in soul pursuit

in soul pursuit

Tuesday, 19 August 2014

James Hillman and Soul-Making

I am just coming to the end of writing two more chapters for the new book 'The Pursuit of the Soul' and have been looking at 'the soul' in Jung, Freud and their followers. The following is an extract from the chapter on James Hillman, the American analyst who died recently in 2011. I started looking at him in my last book 'Teresa of Avila - Doctor of the Soul' and wanted to go deeper into this infuriating and challenging writer. It has been as frustrating and demanding as I thought it might be - like trying to pin down an eel! However, with the backdrop of Robin Williams's suicide and the terrible events in the Middle East his writings have seemed strangely prescient. After Mr Williams' suicide the newspapers were full of discussions along the lines 'How could he do this?', 'How do we stop this happening again?', 'What is this disease called Depression and how can it be cured?' Hillman was a trenchant and eloquent critic of psychology depending too much on pseudo-science and in particular the pathological and medical models of 'mind' - hence his adoption of the term 'soul'. This may make him sound like some recidivist necromancer - yet in all the columns of news generated after Mr Williams' death I have seen a great deal of heat and very little light - I think Hillman's critique is valid (although wrong in some crucial respects) and we do need to challenge the sloppy assumptions under which a lot of present day psychology labours.
So I shall leave you with these more positive thoughts on Hillman's critique as I head off on holiday on Thursday. I shall try and post from holiday if the internet works!
Best wishes

Peter

 
James Hillman and Soul-Making

Hillman has had a huge influence on contemporary psychological culture and some of his views have been accepted uncritically by others. However, if the current recurrence of ‘soul-language’ in psychological literature is primarily because of Hillman if we want to understand that language there is no better place to begin than with Hillman, in all his contradictions and ‘twists and turns’. Yet, in addition to this somewhat negative reason for reading Hillman I would like to suggest before reaching our conclusions in this chapter, that we might find more positive aspects to Hillman’s approach:

1. ‘The Third Path’

As well as his critique of the ‘over-spiritualization’ of the psyche, Hillman, let us not forget, is equally a trenchant critic of the over-scientism and reductionism within contemporary approaches to the psyche. The past few decades, since Hillman started his writing, have seen a marked reduction in the significance of the spiritual and religious control of the psychological therapies. The same cannot be said for the empirical and pseudo-scientific approach. Indeed, in many respects, with the rise of quasi-neurological ‘explanations’ and ‘interpretations’ of the mind it seems as though this approach may have reached its zenith in recent years. Along with Wittgenstein (whose objections we shall return to in the following chapter), Hillman had a justifiable and deep-seated suspicion of the over-idolisation of psychology as a ‘science of the mind’ and was every bit as trenchant as Wittgenstein in challenging the unquestioning acceptance of this position. His own approach was to advocate a ‘third path’ between reductionism and idealism, theology and science, which gave him, he believed, the right to challenge scientific and medical models of psychology, especially psycho-pathology:

As connecting link, or traditionally third position, between all opposites (mind and matter, spirit and nature, intellect and emotion), the soul differs from the terms which it connects. (RP, p.174)

For:

The science fantasy with its reliance upon objectivity, technology, verification, measurement, and progress – in short, its necessary literalism – is less a means for examining the psyche than for examining science.

Our interest lies not in applying the methods of science to psychology (to put it on a ‘sound scientific footing’), but rather in applying the archetypal method of psychologising to science so as to discover its root metaphors and operational myths. ( RP p.169)

 

Distrusting too the contemporary language of psychopathology - ‘the descriptions of the alienations, sufferings and bizarre life of the soul’ MA121 – Hillman felt that such a language ‘insults the soul’. Only psychotherapy as imagination (and very much out of the academic context) can ‘unleash the soul’ MA 122. Whether we accept Hillman’s critique or not (and many academic psychologists will of course simply dismiss it), as with his critique of organised religion, there is much here to challenge some of the basic, unthinking assumptions upon which contemporary psychology (especially academic psychology) is built, and to which it should answerable. As we have seen in these last two chapters, Hillman and others can both best be described as ‘psychological heretics’ and it may ultimately be to our advantage to heed their criticisms (or at least take them seriously as I have done here) rather than rushing them immediately to the Stake.

In conclusion, Hillman challenges all professionals, no less professional psychologists as well as ministers of religion, to look again at unexamined concepts of self and the psychological life. As he puts it in Insearch p. 46 ‘let the clergy follow the imitatio Christi rather than imitate psychotherapy’

 

2. The symbolic/mythic self

With Rank we saw that creativity must play a decisive role in any future ‘soul-psychology’. Likewise, with Hillman we see the importance he attached, as a post-Jungian, to the role of imagination and the symbolic. As he puts it in Revisioning Psychology:

Psychological faith begins in the love of images, and it flows mainly through the shapes of persons in reveries, fantasies, reflections and imaginations... (the ego’s) trust is in the imagination as the only uncontrovertible reality, directly presented, immediately felt. p.50 RVP

For analysis goes on in the soul’s imagination and not just in the clinic:

Essential to soul-making is psychology-making, shaping concepts and images that express the needs of the soul as they emerge in each of us p. Xviii RP:

We let imagination speak for itself without interpretation. As we saw in last chapter from the Wittgensteinian perspective, psychology as a peculiar art, takes the Weltbild to view the ‘foundation of possible Weltanschauungen’:

‘Insight would no longer mean translation, no longer mean the reformulation of imaginal speech into psychological language, mainly through understanding our fantasies, interpreting our dreams. We would let the insight contained with the fantasy appear of itself, in its own ‘intrinsically intelligible’ speech’ MA p.201 .

Or as my training analyst, Hymie Wyse, used to put it, in analysis the analyst must pray: ‘Lead us not into interpretation!’ The soul/psyche for Hillman is at root imaginal and myth is in the natural discourse of the soul. In an earlier work (Teresa of Avila) I stressed the links between the postmodern Jungian view of the symbolic with the premodern medieval understanding of the symbol. As a great medievaelist/renaissance man, Hillman, like his mentor Jung, recognises the symbolic nature of the psyche and how the psyche really lives in the realm of the symbolic and mythic, for ‘the imaginal does not explain, myths are not explanations’. As such the symbolic utterings of the soul ‘are bound to ritual happenings; they are stories, as our fantasies are, which project us into participation with the phenonemena they tell about so that the need for explanation falls away. ‘ p. 202 MA

For Hillman, ‘the psyche speaks in metaphors, in analogues, in images, that’s its primary language’ (lament of the dead p.81). The psyche, for  Hillman, is in its heart essentially symbolic – it is ‘its natural language’. For

 

By soul I mean the imaginative possibilities in our natures, the experiencing through reflective speculation, dream, image and fantasy – that mode which recognizes all realities as primarily symbolic or metaphorical RVP xvi

 

 

3. The Importance of Relationship

Hillman wants to use his soul-language to place relationship once again at the heart of psychology – rather than pathology or intellectualisation. Against psychopathologies and all terminology of pathology, Hillman rather calls for psychology to be a ‘speech that lead to participation, in the Platonic sense, in and with the thing spoken of, a speech of stories and new insights, the way one poem and one tune ignite another verse and another song’ (MA p.206). For:

Psychological work begins with the human meeting. What we know and have read, our gifts of intelligence and character – all we have gained through training and experience leads to this moment. (insearch p.16)

It is, as he repeatedly stresses, a work of love, and the jargon and styles of psychology can often get in the way of the love-relationship that must lie at the heart of all true psychology.

 





 

Saturday, 9 August 2014

Edith Stein: Transcending Boundaries: Feminist, Atheist, Jew, Catholic


 
 
72 years ago today we believe that Edith Stein - feminist, atheist, Jew, Carmelite and Catholic - went to her death in the killing fields of Auschwitz (we cannot be sure of the exact day but think it must have been August 9th 1942). Of all the saints of the confused and confusing 'short twentieth century' she is one of the most complicated. Born of a devout Jewish family in Breslau, Germany, Edith developed an early love and skill in philosophy which was to remain with her throughout her life. The greatest influence on her philosophical development was the work of Edmund Husserl and the newly emerging phenomenological school. From her Jewish faith Edith turned to atheism, although always with a lively interest in the ‘God question’. In the dialogue between the Orthodox bishop, Tikhon, and the enigmatic Stavrogin in Dostoevsky’s 1872 novel The Demons, Tikhon informs the unbelieving Stavrogin that: ‘A complete atheist stands on the next-to-last upper step to the most complete faith’. This quote could have been directly applied to the young Edith. In all her atheistic questing she sensed the importance of the divine perspective for all phenomenological research. The key moment of her conversion occurred in 1921 when she stayed at the house of some friends, the Conrad-Martiuses, at their home near Bergzabern. Wanting some reading for the evening she looked through the bookshelves of her hosts and found Teresa of Avila’s ‘Book of the Life’. She was not able to sleep that night and was completely gripped by the narrative that Teresa presented. Afterwards she would say of Teresa’s book: ‘This is the truth’, finally she had found what she had been looking for (See Herbstrith 1992:65). As she would write later ‘It is just the people who at first passionately embrace the world who penetrate farthest into the depths of the soul. Once God’s powerful hand has freed them from its allurements, they are taken into their innermost selves’ (From ‘Die Seelenburg’ in Welt und Person: Beitrag zum christlichen Wahrheitsstreben, Stein 4:66).

          Once Edith had found ‘the treasure hidden in the field’ she went away, sold everything she had and bought the field. She was baptised a Christian in 1922 and began an extended study of the Church Fathers and scripture, especially the works of St Thomas Aquinas. The next ten years were ones of teaching and work to reconcile Christian and atheist philosophy, in particular the phenomenology of her ‘master’ Husserl and the high scholasticism of Thomas Aquinas. Perhaps the most remarkable fruit of this time is the delightful Festschrift she wrote for Husserl’s seventieth birthday, What is Philosophy?, where a tired Husserl slumps down on his sofa after a long day lecturing only to be surprised by the shade of St Thomas Aquinas who then proceeds to question the master on the nature of phenomenology and God (reprinted as Knowledge and Faith, Edith Stein, Collected Works, 8).

          Husserl would end his days a Christian having experienced a deathbed conversion in 1938. On hearing the news, Edith, just about to take her solemn vows in the Cologne Carmel,[1] wrote to another sister: ‘As regards my dear Master, I have no worries about him. To me, it has always seemed strange that God could restrict his mercy to the boundaries of the visible Church. God is truth, and whoever seeks the truth is seeking God, whether he knows it or not’ (Stein, Letter 259, quoted in Herbstrith 1992:139).

           From the original fathers on the Jewish mountain of Israel, to the converso Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross, and now in these words Edith summarises the Carmelite charism of openness to all cultures. For her, and for all true Carmelites, God’s saving action does not stop at the doors of the church but extends to all humanity in all its suffering and confusion. For Edith, this would become a terrible reality as the Nazi persecution of the Jews gathered pace and the net slowly closed in on her and her family. Despite her conversion to Christianity she was still a target for Nazi persecution and after the horrendous events of Kristallnacht on November 8th 1938 she was forced to leave Germany to seek shelter with the Carmelite community at Echt, Holland. Despite the persecution throughout all this time Edith was able to continue her philosophico-theological writings on the interface of phenomenology and theology. We are fortunate today that most of them have been or are being translated in the splendid series of her writings published by the Institute for Carmelite Studies in Washington. What they reveal, and scholars are still working hard on interpreting them,[2] is a woman who grasped the essence of Carmelite spirituality in all its intellectual depth and existential consequence.        Since her student days Edith had been fascinated by the ‘nature of empathy’, and in fact had written her doctoral thesis on the subject (published as On the Problem of Empathy in The Collected Works, 3). Commenting on this interest, Roman Ingarden writes that ‘What interested her most was the question of defining the possibility of mutual communication between human beings, in other words, the possibility of establishing community. This was more than a theoretical concern for her; belonging to a community was a personal necessity, something that vitally affected her identity’ (Ingarden 1979: 472 in Herbstrith 1992:146). Perhaps, as Edith realised, our hope as alienated, atomized, late capitalist individuals, lies in the return to community as the manifestation of our essential natures as homo empathicus.

The other great theme that emerges from these late writings of Edith is the need for radical Christian life. It is not enough, says Edith, to be ‘ “a good Catholic” who “does his duty”, “reads the right newspaper”, and “votes correctly” – and then does just as he pleases’.[3] At a time of general Christian indifference to the fate of the Jews in Germany (with some notable and noble exceptions), her critique of complacent bourgeois ‘Christendom’ [4] is as striking as it is relevant to us in the West today who see a tired old bourgeois church brought to its knees by complacency and indifference. Such indifference, suggests Edith, will lead to disaster. Rather, we should strive for radical Gospel living, ‘in the presence of God, with the simplicity of a child and the humility of a publican’. This call for radical Christian life, especially in the mystery of following Christ on the path to Calvary, would come to her suddenly when the SS officers arrived at Echt in the afternoon of 2nd August, 1942 demanding that she leave with her sister, Rosa, who had become an extern sister at the convent. In the shock and surprise, the whole neighbourhood came out to protest at this indecent act. In the crowd and confusion Rosa became alarmed and upset. In this distress and confusion Edith gently took her hand and said ‘Come, Rosa. We’re going for our people’.[5] We have fragmentary accounts of what happened to Edith next including reports from Westerbork, the Nazi holding camp in Holland for all deported Jews (where the other great Jewish mystic, Etty Hillesum, would also be held) and from guards and functionaries as her train moved slowly East to the killing fields of Auschwitz. One account, from the Dutch official Mr Wielek at Westerbork, will suffice to give a sense of Edith’s last days on earth:

 

The one sister who impressed me immediately, whose warm, glowing smile has never been erased from my memory, despite the disgusting incidents I was forced to witness, is the one whom I think the Vatican may one day canonize. From the moment I met her in the camp at Westerbork… I knew: here is someone truly great. For a couple of days she lived in that hellhole, walking, talking and praying… like a saint. And she really was one. That is the only fitting way to describe this middle-aged woman who struck everyone as so young, who was so whole and honest and genuine. (in Herbstrith 1992:186)

 

Edith went to her death at Auschwitz on August 9th 1942, the day on which she is now celebrated as Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross since 1998. From the mountains of Palestine to the Gates of Auschwitz the Carmelite calling can be seen as one that places the individual into the deepest and most intimate relationship with God as a call to radical personal transformation. From this transformation arises the need to seek God in all his beloved children, regardless of race, creed or religion. As we have seen, Carmelite spirituality transcends the boundaries of any small creed or sect to present a universal call to holiness.
As I read the daily terrible news from Iraq, Israel, Palestine, Ukraine and see a scramble to 'take sides', not only abroad but amongst my own friends and colleagues at home I pray that we might follow the example of this remarkable woman, who was able to cross boundaries between faith and creed, whilst retaining her integrity and orientation of life towards the fullness of life that is God.
 

 



[1] She entered Carmel in 1933 having considered vocations with the Dominicans and Benedictines.
[2] See, for example, Alasdair McIntyre’s recent Edith Stein: A Philosophical Prologue, 1913 – 1922. London: Sheed and Ward. 2007.
[3] From ‘Weihnachtsgeheimnis’ quoted in Herbstrith 1992:154.
[4] As Kierkegaard called it in his critique a hundred years before, another significant influence on the young Edith.
[5] From the Kölner Selig- und Heiligsprechungsprozess der Dienerin Gottes Sr. Teresia Benedicta a Cruce – Edith Stein (Cologne 1962:92) in Herbstrith 1992:180.

Thursday, 31 July 2014

Mystical Theology - Renewing the Contemplative Tradition. St John's College, Durham, 3rd - 5th September 2014




Dear All

Just a quick reminder that our next Mystical Theology conference takes place in Durham at the beginning of September. Bookings are flowing steadily in but we will have to put a deadline of 15th August. So if you have not booked please do so now. Here is the running order to remind you:


Mystical Theology: Renewing the Contemplative Tradition

Durham University (Project for Spirituality, Theology and Health, and the Centre for Catholic Studies) in collaboration with St Mary’s University


3rd – 5th September 2014,  St John’s College, Durham

A three-day conference exploring the tradition of mystical theology from contemporary academic and practitioner perspectives.

Speakers include:

Archbishop Kallistos Ware, Professor Andrew Louth, Canon Rosalind Brown, Dr Bernadette Flanagan, Professor Corinne Saunders, Dr Peter Tyler

Cost (including accommodation and all meals) Residential Single £258, Residential En-Suite £278, (including lunch only) Non-residential £156

For bookings and further information contact: Louise Elliot, 0191 334 2883, conferenceadministration.service@durham.ac.uk, www.durham.ac.uk/conference.booking,

For Call for Papers see:

www.smuc.ac.uk/inspire

 

'Taste and See That the Lord is Good' - Happy Feast Day of St Ignatius Loyola



Dear All,

Apologies for not writing a post for a couple of weeks but I have been working on my latest book. I shall post some of it in the next few days. Recent events in the Middle East and Ukraine have been horrific and I continue to pray for all who are affected. Today we celebrate someone who was no stranger to the military but was able to extricate himself from the coils of military passion that grasped him. The reading for Mass today cites Psalm 33 - 'taste and see that the Lord is good' - a motto, as it were, for Ignatius, as I write about in this extract below from 'Picturing the Soul'.
Happy Feast Day! - Especially to all my Jesuit friends and orders inspired by his followers and companions, and of course to Pope Francis who so passionately appealed for peace last week.

Best wishes

Peter
 
 
Born around 1491 in the ancestral castle of the Loyola family near the village of Azpeitia in Guipúzcoa in the Basque Country (Northern Spain, near the French border). The Basque territories being north of Navarre and Castille, with which they had friendly relations. He was baptised with the name Iñigo and from an early age, like his fellow Basques, was fond of dance, music and song.[1]

          Around 1506, when he was 15, he was sent to the house of Juan Velázquez de Cuéllar, High Treasurer of the ‘Catholic Monarchs’ Ferdinand and Isaballa, to be trained and prepared for courtly life. Here he became acquainted with the learning of the Spanish Renaissance: a spirit, and spirituality, which would imbue all his future work. At this time, however, this spirit dominated his attitudes to reading, food, clothes and military prowess. The latter he was particularly fond of and early on developed a skill and love of the military arts. He tells us in his autobiography that up to the age of 26 he was ‘a man given to the follies of the world, and what he enjoyed most was warlike sport with a great and foolish desire to win fame’ (R.1). He loved gambling, affairs with women and generally misbehaving. Indeed we have a record that at age 24 he was prosecuted by a magistrate at Azpeitia for ‘misdemenours which were outrageous, committed in carnival time, at night’.[2]

          Yet his first love definitely remained the practice of military arms and in 1521 the young Iñigo had an opportunity to display his skills in this arena when a large French army besieged the town of Pamplona.[3] Despite unwillingness amongst his confreres, Iñigo urged a resistance to the French which was to prove futile. In the battle of 17th May a cannonball shattered one of his legs as it passed between them. He retired wounded from the battle and was taken back to the family castle, arriving in June 1521, aged 30.

          From hereon, by the action of the Holy Spirit, young Iñigo’s life was to change dramatically. In the Reminiscences he tells us that in his boredom of convalescence he asked for romantic books of chivalry to while away the time. Instead, the only books available in the house were a Life of Christ/Vita Christi  by the Carthusian, Ludolf of Saxony and a collection of Lives of the Saints: The Golden Legend by the Dominican Jacobus de Voragine (d. 1298), translated into Castillian in a 1511 Toledan edition called Flos Sanctorum/The Flowers of the Saints.[4] In his preface to this book the Cistercian Gauberto Vagad wrote that the saints were ‘the knights of God’ who did resplendent deeds ‘in the service of the eternal Prince, Christ Jesus’ under whose ‘victorious banner’ they assembled. We can see already how these military metaphors would have appealed to the young hothead Iñigo and the idea of embarking upon military service to Christ under the Banner of the King would stay with him for the rest of his life. From now on he resolved rather than following the chivalrous service of high born ladies he would dedicate his energies to become a ‘knight of Christ’.

          If this were all then Iñigo would probably have become another footnote of the great outpouring of early sixteenth century Spanish piety. Yet, this young man was more complicated, and ultimately more interesting, than a young military and ladies man who repents and decides on a life of contrition and piety. After spending days planning his new career as a soldier of Christ, in the Reminiscences Iñigo tells us that he subsequently returned to his previous thoughts of pursuing and charming  a certain noble lady whose identity has still not been worked out (R 5.6). But this is now where the interesting thing happens, which will eventually lead in a straight line to the later ‘Rules for the Discernment of Spirits’ in the ‘Spiritual Exercises.’  For he noticed that his sexual thoughts of pursuing the lady in question would initially delight and stimulate him but would ultimately leave him feeling dry and dissatisfied whereas his earlier thoughts of leading a life dedicated to Christ retained their joy long after he has thought about them. Thus, as he writes in the Reminiscences  ‘little by little he came to recognise the difference between the spirits that were stirring him, one from the devil and the other from God’ (R 8). This is what he would later call the ‘Discernment of Spirits’. What is probably most striking to the contemporary reader is the importance of feeling and affect in Ignatius’ notion of ‘discernment’. In his summary of these events later published as the Spiritual Exercises he returns frequently to the Spanish words sentir and gustar: literally to ‘sense/feel’ and ‘enjoy/savour/taste’[5] the action of the Spirit of God in our lives. See, for example, Exx 2.3:

 

Whether this comes from ones own reasoning or because the understanding is enlightened by the divine power, (the retreatant) will get more spiritual relish and fruit, than if the one who is giving the Exercises had much explained and amplified the meaning of the events. For it is not knowing much but deep down feeling and relishing things interiorly that contents and satisfies the soul./ Quier sea en cuanto el entendimiento es ilucidado por la virtud divina, es de más gusto y fruto spiritual que sí el que da los ejercicios hubiese mucho declarado y ampliado el sentido de la historia, porque no el mucho saber harta y satisface al anima, mas el sentir y gustar de las cosas internamente. [6]

 

Like his later Spanish contemporaries, Teresa of Avila (1515 – 1582) and John of the Cross, Ignatius presents a ‘full bodied’ spirituality that wants to take in all aspects of the self, not just what we might call ‘pious’ or ‘holy’ feelings or sensations. His spirituality, then, must find ‘God in all things’. For Ignatius nothing is not worthy of study or investigation, especially in the human psyche, for nothing is beyond the reach of God’s grace. This, I think, is where his contemporary relevance lies as a fellow traveller to the later twentieth century psychoanalytic movement.

 



[1] Much of our knowledge of Ignatius comes from Reminiscences (Autobiography), see Endean and Munitiz, 1996. Hereafter R.
[2] See de Dalmases 1985:33 and Ganss 1991:15.
[3] France, in allegiance with the Papacy, being at war with Charles V’s Spanish empire.
[4] For more on the early 16th century publication of spiritual books instigated by the Franciscan Cardinal Cisneros see Tyler 2011.
[5] For more on this term see my discussion in Tyler 2013.
[6] Gustar was also a favourite word of St Teresa of Avila in her writing. In my Return to the Mystical (2011) I argue that upon it we find in her writing a whole ‘epistemology of delight’. It would not be far-fetched to make a similar claim for Ignatius’ ‘Spiritual Exercises’.

Sunday, 13 July 2014

Zen, Thomas Merton and Ludwig Wittgenstein

Dear All

I'm just back from a pleasant (but tiring) few days at Liverpool Hope University in the company of the Mystical Theology Network (the brain-child of Dr Louise Nelstrop and Dr Simon Podmore), the Society for the Study of Continental Philosophy and the Eckhart Society - what a combination! It really was a fascinating few days with some heavy-weight breakfast table conversations with some great scholars from all over Europe and beyond. Below is an extract from my contribution to the feast - reflections on the relationship between Merton and Wittgenstein which seemed to go down well. I shall be giving an extended version of this paper in Durham at the beginning of September so if you like this then do come to Durham for the full thing.

Best wishes

Peter


The 'Inner' Merton


The Inner Experience (IE), published in 2003 from the manuscript of Merton’s 1950s revision of his earlier What is Contemplation (1948), neatly encapsulates Merton’s lifelong attempt to describe the nature of the contemplative life.[1] Throughout it appears to assume the approach to the ‘inner’ as a distinct ‘mental realm’ that Wittgenstein had so forcibly critiqued in his own late writings. Take this passage from the beginning of the text for example:

 

Every deeply spiritual experience, whether religious, moral, or even artistic, tends to have in it something of the presence of the interior self. Only from the inner self does any spiritual experience gain depth, reality, and a certain incommunicability. But the depth of ordinary spiritual experience only gives us a derivative sense of the inner self. It reminds us of the forgotten levels of interiority in our spiritual nature, and of our helplessness to explore them. (IE: 7)

 

Now much of the language here is the traditional language of the Christian contemplative (and often mystical) tradition – that is, ‘interiority’, ‘depth’, ‘the inner self’ and ‘levels of interiority’. As explained above, Wittgenstein was deeply sceptical of such metaphors, not least because he continually asked: ‘Yes, but what do they mean?’ How can we talk of psycho-physical spatial ‘depth’ in the construct of the mental which is essentially non-spatial. Merton is right to point to the ‘certain incommunicability’ that lies in this process for the very concepts of meaning (or in Wittgensteinian terms, ‘the language game’) begin to break down at this point.[2] Now if Merton was to simply essay ‘the inner’ as a realm to be ‘mysteriously approached’ through contemplation without intuiting (I use the word here in its Kantian sense) an unease with such language this paper could finish at this point, we could cheer the wisdom and perception of Wittgenstein and leave the mystical theology of Merton to continue languishing in its dark ‘inner’ prison. But, fortunately for our investigation today, what is fascinating in Merton’s late writing (and the editing of the Inner Experience by William Shannon allows us to read the middle-aged Merton critiquing the work of his younger self) is that Merton himself intuits that the mental language of ‘inner and outer’ simply won’t work as a means of expressing what he has encountered in the contemplative life. These ideas are brought out forcibly in one of his last published works, Zen and the Birds of Appetite (ZB,1968). In this late work Merton (like Wittgenstein) takes as his target the Cartesian self:

         

Modern man, in so far as he is still Cartesian... is a subject for whom his own self-awareness as a thinking, observing, measuring and estimating ‘self’ is absolutely primary. It is for him the one indubitable ‘reality’ and all truth starts here. The more he is able to develop his consciousness as a subject over against objects, the more he can understand things in their relations to him and one another, the more he can manipulate these objects for his own interests, but also, at the same time, the more he tends to isolate himself in his own subjective person, to become a detached observer cut off from everything else in a kind of impenetrable alienated and transparent bubble which contains all reality in the form of purely subjective experience. (ZB:22)

 

Which is as good an account as any of the false subject-object duality that Wittgenstein is also gently teasing apart in his later writings. Modern consciousness, for Merton, becomes ‘an ego-self imprisoned in its own consciousness, isolated and out of touch with other such selves in so far as they are all ‘things’ rather than persons’ (ZB: 22). So our two authors, then, share a common unease of the developing of the subject-object duality of the post-Cartesian Western empirico-scientific mindset. However the two authors do differ somewhat in their solutions to this problem. Wittgenstein prefers to lay the problem before us and give us his unendingly curious, frustrating and infuriating puzzles, crypotgrams and aphorisms in order to coax each of our dualistic Cartesian mindsets out of our individualised fly-bottles.

Within Merton’s writings, on the other hand, we can find at least three attempts to crack this problem by three related, but quite different solutions (which has led, perhaps unfairly but understandably, to charges laid at Merton’s feet over the years of eclecticism and syncretism).

The first is the one that occured to Merton as a young man – his encounter on the trams of New York with the writings of Étienne Gilson, especially his Spirit of Medieval Philosophy. From this work he became interested in what he later characterise as ‘the search for Being’ as being at the root of his conversion from post-modern lost soul to reborn Trappist monk:

 

Underlying the subjective experience of the individual self there is an immediate experience of Being. This is totally different from an experience of self-consciousness. It is completely non-objective. It has in it none of the split and alienation that occurs when the subject becomes aware of itself as a quasi-object... In brief this form of consciousness assumes a totally different kind of self-awareness from that of the Cartesian thinking-self... Here the individual is aware of himself as a self-to-be-dissolved in self-giving, in love, in ‘letting-go’, in ecstasy, in God. (ZB: 24)

 

This, as I say, is an attitude that Merton had explored all his life following his conversion to Catholicism in his 20s and developed through his long study of scholastic theology in Gethsemani monastery. However, as revealed in this late quote from Zen, Merton is still striving for the healing of a split (between self and Other) rather than the dispersal of the illusion of a split that Wittgenstein is pursuing in his late works.

 



[1] Both authors share the distinction of having just as much published after their deaths as in their lifetimes. As with Wittgenstein, editors have sometimes been less than transparent about giving their reasons for certain editorial choices. However this makes studying the posthumous work more challenging and exciting for the serious research student!
[2] In similar vein see Tyler 2013.

Wednesday, 9 July 2014

Christian - Muslim Dialogue Abbot Timothy Wright and Dr Mustafa Baig


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZJc_nNPHCg&list=UUrxeq-Ylu-i8QyWUeQV6yUg

Dear All

As promised please find attached the video of the searching recent dialogue of Abbot Timothy Wright and Dr Mustafa Baig at our recent InSpiRe conference chaired by Dr Lynne Scholefield. I think this will make excellent teaching material for Muslim-Christian seminars, groups and discussions.

Best wishes

Peter

Jewish-Christian Dialogue : The Inspire Conference - Gavin D'Costa, Jonathan Gorsky, Mary Boys

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhcwcvgrCBI&list=UUrxeq-Ylu-i8QyWUeQV6yUg



Dear All

As promised please find attached the video of the extraordinary recent dialogue of Dr Jonathan Gorsky and Prof Mary Boys at our recent InSpiRe conference chaired by Prof Gavin D’Costa. I think this will make excellent teaching material for Jewish-Christian seminars, groups and discussions.

I will attach the Christian-Muslim video shortly.

Best wishes

Peter