"In the Living Prayer of My Life"-- the Journey of the Mind to God

[RobNY]

One poster on these boards, Blessedstar, uses this as a tagline to close the ends of her posts.

I recently picked up a book which I had read for my Medieval Philosophy class, St. Bonaventure’s The Journey of the Mind to God. In it, St. Bonaventure takes the appearance of a six-winged Cherubim to St. Francis as an allegory for the spiritual life, as being the six steps by which the soul ascends, as by a ladder, to contemplation.

My first time through, reading it, I was reading it more as a philosophical work, and I have to say, I missed the prayer/contemplative dimension (as shameful as that is to say! it seems so obvious now!).

I suppose it is easy to say to oneself, “this is a philosophical treatise-- look how neatly and orderly he lays it out, how fine and simple is the organization,” as if it is merely a philosophical exposition of the ascent to God, not one which can actually be used.

But, Blessedstar’s tagline had me thinking-- “in the living prayer of my life.” Isn’t this exactly what St. Bonaventure wants us to do? He wants us to, in all things and through all things, to be pointed to, or to rise to our God.

So now I’m trying to re-read it-- but slowly, and to see if it can really be applied. If I apply this, will I really make my life a, “living prayer” by which I am constantly raising my mind to God?

I guess my real question is this-- have you or do you know anyone who has used St. Bonaventure’s Journey of the Mind to God as a model in prayer and contemplation?

Or is it just a nicely ordered philosophical text?

-Rob

 

[DBT]

I guess my real question is this-- have you or do you know anyone who has used St. Bonaventure’s Journey of the Mind to God as a model in prayer and contemplation?

Hi Rob -

I’m not familiar with St. Bonaventure’s work but there have been several discussions around here lately that deal with the role of the “mind” in prayer and contemplative living. Could you provide a brief summary of his thinking on the matter to help others develop their thoughts?

The “mind” probably means different things to different people . . . depending on where they’re coming from. As a Secular Carmelite, I view the “mind” as the faculty of the soul the saints usually describe as the intellect. The Carmelite saints teach the intellect can be a proud and unruly beast that, along with the second faculty of the soul - the memory, must be tamed and brought into submission by the will which is the mistress of the faculties of the soul.

Since the will is equated with love, contemplation and contemplative living in the Carmelite tradition is expressed in the language of love. Thus intellectual striving, good though it may be, will not lead to union with God; only exercise in love will lead to that end. In short, the path to union with God goes through the heart not the mind.

And as love becomes ever more perfect in our hearts, it truly becomes, as blessedstar says, the “living prayer of our lives.” Thus, blessedstar’s tagline imo, expresses the essence of contemplative living.

Finally, I’m also intrigued by what St. Bonaventure says about the “ladder of contemplation” for this is a common symbol in mystical writings. St. John of the Cross used this imagery to describe the 10 degrees of love leading to perfection in the “Dark Night.”

Dave

 

[DBT]

Rob, you piqued my interest and since no one else has chimed in yet I referred to the classic “The Presence of God” series by Bernard McGinn to get a quick flavor of the mystical writings of St. Bonaventure.

Dr. McGinn states the primary purpose of St. Bonaventure’s writings was to address the three stages of the interior life: the purgative, illuminative and unitive ways. Within that, his concern was to define the roles of the faculties of the soul (intellect, will and memory). Perfect love, in the example of St. Francis of Assisi, is the model St. Bonaventure provides to make his case.

Dr. McGinn states that St. Bonaventure was strongly influenced by the the Pseudo-Dionysius school of mystical thought which stressed the negative rather than affirmative (ie, God is found by “unknowing” and can’t be grasped through images, forms, words and ideas). As such, it would seem his mystical theology would be similiar in concept to the “Cloud of Unknowing” and St. John of the Cross, whose concept of “Nada” is perhaps the supreme expression of “unknowing.”

Dr. McGinn concludes by stating that St. Bonaventure’s “Journey of the Mind to God” is, pound for pound, one of the greatest books on mystical theology ever written. It would seem you’ve found a very reliable contemplative guide

Maybe the Secular Franciscan’s who roam this forum will have something to add . . .

Dave.

 

[InLight247]

I have never read St. Bonaventure’s writing. I am neither a Secular Carmelite nor a Secular Franciscan. The only thing I can chip in is to share my own experience.

I remember from the very beginning of becoming a Catholic, my motto was “faith is a lifestyle.” It means faith and life has to be one. Having faith is to live a life of faith. Live a life of faith means to pray always. In other words, prayer is life, life is prayer.

Like any relationship, prayer, the relationship with God, is a process of development. Looking back, I see my own prayer life became intensive during the last ten years. In 1998, due to a hardship, an earnest prayer habit was formed. As time goes by, I notice I pray any time, anywhere. I pray while working or walking, in the car, or on the street, in the elevator, in bath room, in a meeting, or in a movie theater. I literally talk to God and cling to Him day and night. At that stage, my prayer was very vocal, nothing contemplative. However, hours of daily prayer laid a good ground work for contemplation. Before reading Brother Lawrence’s “The Practice of the Presence of God”, the presence of God has been practiced unintentionally for many years.

It is not until I engaged in daily Eucharist Adoration and spent hours of solitude with God, I started entering the gate of contemplation. The transforming power of Eucharist is undeniable. Spending hours in front of the tabernacle made me so thirsty for a better union with God. Such thirst results in a new resolution for holiness. When I imitate St. Faustina to accuse myself for any little fault, and go to frequent confession, humility and genuine love toward people starts to fall into place. That’s when the practice of the presence of God leaps to a new plateau, the constant prayer leads to a contemplative living.

I hope my expression makes sense.

 

[DBT]

The only thing I can chip in is to share my own experience

And . . .

I hope my expression makes sense.

Inlight, as always, you make perfect sense

For some reason, after reading your post, I was drawn to the closing words of the author of The Cloud of Unknowing:

“And so I urge you; go after experience rather than knowledge. On account of pride, knowledge may often deceive you, but this gentle, loving affection will not deceive you. Knowledge tends to breed conceit, but love builds. Knowledge is full of labor, but love, full of rest.”

Those who seek God in the love born of contemplation - as you state so well - instinctively know this. The heart rules the mind; the will leads the intellect.

Dave

 

[RobNY]

Rob, you piqued my interest and since no one else has chimed in yet I referred to the classic “The Presence of God” series by Bernard McGinn to get a quick flavor of the mystical writings of St. Bonaventure.

Don’t forget how incredibly short The Journey of the Mind to God is. It’s a very slim volume. If you’re interested. I have a Hackett version, trans. by Philotheus Boehner O.F.M. and edited by Stephen Brown, which seems pretty good to me.

Dr. McGinn states the primary purpose of St. Bonaventure’s writings was to address the three stages of the interior life: the purgative, illuminative and unitive ways. Within that, his concern was to define the roles of the faculties of the soul (intellect, will and memory). Perfect love, in the example of St. Francis of Assisi, is the model St. Bonaventure provides to make his case.

St. Bonaventure says:

Wherefore it is to groans of prayer through Christ Crucified, in Whose blood we are cleansed from the filth of vices, that I first of all invite the reader. Otherwise he may come to think that mere reading will suffice without fervor, speculation without devotion, investigation without admiration, observation without exultation, industry without piety, knowledge without love, understanding without humility, study without divine grace, the mirror without divinely inspired wisdom…

Dr. McGinn states that St. Bonaventure was strongly influenced by the the Pseudo-Dionysius school of mystical thought which stressed the negative rather than affirmative (ie, God is found by “unknowing” and can’t be grasped through images, forms, words and ideas). As such, it would seem his mystical theology would be similiar in concept to the “Cloud of Unknowing” and St. John of the Cross, whose concept of “Nada” is perhaps the supreme expression of “unknowing.”

St. Bonaventure does quote Pseudo-Dionysius a few times, and I do see strains of his thought strewn about. In Chapter I:

Prayer, then, is the mother and origin of every upward striving of the soul. Thus Dionysius, in his book, Mystical Theology, wishing to instruct us in the transports of soul, opens first with a prayer. Let us, therefore, also pray and say to the Lord, our God: Lead me in your way, O Lord, that I may walk in your truth; let my heart rejoice that it may revere your name. By so praying we are given light to discern the steps of the soul’s ascent to God.

Or again in chapter VII:

And since, therefore, nature avails nothing and human endeavor but little, little should be attributed to inquiry, but much to unction; little to the tongue, but very much to interior joy; little to spoken or written word, but everything to the Gift of God, that is, to the Holy Spirit. Little or nothing should be attributed to the creature, but everything to the Creative Essence-- the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. And thus, with Dionysius, we address the Triune God: “O Trinity, Essence above all essence, and Deity above all deity, supremely best Guardian of the divine wisdom of Christians, direct us to the supremely unknown, superluminous, and most sublime height of mystical knowledge. There new mysteries-- absolute and changeless mysteries of theology-- are shrouded in the superluminous darkness of a silence that teaches secretly in a most dark manner that is above all manifestation and resplendent above all splendor, and in which everything shines forth-- a darkness which fills invisible intellects by an abundance above all plenitude with the splendors of invisible good things that are above good.” All this pertains to God.

To the friend, however, for whom these words were written, we can say with Dionysius: And you, my friend, in this matter of mystical visions, renew your journey, "abandon the senses, intellectual activities, and all visible and invisible things-- everything that is not and everything that is-- and, oblivious to yourself, let yourself be brought back, in so far as it is possible, to union with Him Who is above all essence and all knowledge. And transcending yourself and all things, ascend to the superessential gleam of the divine darkness by an incommensurable and absolute transport of a pure mind.

 

[RobNY]

(cont)

If you wish to know how these things come about, ask grace, not learning; desire, not understanding; the groaning of prayer, not diligence in reading; the Bridegroom, not the teacher; God, not man; darkness, not clarity; not light, but the fire that wholly inflames and carries one into God through transporting unctions and consuming affections. God Himself is this fire, and His furnace is Jerusalem; and it is Christ who enkindles it in the white flame of His most burning Passion. This fire he alone truly perceives who says: My soul chooses hanging, and my bones, death. He who loves this death can see God, for it is absolutely true that Man shall not see me and live.

Let us, then, die and enter into this darkness. Let us silence all our cares, our desires, and our imaginings. With Christ Crucified, let us pass out of this world to the Father…

There’s some quotes of interest. It’s hard to cull out the philosophical stuff, though.

-Rob

 

[DBT]

Yes, Rob, it would seem the influences are clear

Here’s a few quotes from “Mystical Theology” (another very short work!) by pseudo-Dionysius that continue the ideas you presented and stress the nature of the “ascent” into the silence that is contemplation:

…leave behind you everything perceived and understood, everthing perceptible and understandable, all that is not and all that is, and, with your understanding laid aside, to strive upward as much as you can toward union with him who is beyond all being and knowledge. By an undivided and absolute abandonment of yourself and everything, shedding all and freed from all, you will be uplifted to the ray of the divine shadow which is above everything that is.

The fact is that the more we take flight upward, the more our words are confined to the ideas we are capable of forming; so that now as we plunge into that darkness which is beyond intellect, we shall find ourselves not simply running short of words but actually speechless and unknowing.

…the more it climbs the more language falters, and when it has passed up and beyond the ascent, it will turn silent completely, since it will finally be at one with Him who is indescribable.

Dave

 

[RobNY]

I love Dionysius’s expression, “a ray of darkness.” St. John of the Cross explains it very well in The Ascent to Mount Carmel, which I’ve read the first two books of.

Such a rich mystical/prayer tradition that we have. I was also interested in reading Pseudo-Dionysius, because he was so important for people like St. John and St. Thomas… but I always want to read far too many books at once.

I’ll try to come back to this thread and get some more discussion going, I’d like to address your first post and InLight’s post.

 

[blessedstar]

I am just plainly embarrased so I’ll just read what you all have to say.

 

[blessedstar]

I am plainly embarrassed and so I’ll just read what you all have to say.

In the Living Prayer of my life.

 

[TOP]

I understand the quotes, but hardly anything you all are talking about. Keep the quotes coming. Thanks, Tim

 

[RobNY]

I am plainly embarrassed and so I’ll just read what you all have to say.

In the Living Prayer of my life.

Didn’t mean to do that, dear. Please contribute if you find anything to say.

I understand the quotes, but hardly anything you all are talking about. Keep the quotes coming. Thanks, Tim

In which case you are in a fine position! Better to understand St. Bonaventure and Dionysius than us.

-Rob

 

[JPrejean]

Your observations are very much along the lines of my own experience. The only thing I would add is that the very idea that the philosophical and the prayerful/contemplative are separate is one of those stereotypes that I would like to see retired. Scholasticism was a prime example of reason directed in the service of faith, not contrary to it. The entire Scholastic endeavor was not some rationalistic justification for the faith, but a sincere desire to know God to the fullest extent possible, and on that account to truly appreciate just how much God exceeds even the highest pinnacles of human reason.

There is a tendency to separate “mystics,” supposedly focused on the experience of God, from “Scholastics,” typically connoting a more rationalistic approach. But the list of Western authors who bridge this divide would include practically all of them, and I would go so far as to argue that even the most Scholastic of the Scholastics (I am thinking St. Anselm, St. Thomas Aquinas, and Bl. Duns Scotus in particular) and their commentators (Cajetan, John of St. Thomas, Suarez) convey every bit as much awe and wonder about God as any mystic. When you get past the philosophical terminology and structure, it is amazing how much the sheer glory of God shines forth in their writing. It’s a lot easier to see in someone like Bonaventure, who is deliberately writing for the education of new Franciscans, but it can be seen through diligent study of many of the Saints. I’d encourage everybody to take that experience of seeing Bonaventure’s text as more than just a philosophical exercise and to try to recapture that same experience with St. Anselm, St. John Damascene, or St. Thomas (particularly where he addresses Pseudo-Dionysius). It’s not the easiest thing in the world, but it sure can be rewarding for your faith.