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THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
and profound solitude, to which no created thing has access, in an immense
and boundless desert, desert the more delicious the more solitary it is.
There, in this abyss of wisdom, the soul grows by what it drinks in from
the well-springs of the comprehension of love, . . . and recognizes, how-
ever sublime and learned may be the terms we employ, how utterly vile,
insignificant, and improper they are, when we seek to discourse of divine
things by their means.”
1
I cannot pretend to detail to you the sundry stages of the Chris-
tian mystical life.
2
Our time would not suffice, for one thing; and
moreover, I confess that the subdivisions and names which we find
in the Catholic books seem to me to represent nothing objec-
tively distinct. So many men, so many minds: I imagine that these
experiences can be as infinitely varied as are the idiosyncrasies of
individuals.
The cognitive aspects of them, their value in the way of revela-
tion, is what we are directly concerned with, and it is easy to show
by citation how strong an impression they leave of being revela-
tions of new depths of truth. Saint Teresa is the expert of experts in
describing such conditions, so I will turn immediately to what she
says of one of the highest of them, the “orison of union.”
“In the orison of union,” says Saint Teresa, “the soul is fully awake
as regards God, but wholly asleep as regards things of this world and in
respect of herself. During the short time the union lasts, she is as it were
deprived of every feeling, and even if she would, she could not think of
any single thing. Thus she needs to employ no artifice in order to arrest
the use of her understanding: it remains so stricken with inactivity that
she neither knows what she loves, nor in what manner she loves, nor
what she wills. In short, she is utterly dead to the things of the world and
lives solely in God. . . . I do not even know whether in this state she has
enough life left to breathe. It seems to me she has not; or at least that if
1
Saint John of the Cross: The Dark Night of the Soul, book ii. ch. xvii., in Vie et
Œuvres, 3me édition, Paris, 1893, iii. 428–432. Chapter xi. of book ii. of Saint John’s
Ascent of Carmel is devoted to showing the harmfulness for the mystical life of the use of
sensible imagery.
2
In particular I omit mention of visual and auditory hallucinations, verbal and graphic
automatisms, and such marvels as “levitation,” stigmatization, and the healing of disease.
These phenomena, which mystics have often presented (or are believed to have presented),
have no essential mystical significance, for they occur with no consciousness of illumination
whatever, when they occur, as they often do, in persons of non-mystical mind. Conscious-
ness of illumination is for us the essential mark of “mystical” states.
MYSTICISM
317
she does breathe, she is unaware of it. Her intellect would fain understand
something of what is going on within her, but it has so little force now
that it can act in no way whatsoever. So a person who falls into a deep
faint appears as if dead. . . .
“Thus does God, when he raises a soul to union with himself, suspend
the natural action of all her faculties. She neither sees, hears, nor under-
stands, so long as she is united with God. But this time is always short,
and it seems even shorter than it is. God establishes himself in the
interior of this soul in such a way, that when she returns to herself, it
is wholly impossible for her to doubt that she has been in God, and God
in her. This truth remains so strongly impressed on her that, even though
many years should pass without the condition returning, she can neither
forget the favor she received, nor doubt of its reality. If you, nevertheless,
ask how it is possible that the soul can see and understand that she has
been in God, since during the union she has neither sight nor understand-
ing, I reply that she does not see it then, but that she sees it clearly later,
after she has returned to herself, not by any vision, but by a certitude
which abides with her and which God alone can give her. I knew a person
who was ignorant of the truth that God’s mode of being in everything
must be either by presence, by power, or by essence, but who, after having
received the grace of which I am speaking, believed this truth in the most
unshakable manner. So much so that, having consulted a half-learned
man who was as ignorant on this point as she had been before she was
enlightened, when he replied that God is in us only by ‘grace,’ she dis-
believed his reply, so sure she was of the true answer; and when she came
to ask wiser doctors, they confirmed her in her belief, which much con-
soled her. . . .
“But how, you will repeat, can one have such certainty in respect to
what one does not see? This question, I am powerless to answer. These
are secrets of God’s omnipotence which it does not appertain to me
to penetrate. All that I know is that I tell the truth; and I shall never
believe that any soul who does not possess this certainty has ever been
really united to God.”
1
The kinds of truth communicable in mystical ways, whether
these be sensible or supersensible, are various. Some of them relate
to this world, — visions of the future, the reading of hearts, the
sudden understanding of texts, the knowledge of distant events,
for example; but the most important revelations are theological
or metaphysical.
1
The Interior Castle, Fifth Abode, ch. i., in Œuvres, translated by B
OUIX
, iii. 421–424.