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God may be gotten and held by love, but never by thought. 

— Cloud of Unknowing, Ch. 6.

Divine Friendships, a monthly series exploring Christian contemplative and devotional classics, continues Monday, September 13, with The Cloud of Unknowing. The work was written anonymously, probably by a cloistered monk, in England sometime in the latter half of the 1300s. The book advises that oneness with God cannot be obtained by knowledge and intellect, but by meeting God in the realm of “unknowing”. This is done by a simple but intense contemplation that places all other thoughts and desires under a “cloud of forgetting” to focus on a “naked intent” and a “dart of longing love” from the heart for God.

The ideas underlying the book are rather simple but it is not easy reading. The starting point for the contemplative is not the intellect but the fusion of heart and will into a “naked intent” for God and a “dart of longing love” for God. When the humble heart seeks to contemplate God’s very Self, apart from all his goods, it encounters a barrier, a darkness, a cloud of unknowing.

This darkness and this Cloud is . . . betwixt thee and thy God, and . . . thou mayest neither see Him clearly by light of understanding in thy reason, nor feel Him in sweetness of love in thine affection. (Ch. 3.)

This Cloud of Unknowing is the place where the contemplative encounters God and one should strive to stay in this darkness for as long as one can continuing to cry out in love to God.

This is work to stay or return to this cloud of unknowing. It is a place where God cannot be fully thought, but where he can be fully loved. By continual work, one can rise higher and higher from sin and nearer and nearer to God.

If one reaches this cloud of unknowing one should try to stay there or get back there, by putting a “cloud of forgetting” beneath oneself and between oneself and all created things.

For although it be good to think upon the kindness of God, and to love Him and praise Him for it, yet it is far better to think upon the naked being of Him, and to love Him and praise Him for Himself. (Ch. 5.)

Instead of looking below yourself (to all the creatures and works of God), focus on looking above yourself to the darkness of the cloud of unknowing. Try to pierce the darkness above you with a “sharp dart of longing love” (Ch 6.), and do not be concerned about what is below you, however, good it may be.

Put visions of angels and saints and visions of heaven under this cloud of forgetting. Put the Passion of Christ under this could of forgetting. Surely he that seeketh God perfectly, he will not rest him finally in the remembrance of any angel or saint that is in heaven. (Ch. 9.)

Put all thoughts of creatures under the cloud of forgetting — but primarily yourself. You shall find when you have forgotten all creatures and even yourself, there shall still between you and God a naked feeling of your own being. But this feeling is normally only fleeting. (Ch. 43.)

The author recommends using a short prayer word like “God” or “Love” to put oneself between the cloud of unknowing and the cloud of forgetting. Don’t study or be preoccupied with words (or knowledge) for spiritual communion will not come from study but from grace. (Ch. 39.) No other words are needed because this little single word word represents God in all his fullness and nothing less than the fullness of God. It is the short prayer that pierces heaven. (Ch. 37.)

This word shall be thy shield and thy spear . . . . With this word, thou shalt beat on this cloud and this darkness above thee. With this word, thou shall smite down all manner of thought under the cloud of forgetting. (Ch. 7.)

One cannot presume to do this work without first cleansing the conscience. (Ch. 28.)

Those who have been great sinners before this work, will find the work harder. But oftentimes they will make further progress more quickly than those who have not. This is by the grace of God. (Ch. 29.)

After having been cleansed, the thought of prior sin may come up, or new stirrings to sin. They should all be put under a thick cloud of forgetting. As often as these stirrings arise, they should be beaten down. (Ch. 31.)

If you can’t beat these stirrings under the cloud of forgetting, the author recommends two devices. First, keep looking towards the cloud of unknowing. Second, surrender to these stirrings and acknowledge your weakness (meekness). This meekness is an invitation to God’s grace. (Ch. 32.)

Prayer is nothing else but a devout intent directed to God for getting good or removing evil. If  the focus is on removing evil, the author recommends using “Sin” as the prayer word. Do not focus on a particular sin or vice for this will have the effect of drawing you further from the cloud of forgetting, and all sins are the same in that they separate us from God. Instead of contemplating your own sins in detail, think of sin as a lump, an obstacle to reaching the cloud of forgetting. And this lump is nothing other than yourself. (Ch. 36.)

It is hard work to put everything under the cloud of forgetting, but it is done with the help of grace. Also one cannot break through the cloud of unknowing by one’s own efforts. Only God can do this. This part is God’s work alone. God will sometimes send a beam of ghostly light to penetrate the cloud of unknowing and show some of His private self to you, which  may not and cannot be spoken. Then will your own affection be inflamed with the fire of God’s love. This is the work of God. (Ch. 26. )

The author recommends doing this work of contemplation continuously. He draws on the story of Martha and Mary from Luke’s gospel to assert that it is a mistake to think that one should not embark  on a contemplative life, without first taking care of one’s material needs. God it seems will stir the actives to support the contemplatives. God will provide the contemplative either an abundance of necessities or strength in body and patience in spirit to bear need.

The work of this book is not meant for everybody. The author recommends that only those called to the contemplative life should attempt the work.

Want to learn more about The Cloud of Unknowing? Join me online Monday, September 13, from 6:30 pm to 8:00 pm to discuss. Click here to register for the event.

Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset.     —Francis de Sales

Divine Friendships, a monthly series exploring Christian contemplative and devotional classics, continues Monday, August 9 with Introduction to the Devout Life, written by Francis de Sales in 1609. Francis was the Catholic bishop of Geneva, but his cathedral was actually located in Annecy in modern France, due to the religious opposition in Geneva at the time. His Introduction was based on a compilation of letters and notes on spiritual direction aimed primarily at Christians living in the world, rather than those in religious life. DeSales’ approach emphasizes everyday holiness consisting in practicing little virtues with patience, gentleness and love.

Choosing the Devout Life

The Introduction to the Divine Life is primarily a practical how to book, an instructional manual in living a devout life. It is divided into five parts. The first part is about choosing the devout life. What is the devout life? De Sales defines devotion as simply the true love of God. When devotion adorns the soul it is called grace. When it strengthens us to do good it is called charity, or love of neighbor. Charity and devotion are no different from each other than fire and flame.  Charity, or love in action, is spiritual fire and devotion is this same fire burst into flames. Devotion consists of a certain spiritual agility and vivacity to do the works of love.

The world tends to vilify devotion, but Francis states  that it is actually sweet, happy and lovable. It is  “true spiritual sugar” that removes bitterness from suffering and sweetens consolations. Devotion is the delight of delights and queen of the virtues since it is the perfection of charity. (Part I, Ch. 2.)

The Introduction was addressed to each and every Christian regardless of vocation, stage in life, age or temperament. Holiness is a vocation for everyone. Devotion (holiness) must be exercised in different ways by each particular person and must be adapted to the strengths, activities and duties of each particular person. True devotion (holiness) perfects all things. It does no injury to one’s vocation or occupation, but rather adorns and beautifies it. Every vocation becomes more agreeable when united with devotion. (Part I, Ch 3.)

If you are serious about choosing the road of devotion, Francis strongly recommends finding a good spiritual director. Such a “faithful friend” is a treasure of wisdom in sorrow and affliction, medicine to ease our hearts when spiritually afflicted. Francis counsels praying over finding a good spiritual director, one after God’s own heart. They are one in ten thousand, but if you pray for one with a sincere heart, God will provide one for you. Francis goes on to say that a good spiritual director is the means by which God will befriend you and speak to you. Trust him as you would an angel — a messenger from God.

Francis identifies purification as the first necessary step on the road to the devout life, but it should be approached gently. Purification and healing take time, difficulty and patience. The work of purging the soul neither can nor should end except with your life itself. We must not be disturbed at our imperfections, since our perfection comes in fighting against them. (Part I, Ch. 5.)

Imperfections and venial sins cannot deprive us of spiritual life; it is lost only by mortal sin. Therefore, it only remains for us not to lose courage. . . . Fortunately for us, in this war we are always victorious provided  that we are willing to fight. (Part I, Ch. 5.) We can only lose if we stop trying, if we give up.

In the bulk of the first part, Francis provides a program of ten exercises to purify the soul to prepare for a general confession culminating in a resolution to serve God.

Feeding the Devout Life

Once chosen, the devout life must be continuously nourished. The second part of the Introduction deals with prayer and the sacraments as means of developing the devout life. Since prayer places our intellect in the brilliance of God’s light and exposes our will to the warmth of his heavenly love, nothing else so effectively purifies our intellect of ignorance and our will of depraved affections. It is a stream of holy water that flows forth and makes the plants of our good desires grow green and flourish and quenches the passions within our hearts. (Part II, Ch. 2.)

Francis especially counsels mental prayer centered on the life of Jesus using imagination, intellect and affections. Although his instructions for prayer are rather detailed and structured, the main aim is to kindle the affections — the heart rather than the head. Francis says don’t be disturbed if you encounter dryness or sterility or if this prayer regimen seems difficult. Be gentle with yourself.

As to the sacraments, Francis recommends daily communion and weekly confession. Francis calls the Mass, the sum of all spiritual exercises. . .  center of Christian religion, heart of devotion and soul of piety, the ineffable mystery that comprises within itself the deepest depths of divine charity, the mystery in which God really gives himself and gloriously communicates his graces and favors to us. Prayer made in union with the divine sacrifice has inestimable power. (Part II, Ch. 14.)

After you have received him, excite your heart to do homage to the King of Salvation. Converse with him concerning your inmost concerns. Reflect that he is within you and has come there for your happiness. In fine, make him as welcome as you possibly can and conduct yourself in such manner that by your actions all may know that God is with you.  (Part II, Ch. 21.)

The Devout Life in Practice

In the third part III of the Introduction, Francis addresses living the devout life in practice. He recommends we practice a particular virtue, not try to practice all of them at once, but focusing on one to keep the mind better ordered and occupied. Undertake all your affairs with a calm mind and try to despatch them in order one after the other. If you make an effort to do them all at once or without order, your spirits will be so overcharged and depressed that they will likely sink under the burden without affecting anything.” (Part III, Ch. 10.)

Francis advises following the little virtues of patience, meekness, humility, poverty, and forbearance towards neighbors. We have more opportunities to practice the little virtues rather than great ones of fortitude and magnanimity.

Francis puts a great stress on patience in the devout life, and in particular patience with ourselves. The more perfect our patience, the more completely do we possess our souls. (Part III, Ch. 3.) In correcting our own faults, we must deal with them in a calm, settled way. Anger should be avoided. It does not serve justice well.  A father’s gentle loving rebuke has far greater power to correct a child than rage and passion. (Part III, Ch. 9.)

Friendship is of particular importance to the devout life, and requires close communication between friends. Love everyone with charity, Francis insists, but form friendships only with those you can share virtuous things. The higher the virtues you share and exchange with others, the more perfect your friendship will be. . . . If your mutual and reciprocal exchanges concern charity, devotion and Christian perfection, O God, how precious this friendship will be! It will be excellent because it comes from God, excellent because it leads to God, excellent because its bond will endure eternally in God. How good it is to love here on earth as they love in heaven and to learn to cherish one another in this world, as we shall also eternally in the next. (Part III, Ch. 19.)

Francis implores his reader to engrave and inscribe on her heart the holy and sacred motto, Live, Jesus! (Part III, Ch. 23.) If Jesus lives in your heart, He will live in your conduct and be revealed in your appearance.

Dealing with Obstacles to the Devout Life

In the fourth part of the Introduction, Francis offers advice on how to deal with temptations that present themselves as obstacles to the devout life. No matter what temptations may come to you and no matter what pleasure accompanies them, as long as your will refuses consent not only to the temptation but also to the pleasure, they should not disturb you since God is not offended by them. (Part IV, Ch. 5.)

Nevertheless, temptation can lead to anxiety, and With the single exception of sin, anxiety is the greatest evil that can happen to a soul. (Part IV, Ch. 11.)rancis says never look temptation in the face but instead look solely to the Lord. He also recommends opening your heart to your spiritual director when facing temptation.

The best defense against small temptations is not to be worried too much about them. Instead of struggling against small temptations do some contrary act of love. Don’t focus on small ordinary temptations, but turn to God instead. If you are at times of peace, perform many acts of virtue contrary to your weakness to strengthen yourself for the times of temptation. If opportunities to perform such acts do not present themselves, seek them out.

If the soul seeks escape from its troubles by love of God it will do so patiently, meekly, humbly and calmly looking to God for deliverance rather than its own efforts or industry. If it seeks escape out of self love, depending on self rather than God, it will excite and wear itself out searching for escape.

Renewing the Divine Life

In the fifth part of the Introduction, Francis recommends making a yearly re-examination of the heart and its affections to renew and dedicate itself to the devout life. The fifth part mirrors the first part in that it consists of  exercises to purify the soul to prepare for a general confession culminating in a resolution to serve God.

Saint Francis de Sales quotes

Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset.

Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength.

Be who you are and be that perfectly well.

Be patient with everyone, but above all with yourself.

When you encounter difficulties and contradictions, do not try to break them, but bend them with gentleness and time.

Friendships begun in this world will be taken up again, never to be broken off.

True progress quietly and persistently moves along without notice.

Want to learn more about Francis de Sales and the Introduction to the Devout Life? Join me online Monday, August 9, from 6:30 pm to 8:00 pm to discuss. Click here to register for the event.

You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.                                    –Confessions, Book I, Chapter 1

Divine Friendships, a new monthly series exploring Christian contemplative and devotional classics, begins on Monday, June 14 with The Confessions of St. Augustine.  The Confessions have deeply influenced western Christianity for the last 1600 years. They tell of Augustine’s restless search for happiness and truth in the form of an extended personal prayer to God. Augustine’s style melds beautiful words of praise and thanksgiving, deep theological reflections and Biblical citations with his memories. There are several  digressions from the biographical narrative, which some readers might find distracting. Nevertheless, many of these passages are worth reading and savoring for their own sake. Here’s just one example:

Late have I loved thee, O Beauty so ancient and so new, late have I loved thee. For see, thou was within and I was without, and I sought thee out there. Unlovely, I rushed heedlessly among the lovely things thou hast made. Thou wast with me, but I was not with thee. These things kept me far from thee, even though they were not at all unless they were in thee. Thou didst call and cry aloud, and didst force open my deafness. Thou didst gleam and shine and didst chase away my blindness. Thou didst breathe fragrant odors and I drew in my breath; and now I pant for thee. I tasted, and now I hunger and thirst. Thou didst touch me, and I burned for thy peace.  (Book X, Chapter 27)

Augustine’s restless self-examination, his philosophical and religious explorations, and the working of divine grace combined to bring about his conversion and inflamed his heart with love for God. The painting above by the French artist Philippe de Champaigne provides a beautiful pictogram of Augustine’s personal story of friendship with God. Veritas, the Latin word for Truth, shines with an aura of bright light at the top left hand corner of the painting. The Light of Truth hovers over an open book of Scripture and shines directly on Augustine’s face, illuminating his darkened mind. From there it sets aflame Augustine’s heart, which he holds in his left hand over a book of his own writings, while his right hand holds a pen.

Augustine’s restlessness questioning began in his youth. When he was sixteen years old, he remembers stealing some pears from a neighbor’s tree with some friends. The pleasure I got was not from the pears, it was in the crime itself, enhanced by the companionship of my fellow sinners. (Book II, Chapter 8). Out of youthful pride and a desire to impress the crowd he was running with, Augustine did something wrong because it was wrong. However, this left Augustine divided within himself. And I became to myself a wasteland. (Book II, Chapter 10). However, it also prompted an enduring philosophical question for Augustine: where does evil come from?

Augustine was a promising student, and he was drawn first to the study of Latin literature and then to rhetoric.  At the age of 19, In the normal course of his studies, he came across a book by Cicero, arguably the greatest of Roman orators. At first, he loved the work for its style, but as he continued to read he found himself attracted to the substance of the work as well: an exhortation to seek wisdom for its own sake.

Reading Cicero ushered in him a religious quest in search of truth. At first under the influence of his Christian mother, Augustine turned to Holy Scripture. However,  he found that he did not like its literary style compared to Latin literature.  He also found that he simply did not believe its stories, which he took literally at the time, were true.

He turned instead to Manichaeism, a dualistic religion from Persia, which posited a universal struggle between  matter, which was evil, and spirit, which was good.  Three things seem to have drawn Augustine to Manichaeism: it had an answer to the problem of evil, it made universal truth claims, and it integrated Christ into its system as a prophet.  At about the same time, Augustine had acquired a mistress, with whom he would have a son.

For the next 9 years, from age 19 to 28, Augustine was a teacher of rhetoric in Carthage. During this time, he became more and more disenchanted with Manichaeism, less convinced of its truth. At age 29, he went first to Rome, then to a prestigious position in Milan. He greatly admired the preaching of Ambrose, the bishop of Milan, both for its style and substance. From Ambrose, Augustine learned that Scripture could be read allegorically, not just literally, and he became a catechumen in the church.

At this time, he also began reading books by the Platonists. These had the effect of softening his materialist prejudice in religion. Up until that time, Augustine had believed that if God existed, he had to exist as a material body, bounded by space. The Platonists led him to begin to think of God  in terms of spiritual and immaterial reality, which allowed him to think beyond the dualistic categories of  Manichaeism.

It was at this stage that Augustine has a mystical vision that moves him forward:

And being admonished by these books to return into myself, I entered into my inward soul, guided by thee. This I could do because thou wast my helper. And I entered, and with the eye of my soul . . .saw above the same eye of my soul and above my mind the Immutable Light. . . . He who knows the Truth knows that Light, and he who knows it knows eternity. . . . And thou didst beat back the weakness of my sight, shining forth upon me thy dazzling beams of light, and I trembled with love and fear. I realized that I was far away from thee in the land of unlikeness, as if I heard thy voice from on high: “I am the food of strong men; grow and you shall feed on me; nor shall you change me, like the food of your flesh into yourself, but you shall be changed into my likeness.” . . . . And I said, “Is Truth, therefore, nothing, because it is not diffused through space–neither finite nor infinite?” And thou didst cry to me from afar, “I am that I am.” And I heard this in the heart, and there was no room for doubt. I should have more readily doubted that I am alive than that the Truth exists . . . . (Book VII, Chapter 10)

From this mystical encounter, Augustine goes on to a spiritual and intellectual breakthrough. He sees that evil has no substance of itself, but is merely a privation of the Good. All of Creation is good. Evil is a turning of the will, away from the Creator towards created things. Evil is not substance, but rather a disharmony.

God became real to Augustine through this vision, not just a figure of his imagination. Yet although he was intellectually converted, he was still held back by his preoccupation with worldly things:  ambition, love of money and lust.

But I was not able to sustain my gaze. My weakness was dashed back, and I lapsed again into my accustomed ways, carrying along with me nothing but a loving memory of my vision, and an appetite for what I had . . . smelled the odor of, but was not yet able to eat. (Book VII, Chapter 17).

While Augustine continued to struggle within himself, he hears from a visitor a story about two government agents that left the secret service to follow a monastic life. One of the agents says to the other:

“Tell me, I beg you, what goal are we seeking in all these toils of ours? What is that we desire? What is our motive in public service? Can our hopes in the court rise higher than to be ‘friends of the emperor’? But how frail, how beset with peril, is that pride! Through what dangers must we climb to a greater danger? And when shall we succeed? But if I chose to be a friend of God, see, I can become one now.” (Book VIII, Chapter 6)

The story of the two secret agents only intensifies Augustine’s turmoil. After hearing it he retreats to a garden.  There, after weeping with contrition for his past sins and struggling to give himself completely to God, he hears a young child singing in the street. “Tolle, lege! Tolle, lege!” Pick up and read. In his agitation, Augustine took this as a divine command to open the Bible and read the first passage he came upon. This is what he came upon:

Not in rioting or drunkenness, not in chambering or wantonness, not in strife and envying, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh. . . Romans 13:13-14

This was the decisive moment for Augustine. As he writes:

I wanted to read no further, nor did I need to. For instantly, as the sentence ended there was infused in my heart something like the light of full certainty and all the gloom of doubt vanished away. (Book VIII, Chapter12)

After this, Augustine quit his job as a professor of rhetoric and was baptized by Ambrose.  He made his return to Africa along with his mother Monica who died in Ostia along the way,  after sharing a mystical vision with Augustine. (Book IX)

The remainder of the Confessions takes a more philosophical turn. Book X deals with Memory and its relation to the self. Book XI reflects on God’s relationship to time. Book XII concerns biblical interpretation. Book XIII undertakes a mystical allegorical reading of first story of creation in Genesis. Augustine ends the Confessions, by returning to the theme of rest in God and urges his readers to seek it in God’s grace.

We must ask it of thee; we must seek it in thee; we must knock for it at thy door. Only thus shall we receive; only thus shall we find; only thus shall thy door be opened.  (Book XIII, Chapter 38.)

What can reading Augustine’s Confessions tell us about divine friendships? Join me online Monday, June 14 from 6:30 pm to 8:00 pm to discuss this question. Click here to register for the event.