Mysticism and Vocation

121 Pages·1996·8.57 MB·English

by  James R. Horne

EDITIONS SR
Volume 18
Mysticism
and
Vocation
James R. Home
Published for the Canadian Corporation for Studies in
Religion/Corporation Canadienne des Sciences Religieuses
by Wilfrid Laurier University Press
1996
Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data
Home, James R., 1931-
Mysticism and vocation
(Editions SR; 18)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-88920-264-8
1. Mysticism. 2. Vocation (in religious orders,
congregations, etc.). I. Canadian Corporation for
Studies in Religion. II. Title. III. Series.
BV5083.H67 1996 248.2'2 C95-932267-1
© 1996 Canadian Corporation for Studies in Religion /
Corporation Canadienne des Sciences Religieuses
Cover design by George Kirkpatrick using an illustration by Nicole Bauberger
Printed in Canada
Mysticism and Vocation has been produced from a manuscript supplied in
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Contents
Acknowledgements v
Introduction
Mysticism and Vocational Choice 1
Chapter One
Moral Perfection and Mysticism 9
Chapter Two
Public Criteria of Vocational Choice 31
Chapter Three
Private Criteria of Vocational Choice 57
Chapter Four
Taking Vocational Choices Seriously 83
Select Bibliography 105
Index 109
111
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Acknowledgements
I first encountered mysticism as an experience and an academic subject in
the 1950s, when my own calling was an intense personal concern for me.
Now, having sufficiently settled into a rather complex and paradoxical
vocation as mystic, scholar, and priest, I offer some thoughts about the
relationship of mysticism and vocational choice. I do this with the sceptical
reserve of a scholar addressing his fellows in the academic community, but
here and there drop my guard and reveal that I also live in a community of
faith. After a long career on the boundary between the two, I realize how
much I owe to many kind people, too many to name, in both worlds. One
small group that I should mention consisted of several World War II
veterans with whom I worked in 1948-50. They were very kind to an
intense, rather eccentric teenager, and imparted, with other good advice, the
homely insight contained in the Canadian army joke cited in Chapter Four.
I thank them as representatives of many people who kept me "down to
earth" when I was inclined to be too theoretical and other-worldly.
More recently, Jay Newman gave me help of a similar nature with
regard to this book. I thank him for his invaluable practical advice when I
was struggling with revisions. Donald Evans provided important inspiration
and advice at an earlier stage. My wife Jean had done research on Vera
Brittain's experiences and one evening at dinner granted me permission to
use it. My dean, Brian Hendley, my departmental chairman, Richard
Holmes, and my colleagues in the philosophy department have been
supportive friends, cheerfully harbouring a theologian in wolf's clothing.
The University of Waterloo granted me a sabbatical leave to write this book
and a half-sabbatical to finish revising it, and the university's SSHRC Small
Grants Committee equipped me with a computer.
Some ideas and passages in Chapter One are from my article,
"Saintliness and Moral Perfection" (Religious Studies 27, 4 [December
1991]: 463-71, ©Cambridge University Press 1991, reprinted with the
permission of Cambridge University Press). Parts of Chapter Two are from
my article, "Two Ethical Modes and MacIntyre's Narrative Ideal" (The
Scottish Journal of Religious Studies 14, 2 [Autumn 1993]: 89-101), and
appear by permission of that journal. This book has been published with the
help of a grant from the Canadian Federation for the Humanities, using
funds provided by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of
Canada.
v
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Introduction
Mysticism and Vocational Choice
In 1901 William James introduced scholars to the serious study of
mysticism, describing a visionary experience that is transient, passive,
noetic, ineffable, and conveys "a curious sense of authority for aftertime."1
Ever since, it has been a subject of active investigation and dispute, but in
spite of this scholarly interest a universally acceptable definition of
mysticism has proved to be elusive. This problem is illustrated in a striking
way in a long discussion by W.T. Stace in Mysticism and Philosophy,2 as
well as in Dean Inge's list of twenty-six different definitions of mysticism.3
Yet, in spite of scholars' problems with definition, the average informed
reader has no difficulty in recognizing accounts of mystical experience when
she sees them. Even unusual examples, like this incident in the life of the
American philosopher John Dewey, somehow convey the mood of the
experience:
One evening while he sat reading he had what he called a "mystic
experience." It was an answer to that question which still worried him whether
he meant business when he prayed. It was not a very dramatic mystic
experience. There was no vision, not even a definable emotion—just a
supremely blissful feeling that his worries were over. Mystic experiences in
general, Dewey explained, are purely emotional and cannot be conveyed in
words. But when he tried to convey his in words, it came out like this: "What
the hell are you worrying about, anyway? Everything that's here is here, and
you can just lie back on it." "I've never had any doubts since then," he
added, "—nor any beliefs. To me faith means not worrying."4
Dewey's experience is recognizably mystical, although, consistent with his
matter-of-fact pragmatism, it is not dramatic or colourful, and simply
produces appropriate results. It bears the marks of mysticism, including the
"curious sense of authority" mentioned by James. It also has significant
elements of mystical paradoxicality and ineffability in that it involves no
"definable emotion" but nevertheless is "supremely blissful." It "cannot be
conveyed in words," and yet Dewey's words do help us to understand it.
The Vermont philosopher was not given to doctrinal, literary, or symbolic
embellishment, as his spare account illustrates.
Dewey shows us how to describe a mystical or quasi-mystical
experience in a style we would call literal and prosaic, using behavioural
and psychological terms. The modem person, wanting to know only "what
happened" or "how it was done," may find this refreshingly informative.
However, traditional mystical reports have frequently been more colourful,
and have employed a great deal of moral, religious, and poetic
1
2 Mysticism and Vocation
interpretation. Consider, for example, this report by the sixteenth-century
mystic, Jacob Boehme:
For I saw and knew the Being of all Beings, the Byss and the Abyss, and the
Eternal Generation of the Holy Trinity, the Descent and Original of the World,
and of all creatures through the Divine Wisdom: knew and saw in myself all
the three Worlds, namely, The Divine, angelical and paradisical; and the dark
World, the Original and the Nature to the Fire; and then, thirdly, the external
and visible World, being a Procreation or external Birth from both the internal
and spiritual Worlds.5
In contrast to Dewey's report, this passage displays the style characteristic
of mystical writings through the centuries. That is, the writer shows a strong
tendency to describe his experiences figuratively, in poetic and religious
language. Evelyn Underhill has, in fact, pointed out that certain symbolic
patterns recur in such reports. The three most frequently invoked images are
of loving personal relationships, "quests" for saving knowledge, and
personal transformation. In addition, the image of light has always been
associated with the central mystical experience of illumination:
The illuminatives seem to assure us that . . . they do experience a kind of
radiance, a flooding of the personality with new light. A new sun rises above
the horizon and transfigures their twilight world. Over and over they return to
light imagery in this connection.6
There is no doubt that mystics frequently use a rich variety of striking
symbols. In contrast, Dewey's brief report would strike most people as
totally lacking in such aesthetic or poetic figures, as well as in metaphysical
or religious doctrines. He describes a psychological event in simple,
predominantly behavioural language, which most of us would accept as
literal. However, there is more interpretation involved in Dewey's account
than he would care to admit, although it is interpretation that is appropriate
to our matter-of-fact times. Note that he sees the experience as "an answer
to that question which still worried him." He states the question rather
naively, as having to do with his prayer life, but the total account suggests
that he has been worrying about a problem closely related to those Underhill
describes more figuratively. In his case it is that of having confidence in
himself as he decides what course he will follow in life. This is the classical
problem of "vocation," of deciding how one will view the world and what
sort of life one will lead. Of course, this kind of vocational choice is
traditionally conceived as made under divine influence, as when one chooses
"the Christian vocation." However, it can be understood in a secular sense,
as discovery of and assent to one's abilities, circumstances, and tendencies.
It would be an event that paradoxically involved both passive acceptance
and active decision. In some respects it would resemble the mystical
experience.
In fact, one can surmise that Dewey's "mystic experience" could have
happened as a culminating event in a personal process that mystics have
Introduction 3
described systematically. They tell us of trying to solve apparently insoluble
problems related to the conduct of their lives (temporal matters) or to
knowledge of God (eternal things). The frequency with which they can be
seen to be involved in this pattern has led me (in previous writings) to
advance the hypothesis that mysticism is essentially "a creative
transformation of the personality, characterized by an intellectual, emotional
or visionary illumination experience at its critical stage."7 In it, the person
resolves "a religious or metaphysical problem" which has been experienced
with great intensity.8 I have chosen this definition fully understanding that
any such formulation, even in language merely describing behaviour,
involves interpretation. The advantages of this definition are that it is in
language that is understandable to most people at this time in history, it
permits further interpretation, and it agrees with traditional accounts of
mystics' lives, as well as with their advice about the mystical life.
Mystical doctrines and traditions are available in many well-known
works. A compilation that can be highly recommended is Evelyn Underhill's
Mysticism. Underhill depicts mysticism as a way of resolving spiritual
problems. As she describes it, the mystic first becomes aware of, even
obsessed with, an insoluble problem such as death, moral justification for
one's whole life, or the meaning of life. Engagement with the problem is
followed by attempts to solve it by direct and conventional means that have
been taught in a community (usually a religious one). For example, the
mystic might try to comply perfectly with formulas for living a blameless
and dutiful life. Virtually everyone fails in any attempt to do such things,
but mystics are very serious about their attempts, and when self-discipline
and other straightforward strategies fail, they cannot simply accept the
situation.
There are then two ways in which mystics try to solve such "insoluble"
problems. Those who follow the "introvertive" way concentrate on their own
personal state and attempt to purify themselves of sin or other shortcomings,
using ascetic or meditative techniques. Mystical illuminations following
upon these procedures give the impression of resulting from concentrated
effort, so that Aldous Huxley has said that such mystical experience is
obtained or induced.9 However, we should note that although the mystics
do make the efforts mentioned, they commonly report that the ultimate
insight experience, the illumination, follows upon such exercises not with
the regularity of an effect following a cause, but more as an answer or a
reward. There is no guarantee that it will occur.
The passivity of the illumination experience is much more obvious in
the second mystical mode of responding to insoluble problems. Mystics in
this mode ("extrovertive") appear at first to have no system at all, since their
visionary illuminations occur as sudden interruptions in the midst of
ordinary life. Yet, spontaneous as their experiences appear to be, studies of
extrovertive mystics reveal that they too have been struggling with