St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: Prayer of Union Changing Silkworm to Butterfly

 

“Chapter Introduction (from St. Teresa): Continues the same subject. Explains the Prayer of Union by a delicate comparison. Describes the effects which it produces in the soul. Should be studied with great care.”

“You will suppose that all there is to be seen in this Mansion has been described already, but there is much more to come yet, for, as I said, some receive more and some less. With regard to the nature of union, I do not think I can say anything further; but when the soul to which God grants these favours prepares itself for them, there are many things to be said concerning what the Lord works in it. Some of these I shall say now, and I shall describe that soul’s state. In order the better to explain this, I will make use of a comparison which is suitable for the purpose; and which will also show us how, although this work is performed by the Lord, and we can do nothing to make His Majesty grant us this favour, we can do a great deal to prepare ourselves for it.

You have heard of the wonderful way in which silk is made – a way which no one could invent but God – and how it comes from a kind of seed which looks like tiny peppercorns. When the warm weather comes, and the mulberry trees begin to show leaf, this seed starts to take life; until it has this sustenance, on which it feeds, it is dead. The silkworms feed on the mulberry leaves until they are full grown, when people put down twigs, upon which, with their tiny mouths, they start spinning silk, making themselves very tight little cocoons, in which they bury themselves. Then, finally, the worm, which was large and ugly, comes right out of the cocoon a beautiful white butterfly.

Now if no one had ever seen this, and we were only told about it as a story of past ages, who would believe it? And what arguments could we find to support the belief that a thing as devoid of reason as a worm or a bee could be diligent enough to work so industriously for our advantage, and that in such an enterprise the poor little worm would lose its life? This alone, sisters, even if I tell you no more, is sufficient for a brief meditation, for it will enable you to reflect upon the wonders and wisdom of our God. What, then, would it be if we knew the properties of everything? It will be a great help to us if we occupy ourselves in thinking of these wonderful things and rejoice in being the brides of so wise and powerful a King.

But to return to what I was saying. The silkworm is like the soul which takes life when, through the heat which comes from the Holy Spirit, it begins to utilize the general help which God gives to us all, and to make use of the remedies which He left in His Church – such as frequent confessions, good books and sermons, for these are the remedies of a soul dead in negligences and sins and frequently plunged into temptation. The soul begins to live and nourishes itself on this food, and on good meditations, until it is fully grown – and this is what concerns me now: the rest is of little importance.

When it is full grown, then, as I wrote at the beginning, it starts to spin its silk and to build the house in which it is to die. This house may be understood here to mean Christ. I think I read or heard somewhere that our life is hid in Christ, or in God (for that is the same thing), or that our life is Christ (the exact form of this is little to my purpose.).

Here, then, daughters, you see what we can do, with God’s favour. May His Majesty Himself be our Mansion as He is in this Prayer of Union which, as it were, we ourselves spin. When I say He will be our Mansion, and we can construct it for ourselves and hide ourselves in it, I seem to be suggesting that we can subtract from God, or add to Him. But of course we cannot possibly do that! We can neither subtract from God, nor add to, God, but we can subtract from, and add to, ourselves, just as these little silkworms do. And, before we have finished doing all that we can in that respect, God will take this tiny achievement of ours, which is nothing at all, unite it with His greatness and give it such worth that its reward will be the Lord Himself. And as it is He Whom it has cost the most, so His Majesty will unite our small trials with the great trials which He suffered, and make both of them into one.

Oh, then, my daughters! Let us hasten to perform this task and spin this cocoon. Let us renounce our self-love, and self-will, and our attachment to earthly things. Let us practice penance, prayer, mortification, obedience, and all the other good works that you know of. Let us do what we have been taught; and we have been instructed about what our duty is. Let the silkworm die – let it die, as in fact it does when it has completed the work which it was created to do. Then we shall see God and shall ourselves be as completely hidden in His greatness as is this little worm in its cocoon. Note that, when I speak of seeing God, I am referring to the way in which, as I have said, He allows himself to be apprehended in this kind of union.

And now let us see what becomes of this silkworm, for all that I have been saying about it is leading up to this. When it is in this state of prayer, and quite dead to the world, it comes out a little white butterfly. Oh, greatness of God, that a soul should come out like this after being hidden in the greatness of God, and closely united with Him, for so short a time – never, I think, for as long as half an hour! I tell you truly, the very soul does not know itself. For think of the difference between an ugly worm and a white butterfly; it is just the same here. The soul cannot think how it can have merited such a blessing – whence such a blessing could have come to it, I meant to say, for it knows quite well that it has not merited it at all. It finds itself so anxious to praise the Lord that it would gladly be consumed and die a thousand deaths for His sake. Then it finds itself longing to suffer great trials and unable to do otherwise. It has the most vehement desires for penance, for solitude, and for all to know God. And hence, when it sees God being offended, it becomes greatly distressed. In the following Mansion we shall treat of these things further and in detail, for, although the experiences of this Mansion and of the next are almost identical, their effects come to have much greater power; for, as I have said, if after God comes to a soul here on earth it strives to progress still more, it will experience great things.

To see, then, the restlessness of this little butterfly – though it has never been quieter or more at rest in its life! Here is something to praise God for – namely, that it knows not where to settle and make its abode. By comparison with the abode it has had, everything it sees on earth leaves it dissatisfied, especially when God has again and again given it this wine which almost very time has brought it some new blessing. It sets no store by the things it did when it was a worm – that is, by its gradual weaving of the cocoon. It has wings now: how can it be content to crawl along slowly when it is able to fly? All that is can do for God seems to it slight by comparison to its desires. It even attaches little importance to what the saints endured, knowing by experience how the Lord helps and transforms a soul, so that it seems no longer to be itself, or even its own likeness.”

The Age of Noise

 

"The twentieth century is, among other things, the Age of Noise. Physical noise, mental noise and noise of desire— we hold history’s record for all of them. And no wonder; for all the resources of our almost miraculous technology have been thrown into the current assault against silence. That most popular and influential of all recent inventions, the radio, is nothing but a conduit through which pre-fabricated din can flow into our homes. And this din goes far deeper, of course, than the ear-drums. It penetrates the mind, filling it with a babel of distractions— news items, mutually irrelevant bits of information, blasts of corybantic or sentimental music, continually repeated doses of drama that bring no catharsis, but merely create a craving for daily or even hourly emotional enemas. And where, as in most countries, the broadcasting stations support themselves by selling time to advertisers, the noise is carried from the ears, through the realms of phantasy, knowledge and feeling to the ego’s central core of wish and desire. Spoken or printed, broadcast over the ether or on wood-pulp, all advertising copy has but one purpose— to prevent the will from ever achieving silence. Desirelessness is the condition of deliverance and illumination. The condition of an expanding and technologically progressive system of mass production is universal craving. Advertising is the organized effort to extend and intensify craving— to extend and intensify, that is to say, the workings of that force, which (as all the saints and teachers of all the higher religions have always taught) is the principal cause of suffering and wrong-doing and the greatest obstacle between the human soul and its divine Ground."

 

Half of the battle is just turning off the radio, the TV, the podcasts. I’m really trying to drastically reduce all of that. Drive in silence. Read. Walk without listening to a podcast. Most of the time we can’t even hear ourselves think. The real solutions to our problems need to come from within. We usually already know what we need to know.

St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: Certainty of Union



In this passage, Teresa discusses the soul’s certainty after it has experienced the “Prayer of Union.” In Interior Castle, Teresa uses various terms to roughly describe deepening experiences of passive prayer – sometimes referred to as contemplation or infused contemplation in the Catholic Tradition. Up to this point in the work her progression has been Prayer of Recollection > Prayer of Quiet (also called “Consolations”) > Prayer of Union. Catholic mystics of this period do not seem to be systematic about their descriptions in this regard, and terminology can sometimes be interchangeable or hazy. It may be helpful to think of these authors as grasping for language to describe their experience, which they often claim is ineffable or indescribable.

“Turning now to the indication which I have described as a decisive one: here is a soul which God has made, as it were, completely foolish in order the better to impress upon it true wisdom. For as long as a soul is in this state, it can neither see nor hear nor understand: the period is always short and seems to the soul shorter than it really is. God implants Himself in the interior of that soul is such a way that, when it returns to itself, it cannot possibly doubt that God has been in it and it has been in God; so firmly does this truth remain within it that, although for years God may never grant it that favour again, it can neither forget it nor doubt that it has received it (and this quite apart from the effects which remain within it, and of which I will speak later). The certainty of the soul is very material.

But now you will say to me: How did the soul see it and understand it if it can neither see nor understand? I am not saying that it saw it at the time, but that it sees it clearly afterwards, and not because if it is a vision (sic), but because of a certainty which remains in the soul, which can be put there only by God…

How, you will ask, can we become so convinced of what we have not seen? That I do not know; it is the work of God. But I know I am speaking the truth; and if anyone has not that certainty, I should say that what he has experienced is not union of the whole soul with God…”

St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: Prayer of Quiet/Consolations – Water from the Source

 

“What I call consolations from God, and elsewhere have termed the Prayer of Quiet, is something of a very different kind, as those of you will know who by the mercy of God have experienced it. To understand it better, let us suppose that we are looking at two fountains, the basins of which can be filled with water. There are certain spiritual things which I can find no way of explaining more aptly than by this element of water; for, as I am very ignorant, and my wits give me no help, and I am so fond of this element. I have observed it more attentively than anything else. In all the things that have been created by so great and wise a God there must be many secrets by which we can profit, and those who understand them do profit by them, although I believe that in every little thing created by God there is more than we realize, even in so small a thing as a tiny ant.

These two large basins can be filed with water in different ways: the water in the one comes from a long distance, by means of numerous conduits and through human skill; but the other has been constructed at the very source of the water and fills without making any noise. If the flow of the water is abundant, as in the case we are speaking of, a great stream still runs from it after it has been filled; no skill is necessary here, and no conduits have to be made, for the water is flowing all the time. The difference between this and the carrying of the water by means of conduits is, I think, as follows. The latter corresponds to the spiritual sweetness which, as I say, is produced by meditation. It reaches us by way of the thoughts; we meditate upon created things and fatigue the understanding; and when at last, by means of our own efforts, it comes, the satisfaction which it brings to the soul fills the basin, but in doing so makes a noise, as I have said.

To the other fountain the water comes direct from its source, which is God, and, when it is His Majesty’s will and He is pleased to grant us some supernatural favour, its coming is accompanied by the greatest peace and quietness and sweetness within ourselves – I cannot say where it arises or how. And that content and delight are not felt, as earthly delights are felt, in the heart – I mean not at the outset, for later the basin becomes completely filled, and then this water begins to overflow all the Mansions and faculties, until it reaches the body. It is for that reason that I said it has its source in God and ends in ourselves – for it is certain, and anyone will know this who has experienced it, that the whole of the outer man enjoys this consolation and sweetness.

I was thinking just now, as I wrote this, that a verse which I have already quoted, Dilatasti cor meum, speaks of the heart’s being enlarged. I do not think that the happiness has its source in the heart at all. It arises in a much more interior part, like something of which the springs are very deep; I think this must be the centre of the soul, as I have since realized and as I will explain hereafter. I certainly find secret things in ourselves which often amaze me – and how many more there must be! O my Lord and my God! How wonderous is Thy greatness! And we creatures go about like silly little shepherd boys, thinking we are learning to know something of Thee when the very most we can know amounts to nothing at all, for even in ourselves there are deep secrets which we cannot fathom. When I say “amounts to nothing at all” I mean because Thou art so surpassingly great, not because the signs of greatness that we see in Thy works are not very wonderful, even considering how little we know of them.

Returning to this verse, what it says about the enlargement of the heart may, I think, be of help to us. For apparently, as this heavenly water begins to flow from this source of which I am speaking – that is from our very depths – it proceeds to spread within us and cause an interior dilation and produce ineffable blessings, so that the soul itself cannot understand all that it receives there. The fragrance it experiences, we might say, is as if in those interior depths there were a brazier on which were cast sweet perfumes; the light cannot be seen, nor the place where it dwells, but the fragrant smoke and the heat penetrate the entire soul, and very often, as I have said, the effects extend even to the body. Observe – and understand me here – that no heat is felt, nor is any fragrance perceived: it is a more delicate thing than that; I only put it in that way so that you may understand it. People who have not experienced it must realize that it does in very truth happen; its occurrence is capable of being perceived, and the soul becomes aware of it more clearly than these words of mine can express it. For it is not a thing that we can fancy, nor, however hard we strive, can we acquire it, and from that very fact it is clear that it is a thing made, not of human metal, but of the purest gold of Divine wisdom. In this state the faculties are not, I think, in union, but they become absorbed and are amazed as they consider what is happening to them.

It may be that in writing of these interior things I am contradicting what I have myself said elsewhere. This is not surprising, for almost fifteen years have passed since then, and perhaps the Lord has now given be a clearer realization of these matters than I had at first. Both then and now, of course, I may be mistaken in all this, but I cannot lie about it: by the mercy of God I would rather die a thousand deaths: I am speaking of it just as I understand it.

The will certainly seems to me to be united in some way with the will of God; but it is by the effects of this prayer and the actions which follow it that the genuineness of the experience must be tested and there is no better crucible for doing so than this. If the person who receives such a grace recognizes it for what it is, Our Lord is granting him a surpassingly great favour, and another very great one if he does not turn back. You will desire, then, my daughters, to strive to attain this way of prayer…”

St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: I Began to Think of the Soul

 


“I began to think of the soul as if it were a castle made of a single diamond or of very clear crystal, in which there are many rooms, just as in Heaven there are many mansions. Now if we think carefully over this, sisters, the soul of the righteous man is nothing but a paradise, in which, as God tells us, He takes His delight…

Let us now imagine that this castle, as I have said, contains many mansions, some above, others below, others at each side; and in the centre and midst of them all is the chiefest mansion where the most secret things pass between God and the soul.”

St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: Introduction


St. Teresa of Avila was a 16th Century Carmelite nun and contemporary of St. John of the Cross. Her most famous works are her Autobiography, The Way of Perfection, and Interior Castle. In this series, I’d like to look at some quotations from Interior Castle.

This first excerpt is from the Introduction to the DoverThrift edition, written by Allison Peers. In the Introduction, Peers gives on overview of the Seven Mansions of Teresa’s Interior Castle:

“In its language and style, the Interior Castle is more correct, and yet at the same time more natural and flexible, than the Way of Perfection. Its conception, like that of so many works of genius, is extremely simple. After a brief preface, the author comes at once to her subject:

I began to think of the soul as if it were a castle made of a single diamond or of very clear crystal, in which there are many rooms, just as in Heaven there are many mansions.

These mansions are not “arranged in a row one behind another” but variously – “some above, others below, others at each side; and in the centre and midst of them all is the chiefest mansion, where the most secret things pass between God and the soul.”

The figure is used to describe the whole course of the mystical life – the soul’s progress from the First Mansions to the Seventh and its transformation from an imperfect and sinful creature into the Bride of the Spiritual Marriage. The door by which it first enters the castle is prayer and meditation. Once inside, “it must be allowed to roam through these mansions” and “not be compelled to remain for a long time in one single room.” But it must also cultivate self-knowledge and “begin by entering the room where humility is acquired rather than by flying off to the other rooms. For that is the way to progress.”

How St. Teresa applies the figure of the castle to the life of prayer (which is also the life of virtue – with her these two things go together) may best be shown by describing each of the seven stages in turn.

First Mansions: This chapter begins with a meditation on the excellence and dignity of the human soul, made as it is in the image and likeness of God: the author laments that more pains are not taken to perfect it. The souls in the First Mansions are in a state of grace, but are still very much in love with the venomous creatures outside the castle – that is, with occasions of sin – and need a long and searching discipline before they can make any progress. So they stay for a long time in the Mansions of Humility, in which, since the heat and light from within reach them only in a faint and diffused form, all is cold a dim.

Second Mansions: But all the time the soul is anxious to penetrate farther into the castle, so it seeks every opportunity of advancement – sermons, edifying conversations, good company and so on. It is doing its utmost to put its desires into practice: these are the Mansions of the Practice of Prayer. It is not yet completely secure from the attacks of the poisonous reptiles which infest the courtyard of the castle, but its powers of resistance are increasing. There is more warmth and light here than in the First Mansions.

Third Mansions: The description of these Mansions of Exemplary Life begins with stern exhortations on the dangers of trusting to one’s own strength and to the virtues one has already acquired, which must still of necessity be very weak. Yet, although the soul which reaches the Third Mansions may still fall back, it has attained a high standard of virtue. Controlled by discipline and penance and disposed to performing acts of charity toward others, it has acquired prudence and discretion and orders its life well. Its limitations are those of vision: it has not yet experienced to the full the inspiring force of love. It has not made a full self-oblation, a total self-surrender. Its love is still governed by reason, and so its progress is slow. It suffers from aridity, and is given only occasional glimpses into the Mansions beyond.

Fourth Mansions: Here the supernatural element of the mystical life first enters: that is to say, it is no longer by its own efforts that the soul is acquiring what it gains. Henceforward the soul’s part will become increasingly less and God’s part increasingly greater. The graces of the Fourth Mansions, referred to as “spiritual consolations,” are identified with the Prayer of Quiet or the Second Water, in the Life. The soul is like a fountain built near its source and the water of life flows into it, not through an aqueduct, but directly from the spring. Its love is now free from servile fear: it has broken all the bonds which previously hindered its progress; it shrinks from no trials and attaches no importance to anything to do with the world. It can pass rapidly from ordinary to infused prayer and back again. It has not yet, however, received the highest gifts of the Spirit and relapses are still possible.

Fifth Mansions: This is the state described elsewhere as the Third Water, the Spiritual Betrothal, and the Prayer of Union – that is, incipient Union. It marks a new degree of infused contemplation and a very high one. By means of the most celebrated of all her metaphors, that of the silkworm, St. Teresa explains how far the soul can prepare itself to receive what is essentially a gift from God. She also describes the psychological conditions of this state, in which, for the first time, the faculties of the soul are “asleep.” It is of short duration, but, while it lasts, the soul is completely possessed by God.

Sixth Mansions: In the Fifth Mansions the soul is, as it were, betrothed to its future Spouse; in the Sixth, Lover and Beloved see each other for long periods at a time, and as they grow in intimacy the soul receives increasing favours, together with increasing afflictions. The afflictions which give the description of these Mansions its characteristic colour are dealt with in some detail. They may be purely exterior – bodily sickness; misrepresentation, backbiting and persecution; undeserved praise; inexperienced, timid or overscrupulus spiritual direction. Or they may come partly or wholly from within – and the depression which can afflict the soul in the Sixth Mansion, says St. Teresa, is comparable only with the tortures of hell. Yet it has no desire to be freed from them except by entering the innermost Mansions of all.

Seventh Mansions: Here at last the soul reaches the Spiritual Marriage. Here dwells the King – “it may be called another Heaven”: the two lighted candles join and become one; the falling rain becomes merged in the river. There is complete transformation, ineffable and perfect peace; no higher state is conceivable, save that of the Beatific Vision in the life to come.

While each of these seven Mansions is described with the greatest possible clarity, St. Teresa makes it quite plain that she does not regard her description as excluding others. Each of the series of moradas may contain as many as a million rooms; all matters connected with spiritual progress are susceptible of numerous interpretations, for the grace of God knows no limit or measure. Her description is based largely on her own experience; and, though this has been found to correspond very nearly with that of most other great mystics, there are various divergences on points of detail. She never for a moment intended her path to be followed undeviatingly and step by step, and of this she is careful frequently to remind us.”

In Praise of Suffering


Suffering drives us to spirituality. To the search for something, some meaning, beyond our own little world, our own concerns, our own ego. Sometimes when the suffering is taken away we just go back to that little world.

On Not Turning Back


In the Catholic Tradition, there is a distinction made between “the active life” and “the contemplative life.” The active life primarily involves a focus on engaging in works of charity in the world. It is a “busy” life full of fruitful work, performed in service to God.

In contrast, the contemplative life involves a focus on spiritual practice and development. It is less “busy” in the exterior sense.

Actives sometimes don’t understand contemplatives, believing that they aren’t “doing anything.” Contemplatives typically see actives as only on the first step of their journey, believing that they will understand the contemplative way in time, when they are ready. In Catholicism, the figures of Mary and Martha are often used to contrast these two ways of life. And of course there are shades in between the two poles.

Although I probably wouldn’t have made the distinction at the time, I spent many years of my life as an “active.” I taught and coached in inner city schools, volunteered in various capacities at night, and completed several graduate programs at the same time. I was busy, and I felt (and still do feel) that the work I was doing in the world was important.

Over the past several years I have taken a step back from many of these activities. I still work, but in a different capacity. Instead of engaging in all the demands of teaching, I work as an educational aide. I don’t volunteer as much. I’m not involved in formal academic studies. I am attempting to spend much more time engaging in contemplative practice. It’s what I feel called to do. It feels like a new vocation.

Sometimes I want to go back. Sometimes I feel like I need the busyness. I need to be distracted from myself. Contemplative practice, and in general a slower pace of life, can tear me apart. I’m face to face with myself.

But this is the path I am on.

Practice


“Disease is not cured by pronouncing the name of medicine, but by taking medicine. Deliverance is not achieved by repeating the word ‘Brahman,’ but by directly experiencing Brahman.”

– Shankara, The Crest-Jewel of Discrimination


“So then, take up the toil of the contemplative work with wholehearted generosity. Beat upon this high cloud of unknowing and spurn the thought of resting.”

– Anonymous, The Cloud of Unknowing


“Our aim in practicing zazen is to enter the state of samadhi, in which, as we have said, the normal activity of our consciousness is stopped.”

“Zen training continues endlessly. The mean or petty ego, which was thought to have been disposed of, is found once again to be secretly creeping back into one’s mind… the longer we train ourselves, the more we are liberated from the petty ego.”

– Katsuki Sekida, Zen Training: Methods and Philosophy


“… there comes a time when his mind becomes inwardly steadied, composed, unified and concentrated. That concentration is then calm and refined; it has attained to full tranquillity and achieved mental unification…”

“Here, friend, by completely transcending the base of neither-perception-nor-non-perception, I entered and dwelled in the cessation of perception and feeling.”

– Siddhartha Gautama, Discourses from the Pali Canon


Push far enough towards the Void,
Hold fast enough to Quietness,
And of the ten thousand things none but can be worked on by you.
I have beheld them, whither they go back.
See, all things howsoever they flourish
Return to the root from which they grew.
This return to the root is called Quietness.

– Lao-Tzu, Tao Te Ching


“What you have done so far is to open the window, as it were. You have laid yourself exposed to what God may breathe upon you…”

– Muhammad al-Ghazzali, quoted in The Knowing Heart


“Yoga is the stilling of the changing states of the mind. When that is accomplished, the seer abides in its own true nature.”

“The states of mind are stilled by practice and dispassion.”

– Patanjali, The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali


All of the philosophical systems represented on this site can be thought of as tentative. While some general philosophical or theological beliefs are helpful, possibly even necessary to motivate a spiritual discipline, an hour of practice is better than an hour of thinking about practice.

My discipline is Centering Prayer and I conceptualize what happens there as opening myself to the “experience of God.” Even if it were purely psychological, something good – something positive for myself and the world – is happening during this time. Of that I have no more doubt.

Find your discipline, most likely from within a tradition you have some familiarity with, and just practice.

“Go sit in your cell and your cell will teach you all things.”

Purity of Heart | Final Thoughts

 


Kierkegaard isn’t a “contemplative” writer, but Purity of Heart as he conceptualizes it is, at the very least, a side effect of the contemplative journey. It is spoken of in various ways by all of the contemplative traditions. The traditions encourage seekers to practice as a means of transformation into someone who wills and completes the Good in a completely unforced way – naturally – from the center of one’s being.

Purity of Heart Reflections | The Higher Self as a Mode of Being


The contemplative traditions each have some way of talking about a “higher self” – an egoless ego, the selfless self, our Buddha nature, Atman, the Divine Indwelling.  The primary characteristic of this higher self is that it operates with a lack of concern for chasing self-interested desires. It is at peace and no longer seeks satisfaction from the world.  It lives purely to do the will of God, simply to serve the Good. 

These ideas of a higher self sometimes become confusing because they are discussed in terms of ontology.  Because each tradition has very different models of the self, they will likewise have different models of what constitutes a “higher self.”  

Perhaps an easier way of thinking about these concepts is in terms of the Higher Self as a Mode of Being.  The Higher Self spoken of in various ways by various traditions is simply a human being who has achieved and operates with Purity of Heart.  However one conceptualizes it, it is a way of being in the world. 

Contemplative practice is a, perhaps the, way through which one allows themselves to be transformed into that kind of person.

Purity of Heart | Conclusion: Man and The Eternal

 

“Father in Heaven! What is a man without Thee! What is all that he knows, vast accumulation though it be, but a chipped fragment if he does not know Thee! What is all his striving, could it even encompass a world, but a half-finished work if he does not know Thee: Thee the One, who art one thing and who art all! So may Thou give to the intellect, wisdom to comprehend that one thing; to the heart, sincerity to receive this understanding; to the will, purity that wills only one thing. In prosperity may Thou grant perseverance to will one thing; amid distractions, collectedness to will one thing; in suffering, patience to will one thing. Oh, Thou that giveth both the beginning and the completion, may Thou early, at the dawn of day, give to the young man the resolution to will one thing. As the day wanes, may Thou give to the old man a renewed remembrance of his first resolution, that the first may be like the last, the last like the first, in possession of a life that has willed only one thing. Alas, but this has indeed not come to pass. Something has come in between. The separation of sin lies in between. Each day, and day after day something is being placed in between: delay, blockage, interruption, delusion, corruption. So in this time of repentance may Thou give the courage once again to will one thing. True, it is an interruption of our ordinary tasks; we do lay down our work as though it were a day of rest, when the penitent (and it is only in a time of repentance that the heavy-laden worker may be quiet in the confession of sin) is alone before Thee in self-accusation. This is indeed an interruption. But it is an interruption that searches back into its very beginnings that it might bind up anew that which sin has separated, that in its grief it might atone for lost time, that in its anxiety it might bring to completion that which lies before it. Oh, Thou that givest both the beginning and the completion, give Thou victory in the day of need so that what neither a man’s burning wish nor his determined resolution may attain to, may be granted unto him in the sorrowing of repentance: to will only one thing.”

Purity of Heart | What Then Must I Do? Live As An Individual


At this point the reader may ask, What Then Must I Do?  What is the Good that I must be ready to suffer all for?  And how do I complete it?  To which Kierkegaard returns the following responses:

“… at each man’s birth there comes into being an eternal vocation for him, expressly for him.  To be true to himself in relation to this eternal vocation is the highest thing a man can practice… ”

“The talk asks you, then, whether you live in such a way that you are conscious of being an ‘individual.’  The question is not of the inquisitive sort; as if one asked about that ‘individual’ in some special sense, about the one whom admiration and envy unite in pointing out.  No, it is the serious question, of what each man really is according to his eternal vocation, so that he himself shall be conscious that he is following it; and what is even more serious, to ask it as if he were considering his life before God… Indeed it is precisely this consciousness that must be asked for.  Just as if the talk could not ask in generalities, but rather asks you as an individual.”

“You do not carry the responsibility for your wife, nor for other men, nor by any comparative standard with other men, but only as an individual, before God, where it is not asked whether your marriage was in accordance with others, with the common practice, or better than others, but where you as an individual will be asked only whether it was in accordance with your responsibility as an individual.”

“For as only one thing is necessary, and as the theme of the talk is the willing of only one thing; hence the consciousness before God of one’s eternal responsibility to be an individual is that one thing necessary.”

Regardless of if a modern reader agrees that an “eternal vocation” is given to him at birth, life will call us to something which we are responsible to fulfill.  This is very, very similar to Viktor Frankl’s thought:

"In an age in which the Ten Commandments seem to lose their unconditional validity, man must learn more than ever to listen to the ten thousand commandments arising from the ten thousand unique situations of which his life consists."

“To be sure, man is free to answer the questions he is asked by life.  But this freedom must not be confounded with arbitrariness.  It must be interpreted in terms of responsibleness.  Man is responsible for giving the right answer to a question, for finding the true meaning of a situation.  And meaning is something to be found rather than to be given, discovered rather than invented.”


In Kierkegaard’s terminology we must “live as Individuals.”  We must take personal responsibility for our lives and responsibilities before God.  We must ask, What is my life calling me to? and take responsibility for completing that calling. In Frankl’s terms, we must listen to the ten thousand commandments.

As the philosophers attest, you can’t definitively answer “What is the Good?” in the abstract.  The Good is concrete, embodied in each particular situation in each Individual’s life.  It is up to us to find it and complete it.  

Purity of Heart is a one-pointed focus on finding and fulfilling the Good we are uniquely called to do, in each individual moment, without any ulterior motives.

Purity of Heart | The Price of Willing One Thing and the Exposure of Evasions

 

After discussing the barriers to willing the Good authentically and in simplicity, Kierkegaard tells his reader that “if a man shall will the Good in truth, then he must be willing to do all for the Good or be willing to suffer all for the Good.”

Willing the Good authentically demands complete commitment.  Kierkegaard will go on to encourage his reader to “use his cleverness to expose evasions” – to examine all the ways he cleverly avoids doing the Good he knows he should do.

Thus far Purity of Heart has been fairly abstract.  In the final portion of this work, things get more concrete for the reader as Kierkegaard turns his attention to the question What Then Must I Do?

The New Cosmic Story | The Story is Not Over


“In all this debunking of religion, a persistent background assumption is that the physical universe is pointless because nothing of lasting importance seems to be going on there. As it turns out, however, something has been going on in the universe, something undeniably and dramatically important. The drama began long before humans came along, and it is still in play. During the past two centuries, science has gradually presented the universe for all to see as a grand adventure, full of twists and turns we never knew about until recently. And today science allows ample room for even more surprises up ahead. As the cosmos has developed over billions of years, entirely new kinds of being—most notably life and thought—have emerged. These are two cosmic developments that none of us could have predicted had we been around to witness the inauspicious elemental state of the early universe. Since even more surprising developments may be waiting to take place farther along on the cosmic journey, therefore, the contemporary secularist verdict that the universe is manifestly pointless, that evolution is a meaningless experiment, and that religion is illusory, may be premature. The story of the universe, after all, is not over.”

– John F. Haught, The New Cosmic Story