The Knight of Faith

“When around one everything has become silent, solemn as a clear, starlit night, when the soul comes to be alone in the whole world, then before one there appears, not an extraordinary human being, but the eternal power itself, then the heavens open, and the I chooses itself or, more correctly, receives itself. Then the personality receives the accolade of knighthood that ennobles it for an eternity.”

Either/Or part II p. 177

Soren Kierkegaard’s description of the knight of faith will be evocative for anyone familiar with the path to gnosis outlined by Tomberg, Mouravieff, and others. Through quieting the emotions, the passions, one becomes as a mirror ready to reflect the Will of Him above and ready to hear the Word of God in the silence of the heart. For Kierkegaard he describes it as one who has transformed his personality through a noble asceticism, receiving his “I” as “the accolade of knighthood”. Can we not see this too in St Bernard of Clairvaux, the Desert Fathers, St John Henry Newman, and many more besides?

“The knight of faith is the only happy man, the heir to the finite while the knight of resignation is a stranger and an alien.”

Fear and Trembling, Hong p. 50

So too in the modern world, those without faith – without insight – are among the growing numbers of those with mental health issues. Cut off from God, from a certain sense of self, they are adrift upon the sea of iniquity. It is their belief that they have freedom by denying divinity, where really the man who says “not my will, but Thy will be done” has true freedom; this Tomberg alludes to in his work Covenant of the Heart. He asks: “What is an act of faith?” Kierkegaard, as the first quote above suggests, would be inclined to answer that one has to take a leap of faith to receive the insight and thus would be convinced when one does so in the conscious act itself. Hence his use of Abraham and Isaac in depicting the knight of faith.

The question “what is an act of faith?” like the dilemma of Abraham or the mystery of the Incarnation, the Word made flesh, in the quiet of Nazareth long ago are not something to solve, rather they are profound moments for meditation. We should be struck by them, as one is when one hits their head on a windowpane, for they are after all right there in front of us but we do not see them. We may hear the words of the Masters voice but are we His sheep? Do we hear His voice?

Postscript

The Patrons of Europe

Ss. Benedict of Nursia, Cyril and Methodius, Bridget of Sweden, Catherine of Siena, and Edith Stein (Teresa Benedicta of the Cross) are considered patrons of Europe. Benedict is the main patron saint, while the others are considered co-patrons. In addition, it is believed the whole continent was granted protection under Our Lady of Europe in the 14th Century. Which politicians today recognise this? What if we recognised this in ourselves first?

SS. Cyril, Catherine of Siena, Methodius, Bridget of Sweden, Benedict of Nursia, and Edith Stein (Teresa Benedicta of the Cross)

In Arthur’s Kingdom

Logres is King Arthur’s realm in the Matter of Britain. It derives from the medieval Welsh word Lloegyr.

Arthur’s Kingdom of Logres encompassed most of what became England bar Cornwall and possibly Northumbria. Just like other states, it is archetypical of the human state. This is particularly true with reference to the collapse of the realm and the degeneration of man. How does one arrive at this hypothesis? Well there were three calamities that befell Arthur, his court at Camelot, and ultimately lead to the collapse of the Kingdom of Logres:

1. Excessive emotion,
2. Excessive war making,
3. Mortal sin (adultery; incest).

The first calamity to befall the kingdom was excessive emotion. This leads on to the two following calamities. Lancelot trusts in his swordsmanship and won’t give up his passion for the queen (Guinevere), and Arthur trusts in his success in battle, but his own personal feelings must not factor in any decision he makes about the use of violence. Not properly mastered, emotion leads one to anxiety, depression, worry, despair, self-doubt, and inflation. Boris Mouravieff writes:

“In our civilization — as we have already observed — it generally receives neither rational education nor systematic training. Its formation and development are now left to chance, since religious education today has been largely intellectualized and rationalized. All sorts of considerations dictated by worldly wisdom and mundane vanity; the habitual practice of lying — especially to ourselves — and hypocrisy, from which no one is totally exempt, imprint dangerous distortions on the emotional centre. Frequently struck by a feeling of inferiority and by the need for compensation, its usual motivation; accustomed as it is to judge and to criticize everybody and everything; surrendering itself to a strangely voluptuous enjoyment of negative emotions; this centre becomes unrecognizable. It degenerates to the point where it becomes the instrument of destruction of our being, which it accelerates on its way towards ageing and death.”

To avoid collapse of one’s spiritual life one must begin with mastery of the emotional centre, i.e. the heart. We can look to Tolkien’s example as one to follow.

The second calamity was excessive war making. Arthur had to draw the sword (Excalibur) to defeat and put down his enemies, which was just according to the Just War Theory of Ss. Augustine and Aquinas as they were defensive wars. However, soon Arthur, through confidence and success was engaged in wars of aggression where needless lives were lost on both sides. Excessive action for the sake of action, for worldly success or some other unnecessary pursuit leads one away from higher functions. Though as we have written before it is up to us to purify these lower elements too.

In the Catechism of Pope Saint Pius X, we find three necessary conditions for a mortal sin. It must be a grave matter, full advertence (a recognition of the situation), and perfect consent of the will. We see this in the act of adultery Lancelot committed with Guinevere, and to a lesser extent with Morgana and Arthur’s inadvertent incest. Obviously mortal sin is deadly to our spiritual life as it was to the Kingdom of Logres. Read metaphysically these actions disturbed the cosmic order, they were contrary to the “law of God”. Thus, sins of the father effect his sons and his sons’ sons, and we see our actions as eternal – just as they are in God.

Lancelot has arrived at the chapel containing the Holy Grail but because of his sinful affair with Guinevere he cannot enter and instead falls asleep. Launcelot at the Chapel of the Holy Grail by Edward Burne-Jones (1833-1898).

Many partings

The time has come, the Walrus said[.]

The Walrus in The Walrus and the Carpenter by Lewis Carroll

Bilbo: [to the crowd] “I regret to announce — this is The End. I am going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell.” [whispers to Frodo] “Goodbye.”

Bilbo Baggins in The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend
The end of our elaborate plans
The end of ev’rything that stands
The end

Jim Morrison

“The End” could easily signify death. Coming to terms with death can be difficult if one doesn’t have a point of reference. If one doesn’t have an anchor, something prior from which to view the events, they can appear disjointed or shallow. This is even more the case when we consider our own death. After all it is the one thing in our lives we can count on; we will die and that is that. Therefore we ought to keep our death ever present in our minds so that never a moment is wasted. This is when we see the end as our beautiful friend. Cf. Death and the Real I.

The Walrus went on to talk of many things: including shoes, ships, and kings. Indeed, even esoteric questions as to why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings. My Grandma said to me that the time had come. She used the words of the Walrus in the poem to convey a decision had to be made. But to put it off would be nice. To ignore the typhoon coming on. Yet despite all of this there is hope. “The End” as in a finishing point could also lead to new life or rather a new life. Bilbo goes to live with the Elves, and Frodo goes on an adventure of his own. Both eventually sail into the West.

The metaphor of the sea is apt. It is an eternal rolling image of time. Where those have gone before others will follow. It consumes all. Yet as a prophet is despised in his own country, those bright sparks will not ignite and flourish in damp kindling. So they set sail for new worlds, or perhaps, old worlds that need recovering. I am not comparing myself to a prophet rather it is bound up in the decision to follow an esoteric path. Leaving home is always difficult, as is death, yet prayers of friends help considerably. Is leaving the world a different matter altogether from this? Surely we search for our true home, the Heavenly Fatherland?

Tolkien and the Blessed Sacrament

JRR Tolkien grew up with the Catholic Faith. His mother, a convert and widow, gave to him and his brother this unparalleled gift. His childhood was spent with the Fathers of the Brompton Oratory in London. His closeness to the Blessed Sacrament was to remain a constant throughout his life, he attended Holy Mass and received Holy Communion daily. It is in this we see where he experienced the graces that were to be key to his work and are evident in it.

Craig Bernthal makes the case for Tolkien’s sacramental vision in the eponymous book published recently.[1] He argues that Tolkien, in writing the Lord of the Rings (and the associated literature), has created a ‘holy’ work. Tolkien himself considered that he wrote with inspiration, perhaps even divine inspiration.[2] It might be the case that Tolkien’s work is divinely inspired, he lived a life of sanctity, and there is cause for his canonisation. Yet what I am interested in is how he came to imagine what he did. He wrote “the stories arose in my mind as given things”.[3] What does that mean?

I did not grow up as a Roman Catholic. Though now I am a member of the Church, and I happen to live close to an Oratory. I attend Mass as often as I can and receive Communion in like manner. What arose in my mind was the example of Tolkien, who as an Inkling has connections to rediscovering the Imagination as a creative force. Well we know nothing comes out of nowhere, so where did these stories come from and how can we replicate that? One could say it is only possible to find ‘new’ things by writing them and voicing one’s perspective. Which is a unique because it is uniquely yours.

For Tolkien, he wrote the Lord of the Rings as a home for the languages he had created. We know that words are symbolic of the essence of a created being or object. Adam named the beasts therefore he knew their essences. Bernthal points out, using Tolkien’s poem Mythopoeia, that Tolkien thought through speech we breath the world into life.[4] The creation of Arda in the Silmarillion is done so through music and song. And the Elves, like Adam, name the stars ‘el’ or God. We can link this to the work of Saint Thomas Aquinas and Aristotle, and even Plato, who Tolkien was conversant with along with Saint Augustine. Tolkien’s mythopoetic observations have been noted for their similarity to the Logos which acts as both “the […] language of nature” spoken into being by God, and “a repetition in the finite mind of the eternal act of creation in the infinite I AM”.[5]

I believe Tolkien was ‘remembering’ Truths that had been forgotten. It would be worth cultivating a life similar to his in order to know how to proceed. There is plenty of material to work with, and signs to show us the way, all it takes is effort to do the exercises. We have mentioned this before, and it has been mentioned by others before too. Tolkien was evidently able to return to a higher state of consciousness,[6] to wit “the chief practical objectives are mastery of the sexual centre, and the training of the emotional centre.”[7] Spending an hour in front of the Blessed Sacrament each day will help us to with this internal war. Venerable Fulton Sheen declared this more necessary than the external struggle for without it we will not have the moral courage to salute the same flag that others have fought and died for.

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[1] Craig Bernthal, Tokien’s Sacramental Vision: Discerning the Holy in Middle Earth (Angelico Press, 2014).

[2] Bernthal, Tokien’s Sacramental Vision, p. 46.

[3] Bernthal, Tokien’s Sacramental Vision, p. 45 n. 54.

[4] Bernthal, Tokien’s Sacramental Vision, p. 59.

[5] Lisa Coutras, Tolkien’s Theology of Beauty: Majesty, Splendor, and Transcendence in Middle-earth (Springer, 2016). Verlyn Flieger, Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien’s World (Kent State University Press, 2002). The last from S. T. Coleridge’s famous declaration in Biographia Literaria.

[6] “new source of moral energy”

[7] Boris Mouravieff, Gnosis, p. 229.

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Saint Wilfrid and the Primacy of Rome

The Primacy of Rome, by standard definition, is a Christian ecclesiological doctrine concerning the respect and authority that is due to the pope from other bishops and their episcopal sees.[1] In Saint Wilfrid’s time the issue over the dating of Easter was settled at Whitby by an appeal to Saint Peter, who holds the keys to the Kingdom, and as King Oswiu put it, is greater than Saint Columba.[2]

Saint Wilfrid appealed to Rome many times during his life over canonical irregularities and other matters. It struck me, moreover, that his appeals were not just to authority simply put.[3] Even though, in the context of his life there were discrepancies over who held ‘true authority’, it can be said that as Catholics today, we are bound to the Primacy of Rome. The authority of the bishop of Rome was not based on something transient, rather it was (and is) eternal. Our Lord proclaims this when he says to the Apostle Peter, “I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven.” And Our Lord is the highest, and true authority.

Interestingly He goes on to say: “And whatsoever thou shalt bind upon earth, it shall be bound also in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose upon earth, it shall be loosed also in heaven.” Here it is clear Christ is referring to the authority of Peter (and his successors) in temporal matters and in spiritual matters, yet also a message to us that “which is below is like that which is above and that which is above is like that which is below”.[4]

From below, the man who lives through his spirit, or intellect, corresponds to living under Providence (the subtle rules the dense). The fundamental point here is that Providence is the instrument of God’s will. Indeed, there is a higher principle uniting Providence, Will, and Destiny. These three terms correspond in man to the intellectual, psychic, and instinctual forces or spirit, soul, body.[5] The uniting principle is knowledge of the Self. From below, the “I” unites the three forces. From above, God is the unifying principle. Nevertheless, Providence is the instrument of his Will, just as for a (true) man, the intellect is the instrument of his personal will.

The draw to Rome as primary that was evident in the life of Saint Wilfrid, and I feel also in mine is due to the belief in the authority of Jesus Christ given to the Apostle Peter, and to us in our creation as beings capable of self-knowledge to the degree that the man who knows the future is the man who wills the future.[6]

For Saint Wilfrid, self-knowledge was the fruit of strict fasting and regular prayer. In his youth he travelled from the Kingdom of Northumbria to Canterbury, where he waited a year for suitable companions to help him on his way to Rome. He was not idle however, memorising the fifth edition of Saint Jerome’s translation of the Psalter in its entirety. His patience in adversity throughout his life, and his humility when he surely was in the right earned him the respect of his contemporaries and added to his cultus. Furthermore, due to many miracles attributed to him he can be said to practice magic in the sense which Tomberg refers to in the maxim: the subtle rules the dense.[7]

Saint Wilfrid was and is a remarkable man in the graces he received from God:

“As an apostolic pioneer, a monastic founder, a builder of churches and patron of art, and as a person of remarkable fortitude and persistence, inspired by grandiose ideals and imaginative vision, he deserves to be considered one of the most important men of the Old English Church.”[8]

He serves us as an example, an inspiration and an intercessor to achieve true freedom.[9]

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[1] Perhaps more well known as Papal primacy or the primacy of the bishop of Rome.

[2] “Tell me which is greater in the kingdom of heaven, Columba or the Apostle Peter?”

[3] An argument from authority (argumentum ab auctoritate), also called an appeal to authority, or argumentum ad verecundiam, is a form of argument in which the opinion of an authority on a topic is used as evidence to support an argument. Some consider that it is used in a cogent form if all sides of a discussion agree on the reliability of the authority in the given context. Other authors, however, consider it to always be a fallacy to cite an authority on the discussed topic as the primary means of supporting an argument.

[4] The Emerald Tablet [Quod est inferius, est sicut quod est superius. Et quod est superius, est sicut quod est inferius].

[5] See Providence, Will, Destiny.

[6] See Phenomenology of the Medieval Mind.

[7] For more on ‘magic’ see Ecce Ancilla Domini.

[8] Oxford Dictionary of Saints, p. 448.

[9] “The law proclaimed by Jesus: ‘ye shall know the Truth and the truth shall make you free‘ will apply to him in its fullness … man will understand the full value of the magical power expressed in the word freedom.” ~ Boris Mouravieff, Gnosis: Book One, p. 169.