those who are thirsty with interest are encouraged to drink from this well, but all are invited to taste from it.
The True Church, the Living and Invisible Tradition, is ensouled and inspired by The Holy Spirit, The Divine Inner Light, which emanates eternally from the Fountainhead of All Creation. Having first agreed to call ourselves and one another Christians, we appropriately call this Fountainhead of All Creation, God The Father. Likewise, we call the Divine Inner Light by the name of Jesus Christ, in honor of what we regard as the exmplary words, actions, life, and sacrificial death of Jesus of Galilee; whose clarity of vision, we believe, allows and entitles him to serve as a human focal point; located in history, yet pulling together many strands of ancient wisdom from the half-recorded and unrecorded past, so as to thread them through the Eye of the Eternal, thereby weaving a Light of Truth, which is Christ's own immortal legacy; the modern historical evidence of the imminent presence of The Holy Spirit, woolen blanket of the world, woven by God.
To the body of Christ, it is a joy to have new members grafted on; young vines winding out, through strange new forests, bearing fresh clusters of grapes; great mounds of dark, translucent gems, always growing, expanding, bending over on themselves, as treasures do; great manes of purple curls cascading; jumbling down the mountainside, rolling over hills and into valleys, settling in the craggiest nooks; there to multiply itself, becoming seed, root, tree, and, finally, an abundance of fruit!
Blessed are they, these grafted vines; able ministers of sweet, wholesome, refreshment for the soul. Their deepest longing, and their highest election, is to be united in a still more mystical way with the Divinity potent in Jesus, and to have their lives, labors, and fruits transformed into new wine: the eucharistic blood of Christ; whom we honor as the Son of God, for the inimmitable spiritual genius and eloquence of his words; for the pioneering act of making of his life and body a sacrificial gift of love for all creatures and all creation; for making martyrdom holy; for making peace holy; for making mercy, compassion, and charity holy; for making children holy; for making lilies holy; for making confession and repentance holy; and for making all these things holy in the eyes of man.
Truly, the greatest miracle wrought by Jesus Christ during his time on earth, is not to have made all these things holy; since (as it is prudent to clarify here), these things were, in fact, already holy, in an eternal sense; having been made holy from the beginning of the world, by the Father who created them.
What Christ did was to render the holy gifts of God visible to the eyes of men. He gave spiritual sight to the spiritually blind, so that those who could not see what God had made, now had eyes to see the sacredness of His most precious works. For, although men could always see the outward forms of The Lord's works, there was no great theme, no immortal story, to give meaning to the works; that their terrestrial beauty might be cast in a finer, more delicate and significant light.
Man's ignorance had made a mockery of God's works, for men had forgotten, or had never learned, the proper use of them; and, so, had begun to devalue, denigrate, and despise what ought to have been recognized as their greatest resources of consolation, contemplation, and revelation.
Christ changed everything, because the legacy he created continues to change things, and will ultimately outlast everything it came to transform.
The Church, which here means, The True And Apostolic Tradition, along with every soul invested in it (whether fully or only partially invested), is not necessarily, nor always, present within, nor limited to, any single creed, denomination, nor aggregate of denominations. This Church is invisible. It has no capital city of which it may be said "Here it is!" or "There it is!" It has a hierarchy, but it's authorities, whatever be their manner of dress, all wear (in spirit) the white robes of sanctity; the whiteness of which is dependent upon each particular soul's degree of sanctity.
Membership in this Church cannot be confirmed merely by being claimed. To the extent that one has become a perfectly clear and open channel for Love, -- giving and receiving love without condition or distinction, -- one is either a deacon or a bishop, a saint or a member of the congregation. Now, since every person has some love in them, whether it is a blazing sun or a dying cinder, therefor everyone is a member of this Church; we all wear the invisible robes of sanctity, and none is entirely the color of soot. Yet, only to those of us who voluntarily take the name 'Christian', and hold the name of Christ in preeminence, may the term be freely applied, without risk of offense. This is all that distinguishes us, and it is essentially a matter of taste or, one might say, spiritual orientation. Nevertheless, while we embrace specific forms, both outward and inward, associated with Christianity, we esoterically distinguish the true Christian by the quality and sincerity of his love, without respect to titles and affiliations.
For the remainder of the piece, I will be "speaking in tongues", as far as those unfamiliar with the rich language of Christianity are concerned. Perhaps, though, if they follow closely, they will find themselves worthy translators of this ancient and modern tongue. Again, only those who are thirsty with interest are encouraged to drink from this well, but all are invited to taste from it.
The True Church, the Living and Invisible Tradition, is ensouled and inspired by The Holy Spirit, The Divine Inner Light, which emanates eternally from the Fountainhead of All Creation. Having first agreed to call ourselves and one another Christians, we appropriately call this Fountainhead of All Creation, God The Father. Likewise, we call the Divine Inner Light by the name of Jesus Christ, in honor of what we regard as the exmplary words, actions, life, and sacrificial death of Jesus of Galilee; whose clarity of vision, we believe, allows and entitles him to serve as a human focal point; located in history, yet pulling together many strands of ancient wisdom from the half-recorded and unrecorded past, so as to thread them through the Eye of the Eternal, thereby weaving a Light of Truth, which is Christ's own immortal legacy; the modern historical evidence of the imminent presence of The Holy Spirit, woolen blanket of the world, woven by God.
To the body of Christ, it is a joy to have new members grafted on; young vines winding out, through strange new forests, bearing fresh clusters of grapes; great mounds of dark, translucent gems, always growing, expanding, bending over on themselves, as treasures do; great manes of purple curls cascading; jumbling down the mountainside, rolling over hills and into valleys, settling in the craggiest nooks; there to multiply itself, becoming seed, root, tree, and, finally, an abundance of fruit!
Blessed are they, these grafted vines; able ministers of sweet, wholesome, refreshment for the soul. Their deepest longing, and their highest election, is to be united in a still more mystical way with the Divinity potent in Jesus, and to have their lives, labors, and fruits transformed into new wine: the eucharistic blood of Christ; whom we honor as the Son of God, for the inimmitable spiritual genius and eloquence of his words; for the pioneering act of making of his life and body a sacrificial gift of love for all creatures and all creation; for making martyrdom holy; for making peace holy; for making mercy, compassion, and charity holy; for making children holy; for making lilies holy; for making confession and repentance holy; and for making all these things holy in the eyes of man.
Truly, the greatest miracle wrought by Jesus Christ during his time on earth, is not to have made all these things holy; since (as it is prudent to clarify here), these things were, in fact, already holy, in an eternal sense; having been made holy from the beginning of the world, by the Father who created them.
What Christ did was to render the holy gifts of God visible to the eyes of men. He gave spiritual sight to the spiritually blind, so that those who could not see what God had made, now had eyes to see the sacredness of His most precious works. For, although men could always see the outward forms of The Lord's works, there was no great theme, no immortal story, to give meaning to the works; that their terrestrial beauty might be cast in a finer, more delicate and significant light.
Man's ignorance had made a mockery of God's works, for men had forgotten, or had never learned, the proper use of them; and, so, had begun to devalue, denigrate, and despise what ought to have been recognized as their greatest resources of consolation, contemplation, and revelation.
Christ changed everything, because the legacy he created continues to change things, and will ultimately outlast everything it came to transform.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
THE WORD OF GOD
Who Loves This Teaching Loves To Find
The Grace Of God Invested In A Name
That As A Shepherd Gathers Up
Thy Heart's Divergent Claims
And Under One Banner
Gives Voice To Many Goods
As Lightning In A Flash
Illumines Feild and Woods
Praise The One Who Is All Praise
And So Let Praise Be Praised
Love The One Who Is All Love
And So Let Love Be Loved
Pure Goodness Is God's Goodness
How Good Is Goodness's Name?
Pure Sweetness Is His Sweetness
How Sweet Is Sweetness Plain?
Wherever There Be Any Light
There Shines The Light Of God
Created Like The Sun Itself
Or From Before The World
Proclaim This The Very Gospel Decree
That A Worthy Name Might Be Given
To Honor All Things Upon The Earth
And Be Honored By All Things In Heaven
Blessed Be The Good Lord's Name
Hosanah To God In The Highest
Holy Spring Of Devotions
And Meeting Place Of Waters
Nexus of Brevity And Revelation Unbound
Master Conductor Of Infinite Gifts
Harmonizing Harp And Horn
To Amplify His Lovingness
In One Swift Breath Christ's Name Evokes
All That He Said Or Did For Love
And Invokes The Paraclete
Thy Holy Ghostly Dove
The Word Is God's Seed Sunk Deep In History
His Pebble Rippling The Collective Memory
His Star Overlooking The Quiet Mind
His Tear Storming The Evil Eye
It Is A Rose In The Hair Of The Romantics
But A Thorn In The Eye Of The Cynics
It Is Wine For Those Who Must Drink
And Water For Those Who Are Drunk
How Strange It Must Sound
To The Wealthy Merchants
Both Summons To Poverty
And Promise Of Abundance
O Christ, I So Adore Thy Name
This Shocking Cry Of Total Love
Calling Men Into The Kingdom Here
And Angels To The Throne Above
The Grace Of God Invested In A Name
That As A Shepherd Gathers Up
Thy Heart's Divergent Claims
And Under One Banner
Gives Voice To Many Goods
As Lightning In A Flash
Illumines Feild and Woods
Praise The One Who Is All Praise
And So Let Praise Be Praised
Love The One Who Is All Love
And So Let Love Be Loved
Pure Goodness Is God's Goodness
How Good Is Goodness's Name?
Pure Sweetness Is His Sweetness
How Sweet Is Sweetness Plain?
Wherever There Be Any Light
There Shines The Light Of God
Created Like The Sun Itself
Or From Before The World
Proclaim This The Very Gospel Decree
That A Worthy Name Might Be Given
To Honor All Things Upon The Earth
And Be Honored By All Things In Heaven
Blessed Be The Good Lord's Name
Hosanah To God In The Highest
Holy Spring Of Devotions
And Meeting Place Of Waters
Nexus of Brevity And Revelation Unbound
Master Conductor Of Infinite Gifts
Harmonizing Harp And Horn
To Amplify His Lovingness
In One Swift Breath Christ's Name Evokes
All That He Said Or Did For Love
And Invokes The Paraclete
Thy Holy Ghostly Dove
The Word Is God's Seed Sunk Deep In History
His Pebble Rippling The Collective Memory
His Star Overlooking The Quiet Mind
His Tear Storming The Evil Eye
It Is A Rose In The Hair Of The Romantics
But A Thorn In The Eye Of The Cynics
It Is Wine For Those Who Must Drink
And Water For Those Who Are Drunk
How Strange It Must Sound
To The Wealthy Merchants
Both Summons To Poverty
And Promise Of Abundance
O Christ, I So Adore Thy Name
This Shocking Cry Of Total Love
Calling Men Into The Kingdom Here
And Angels To The Throne Above
THE JOYFUL SPIRIT OF SONG
Today I am a Song of Joy
Inexpressible Bliss uncontained
receptive to a World Ablaze
with Beauty and with Hope
Today I am All Things and The Breath of All Things
everywhere expanding and breaking Into Song!
Now I am The Perfect Faith of A Child
The Soul buoyed up along Holy Emotions
carried up spiralling tumbling Spiritward
on a spray of Ecstatic Discovery--
I am Simplicity in The Heart of Mary
A Stone of Silence flung into The Depths!
Lo, I Am again The Joyful Spirit of Song
First Note of Prayerful Celebration
and piercing Shaft of Truth
Rung Out from The Divine!
Inexpressible Bliss uncontained
receptive to a World Ablaze
with Beauty and with Hope
Today I am All Things and The Breath of All Things
everywhere expanding and breaking Into Song!
Now I am The Perfect Faith of A Child
The Soul buoyed up along Holy Emotions
carried up spiralling tumbling Spiritward
on a spray of Ecstatic Discovery--
I am Simplicity in The Heart of Mary
A Stone of Silence flung into The Depths!
Lo, I Am again The Joyful Spirit of Song
First Note of Prayerful Celebration
and piercing Shaft of Truth
Rung Out from The Divine!
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Pisces
Two children, a boy and a girl, went fishing one afternoon.
Before long, they drew up a beautiful, golden trout.
But no one had ever taught them about fish, --
specifically, that fish survive only a short time out of water.
Consequently, they planned to make this trout a pet.
They had even brought along a leash, bought for the occasion, and paid for with two whole weeks of allowance.
Of course, there was some trouble jerking her off the line, and the hook tore out half of her mouth.
The sight of blood excited the children.
"He's okay," said the boy, laying the fish down on a cold, smooth rock just beside the shoreline.
"He's okay," echoed the girl.
But the poor little fish gasped rapidly through her tattered mouth and gills,
blood running down her throat, and down the curved face of the rock.
"I think he's sick," said the girl, now slightly panicked.
"Nah," the boy corrected her, "he's just weak. Look! He's giving up."
And, just as he said it, the poor little fish clenched up its organs,
then relaxed itself for the last time, stretched out, and died.
"See. He gave up!"
The girl, somewhat puzzled, nodded absently in agreement.
"He gave up," she echoed.
They were both very upset.
This fish had disappointed them.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Lilies of the Field: The Mystic and The Atheist
The child, ecstatic, came rushing like a bolt of wind into the room.
"Father!" he shouted, "There are lilies in the field! Hundreds of them! Oh, they are so beautiful, Father. A whole field of them! I've never seen anything like it!"
He'd been wandering through the forest all day before coming upon the open field and, feeling himself the heir of her treasure, lay down among the lilies and revelled in their floral scent.
At last, overcome with joy, he ran straight home to tell whoever would listen about the incredible beauty he'd experienced.
Unfortuneately for the boy, his father was an atheist.
"Nonsense!" said the father, "I've seen no such field."
"Oh, Father, but it's true. Just come and see."
"See what? Where are your flowers? Show them to me."
"You must come, through the forest, to where they are. Oh, the scent is divine!"
"Hogwash! I smell nothing. Produce them here and now, if they're so real. Come on, let's hear your arguments."
"Arguments? Father, you must come, if you wish to see them."
"Oh, I see. How convenient. I suppose you expect me to rise from my chair and go to all the trouble of trekking through the woods, on the absurd chance that what you say might be true?"
And, with this, the father gave a roaring belly-laugh.
"But, Father..."
"And I suppose there's a flying spaghetti monster out there, too, eh?"
Now the father was really in hysterics, but the boy was close to tears.
"Spaghetti monster? I'm just taking about lilies. I can show them to you. I can lead you right into their presence, and you can experience their beauty for yourself, if you will just have a little faith and follow me."
"Look, kid, I'm sorry, but I just don't believe in anything I can't see, and the existence of which cannot be proven by rational argument. No sale."
And, with this seemingly final word, the child sank into dejection. Fortuneately, though, the boy's mother had come into the room and overheard the last part of the conversation.
"I'll go with you," she said, with a light in her eyes.
"Bah!" said the father and ruffled his newspaper.
"Father!" he shouted, "There are lilies in the field! Hundreds of them! Oh, they are so beautiful, Father. A whole field of them! I've never seen anything like it!"
He'd been wandering through the forest all day before coming upon the open field and, feeling himself the heir of her treasure, lay down among the lilies and revelled in their floral scent.
At last, overcome with joy, he ran straight home to tell whoever would listen about the incredible beauty he'd experienced.
Unfortuneately for the boy, his father was an atheist.
"Nonsense!" said the father, "I've seen no such field."
"Oh, Father, but it's true. Just come and see."
"See what? Where are your flowers? Show them to me."
"You must come, through the forest, to where they are. Oh, the scent is divine!"
"Hogwash! I smell nothing. Produce them here and now, if they're so real. Come on, let's hear your arguments."
"Arguments? Father, you must come, if you wish to see them."
"Oh, I see. How convenient. I suppose you expect me to rise from my chair and go to all the trouble of trekking through the woods, on the absurd chance that what you say might be true?"
And, with this, the father gave a roaring belly-laugh.
"But, Father..."
"And I suppose there's a flying spaghetti monster out there, too, eh?"
Now the father was really in hysterics, but the boy was close to tears.
"Spaghetti monster? I'm just taking about lilies. I can show them to you. I can lead you right into their presence, and you can experience their beauty for yourself, if you will just have a little faith and follow me."
"Look, kid, I'm sorry, but I just don't believe in anything I can't see, and the existence of which cannot be proven by rational argument. No sale."
And, with this seemingly final word, the child sank into dejection. Fortuneately, though, the boy's mother had come into the room and overheard the last part of the conversation.
"I'll go with you," she said, with a light in her eyes.
"Bah!" said the father and ruffled his newspaper.
Monday, February 13, 2012
2/12/2012 Reflections
Prayer is open hands, open heart, and open mind to receive the everflowing graces of God. What can you ask of Love which Love will not more readily give you, if it be for your good? Pray not as though the Lord had withheld His Love, but pray as though you have already received both Love and Eternity from His hands, and from all the wounds of Christ. His gifts are in your possession, and you have only to open them. They are your own hands, your own heart, your own mind. Open them, and discover what was yours from the begining. Unfold your hands, to embrace the Christ in every soul. Unfold your heart, to discover the Love of God. Unfold your mind, to approach the mind of God.
When the elderly widow put her two coins into the poorbox, Christ counted her charity greater than the larger sums donated by those who have much. But, more than this, we should know that God puts those two coins to better use than the larger sums. It is the spirit of generous sacrifice, the spirit of Love, which carries them, like grass on the wind, to where they are needed most.
Just as we may cast our bread upon the waters, and it will return to us after many days, so may we cast our burdens on the Lord, yet shall they return to us more immediately, and in the form of gifts.
How deep is His wisdom? Francis de Sales has said, "The measure of love is love without measure." So it is with all the faculties of the Lord. Measureless is His wisdom, measureless His mysteries, and measureless man's ignorance of these. Who can fathom the works of God as they manifest, uniquely and personally, in the lives of every creature? Who can hope to discover His ways? We had better train ourselves to awe, than to inquiry; for, where divine matters are concerned, the only true inquiry is awe. To be aghast, astonished, overawed, and dismayed, yet carried ever deeper into the mystery of His peace: This is to take measure of the measureless.
God is a furnace of mystery, and all of Creation is burning with questions.
Lord, extinguish my mind and enflame my heart! Cover my transgressions and bring my good deeds to light. Uphold me where I am weakest and chasten me where I am strong. Be my compass, my path, and my place of rest. Turn my eyes toward your treasures. Harness my will with righteous instruction. Make my heart a garden of herbs and flowers. Consecrate the temple of my body with the blessing of Your holy name; let my heart cry out, "Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" Let the word of "Christ" resound throughout my members, echoing light. O my reverend Lord, stoke the furnace of my soul, that I may burn in many colors!
When the elderly widow put her two coins into the poorbox, Christ counted her charity greater than the larger sums donated by those who have much. But, more than this, we should know that God puts those two coins to better use than the larger sums. It is the spirit of generous sacrifice, the spirit of Love, which carries them, like grass on the wind, to where they are needed most.
Just as we may cast our bread upon the waters, and it will return to us after many days, so may we cast our burdens on the Lord, yet shall they return to us more immediately, and in the form of gifts.
How deep is His wisdom? Francis de Sales has said, "The measure of love is love without measure." So it is with all the faculties of the Lord. Measureless is His wisdom, measureless His mysteries, and measureless man's ignorance of these. Who can fathom the works of God as they manifest, uniquely and personally, in the lives of every creature? Who can hope to discover His ways? We had better train ourselves to awe, than to inquiry; for, where divine matters are concerned, the only true inquiry is awe. To be aghast, astonished, overawed, and dismayed, yet carried ever deeper into the mystery of His peace: This is to take measure of the measureless.
God is a furnace of mystery, and all of Creation is burning with questions.
Lord, extinguish my mind and enflame my heart! Cover my transgressions and bring my good deeds to light. Uphold me where I am weakest and chasten me where I am strong. Be my compass, my path, and my place of rest. Turn my eyes toward your treasures. Harness my will with righteous instruction. Make my heart a garden of herbs and flowers. Consecrate the temple of my body with the blessing of Your holy name; let my heart cry out, "Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" Let the word of "Christ" resound throughout my members, echoing light. O my reverend Lord, stoke the furnace of my soul, that I may burn in many colors!
Thursday, February 9, 2012
More Praise For Idleness
"Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns... Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin...... [Your] heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." ~ Jesus of Nazareth
"That the end of life is not action but contemplation -- being as distinct from doing -- a certain disposition of the mind, is, in some shape or other, the principle of all the higher morality. In poetry, in art, if you enter into their true spirit at all, you touch this principle in a measure... beholding for the mere joy of beholding. To treat life in the spirit of art is to make life a thing in which means and ends are identified... To witness this spectacle with appropriate emotions is the aim of all culture." ~ Walter Pater
Work receives more than its fair share of praise; every child born into Western Civilization is duly bathed and marinated in the unholy spirit of the so-called Protestant Work Ethic. Idleness is not yet praised enough. The ability to "laze about", finding rabbits in the clouds, and the world in a grain of sand, is near-universally stigmatized and disparaged. As I see it, this observation strikes at the very core of spiritual imbalance in our culture.
Mysticism has come to be associated with fuzzy-thinking, escapism, and ineffectuality. Even where the mystic is praised, he is routinely left out in the cold if he cannot exhibit the characteristics of a worldly man. Moreover, he is even expected to be more adept at worldly matters than those whose only concerns are worldly! If he exhibits "only" spiritual gifts, he is fastly pronounced a fraud.
We live in a time of cynicism, when faith is judged, not by works, but by dead works.
Who is more industrious than the cynic? Or what is more cynical than industry? And how are men of action (who are indeed cynical in their dismissal of the life of the mind) ever to understand those lazy romantics, sated on simple observation and the contemplation of what is readily observed?
The eye of the romantic captures all that it seeks, finds all that it sees, and is more than appreciative of the world which God and all of Nature have set before it; is, in fact, awe-struck and reeling beneath the inexhaustible mystery of Being. The mind and imagination of such persons are fired and fed by everything they come into contact with. Purely to dream is for them a pasttime which would justify any and all labors, no matter how taxing or strenuous, if not for the simple fact that dreaming, or the leisure required for dreaming, is possible only in the absence of labors.
Working for leisure is like fighting for peace, and fucking for virginity.
What are we to add to this work, which is not simply majestic, not merely profound, but rather the source of all majesty and profudity; this work which God has wrought, and man can only attempt to humble himself before? If we must add something, ought we not to at least endeavor, first and foremost, to appreciate the graces already granted by Providence; to discover what they are, as well as to share and distribute them (or the knowledge of them) to all men everywhere? How rash is the lust for acquisition, which leads men to overlook the honest treasure of the Sun, while desirous for some elaborate chandelier? Shall we really gut the mineral entrails of the Earth, in pursuit of resources from which to fashion the widest and most intricate variety of objects, and not revel in the glory of her outward garments; the lakes and vales, rivers, coasts, and trees? Shall we put all men to work, and not marvel upon the priceless miracle of rest?
What a Paradise we all could live in, if we could all just see it!
As it is, the ones who see must wear the thickest chains. In the words of Antonio Porchia, they are "chained to the earth for the freedom of their eyes". They are torn from the spectacle of God's perfect creation; exiled, and sent out in search of the very kingdom from which they have been exiled! All too often, they are made mad by the madness of it, which only they can see.
Understand, I do not doubt that faith may be judged by works; what I doubt is merely the ability of faithless, undiscerning men, -- of cynics, -- to judge which are the works of faith and which are not.
My friends, the one who prays with faith knows his prayers have already been answered. Likewise, the sort of works which must proceed from the highest faith are those works which have already been done. They are works which no man may assume credit for, because they are the works of God.
If you wish to know which are the true works of faith, you have simply to open your spiritual eyes and look out upon the world in a spirit of faith. Every blade of grass perking up to meet the sun is another work of faith fulfilled; every bend in the riverbed is perfectly placed; every breeze blows from God. For the truly inspired, the whole of Creation unfolds as the endless answer to prayers which are only just beginning to form at the very instant of their fulfillment. Here, asking and receiving, prayer and thanksgiving, the will of man and the will of God, have all become one.
What is necessary for the accomplishment of every good? Only this: that man should cease to do evil. All that is necessary for the accomplishment of God's will is that man should abandon his personal will, and, so, come into accordance with the way things really are. Ours is not to change, forge, hew, or fashion Nature in our own image. Ours is but to reflect, by the simplicity of our gaze, all the glories and wonders which the Lord God has so benevolently lain before us. Truly, only God is good, and only that is good which proceeds from God.
The proper function of mankind is to serve as both audience and participant in the Creation, but all participation, in order to be righteous, must proceed directly from God, in the form of divine inspiration. This is why the artist is a type of the holy; because he is, firstly, a fitting observor of God's work and, secondly, because he acts only when inspired by that work. The point where he ceases to observe, and begins to take part, is always obscure; shrouded in the mystery of union with the Beloved. In the ultimate experience of God, there is not one who creates and one who is created, just as there is not one who loves and one who is loved. There is only Creation. There is only Love.
"That the end of life is not action but contemplation -- being as distinct from doing -- a certain disposition of the mind, is, in some shape or other, the principle of all the higher morality. In poetry, in art, if you enter into their true spirit at all, you touch this principle in a measure... beholding for the mere joy of beholding. To treat life in the spirit of art is to make life a thing in which means and ends are identified... To witness this spectacle with appropriate emotions is the aim of all culture." ~ Walter Pater
Work receives more than its fair share of praise; every child born into Western Civilization is duly bathed and marinated in the unholy spirit of the so-called Protestant Work Ethic. Idleness is not yet praised enough. The ability to "laze about", finding rabbits in the clouds, and the world in a grain of sand, is near-universally stigmatized and disparaged. As I see it, this observation strikes at the very core of spiritual imbalance in our culture.
Mysticism has come to be associated with fuzzy-thinking, escapism, and ineffectuality. Even where the mystic is praised, he is routinely left out in the cold if he cannot exhibit the characteristics of a worldly man. Moreover, he is even expected to be more adept at worldly matters than those whose only concerns are worldly! If he exhibits "only" spiritual gifts, he is fastly pronounced a fraud.
We live in a time of cynicism, when faith is judged, not by works, but by dead works.
Who is more industrious than the cynic? Or what is more cynical than industry? And how are men of action (who are indeed cynical in their dismissal of the life of the mind) ever to understand those lazy romantics, sated on simple observation and the contemplation of what is readily observed?
The eye of the romantic captures all that it seeks, finds all that it sees, and is more than appreciative of the world which God and all of Nature have set before it; is, in fact, awe-struck and reeling beneath the inexhaustible mystery of Being. The mind and imagination of such persons are fired and fed by everything they come into contact with. Purely to dream is for them a pasttime which would justify any and all labors, no matter how taxing or strenuous, if not for the simple fact that dreaming, or the leisure required for dreaming, is possible only in the absence of labors.
Working for leisure is like fighting for peace, and fucking for virginity.
What are we to add to this work, which is not simply majestic, not merely profound, but rather the source of all majesty and profudity; this work which God has wrought, and man can only attempt to humble himself before? If we must add something, ought we not to at least endeavor, first and foremost, to appreciate the graces already granted by Providence; to discover what they are, as well as to share and distribute them (or the knowledge of them) to all men everywhere? How rash is the lust for acquisition, which leads men to overlook the honest treasure of the Sun, while desirous for some elaborate chandelier? Shall we really gut the mineral entrails of the Earth, in pursuit of resources from which to fashion the widest and most intricate variety of objects, and not revel in the glory of her outward garments; the lakes and vales, rivers, coasts, and trees? Shall we put all men to work, and not marvel upon the priceless miracle of rest?
What a Paradise we all could live in, if we could all just see it!
As it is, the ones who see must wear the thickest chains. In the words of Antonio Porchia, they are "chained to the earth for the freedom of their eyes". They are torn from the spectacle of God's perfect creation; exiled, and sent out in search of the very kingdom from which they have been exiled! All too often, they are made mad by the madness of it, which only they can see.
Understand, I do not doubt that faith may be judged by works; what I doubt is merely the ability of faithless, undiscerning men, -- of cynics, -- to judge which are the works of faith and which are not.
My friends, the one who prays with faith knows his prayers have already been answered. Likewise, the sort of works which must proceed from the highest faith are those works which have already been done. They are works which no man may assume credit for, because they are the works of God.
If you wish to know which are the true works of faith, you have simply to open your spiritual eyes and look out upon the world in a spirit of faith. Every blade of grass perking up to meet the sun is another work of faith fulfilled; every bend in the riverbed is perfectly placed; every breeze blows from God. For the truly inspired, the whole of Creation unfolds as the endless answer to prayers which are only just beginning to form at the very instant of their fulfillment. Here, asking and receiving, prayer and thanksgiving, the will of man and the will of God, have all become one.
What is necessary for the accomplishment of every good? Only this: that man should cease to do evil. All that is necessary for the accomplishment of God's will is that man should abandon his personal will, and, so, come into accordance with the way things really are. Ours is not to change, forge, hew, or fashion Nature in our own image. Ours is but to reflect, by the simplicity of our gaze, all the glories and wonders which the Lord God has so benevolently lain before us. Truly, only God is good, and only that is good which proceeds from God.
The proper function of mankind is to serve as both audience and participant in the Creation, but all participation, in order to be righteous, must proceed directly from God, in the form of divine inspiration. This is why the artist is a type of the holy; because he is, firstly, a fitting observor of God's work and, secondly, because he acts only when inspired by that work. The point where he ceases to observe, and begins to take part, is always obscure; shrouded in the mystery of union with the Beloved. In the ultimate experience of God, there is not one who creates and one who is created, just as there is not one who loves and one who is loved. There is only Creation. There is only Love.
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