The masked truth

Dear Lord, give me the truths which are veiled by the doctrines and articles of faith, which are masked by the pious words of sermons and books. Let my eyes penetrate the veil, and tear off the mask, that I can see your truth face to face.

Saint John of the Cross

Christian mystics of any era would have seen the truth in what John expresses here: God is so beyond us that doctrine, critical though it is, serves less to tell us of God's nature than to remind us that our own vision is limited. I still cannot help but shudder at the reaction the Inquisition would have had to such a prayer as this. John, of course, lived at the height of the Counter-Reformation. With the church recently torn by disputes, emphasis on obedience, conformity, and practise was an understandable (indeed, in the context highly important) refuge.

Most of the greatest theologians were outstanding in their prayer. Whether we speak of Thomas Aquinas in the 13th century or, for example, Karl Rahner in our own, they would have known that, in view of the divine majesty of which we can only catch a glimpse, it was (to borrow Thomas's words) "all straw," no matter how brilliantly the straw was presented. I am not suggesting that doctrine is unimportant! Indeed, divine revelation is an essential concept if we are to have any sense of awe in his presence - and we fulfil our Christian vocation as a Church. It is unfortunate, nonetheless, that adherence to doctrine (which, when there is conflict, can be interpreted to a degree which those who set it forth never intended) can seem to be an end in itself.

During the patristic era, when the Arian controversy was underway (and the emperor favoured Arius), accounts were written which give the impression that discussion of and controversy about the nature of Christ was tossed about in the tavern, with a vigour which, in our own day, was normally reserved for football. Yet I believe that even Athanasius was well aware that Christology and the Trinity, indeed revealed truths, equally are reminders that we know very little. "One substance with the Father" cannot be explained as if it were a scientific presentation.

This week is the feast of the Abba Antony, one of the earliest desert ascetics (and one who was not fleeing from taxation or the military.) :) Athanasius, assuredly not one of the cuddliest creatures in church history, would write a biography of hermit Antony - and I find that rather telling. Antony was a great man of prayer - yet he would not have been particularly useful in the political sphere, or in defending the nature of Christ, or in refuting heresy (which often was the theologian's main occupation.) In fact, hermits at the time had a life which would place them beyond the pale of any concept of the "good Catholic" on the Tridentine model. Their life was not focussed on liturgy, and many of them rarely participated in the Eucharist. They went their own way (at least until Basil wisely codified things a bit, foreshadowing the brilliance Benedict would later show in that area.) They therefore were often great saints, or blatant heretics, or schemers who sold pardons for those who'd not been ready to face execution during persecutions (with the pardons sometimes issued in the names of martyrs already dead.)

I'm making two points here, albeit in a shakey fashion. Not only doctrine but a certain degree of discipline is necessary for the Christian life - and the discipline I mean here is that of the 'disciple,' being open to teaching, revelation through the Church, and the wisdom of history. (My definition basically is "take a look at what is proven to work, and what tends to lead to disaster, and take heed.") But trying to have all the answers - to codify revelation - to attempt to explain what is beyond us - can deter us from the life of prayer.

John of the Cross was far from heretical, and would have believed every last letter of Church doctrine. He was not asking to disbelieve, but to know that God cannot be boxed - that everything we see is a shadow. In the Christian tradition, which is built on creed and judged by orthodoxy (where others are not), it is commonplace for the great mystics, whose glimpse of the divine is beyond the norm, to sound as if they were agnostic. (Well, at least to the Inquisition...)