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PART
1
ASCENT
of MOUNT CARMEL
The
Presuppositions
Beyond
Innocence
One
of the fundamental principles of mystical theology, briefly touched upon in our
introduction, is that the relation between the contemplative and God is marked
by profound incommensurability in every category. Ontologically, this
incommensurability derives from the relationship between two radically distinct
natures: God, on the one hand, considered ontologically, is uncreated, infinite,
eternal, immutable, autonomous, and self-sufficient. The ontological attributes
of man, on the other hand, are diametrically opposite. While procreative, his
nature itself remains created. He is finite in knowledge and power. His being
exists, is enacted, radicated within, the distinct and limited physical
locus circumscribed by his body. He is temporal, having historical antecedents
in time: a beginning before which he was not, and an end toward which he
ineluctably moves. He is mutable, inconstant, changing, evolving, maturing –
not only physically, but intellectually and spiritually. He is altogether
heteronymous. Subject to circumstances, forces, and occurrences quite often
beyond his control – despite the most assiduous application of his will
– he lacks complete self-determination. Finally, he is utterly contingent. His
being, in every way, relies, depends, upon, requires, re sources beyond itself.
Ultimately, the ontic reality of man is understood to be conditioned by the
divine existence itself: his being, metaphysically considered, is ultimately
dependent upon the
being of God. The divine existence, however, is absolutely unconditioned, being
completely sufficient unto itself.
Furthermore, this
incommensurability between God and man in the realm of the ontological, is
compounded by moral alienation in the universe of ethics. Prior to Adamic sin,
or the fall, the gulf between God and man is held to have been mediated by grace
which, according to Christian doctrine, is understood to be the created
participation in the life of God – a life which, significantly, consisted in familiar
commune with God. By some primordial act of sin, however, man fell from this
state of grace; his communion with God was sundered and his nature, once
consonant and harmonious with God, became corrupt, divided, disordered. He is
yet possessed of an immortal soul in essential communication with God
inasmuch as God continues to communicate being to the soul, but as a
result of the fall and his subsequent alienation from God, his cognition of this
fundamental source of his being – in a very real sense, his vision of
God – has become inadequate and obscure. He is essentially communicated with,
but noetically excommunicated from, God. In the state of innocence, the noetic
apprehension of God is held to have been connatural to man – but this is no
longer the case. In his fallen state, man is deprived of this simple, immediate
apprehension of God in which his original felicity consisted.
Thus divided, man, once
empirically acquainted with the eternal – and now in isolation from it – is
a being whose cognitive acquaintance is now limited to one dimension only, the
temporal: and this really is the beginning of the mystical problematic, for it
is precisely temporal categories that are incompatible with the eternal, and
incommensurable with the infinite. It is the task of the contemplative, then, to
somehow reintegrate these bifurcated dimensions, in fact, to pass beyond them by
gathering the temporal into the eternal, and in so doing strive to attain
that epistemological integrity
which existed in the state of innocence – indeed, to go beyond innocence by
achieving not simply communion with God, as Adam enjoyed prior to the fall –
but union with God. To do so, the mystic must first abstract himself from
that manifold of temporal categories which are metaphysically irreconcilable
with the two basic ontological attributes of the Absolute: infinity and
eternity. His quest for union with God must be negatively achieved
through a series of purgations which will first attenuate, and then
effectively abolish his metaphysical contrariety to God.
It is within this context
that we first discern the first epistemological principle of the via negativa:
in order to achieve that union with God which constitutes the soul’s
consummate perfection, it is necessary to undergo two distinct negative
processes, or purgations, corresponding to what St. John calls the sensuous
and spiritual parts of the soul.1
The purgation of each part, moreover, is to proceed according to the three faculties
of the soul – will, understanding, and memory – each in relation to its
sensuous and spiritual parts. In a sense, St. John states his methodology early
on and rather clearly in the Ascent and we are tempted to extrapolate
prematurely if not hastily in light of it. This would be to err seriously. And
perhaps we ourselves have begun too abruptly, for it is not only the method, but
also the means with which we must first come to terms if we are to avoid
confusion at the outset. It is extremely important for us to understand that the
movement to mystical union is a cooperative enterprise throughout. The
soul responds to, and passively cooperates with, that initiative which rests
with God alone
2.
Perhaps we can render this
in other terms nevertheless compatible with the thought of St. John; terms that
may more clearly establish the dialectical relationship that exists between the
soul of the contemplative and God. The activity of the soul of which St.
John speaks in his opening discourse in the Ascent, while not of itself
capable of inaugurating the union sought after, may nevertheless be regarded as predispositional
to that union
which God alone effects, and to which the soul is entirely passive. In an
epistemological context, this state of negativity that the soul strives to
achieve may be viewed as the
condition
of the possibility of a direct intuition of God. Understood in this sense, the
dialectic between the soul and God becomes somewhat clearer. As the mere
condition of the possibility of the direct apprehension of God, this negation at
once presupposes passivity on the part of the soul, and activity on the part of
God – an activity capable of actualizing this possibility through what St.
John terms the divine infusion.
This, however, must be
achieved systematically, or perhaps better yet, methodologically, and in keeping
with the empirical foundations of knowledge articulated by his Scholastic
predecessors, St. John begins this redoubtable task on the purely human level of
sensibility. The first step, then, that we encounter in the Ascent of Mount
Carmel (or the step toward the epistemological predisposition to mystical
union) is the negativity of sense. And this, St. John maintains, consists
in depriving the soul of distinct conceptions according to the understanding,
alien desires and affections according to the will, and various images
and representations according to the memory.
3
In other words, it calls for a centripetal movement toward the axis of the
soul’s being – a rigorous integrating and coordinating of the faculties in
the intensely focused love of God alone, as the first prerequisite to infused
contemplation. And so we find St. John stating in Book I of the Ascent
that:
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“… the soul [in this state of negation] is, as it were, in the
darkness of
night, which is naught else than an emptiness within itself of all
things.” 4
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The emptiness of which he
speaks in fact constitutes the state of sheer passive receptivity; a receptivity
toward which the soul is constrained to move preparatory to its union with God.
In this night of sense the pleasures and desires of the soul preeminently
involving
the will are not so much systematically abolished, as rigorously
suspended, so that the soul contains nothing appropriated through the will, in
the way of created nature that would engender contrariety with the Uncreated
God. The precise metaphysical nature of this opposition between the created
order and God, which figures so largely in the philosophy of St. John, remains
to be addressed in greater detail later; for the moment, let us examine some of
the more salient implications involved in what we have considered so far.
The
Problem of Union vs. Identity
We have already touched
upon several notions that are indispensable to a clear understanding of
mysticism, and our discussion up to this point has briefly focused upon
predisposition, passivity, activity, and receptivity as central in the movement
toward mystical union. But even at this early point in our account a closer
examination of these central features brings us into an arena of considerably
greater complexity than any clarity it has afforded us thus far. Ineluctably,
even a preliminary analysis brings us, in fact, face to face with perhaps the
single greatest problem confronted in mystical phenomenologies in general, and
St. John’s works in particular, and this is the problem of union versus
identity. It is an unavoidable problem that becomes at times critical in
some later passages that we will examine in which St. John appears to equate
personal annihilation
5
with the virtual assimilation of the soul into the identity of God
6
To St. John’s credit, however, it is equally
important to note that in other passages he is quite careful in keeping the two
natures distinct.7
What then is this problem?
And no less importantly, what is the provenance of this confusion? In effect,
the problem has always been latent in the account, for that attitude which is
conducive, or better yet, predispositional, to union, consists precisely in the
absolute passivity which follows the sensuous night of the soul. In every
faculty, according to St. John, the soul is rendered empty, unoccupied. It is
the sheer possibility of conscious actualization, but is not of itself in
any epistemological sense actual – for its ordinary consciousness, we have
seen, consisted in precisely those elements which had been systematically purged
through the via negativa. In this state of epistemological suspension –
completely void relative to nature broadly understood as the sum of all possible
natural conditions of conscious actualization – the soul is then receptive
only to God as outside nature, and who, as such, alone is capable of
actualizing this mere possibility through the divine infusion. Consciousness is
thus contingent upon God, is actualized by God, and is a
consciousness of God. In other words, it is an apotheosized state
of consciousness, a unitary and exclusive awareness of God. However, it
is crucial for us to remember that prior to this infusion, the soul of itself
possessed nothing but the possibility of conscious actualization, and
that subsequent to union its sole epistemological datum – that in virtue of
which alone it has been actualized – is God. And this is to say that only
insofar as God communicates himself the soul – is the soul actual, in any
consciously noetic sense. And this, rather succinctly, is the problem of
identity. It appears to be not so much a union of distinct natures, as an
identity resulting from the apotheosizing of the one through its noetic
assimilation into the other.
But we also mentioned that
St. John was careful in keeping the two natures distinct, for he quite clearly
states that:
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“In thus allowing God to work in it, the soul is at once illumined
and transformed
in God, and God communicates to it His supernatural Being, in
such wise that it
appears to be God Himself, and has all that God has. And this
union comes to
pass when God grants the soul this supernatural favor, that all
the things of God
and the soul are one in participant transformation; and the
soul seems to be God
rather than a soul, and is indeed God by participation;
although it is true that its
natural being, though thus transformed, is as
distinct from the Being of God as it
was before” 8
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What, then, in St. John’s
account may be invoked as the distinguishing feature between the notion of union
on the one hand, and that of identity on the other – when the two quite
often appear to be conflated? Until we arrive at a concept that will enable us
to discriminate between the two, we can penetrate no further into St. John’s
mystical account, or, for that matter, effectively differentiate it from other
competing accounts entirely outside the Christian tradition. This crucial
concept – the sine qua non to the very intelligibility of Christian
Mysticism – is to be found in the notion of participation; a notion
that, while not prescinding entirely from a conception of identity, more
clearly implies the idea of union. Perhaps it can better be explained
this way: we understand by that which participates, something clearly distinct
from that in which it participates. That is to say, while the notion of
participation clearly implies unity between the participant and that in which it
participates, we at once understand that it is a unity into which disparate
elements enter. In a similar manner, we understand by the notion of union,
a conjunction of two in which the individual natures entering into the union are
preserved, rather than abolished; we should otherwise find it very difficult to
understand the sense in which we speak of it as a union, rather than as a unity.
Unlike identity which implies the reduction of a merely apparent
plurality to an ultimate unity, the notion of participation is understood to
involve the preservation of two authentically distinct elements entering into
– while not simultaneously being abolished by – a union.
We should, moreover, find
it largely problematic, and entirely incompatible with the doctrines that St.
John later develops to view the type of infused contemplation that St. John
describes as resulting in an identity, rather than a union. It is, I think,
extremely important to the integrity of St. John’s thought to emphasize this
point, so let us take our previous discussion just a little further. The two
elements entering into identity, we had said, are in fact seen to be one. We do
not speak of one participating in the other, for there is no other,
strictly speaking: the merely-apparent two are in fact identical,
understood to be one and the same. We discover nothing of the sense of
subordination or contingency implied in the idea of identity, for the very
simple reason that the one is the other. The distinction, in other words,
is essentially spurious. Most often it is rendered in purely temporal, although
sometimes spatial, terms: it is, in fact, the one thing understood at different
points in time or space, or both.
Something quite different
emerges, however in our understanding of union through participation; something
which clearly suggests the contingent character of the participant relative to
that in which it is understood to participate. The latter, it becomes clear, is
presupposed as the condition of the possibility of a participant. Simply
put, what participates already presupposes that in which it is participating.
And this, needless to say, very clearly accords with St. John’s
understanding of the soul’s relationship to God subsequent to the state of
negation; a primarily noetic, but also an ontological relationship
in which the soul is contingent upon, presupposes, that divine initiative in
which alone it is actualized. While it is undeniably an apotheosized state of
consciousness, it is nevertheless a consciousness contingent upon, subordinate
to, and metaphysically distinct from, the divine agency through which alone it
becomes actualized. So vital is an understanding of this crucial distinction to
an understanding of St. John’s works at large, that unless we now grasp it
fully, any further attempt at understanding his sometimes involuted expositories
will be either entirely remiss or completely in vain. The notion of
participation is, as it were, the first premise in a mystico-logical sorites
upon which the coherency of the epistemology of mysticism rests. Once we have
succeeded in understanding this, we can begin to address the role that the faculties
play in the movement toward mystical union.
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1 AMC
1.1.1-2
2
AMC
1.1.5; 2.5.4
3
AMC 1.4.1-5; 1.9.6; 2.6.1-6
4 AMC
1.3.2
5 AMC
2.7.1
6
AMC 2.5.4
7
AMC 2.5.6-7 + 2.21.1 Also cf. ST I 3 Q.2 art.1
8
AMC 2.5.7 also cf. STQ.3 art.4
The
Role of the Will
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