Yesterday, August 9th, was the memorial of Edith Stein, St Theresa Benedicta of the Cross. Though I make no claim to understand her, she has been close to me as a student of philosophy and as a Catholic, perhaps one of my “patron saints.” For the last 5 years or so, my email signature has included a quote by her, “My longing for truth was one single prayer”—not because I could boast of that statement myself, but because it is an aspiration I am working and fighting my way towards, with Edith Stein as inspiration, witness, and intercessor.

Edith Stein is remarkable on many counts. She was one of the first women to attend advanced studies in philosophy in Germany. She studied under Edmund Husserl, the founder of phenomenology and perhaps the most influential philosopher of the century. Her doctoral dissertation was “The Problem of Empathy.” Though women were not awarded professorships then, Husserl put her at the top of the list. She wrote extensively on the topic of freedom, (including the essay “Freedom and Grace,” which was my first real introduction to her work), eventually realizing, as Pope John Paul II put it, that “only those who commit themselves to the love of Christ become truly free.”

Jewish by birth and obviously versed in the Western philosophical tradition, Stein converted to Catholicism in 1922 after numerous encounters with the simple devotion and supernatural peace of Catholics and studying the faith. When she read St Theresa of Avila’s autobiography she concluded, “This is the truth.” However, her desire to enter the cloister immediately upon conversion was prevented by her spiritual advisors, which include the great Jesuit theologian Erick Pryzwara. She turned again to translation and academic work, which she now saw as a way to bring Christ and the faith into dialogue with modern thought and philosophy. Her last great work of this era was titled Finite and Eternal Being.

When the Hiterlite era began, the stay on her admittance was lifted. She entered the Carmelites in 1933 at the age of 42, later leaving her mother house for fear that her Jewish origins would threaten its safety. In 1942, she was encamped by the Nazis. There she tended to children who had been orphaned by mothers killed or mothers in shock. Those who witnessed her were astonished at the prayerful peace she maintained in a situation of utter horror and deprivation. She wrote her superior in her last letter, “So far, I have been able to pray, gloriously.” She was gassed on Aug 9, 1942, two days after arriving at Auschwitz. (Click here for a longer bio.)

Echoing John the Baptist’s “He must increase, I must decrease,” Edith Stein said of herself, “”If anyone comes to me, I want to lead them to Him.” In her work on St John of the Cross, The Science of the Cross, she wrote, “The Crucified demands that we should follow Him.” To know the Cross is to undergo the Cross, to give up oneself for the will of God’s love, accepting every suffering, even unto death, as the birthpangs of a new creation, a new humanity created in Christ and sanctified by his Spirit. As testimony to her life of faith and sacrifice, she was canonized in 1998. On August 9th each year, the Church celebrates, not her death, but her entrance into eternal life and the witness she bears to Crucified Love for all the faithful.

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Unpacking the statement, “to know the Cross is to undergo the Cross,” we are initially pointed in the direction of a knowledge dependent upon an experience—on undergoing the Cross. Because mysticism and its related disciplines and genres also claim the necessity of experience for knowledge, the question is what is different from the other religious ineffables, what is added by “of the Cross.” The question is, what happened on the Cross with Jesus? What is the mysterion, objectively revealed on the Cross, and how is one “initiated” into that mystery? Or again, what sort of activity and subjectivity, in the lived dimension of doing and thinking and speaking, in our freedom to decide about the totality of our being, corresponds to “receiving” this mystery of Christ on the Cross?

I can only float over a few indications to these grand questions.

The first indication, of course, is to look at the Cross. “Behold him whom they have pierced” (Jn 19:37). What happened there has a historical objectivity which can be contemplated, which must be contemplated if we are to know “who” Jesus is. The Cross possesses a depth that is infinite in what it reveals about God’s love, about the willingness of love to go to the last length to testify to the truth and save humans from sin and death. The profession of faith says: God died so we would live. Both death and life pass through the Cross, through the Crucified. To live his life (“the light and life of the world”), we must die with him his death (which destroys death).

The second indication is the call to “take up your Cross and follow me” (Mt 16:24-26). Quite a lot is entailed here, obviously—without this piece, “Christianity” is just a façade for something else, for “Christianity is Christ” (de Lubac). A more generic rephrase of the initial statement would be, “to know Christ one must follow Christ”: there is no ‘objective’ knowledge to be had outside of this following. Without following, he is an object for the intellect and learned historical or theological studies, or perhaps some hybrid philosophies. Whereas what matters is following—first and always, to receive and obey the call to love God and each other “as I have loved you” (Jn 13:34). This is a “new commandment” because, before him, we had only intimations of God’s Love; but now we see it embodied, now we have the example to imitate, the figure to hear of and hear from, to contemplate and conform ourselves to. To follow Jesus is to love as Jesus loved, to trust God as he trusted, even unto death. Now we see that that love and trust leads to the Cross. The Christoform is cruciform, inseparably (and “existentially,” not theoretically).

Stein’s witness and martyrdom (originally the same word) shows us what this means. She wanted to lead everyone who came to her to Him. Not only an intellectual but an embodied pointing. With Jesus, theoria no longer matters most. “In fact, deed outweighs word” (Balthasar). “Be not hearers of the word only, deceiving yourselves, but doers also” (Mt 7:24-27, James 1:22-25). Doing the word means following the Word, imitating what it has shown us of its substance (which includes nourishing ourselves, body and soul, on that substance in the Eucharist). Word and incarnation are inseparable, they cannot be dissected into scripture, historical figure, and some present echo, for “I am with you, even unto the end of the age” (Mt 28:20). To hear and do is to “further” the incarnation, the work of Christ, the Spirit’s plan to create a new heart in us (as promised and prayed for: Ps 51, Ezekiel 36:26). It is to be a member of his Body, pointing to the Head. But this necessarily means “filling up in my own person whatever is lacking in Christ’s afflictions, on behalf of His Body, the Church” (Col 1:24). That is what Stein did, or it is one fruitful way to interpret her sacrifice, which began long before the camps, which indeed began with the very idea of becoming Catholic. She willed to suffer and die like the Crucified One, out of love and with love, in unity with God, to share in his hope and his life.

If I am oscillating between the objective and subjective in these notes, it is no accident. The Cross is an objective fact of revelation. So too will our Cross be objective, something we undergo. For objective also is the world’s rejection of God’s love and (even in “Christendom”) its rejection of the incarnate representative of that love, Jesus Christ (Jn 3:19, 15:18-20). But the subjective connector between “behold the pierced one” and our own (cruci)formation in Christ—well, that is the whole test, the whole issue of receiving and obeying the commandment to love as he loved, to “be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect” and all that entails—the whole ordeal of our “baptism into his death” (Rom 6:3), into the “knowledge of the love of Christ which transcends all knowledge” (Eph 3:19). Between the beatitudes, the parables, the warnings, and all the direct instructions and commands recorded of Jesus’ mouth—all interwoven with the incredible events of his life—we have quite a lot of practicable information to go on for this following, if our hearts are willing. It is also objectively attested in the witness of the saints, whom the Church raises up as exemplary imitators of Christ in each age, for they too have filled up what was lacking in his affliction and so share in the completeness of his joy (Jn 15:11, 2 Tim 2:11). But the issue is to see the total form, to contemplate the entire objective witness to his life—the life of the Son, through whom all was created, and of his mystical Body, of humanity remade in the likeness of Him. What that means for us, each of us—that is entirely a question of our own doing the following, our own “taking up” and “undergoing” our Cross so as to know it, to know Him and the fullness of that (Eastertide) life.

Having come all this way, I am surprised that I haven’t yet used the word “sacrifice” or “self-giving love” or “gift of self.” But I felt obliged to ensure such words take on the right (triune) coloring; that we learn their meaning from Jesus and his Church, not applying the concepts we already have to them. If we rephrase the initial statement to say, “To know oneself one must give oneself away out of love,” we speak the truth, we come near to the self-forgetting and surrender at stake on the Cross in a more ‘generic’ way. But what then does it mean, what does it look like, to “give oneself away out of love”? I point to the objectivity of the Cross—and Resurrection: synecdoche for and apotheosis of the whole life of Christ— to prevent the idea from getting watered down in vagueness, or from getting contaminated by human compromise and willfulness, which can creep into even the most earnest interpretation. It is evidently a statement of faith, but to believe in Jesus is to believe that the Form of self-giving love has been given to us, by very God. To know it we must see it, continually contemplate it, incarnate it in our lives. We must look at and into his wounded, Sacred Heart, until it is our heart (Gal 2:20). For God has deigned to show us something here that we could never have invented on our own. Our first task is to obey this revelation, and that means to always return to it—the Word—to see and hear ever more seriously and deeply and ‘inadvertably’ the call of the greatest love: “to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (Jn 15:13).

A script for renewing one’s commitment:

I want to remain as near to absorption in God in the heart and in the presence of His cloud, so that my core-soul exults in Him and acts in the world centered in the bond of His love. I want to honor Him by remaining in that “flow” with complete trust and a smile of acceptance; remembering always to let myself be saved by turning to Him.

All things are prompts to return to Him or media whereby I may assist in expressing Him. I pray to perceive how all things are arranged by Him for my Good and for my mission. I refine usage of things of daily life so all serves love and conduces to the awakening of heaven in the heart. I steadily reject whatever hinders the way to Him, and I am patient with obstacles, recalling always there is no real blockage ever between me and Him.

I vow to allow self-knowledge and devotion to the Lord in the heart guide all my thinking and decisions about all created things, renouncing fruits and entrusting my path’s unfolding to His constant instant care. I will not seek marriage, priesthood, monastery, authorship, except for when and how God makes access to these for me. I suspend all preference and critique until demolished all ulterior motive to Him. I work at loving God for God’s sake, not my own, and nest all my lesser purposes in the one purpose of knowing who I am in His love.

I strive to desire and choose only what conduces to my final end, which is genuine absorption in His holiness, so that His holiness can shine through the person He creates me to be. I vow not to let up or waver until this final end is reached, praying always for the grace of His Spirit to come, for Him to give Himself in all His gifts, and to aid me in my efforts always with the consolation of Himself and the grace of equilibrium, steadiness, and final perseverance to sustain me in every case.

I confide myself to Jesus, my friend and pinnacle of all wealth, and to Mary whose intercession will protect me on my road. But I look always to the Father Almighty for my source and blessing. Mine is the heart that will love His every word.

Love the Lord your God
with all your heart:­ trust, praise, devotion, worship, absorption
with all your soul:­ purity of will/desire, insight, self-knowledge, wisdom
with all your strength: effort, service, perseverance, indifference, renunciation
with all your mind:­ meditation, clarity, understanding, theology, studies

I want to live in the delicacy of that LOVE, developing integrally along these four lines as praying ceaselessly, so I can be a perfect vessel of God’s nearness, abundant and poor, courageous and humble, a pioneer yet simple, a star in the firmament of His heaven ­ a light that makes falling in love with His holiness the obvious choice.

Timothy Lavenz
Oct 22-24, 2022

From October 2022 through June 2023, I did the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises (the “19th Annotation”) under the guidance of a very open, loving, and wise director. Early on, I was asked to read and meditate on Ignatius’ ‘First Principle and Foundation’ and then write my own personal version. Though I have gone through many evolutions since then and would express myself differently today, the central aspiration remains accurate, true, and strong as ever. So, I preserve it here without modification.

A friend wondered, how can I train my mind and soul to not be easily excited? Here is my answer, slightly modified:

By learning to accept thoughts (that thoughts exist) without owning them or acting on them.

Thoughts exist, they come and go — but we do not need to identify with them (e.g. ‘I am these thoughts, I am what I’m thinking’). Nor do we need to act on them (e.g. ‘I must do something about this thought’).

So practice regularly just “watching” thoughts go by. Without acting on them. Without categorizing them. Without judging them. Truly learning to do nothing at all with them. Letting the whole movement of thought thus settle down, de-agitate, and rest. The deep rest of (so to speak) just being-with-Being.

In that way we become masters of our inner world. Our thoughts cease to shove us around — and we stop shoving them around! There is a harmony because, most thoughts we just let go. Your mind becomes a tool, definitely an awesome instrument– but it ceases to run the show.

By practicing standing back from thoughts — from ideas, meanings, signs, compulsions to act, desires, etc. — we gradually find a freer center from which to think and act, we are less habitualized, less reactive, less controlled, less bound.

Thoughts stop shoving us around, but they also stop shoving “is”, the rest of reality, around too! Because, ultimately, the problem is that our thoughts distort reality. We do not see things as they really are. Then, when we act on that faulty seeing, we ‘make real’ the distortion, thus causing disturbances in the field.

By practicing seeing things more ‘nakedly’, without an interpretive lens, without looking for x/y/z meaning and significance, without one’s self at the center, one comes to see things as they really are, without the ‘filter’ of our mental delusions.

Clearing away all the distortion of the real in thoughts, is a lifelong journey of seeing reality as it really is. But the first step is getting that distance, so we are not literally ‘enacting’ the distortion and thus (seemingly at least) disturbing the harmonious, clear fabric of things.

Uncoupling thoughts from action, break that automatic reactive loop, that cascade from mental event to enacted event.

Just start noticing how this works. You can do this all the time, just getting aware of those ‘chains’ — gradually you will see how flimsy they are, and you will find freedom.

Without that filter of mental misapprehension, we are so much closer to things as they are, and thus much calmer and accepting and in the flow of reality. A saint or enlightened person is someone who has gotten rid of the delusionary filter. If they “see God” everywhere, it’s not because of some fantastic experience they’re having. It’s not them hooking on to some unbearably intense train of sensation and significance and holding on for dear life. There is nothing out of control, or dangerous, or scary, or unstable — disturbance part is always the doing of the ego. Rather, they just are with the simplicity. It does not even need to “have meaning.” It isn’t a sign of anything. And there is nothing to do with it but watch and adore.

From that adoration, — and not from the mind! — the question of action will resolve itself quite naturally.

Walter Burghardt, SJ, defined contemplation as “a long loving look at the Real.” While the above program has strong links to yogic-buddhist style of meditation, as an effort to cut the source of mental delusion off at the very root, functionally (and ultimately) it all points in the same direction of naked awareness: unbiased, undesirous, unselfed, all-loving looking at just-what-is.

The product of prayer is fidelity to prayer. Our personal growth is not the main concern, because our growth cannot be the reason to pray. If it were, self-improvement would matter more than faith, but down that road we’ll only fall back on our own resources and despair. We will get caught in the mirrors of self-reflection and lose sight of the real goal, which is to lose ourselves in the outpouring of the Heavenly Father’s love. Hence, all self-improvement must seem to us incidental to an increase in faith. Our concern should not be where we’re at but how faithful we are to listening to God and answering His call. And if we cannot hear, let us do our duty that is clear while opening our ears wide to His silence.

We should desire, not “progress in spiritual life,” but a steadily growing dialogue in which we forget ourselves and any claim as a partner. We should hope to be absorbed into the dialogue itself, such that the created consequences, important as they are, remain secondary to our soul’s deepening link with God. For when our earthly time is up, we will live forever by the link we let Him cultivate in us by our prayer, not by anything we have accomplished or not on earth (Mt 6:20). All will be satisfied in heaven, for He will fill each according to their capacity to receive¹, which indeed brings comfort. But who would not, upon hearing this, wish to let their ‘soul-capaciousness’ expand to the maximal extent, so that when eternity comes we can commune with our Lord and Maker as intimately and completely as possible?

Again and again, we will see that the earthly results of our opening to God are really by-products of a coming flowering in eternity. The life of faith fills up a richness in the bud, but this growth is miraculously hidden from the eyes of the world and that includes from our own eyes. We cannot judge the treasures of trust by created realities when the fruit of trust is an immortal bloom. Where trust flows back upon the earth to enrich it, we can be sure that what we are witnessing is the earth moving heavenward, absorbed in the will of God and becoming a praise of His glory.

Paradoxically, then, the best way to care for the earth and our earthly selves is to trust in the realities of the Unseen. The Kingdom comes to the degree that the link of charity between heaven and earth is welcomed down. Creation is perfected as it is ‘blacked out’ and all its own lights extinguished, so that the Light of the Lamb is the sole suffusing light², giving it the one brightness which, in consuming it, perfects its life in His image. This is the Cross understood as symbol and source of Creation: right where Christ’s earthly life is ‘blacked out’ and enters the darkness of abandonment by God, He shows us the absolute power of faith as what opens Creation in death to the absolute power of love. Only that love can “finish” (Jn 19:30) the work of Creation. In exploding open the tomb and all created loss, He reveals the Risen Lord as the secret telos of all growth and loss: a new heaven and a new earth, the restoration of things so God is all in all, the resurrection to eternal life.

Perfect prayer is thus a crucifixion with Christ. It imitates the ‘black out’ of His surrender into the Father’s hands, when He entrusts everything fallen and dying to God’s power to raise it. Because of Jesus, then, we know for certain that the most fecund place to be in all of creation is on the martyr’s cross, our blood mingled with His. There all earthly-minded concerns are sacrificed defenselessly so that the very earth–from the pit of its inertia and decay, its rejection and rebellion against God–can be opened to the blinding light of heaven, which will save, perfect, and complete it in the most effective, because holy, way.

In imitation of Christ commending His Spirit to the Father on the Cross, we are called to restore, through faith, the fate of Creation back into the hands of the Creator. The most excellent and direct way of doing this is to put, through unceasing prayer, our personal fate into His hands–indeed so much so that we behold ourselves as it were in darkness; as of no account (Is 53:3); as playthings of the Divine whose only animation comes by His manipulation; as creatures “buried in the abyss of [their own] nothingness”³ and so fully available to His eternal-animation of us; as beings through whom He beholds His own glory and lives His own life through our free dedication to His love. Do we not then disappear entirely into the will of His holiness?

It is precisely for this that we prepare in our prayer. We mortify in us whatever stands in the way of our being crucified with Christ (Gal 5:24). We grow in confidence in the goodness and power of the God who raised Him from the dead. We consent to no longer know our course and fate (1 Cor 2:2), save to know we are safely held in God and, if we only assent, included in His saving work on earth. That earth is guided by us well to the extent we are guided by heaven. For heaven is the communion of love in trust, and that is what saves and embraces all. Like Abraham, it is in courting a darkness of knowledge and risking immolating the very reality and symbol of created happiness, Isaac, that faith traverses the abyss it is impossible to traverse without God and so fulfills its purpose, for it is right at that moment that God speaks and the Spirit renews the face of the earth.

This is what Paul means in saying that we no longer reckon according to the flesh (2 Cor 5:16). Unceasing prayer is the laboratory and practice ground for this total renovation of our vision. It is to think of what is above, not of earth (Col 3:2), so that what is earthly can be safeguarded by heaven’s intention, which consumes it in light and means: transfiguration.

April 17-18, 2023
Timothy Lavenz

[Notes]
¹ St John of the Cross, Ascent of Mt Carmel.
² St Elizabeth of the Trinity, Last Retreat.
³ St Margaret Mary Alacoque, Autobiography.

The absolute necessity of God’s aide is the last idea to come to us (Dom Guillerand), but how obvious it is! Any movement not inspired by the Holy Spirit is a movement of nothingness decapitated from the Head. And most of our planning, projection, evaluation, whatever trundles through our head, is decapitated nothingness! a useless noise and waste when compared to, once we know, God’s gift of self. For in Giving Himself God gives all Providence and even the Future of Heaven with Him: and He gives the path to it, our path.

We must become so aware of the necessity of His aide that, in total poverty of spirit, we receive everything from Him and deny every movement that would come from us and our ‘thinking it through’. Ignoring all that mental hubbub, we must trust that He alone is the Answer and that to wait on Him in the silence of prayer is the best movement we can make: opening ourselves to let His light flood the light of our mind, so we are guided by the soul infused with God and not by what we ‘think’.

Thought is a useless appendage, a dead weight, a web of defeatism, a shackle to past habits and views. It must be daily cleansed, constantly renewed by a prayer that is cognizant of thought’s false allure and steadfastly faithful to the draw of God, Who can override and overfill us such that thought loses its interpretive grip. For thought always superimposes a dead world and makes it tempting, tempts us with the illusion it is solid, accurate, real, when it is decrepit. It is the thought-world and its many deceptions that must be laid to rest through contemplative surrender at the altar of unknowing trust in God and His Providence.

Then we will learn to see with God-infused eyes the God-given world as it is really is: as held in the freshness of His love. Then we can respond to His actual intention for it and for us. Then is our movement restored from the nothingness of our head to the plenitude of the Head, Christ. Then we can recover our destiny in God as a member of His Body, alive with the aide He wants to give us, which is His life. For God’s Being and His giving It and His desire to give It, are all the same in Him: His Life is forever the Life of Love. So let us learn to accept Him, Newness Itself, at all times: He our absolute Guide and Friend– our Savior.

April 13, 2023
*This reflection inspired by Dom Augustin Guillerand’s The Prayer of the Presence of God.

This piece arose out of a very important conversation I had with Colin Miller about the Source of All Hope mission in Baltimore, MD. The ideas flow entirely from his vision for the mission (he is its founder). I can only hope to have approximated what it means, in my own words. It is a shared reflection on how to minister to those outside the Church in the power of the Eucharist.

FROM SOURCE TO SOURCE

I

The crucial question for the missionary Christian is how to make Christ present to the other. This presence is an existential reality, something felt in the heart and soul first of all. Therefore, evangelization is not first about getting others to adopt this or that proposition or belief (e.g. “become a Christian”) but rather to give them an experience of God’s love in Christ. The evangelist can trust that, once someone experiences God’s love, they will be well on their way to belief in God and Christ.

For the Catholic Christian, the highest intensity of Christ’s presence in the world is the Eucharist. We are beyond blessed to partake in this mystery. But the missionary must ask: How does God’s love pass from the Eucharist, through us, to the other? (And especially to the poor, who may not know Christ at all.)

It would appear that we are dealing with three modes of Christ’s presence in the world: Eucharist, communicant, and non-Catholic other. According to the universal commission given to the Apostles–spread the Gospel to all peoples of the world–our evangelical hope is for these three modes of Christ’s presence to merge in communion. Our aspiration should be for the christification of the world: for everyone to be where Christ is, for everyone to be “eucharistically transformed,” so that God is “all in all.”

First, there is the “intensive” presence of God in Christ in the Eucharist: that is where he truly dwells. But it is not enough for him to sit on our altars: what we need is for him to dwell in us, so that we are his house on earth–just as Paul says, our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor 6:19). By partaking in the Eucharistic meal with earnest devotion and sincere inner participation, we are assimilated (bit by bit) into God’s “extensive” mode of presence in the world. This is just another way of saying that God extends himself into the world through us, who are members of Christ’s mystical Body. (Clearly, Christ needs us to be good, faithful disciples who are able to act with him at the head; otherwise, his Body is less than it could be and delayed in its work.)

From our encounter with Christ in the Eucharist, we move on to our encounter with Christ in the poor, the downtrodden, the other no-matter-who. Our hope is to transmit the love of the Source to others. We are Christ’s quasi-mediators in the world– “quasi-” because, ultimately, it is God acting through us when we reach others with Christ. The more we adore and abide in communion with him, the “better” we get at allowing God to act (this is sanctification). We grow more and more into accordance with God’s good will. And by relinquishing whatever we are outside of Christ (which is nothing), Christ comes into us that much more abundantly. He raises up our creaturely nothingness into his Spirit, grants us a share in his salvific plan. That is where he fills us with true living water, which will become in us “a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life” (Jn 4:14).

In the missionary encounter, God’s presence and love is somehow (we don’t exactly know how!) transmitted from the Source and Summit of the faith to others; and we are somehow the relay-point, the deliverer of the message, the vessel or extension of that presence and love. Our formation is so important because the more we are entrusted to God and in consent to his will, the more we are emptied and free of whatever gets in the way of the transmission. The better the formation, the more Christ can work through us to reach the world.

However, there is a third, “elusive” mode of Christ’s presence in the world, the one most easily overlooked, yet perhaps the most important for the Source-work.

Continue reading →

We are accustomed to viewing good and evil as two competing forces. This view is predictably enshrined in super-hero movies. Not only are there good guys and bad guys, but the bad guys pretend to have good motives, while the good guys try to keep their bad motives in check. Such is the way things are “realistically” portrayed in culture. However, this idea of a competition is false, an illusion, because good and evil do not actually exist on an equal playing field. Indeed, they are as polarized in their tendency as being and non-being.

There’s two ways to tackle the problem: 1) freedom versus necessity, and 2) the desire to be.

The reason we are faced with good versus evil is because we are born into a confusion about our freedom, namely, what is it for? We have to make choices about how to use our freedom, and to do so we have to orient it toward some kind of necessity, a goal, etc. But there is a vicious circle here, because we are also free to choose what is necessary (or so it seems). And so we live under the possibility of choosing wrongly. We fall under the sway of doing and living for things that are no good for us, primarily because we are confused and do not see clearly what is good for us. (Once habit and self-deception step in, this pattern can be a real monster to correct.)

At the same time, behind our choice of what is necessary, lies our desire to be. Even the worst choice imaginable, suicide, seeks a state of being that is better than the previous state, even if the new state is imagined as an escape from being altogether. Continue reading →

Mysticism comes in two basic types, static and dynamic. Static mysticism aims at a restoration of the static state: a realization of the Changeless. Dynamic mysticism aims at something more like the transformation or amorization of the changeable qua Changeless.

Both presuppose very different cosmologies. Static mysticism sees change as simply change. It is not really going anywhere. The Absolute is immobile, so the goal is to stabilize one’s consciousness in the immobile. Movement is finite and relative; it has nothing to do with the infinite and ultimate, save as a veil to be pierced. In this cosmology, the changeable is usually treated as an illusion, a dream, a conventional reality with no substance in itself. You find here the trope of escape, fleeing the world, essential detachment, and so on. The static mystic discovers the Supreme; why bother with the rest?

Dynamic mysticism, by contrast, sees the evolving cosmos as a substantial reality in itself—one with a clear trajectory of increasing union and communion with its Maker. It is not the shadow of anything else, but a genuine creation. Certainly, it is not the Absolute. Yet everything about it seems pointed toward contacting and realizing something of the Absolute. The dynamic mystic sees and senses that multiplicity is striving for a unity that will not cancel multiplicity and movement but “sanctify them in truth” (Jn 17:17), meaning place them in to active relation with the Source, so they may be informed and intensified by it, may draw ever vaster collections of elements into the one element of creative self-giving divine love—which suffuses itself into creation wherever creation loves.

Freud, responding to his friend Roman Rolland, theorized that the “oceanic consciousness” reported by mystics was driven by a desire to return to the inorganic. The inorganic state is, presumably, free of psychic tension, pain, craving, loss, and so on. It’s not a bad observation, but it can only account for static mysticism. Indeed, there are things about it which certainly give credence to that interpretation—that it means acquiescing to entropy, to inevitable death and non-selfness, to the cancelling of change in the immobile silence of uniform matter.

The dynamic mystic objects to this picture. Life is an authentic, not an incidental, advancement in the cosmos. So too is the Mind. Entropy is not the only, let alone the strongest, factor in the evolving universe. Fragile as they appear, there exists a steady complexification of structure and elevation to higher manifestations of conscious life. These evolutions are also *irreversible*. They reveal a universal line of development, namely, centration into higher more integral types, which better exemplify and radiate the Supermind or mind of Christ.

Here there is more than the desire to return to the inorganic or merge in the tranquility of the immobile. There is also the—much stronger—desire to create concentrated centers of energy and consciousness, which are moving toward the Mover, which *know* there is a Master with a master plan in all this. The desire is to be in the flow of a work of world-creation that would be, identically, the flow in/of the very being of God. The mystic masters himself and his potentialities for this sole purpose: to offer them up in consecration to this one task of God-manifestation on earth.

Call it an incarnate metaphysics: the divine principle is making itself flesh, it is dwelling in our midst, it is drawing everything to itself to reconcile everything in itself. It is pushing for an ever-grander and more beautiful synthesis between finite and infinite that does not leave the finite behind but transfigures it into a reality of divine life.

Dynamic mysticism means maximal participation in this “incarnation”—in the ongoing evolution and sanctification of the universe, which is not just petering out in dead matter but is advancing negentropically everywhere through the manifestation of persons.

That is why the dynamic mystic is not content with a cancellation of self, an annihilation of individuality, a disidentification with life leading to withdrawal, rejection, or repose, nor with a dismissal of the created universe as a secondary or illusory phenomenon compared to the Absolute. The cosmos is far too alive and animated to accept that, even on its own terms. It is spiritualized down to the least parcel of matter, which even the static mystic tacitly trusts. But the dynamic mystic has this further insight: everything, even unconscious matter, is striving to please and realize God. Evolution—organizing complex structures, blooming into life and mind, becoming conscious, learning to pray—is magnetized from the get-go by the Absolute, and it is *through* our work with it that we come closest to the Absolute: when evolution, entering its mystical phase, falls in love with everyone and everything: and the cosmos is amortized a communion of beings in love.

For the Absolute, who is love, wishes to be by us, within us, around us, divine. The mystic stretches out for that closeness and finds it wherever he surrenders to it, saving nothing back for himself but diving, soul-first, into its passionate movement—the cosmos become “the passion of Christ.”

by Timothy Lavenz
Dec 6, 2022

The Divine Light is already active and functional at the level of your own mind. It is simply that you crave otherwise and hold preferences that prevent its full unfolding. You grasp at what cannot be held still, so you miss its inherent stillness. You struggle to make it clear, so you obscure its natural clarity. What is constantly changing, you try to fix down and identify, and so you miss the stable reality underpinning it all. Because you think you are at the helm, the controller, the intervener, the driver, the agent, the source of light, you limit its reach, hamper its action, dull its brilliance… when really you are but a grace-offshoot of the Primary Light, into which at any time you may remeld, if you but assent and love it, cling to its movements and its Word. For you are Its gift to you of apprehension, insight, reflection, appreciation. You are Its appendage of consciousness and help, destined to It. You participate in Its freedom, you draw from Its energy, your attention is a spark of Its omniscience. Enlightenment is the state already: so give in to it, surrender, already you are dead in the Light and rising to new life in Its rays. Your spark is not-other than the flame—and suddenly everything is warm with its heat, so adorable the whole world crackles with delight, centering more and more on its perfect axis, imperceptibly. Then what is happening is no longer what you think, but what the Divine Mind really is, in its calm, spacious infinity, which it gives…

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Hell is whenever one acts from self for self without reference to another/Another.

Hell is a zone stripped of motivation for goodness.

Hell is the noise preventing us from hearing God.

Hell is any moment lacking the sense of God’s presence or at least the aspiration for that presence. Hell is made by acts which lack connection to the meaning of the whole and thus forsake destiny.

Hell is anything we’re consciously held back by yet keep doing, knowing it will only worsen things. We find comfort in inertia or destruction: Hell is how we abdicate responsibility and excuse our misbehavior.

Hell is thoughts we don’t want yet keep thinking for lack of true orientation and remembrance of God.

Hell is believing I’m in possession of myself and can use myself however I want as long as I’m satisfied.

Hell is lost in a dark forest, having lost the scent of God, yet remembering one just had it. It is not knowing where to turn, how to pick back up the scent… then gradually forgetting how or why one got to where one is: Hell is the loss of reality sneaking up on you until you’re just going forward, forgetting even that reality is lost.

Hell is hopelessness, lack of prospects, broken why’s, drooping confidence in the value of one’s life.

Hell is when you can’t bring yourself to do what you need to do to get back in line spiritually with the good graces of God.

Hell is instability in our faith in Christ.

Hell is worry about hypotheticals and doubting one’s ability to bring joy, courage, and kindness to difficult moments.

Hell is the soul-pendulum swinging into God’s absence and not trusting it will swing back.

Hell is an uninvested talent, worse: it is never letting yourself know you have that talent, worst: it is knowing your talent but not doing everything you can for it to bear fruit, worst of all: it is spoiling your own fruitfulness through cowardice, faithlessness, and fear.

Hell is a wasted life. But every life outside (and to the extent outside) Christ is wasted, for He is Life. Without Him it would all be a waste, for He is the only principle of fruitfulness. Hell is the labor of fruitlessness: it is anti-existence itself.