How on earth am I thinking of Richard Rolle and John Wesley concurrently?

Well, they are not such strange bedfellows, I suppose. Both Richard and John certainly 'knew what it was all about.' I know far more of 'my' mediaeval English mystics than I do of Wesley, but I had a few thoughts today which I somehow feel are worth a mention here.

Richard Rolle was indeed a mystic - and some of his poetry is exquisitely beautiful. Here is a small sample:

Lord God, make our love pure and perfect,
for then, whatever our heart loves will be yourself, our God.
For in you we may love everything you have made, ourselves, your creation,
and what else are we doing but loving you?
For when we love you with all our heart and mind, undoubtedly we love our neighbour and every other lovable thing.
So we would pour out to you our whole heart, and by that goken you will bind us so closely to you that we need no other love than yours.
For in your love, O God, is the love of neighbour also.

I found this selection especially moving, because Richard, for all his intense passion for God, had a great deal of trouble loving neighbour. His writings, twenty years apart, show one who was disgusted with just about everyone in the Church in youth, and who was still spouting the same annoyance in middle age. Perhaps - I've no idea - some of those who are called to contemplation have caught a glimpse of the divine love to a rare extent - and therefore see the wrong of weakness and sinfulness all the more. Unfortunately, Richard could not quite get past his irritation with the weaknesses of others - I get the impression he did not really like anyone.

Yet notice Richard's mention of 'we need no other love than yours.' I'm sure he was all too aware that he did not love God with his whole heart and mind - as who does?

Now, why did this bring me to think of John Wesley - about whom, I must add, I am hardly an authority? I suppose that my recent studies of the 19th century, especially those of the "Holiness" movements, brought him to mind, if only to recall how words can be misinterpreted. I've never really understood the idea of a sudden infusion of the Holy Spirit, instantaneous, as a second conversion long after one's baptism. I believe it is possible, of course, but do not see it necessarily as standard equipment for the spiritual journey. Still, in that age when there was such stress on progress, strength, wealth, and the like - the Holiness movement did not become so strong until the 1870s - too many people captured the idea of holiness as if it were a matter of instantaneous elevation to another plane.

I suppose there are those who would not care to have me use this term :), but I believe that John Wesley himself was Catholic in his theology. His writing of a 'second stage' beyond justification actually addresses a problem that has been constant since the Reformation - awareness of sanctification, the Christian ascetic vocation, our willingness to become more like our Creator (not in nature, of course!) which would seem a natural outgrowth of the deification Jesus gave to our human nature in his Incarnation. As far as I can see, John Wesley's treatment of how one could reach a point of perfection where one was free from evil thoughts and inclinations - of constant prayer, gratitude, and joy - is a perfectly sound extension of ascetic / mystic Catholic theology. It is notable that, to my knowledge, Wesley never suggested that he himself had reached this point! He knew it was a lengthy process, and a point which few of us achieve.

Of course, the Holiness sorts in the 1870s and beyond, whose tendencies toward superiority and gnosticism jump off the page when one reads their writings, were not about to embrace Wesley's caution that salvation could be lost! Nor that, even if the point of conversion was an instantaneous experience of grace, a good deal of 'progress' (forgive me - I always must put quotes around that word when I'm speaking of Victorian concepts - a world in which Wesley probably would have been even more uncomfortable than the rakish era of his own) both preceded and followed the experience.

As well all are, Wesley was somewhat hampered by the idiom of his own day. With his being post-Enlightenment, his expressions, which in essence go back to the earliest days of the Church, can be taken as if he were speaking of achievement - some sort of self-improvement path.

If there is one thing I have in common with Richard and John, it is that I recognise many principles of the spiritual life, but have no illusions about having 'achieved' them. A part of me is aware, having read scores of volumes of their writings, that the great mystics had such great detachment (who was it who wrote 'totally detached, that I may be attached to You?' My act of humility for today is admitting that I forgot) that even cares about losing salvation would not have been in their minds. I'm not referring to smugness at all! They pined for heaven - but I doubt they were thinking of themselves all that much at all.

In previous posts, I have explored how much of Christian truth (for example, the Trinity, or Jesus' sacrifice in his Passion and the Eucharist) may be expressed wonderfully in doxology, but always inadequately in 'essay form.' I believe that, however great their minds may be, and whatever their gifts for theological expression, the mystics reach a point where their entire lives are doxology. Their words, actions, and thoughts all are turned to praise.

Sometimes I feel so very tired... I've been exploring ascetic and mystic theology for my entire adult life (and was bent in that direction even in childhood), yet am all too aware that I am nowhere near total attachment to God. Do any of us, post - Enlightenment, ever get away from the idea that grace is achievement and that we need to have a strong climb by our own efforts?

A sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving... a life that is doxology... I suppose I can handle that one...