Mystical Anthropology: Authors from the Low Countries 9781472438034, 9781315597126

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Mystical Anthropology

The question of the ‘structure’ of the human person is central to many mystical authors in the Christian tradition. This book focuses on the specific anthropology of a series of key authors in the mystical tradition in the medieval and early modern Low Countries.Their view is fundamentally different from the anthropology that has commonly been accepted since the rise of Modernity. This book explores the most important mystical authors and texts from the Low Countries including: William of Saint-Thierry, Hadewijch, Pseudo-Hadewijch, John of Ruusbroec, Jan van Leeuwen, Hendrik Herp, and the Arnhem Mystical Sermons.The most important aspects of mystical anthropology are discussed: the spiritual nature of the soul, the inner-most being of the soul, the faculties, the senses, and crucial metaphors which were used to explain the relationship of God and the human person. Two contributions explicitly connect the anthropology of the mystics to contemporary thought. This book offers a solid and yet accessible overview for those interested in theology, philosophy, history, and medieval literature. John Arblaster is a doctoral student at the Faculty of  Theology and Religious Studies, KU Leuven and the Ruusbroec Institute, University of Antwerp. His research focuses on the doctrine of deification in the late-medieval West, and particularly on authors from the Low Countries. He has published several articles on these authors as well as the English translation of the poems of Pseudo-Hadewijch. He co-edited Brill’s Companion to John of Ruusbroec with Rob Faesen. Rob Faesen is Professor of Church History at the Faculty of  Theology and Religious Studies, KU Leuven and at Tilburg University, and is a member of the Ruusbroec Institute, University of Antwerp. He is an expert in the history of late medieval mystical literature, and has published extensively in this field. He was on the editorial board of the critical edition of Ruusbroec’s Opera omnia.

Contemporary Theological Explorations in Christian Mysticism Series Editors: Patricia Z. Beckman, Oliver Davies, Mark McIntosh and George Pattison

This series facilitates new points of synergy and fresh theological engagements with Christian mystical traditions. Reflecting the plurality of theological approaches to Christian mystical theology, books in the series cover historical, literary, practical, and systematic perspectives as well as philosophical, psychological, and phenomenological methods. Although the primary focus of the series is the Christian tradition, exploration of texts from other traditions also highlight the theological, psychological and philosophical questions that Christian mysticism brings to the fore.

Other recently published titles in the series: Mysticism in the French Tradition Eruptions from France Edited by Louise Nelstrop and Bradley B. Onishi Exploring Lost Dimensions in Christian Mysticism Opening to the Mystical Edited by Louise Nelstrop and Simon D. Podmore Christian Mysticism and Incarnational Theology Between Transcendence and Immanence Edited by Louise Nelstrop and Simon D. Podmore

Mystical Anthropology Authors from the Low Countries Edited by John Arblaster and Rob Faesen

First published 2017 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2017 selection and editorial matter, John Arblaster and Rob Faesen; individual chapters, the contributors The right of John Arblaster and Rob Faesen to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Names: Arblaster, John, 1985– editor. | Faesen, Rob, editor. Title: Mystical anthropology : authors from the low countries / edited by John Arblaster and Rob Faesen. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an Informa Business, [2017] | Series: Contemporary theological explorations in christian mysticism | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2016027620 | ISBN 9781472438034 (hardback : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781315597126 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Theological anthropology—Christianity. | Mysticism. Classification: LCC BT701.3 .M97 2017 | DDC 233.09—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016027620 ISBN: 978-1-4724-3803-4 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-3155-9712-6 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Apex CoVantage, LLC

This book is dedicated From Rob: To the memory of my mother & From John: To my godfathers Paul and Dominic, and to the Abbot and community of Douai Abbey, Berkshire, UK.

Contents

List of contributorsix Preface and acknowledgementsxi

Introduction: the question of mystical anthropology

1

ROB FAESEN AND JOHN ARBLASTER

1 William of Saint-Thierry and his Trinitarian mysticism

16

PAUL VERDEYEN (TRANSLATED BY JOHN ARBLASTER)

2 The mystic’s sensorium: modes of perceiving and knowing God in Hadewijch’s Visions

28

VEERLE FRAETERS

3 “The wild, wide oneness”: aspects of the soul and its relationship with God in Pseudo-Hadewijch

41

JOHN ARBLASTER AND ROB FAESEN

4 “Poor in ourselves and rich in God”: indwelling and non-identity of being (wesen) and suprabeing (overwesen) in John of Ruusbroec

59

ROB FAESEN (TRANSLATED BY JOHN ARBLASTER)

5 Ruusbroec’s notion of the contemplative life and his understanding of the human person

73

RIK VAN NIEUWENHOVE

6 Retrieving Ruusbroec’s relational anthropology in conversation with Jean-Luc Marion PATRICK RYAN COOPER

89

viii  Contents

  7 Jan van Leeuwen’s mystical anthropology: a testimony of lay mysticism from medieval Brabant

105

SATOSHI KIKUCHI

  8 The playing field of mysticism: Middle Dutch anthropological terminology in the Spieghel der volcomenheit by Hendrik Herp

119

THOM MERTENS

The Arnhem Mystical Sermons and sixteenth-century mystical culture

134

INEKE CORNET AND KEES SCHEPERS

  9 The inner ascent to God and the innermost of the human person in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons

137

INEKE CORNET

10 Multilayeredness of the highest faculties in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons

152

KEES SCHEPERS



Conclusion: anthropological lessons for the twentyfirst century from Middle Dutch mystical literature?

167

JOHN ARBLASTER AND ROB FAESEN

Bibliography173 Index189

Contributors

John Arblaster is a doctoral student at the Faculty of Theology and Religious Studies, KU Leuven and the Ruusbroec Institute, University of Antwerp. His research focuses on the doctrine of deification in the late-medieval West, and particularly on authors from the Low Countries. He has published several articles on these authors as well as the English translation of the poems of Pseudo-Hadewijch. He co-edited Brill’s Companion to John of Ruusbroec with Rob Faesen. Patrick Ryan Cooper wrote his PhD at the Faculty of Theology and Religious Studies, KU Leuven, entitled Abiding in Minne’s Demands: A Theological Retrieval of Jan van Ruusbroec and its Interdisciplinary Encounter with Jean-Luc Marion. He is currently the Director of Clergy Formation Programs at Saint Meinrad Seminary and School of Theology in Saint Meinrad, Indiana. Ineke Cornet studied theology and history at the University of Leiden, and wrote her PhD at the Faculty of  Theology and Religious Studies, KU Leuven and the Ruusbroec Institute, University of Antwerp on the Arnhem Mystical Sermons. Currently, she teaches at the University of Divinity, Melbourne. Rob Faesen is Professor of Church History at the Faculty of Theology and Religious Studies, KU Leuven and Tilburg University, and is a member of the Ruusbroec Institute, University of Antwerp. He is an expert in the history of late-medieval mystical literature, and has published extensively in this field. He was on the editorial board of the critical edition of Ruusbroec’s Opera omnia. Veerle Fraeters is Professor at and currently Director of the Ruusbroec Institute, University of Antwerp. She specializes in medieval mysticism, with a particular focus on the Middle Dutch tradition, on visionary literature, on women authors and on the Brabantine mystic Hadewijch. Recent publications include, as author, the chapter “Visio” in the Cambridge Companion to Christian Mysticism (2012), and, as editor (with M. E. Gongora and Th. de Hemptinne), the volume Speaking to the Eye. Sight and Insight through Text and Image (1150–1650) (Brepols, 2013) and (with Imke de Gier), Mulieres Religiosae. Shaping Female Spiritual Authority in the Medieval and Early Modern Times

x  Contributors

(Brepols, 2014). She is co-editor, with Frank Willaert, of the new edition with Dutch translation and commentary of Hadewijch’s Liederen (‘Songs’). Satoshi Kikuchi studied philosophy at Waseda University, Tokyo, and wrote his PhD on Eckhart’s understanding of the union between God and the human person. He worked as a post-doctoral researcher at the Faculty of Theology and Religious Studies, KU Leuven and recently published From Eckhart to Ruusbroec: A Critical Inheritance of Mystical Themes in the Fourteenth Century (Leuven University Press, 2014). Thom Mertens is Professor at the Ruusbroec Institute, University of Antwerp. He was on the editorial board of the critical edition of Ruusbroec’s Opera omnia, and recently co-edited The Complete Ruusbroec (Brepols, 2014) with Guido De Baere. He has published on John of Ruusbroec, Hendrik Herp and Middle Dutch sermons. He is editor-in-chief of the journal Ons Geestelijk Erf: Journal for the History of Spirituality of the Low Countries. Kees Schepers is Associate Professor at the Ruusbroec Institute, University of Antwerp. He has published critical editions of several late-medieval mystical texts, both in the vernacular and in Latin, including Willem Jordaens’ translation of Ruusbroec’s The Spiritual Espousals. His research now focuses on the sixteenth-century mystical renaissance in the Low Countries and the neighboring Rhineland. He is currently preparing a critical edition, with an English translation, of the Arnhem Mystical Sermons. Rik Van Nieuwenhove lectures on theology at Mary Immaculate College, Limerick, Ireland. His main research interests are medieval theology and spirituality, soteriology, and the theology of the Trinity. He has published Jan van Ruusbroec: Mystical Theologian of the Trinity (University of Notre Dame Press, 2003); An Introduction to the Trinity (with Declan Marmion; Cambridge University Press, 2011); and An Introduction to Medieval Theology (Cambridge University Press, 2012). He has co-edited Late Medieval Mysticism of the Low Countries (Paulist Press, 2008) and The Theology of Thomas Aquinas (University of Notre Dame Press, 2005). Paul Verdeyen is Professor Emeritus of the Ruusbroec Institute, University of Antwerp. He edited the works of William of Saint-Thierry in the Corpus Christianorum series, and several volumes of the works of Bernard of Clairvaux in the Sources Chrétiennes series. He has published extensively on Ruusbroec, Marguerite Porete, William of Saint-Thierry and Bernard of Clairvaux.

Preface and acknowledgements

This volume is principally the result of many years of close collaboration between members of the Institute for the Study of Spirituality, Faculty of Theology and Religious Studies, KU Leuven and the Ruusbroec Institute, Faculty of Arts, University of Antwerp. Many of the contributions in this volume began as papers delivered during joint sessions organized at the International Medieval Congress in Leeds, UK, where the idea for the volume was first conceived. We would like to express our profound gratitude to all the contributors for their dedication and commitment to its successful completion. We would also like to thank the editors of the series in which this book appears, as well as the peer reviewers of the volume for their insightful and helpful corrections and suggestions for its improvement. For their time and assistance, we are very grateful to Sarah Lloyd and David Shervington at Ashgate, who first agreed to publish the work, as well as to Andrew Weckenmann and Jack Boothroyd at Routledge for pursuing the project after the acquisition of Ashgate. Finally, we would like to thank the Research Foundation Flanders (FWO) for generously supporting our research.

Introduction The question of mystical anthropology Rob Faesen and John Arblaster

In 1926, the Dominican Ambroise Gardeil (1859–1931), who had taught several leading theologians of the next generation (including Yves Congar) and thus paved the way to the influential French movement of the “Nouvelle théologie,” wrote the following in the introduction to his extensive study entitled La structure de l’âme et l’expérience mystique: For some time now, I have been struck by the emphasis with which the most authoritative mystics affirm that they have a direct experience of the divinity, present in the ground of their soul. . . . And I wonder: how is such an experience possible?1 His study then attempted to answer this question through an analysis of the “structure” of the soul and to investigate the understandings of the human person required to make sense of this affirmation. The present volume addresses precisely the same question. How is it possible that God – the Transcendent, der ganz Andere (K. Barth), id quo maius cogitari nequit (Anselm) – and the human person are united? Alternatively, to express this idea with a more precise formulation: how is the human person to be understood in order to take seriously what mystical authors write about union with God? What is the anthropology that underlies the assertions of mystical literature? Given Gardeil’s intellectual context – or indeed our own – it is not particularly surprising that he would raise this question. Indeed, modernity bequeathed to his age and to ours a conception of the human person that is essentially individualistic and autonomous, and if to be human means ultimately to be an isolated monad, radical affirmations of mystical union might appear to be inconsistent or incoherent. Mystical authors themselves were obviously the first people to address this question, since the issue was of central relevance to them, and it demanded considerable intellectual effort insightfully to articulate the consciousness of the inner presence of God. It is for this reason that so much great spiritual literature devotes such extensive attention to expositions on the soul, its structure and its “faculties.”The mystical literature of the Low Countries is no exception, as the contributions in this volume attempt to demonstrate.

2  Rob Faesen and John Arblaster

Questioning the historical conceptions of the human person as they appear in this volume requires a twofold approach. On the one hand, it is imperative to conduct detailed literary and text-critical investigations into these authors to discover their central theological and anthropological concerns. At the same time, however, it is important for more general, systematic studies to be conducted to bring these concerns into dialogue with contemporary culture and its current anthropological presuppositions. The present volume attempts to combine both approaches, particularly with respect to John of Ruusbroec (see the contributions by Rob Faesen, Rik Van Nieuwenhove and Patrick Cooper), who may be described as the central figure in the history of Middle Dutch mysticism. This book focuses exclusively on authors from the Low Countries, where a rich tradition of mystical literature flourished in the late-medieval period that was surprisingly influential on Christian mystical literature in general.2 The authors from the Low Countries that are discussed in this book were evidently not located in a historical, theological or literary vacuum, since their writings were preceded by a long history of reflection on the encounter between the human person and God. We have therefore deemed it appropriate, by way of introduction to this book, to sketch a number of the key insights in this long tradition to highlight the contours of the specific positions adopted by the authors discussed. The major inspiration for this introduction is an article by Leonce Reypens (1884–1972) entitled “Âme: son fond, ses puissances et sa structure d’après les mystiques,” published in the Dictionnaire de spiritualité. This article is relatively old, but it is exceptionally informative, and was written by a scholar with profound erudition in the field of mystical literature. In his article, Leonce Reypens provides an extensive historical survey that discusses the most prominent mystical authors in the West, primarily in response to the question of the terminology used to describe the various aspects of the soul. His overview is thus a lexicological study, but this is not the only issue at hand. Indeed, the terms employed imply specific interpretations of the spiritual reality of the human person. In other words, a survey of the historical development of terminology at the same time necessitates a survey of the way in which people approached these topics throughout the ages. This is precisely what Leonce Reypens was referring to when he wrote: The most speculative mysticism, and particularly the mysticism that explicitly discusses interiority, could not but consciously raise the question of ontology concerning the point of insertion of the mystical gifts, from whence it was able to sketch an adequate theory of the structure of the soul.3

Ancient origins A first observation in this regard is that although the Bible provides a number of impulses, it by no means contains a developed doctrine of the soul.The scant elements – all of which occur in the Pauline literature – functioned primarily

Introduction 3

as first hermeneutical keys for mystical authors. One crucial text is 1 Thess. 5:23: “May the God of peace himself sanctify you wholly, and may your spirit and soul and body be kept sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ,” because Paul does not employ the dichotomy “body/soul,” but refers to the “body” (corpus, σῶμα), “soul” (anima, ψυχή) and “spirit” (spiritus, πνεῦμα). He does not use “soul” and “spirit” as synonyms.4 This explains why mystics often refer to the expression in Heb. 4:12, which mentions the “division of soul and spirit” (divisio animae et spiritus).5 This is the origin of the distinction between the soul (anima, ψυχή) and spirit (spiritus, πνεῦμα), between the ψυχικός-person and the πνευματικός- person. Evidently, Plotinus and the Neoplatonic tradition also provided certain impulses, although the secondary literature does not always sufficiently appreciate the fundamental differences between Neoplatonic thought and Christian theology. Plotinian terminology, which distinguishes between σῶμα, ψυχή and νοῦς, as well as the corresponding types of personhood – the sensory person (ὁ αἰστατικὸς ἂνθρωπος), the “intelligible” person (ὁ ἐν νῷ ἄνθρωπος) and the rational person in-between – did further supplement the aforementioned division in 1 Thess. 5:23. Greek Christian authors were clearly influenced by Neoplatonic language, but the meaning of the terms themselves was transformed because these authors employed them to refer to the personal presence of God and the presupposition that humanity was created in the image and likeness of God. In his article, Leonce Reypens notes several examples, such as the expression “that the one who knows himself, knows God”6 in Clement of Alexandria (Paed. III, 1), or that the soul becomes νοῦς in Origen (Princ. II, 8, 3; mens in Rufinus’s translation).7 According to the latter, it denotes that the soul only becomes “spiritual” (πνευματικός) to the extent that it corresponds to the Holy Spirit.8 Of crucial importance in this regard is the Christian conviction that humans can only be “like” God thanks to the fact that God created humanity in his image (Princ. III, 6, 1).9 For Athanasius, contemplation entails the soul seeing, within itself, as in a mirror, the Son – the Logos – and the soul thus contemplates the Father in the Son.10 He does not elaborate this insight in detail, but it is of major importance for later developments in medieval mystical theology, as is evident, for example, from Ruusbroec’s Mirror of Eternal Blessedness (p. 283ff), in which this insight is developed extensively.

Augustine The greatest influence on terminology about the soul and its corresponding insights in Western Christian mystical literature was Augustine. The following passage summarizes his fundamental conviction in this regard, and at the same time highlights the root of the intellectual challenge: If the soul does not pour itself out above itself, it cannot attain to the vision of God or to the knowledge of God’s unchangeable reality. In our present state, still in the flesh, we are challenged “where is your God?” (Ps. 24(25):1).

4  Rob Faesen and John Arblaster

God is within, spiritually within, but also spiritually on high . . . and the soul cannot reach him unless it transcends itself.11 Augustine experiences the encounter with God – or rather, understanding the encounter with God – as a challenging question of the psalmist: “Where is your God?” He is convinced of two ideas that initially appear contradictory, namely that God can only be found “outside” the self, but also “in” the self. The combination of these two elements forms the leitmotif of his attempt to answer the challenging question. As is well known, Augustine explores God’s presence in the interior of the person in chapters 7–27 of his Confessions. He questions how it is that God might be present in the soul, and particularly in the memoria, a term used to denote not only the capacity of remembering, but especially also what in contemporary terminology would be referred to as “consciousness,” as well as the deeper level in which consciousness resides (see also Confess. 10, 25, 36: “Then I arrived at a place in my memory where my mind itself is enthroned, for indeed the mind must reside there since it can remember itself ”12). On the one hand, God is certainly present at the deepest level of the soul, but on the other hand, Augustine is convinced that this deepest level of the soul cannot be identified with God as such (see also Enarr. in Ps. 41, 7: “God can be seen only with the mind, but he cannot be seen as the mind itself can be seen”13). In other words, although God is in the memoria, he remains God, the Transcendent. Consequently, Augustine concludes his search in the Confessions with the insight that God can only be found in God: “Where then could I have found you in order to learn of you, if not in yourself, far above me?” (Confess. 10, 26, 37).14 Augustine also concludes that God’s presence (in the memoria) begins with the knowledge of the truth, since God himself is the truth (see also ­Confess. 10, 24, 35: “wherever I have found truth, I have found my God, who is absolute truth”15). Nevertheless, the presence of God is yet more fundamental, since he is present in the soul by nature, even if the soul is utterly unaware of the fact: For if we refer to the inner memory of the mind with which it remembers itself and the inner understanding with which it understands itself and the inner will with which it loves itself, where these three are simultaneously together and always have been simultaneously together from the moment they began to be, whether they were being thought about or not, it will indeed seem that the image of that other trinity belongs only to the memory.16 As mentioned previously, in Augustine’s attempt to respond to his challenging question, he attains the insight of God’s inner presence in the soul, but Augustine also affirms that God transcends the soul. According to Leonce Reypens, Augustine’s position in this regard might be summarized as follows:The human

Introduction 5

person is distinguished from all the creatures “below” it by its spiritual dimension – which Augustine calls spiritus, or animus, or mens. This might be understood in the absolute sense (mens ad seipsam dicta), namely as the foundation or “ground” of the soul itself, or in the relative sense (mens relative dicta), namely as the active principle of the spiritual activities of the voluntas (“will”), memoria (“memory”) and intellectus (“intellect”). These activities are oriented toward two ends: to the temporal and to the spiritual. In its orientation to the temporal, the mens is called mens rationalis, and in the actual practice of these activities it is called potentia rationalis, or ratio ordinans, or simply ratio. When the mens is oriented to eternal truth, it is no longer the discursive mens-ratio, but the “eye,” which in its simple orientation is called acies mentis (the “sharpness of the mind”), and which is oriented to the mens itself, or to God. In the soul, there is nothing “above” the mens, but God does transcend it,17 and it therefore follows that the soul must necessarily transcend itself in its encounter with God. Augustine describes this as a “transformation” of the soul, namely when it is transformed in the Other that transcends it: It is his [God’s] image insofar as it is capable of him and can participate in him; indeed it cannot achieve so great a good except by being his image.18 And this is the “highest peak” of the soul (“the chief capacity of the human mind, with which it knows God or can know him,” De Trinitate 14, 7, 1119), namely the mind as the image of God (mens-imago-Dei). When the soul has reached full development, through love it becomes the mind contemplating the Image (mens-imago-videns). In the meantime, the mind experientially “tastes” the Image (mens-imago-sapiens), genuinely participates in God,20 and is the principle of inchoate contemplation (inchoata contemplatio).21

The “continuatio mediaevalis” The majority of medieval authors adopted Augustine’s insights on the structure of the soul, and then elaborated and refined them further. According to Leonce Reypens, Pseudo-Dionysius, however, influential he may have been in later centuries, did not make any great contribution on this specific point. Indeed, the Areopagite emphasizes so strongly the encounter with God in ecstasy above everything and even above human reality that this specific anthropological question is not particularly relevant to him. Bernard of Clairvaux is another profoundly influential author who likewise devotes little attention specifically to the structure of the soul. Nonetheless, it is important to note that he uses the term “spark” (scintilla) to denote the highest point of the soul. This term would later be adopted by many other mystical authors.22 Bernard’s friend William of Saint-Thierry wrote far more elaborate expositions on the soul, as Paul Verdeyen discusses in his contribution to this volume.

6  Rob Faesen and John Arblaster

Especially in the twelfth century, the Victorines were among the foremost masters of the Augustinian tradition. Their contributions do not consist so much in original or innovative elements, however, since they primary recapitulated Augustine’s position. Nevertheless, we can highlight a number of significant passages that describe the encounter between God and the human person in the soul. As Hugh of Saint-Victor wrote: When reason ascends from the soul to God, it is first insight (intelligentia), namely reason formed by lower things. When the divine presence approaches [the soul], it is united to reason. When this presence elevates reason, it forms it into wisdom (sapientia).23 Albeit in a concise formulation, Hugh here articulates a doctrine of mystical passivity. An important passage in this regard is the following: When in matters spiritual or invisible something is describes as the “highest,” this does not mean that it is located spatially above the highest point or the vertex of heaven, but rather that it is the most interior point. To ascend to God is to turn inwards towards oneself, and not merely to enter oneself, but in an ineffable way to transcend oneself in deepest interiority. Therefore, whoever enters interiorly and penetrates inwardly, and goes further than oneself, really ascends to God. . . . Indeed, we know that the world is outside us, but God within us. We must therefore turn from the world to God, and then as it were, ascend from the deepest to the highest and go beyond ourselves.24 Basing himself on Augustine’s anthropology, Hugh expresses a fundamental insight that would become a leitmotif for following generations. The most essential characteristic of being human, the “deepest” core of humanity, that which is most “human”, is precisely the openness to the Other, the possibility of not remaining isolated within oneself, but rather to find one’s way to the Other that transcends the human person absolutely.The mysticism of “interiority” is thus in no way a self-centered, narcissistic affair. On the contrary, it is the most fundamental form of relationality, which from this perspective is the most essential aspect of humanity. Richard of Saint-Victor is in agreement: In the human soul, the highest is without doubt the most interior, and the most interior is the same as the highest.25 At the same time, he clarifies that this is not a case of simple equality: It is one thing to go in with Him, it is another to go out to Him. In the former the soul returns into itself and with its Beloved enters into the

Introduction 7

innermost sanctuary of its heart. In the latter it is lead out of itself and is raised up to contemplating lofty things.26 The formulation of the above quotation is striking, since it clarifies that though the most “human” movement is out of the self toward the Other, this presupposes that the soul first becomes (experientially) conscious of its fundamental structure, and this does not occur in a solipsistic manner, but “with the Beloved” – which implies that God is the origin of this experiential insight. The Cistercian abbot Isaac of Stella (c. 1110–c. 1169) provides an almost definitive synthesis of the faculties of the soul in relation to its essence in his influential Epistola de anima. This synthesis was adopted by many later generations: The soul has powers or natural potencies, according to which it is said to have virtual or potential parts, such as forethought, insight, and memory. . . . As there are innate parts of the soul, it is necessary that they are not quantitative parts since they are identical with it, namely the same nature, the same essence, altogether the same soul.27. . . Therefore the soul has natural attributes and is itself all of them, for this reason it is simple. It has also accidental attributes and is not identical with them, and therefore it is not completely simple.28. . . Insight, memory, forethought, three in activity, are one according to the essence of the soul and are identical with the soul itself. And just as there are various activities of the power of knowledge because of time, even though it is one in the soul and is the soul itself, so also because of what it seeks and does to know, the power of knowledge is said to be multiple and is given many names.29 Isaac distinguishes intellectus (“intellect”) from intelligentia (“understanding”). Although intellectus is oriented to spiritual things, intelligentia – which he also calls supremum animae sive mens (“the highest part of the soul or mind”) – is receptive to the Holy Spirit. This intelligentia receives illumination from God: The natural power of knowledge, knowing all things and discerning among them, and the natural power of desire by which, in their order and degree, it loves all things, are in the soul and what the soul is. It has, however, from nature faculties and instruments as it were of knowing and loving; nevertheless it cannot possess the knowledge of truth and the right order of love save from grace.The rational mind was made by God, and just as it receives his image first and alone, in like manner it is able to receive knowledge and love. The vessels then that creating grace forms so that they can exist, assisting grace fills that they be not empty. Just as the fleshy eye, though it has the faculty of seeing from nature, and the ear the faculty of hearing, never achieve vision or hearing of themselves without the aid of exterior light and sound, so too the rational spirit fit to know the truth and love the good from the gift of creation, never attains the effect of wisdom and

8  Rob Faesen and John Arblaster

love unless it is filled with the ray of interior light and ignited with its heat. As the eye cannot see the sun except in the sun’s light, the understanding (intelligentia) is not able to behold the true divine light outside its light. “In your light we see the light,” says the Prophet. Finally, as what enables the sun to be seen comes from the sun, but remains in the sun, since coming forth from it, it still manifests it; similarly, the light which departs from God illumines the mind, though remaining in God, so that the mind may see first of all that very blazing forth of light without which nothing can be seen, and in that may see other things. On this account the soul, stretching out the understanding to the very source of light, itself finds and beholds it through light’s own being.30 In other words, Isaac describes the encounter between God and the human person from the perspective of the fundamental human capacity of natural receptivity on the one hand, and from the perspective of God approaching the human person on the other. His comparisons to the eye and the ear are telling: these organs are essentially receptive. In the same sense, knowledge and desire (as aspects of the soul) are fundamentally receptive. Just as the light that the eye sees is not the eye itself, but is received by the eye, so also in the encounter with God: God remains entirely God, and is yet received by the human person. In this way, God is only known and desired by God – a reality to which, according to Isaac in any case, the famous verse of Psalm 35 alludes: “In your light we see the light” (Ps. 35:10). Isaac describes the subsequent movement of the human person to God as a consequence of the first movement of God toward the human person. God first bestows his light, thereby activating human knowledge and desire for its origin. Following his discussion of Isaac of Stella, Leonce Reypens also refers to the treatise De spiritu et anima, which was attributed to Alcher of Clairvaux by many people, including Thomas Aquinas.31 This text was well known by later mystical authors. It provides no new insights, however – we know now that it is a compilation – but rather confirms and recapitulates the content of older literature. Bonaventure, likewise, defended the position that the “highest” and “deepest” parts of the soul are two aspects of the same reality: In the human soul, the innermost and the uppermost are the same. This is evident from the fact that the soul grows nearer to God in accordance with the highest part of itself32 in just the same way as with respect to its deepest part. Therefore, the more the soul enters its interiority, the more it ascends and is united to eternal things. And since “only God is higher than the human spirit”33 – corresponding to its highest part – only God can be the most inner part of the spirit, and thus only that which is proper to the divine substance can enter the rational soul.34

Introduction 9

Leonce Reypens then notes that Bonaventure adopts Isaac of Stella’s distinction in the ascent to God of sensus, imaginatio, ratio, intellectus and intelligentia. However, he supplements this system with a new highpoint: the apex mentis seu synderesis scintilla: Therefore, according to the six stages of the ascension into God, there are six stages of the soul’s powers by which we mount from the depths to the heights, from the external to the internal, from the temporal to the eternal – to wit, sense, imagination, reason, intellect, intelligence, and the apex of the mind, the illumination of conscience (synderesis). These stages are implanted in us by nature, deformed by sin, reformed by grace, to be purged by justice, exercised in knowledge, perfected by wisdom.35 How are we to understand this apex mentis seu synderesis scintilla? In the final chapter of the Itinerarium, Bonaventure again treats this theme (albeit with the slightly different term apex affectus – i.e. the most receptive part of a human person) and associates it with the transitus, the moment at which this “highest” part of the human spirit experiences God directly: In this passage, if it is perfect, all intellectual operations should be abandoned, and the whole height of our affection (affectus) should be transferred and transformed into God.This, however, is mystical and most secret, which no man knoweth but he that hath received it (Rev. 2:17), nor does he receive it unless he desire it; nor does he desire it unless the fire of the Holy Spirit, whom Christ sent to earth, has inflamed his marrow. And therefore the Apostle says that the mystic wisdom is revealed through the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 2:10).36 Bonaventure also emphasizes fundamental receptivity in this regard. Indeed, there is no question here of (human) intellectual activities, but rather of the most profound receptivity. Indeed, affectus is most appropriately understood as the capacity to be “affected,”37 and apex affectus is the most fundamental aspect of this capacity. Incidentally, we occasionally also find the interpretation of this “point” as a transitus of the soul in Middle German and Middle Dutch literature (overganc). Leonce Reypens concludes by noting that Bonaventure (like Isaac of Stella), distinguishes the faculties of the soul from its essence more clearly than Augustine had done, but without conceiving of them as accidents, as Aquinas did.38 Regarding the latter, it is undoubtedly true that Aquinas made an important contribution by pursuing the nature of the relationship between God and the human person, but his approach had little impact on later mystical authors. Leonce Reypens concisely but strikingly notes that this is because the older conceptions simply corresponded more accurately to what the mystics experienced.39

10  Rob Faesen and John Arblaster

The Carthusian Hugh of Balma (thirteenth century)40 likewise understands the point of encounter as the apex spiritus – more specifically as the supremus affectivae apex.41 Like Bonaventure, he therefore also conceives of this apex as fundamental receptivity (apex affectivae). For him, this is the point of direct contact between the human and God, and more specifically with the Holy Spirit, the love between the Father and the Son: The most elevated thing in the spirit of man, namely the affectus, can thus be united directly with the Holy Spirit through the union of love.42 That which the human person receives through openness to encounter with God, and fundamental receptivity (the affectus), has a greater effect than whatever knowledge of God he or she might acquire through his or her own efforts, but it is nevertheless a genuine form of knowledge: And in this faculty [i.e. the affectus], which is moved directly by the Holy Spirit, the knowledge of God is far greater than whatever knowledge one might acquire through exercise of the intellect and reason. 43 Hugh of Balma explicitly describes the corresponding logical sequences in the following quote: The highest point of the affectus, in accordance with which we are moved by the love of God, is therefore touched first. This contact leaves a genuine knowledge in the intellect, for the intellect clearly understands the knowledge that the affectus can only experience of the divine realities.44 Or, as he summarizes elsewhere: Knowledge in the spirit results from the affectus of love, and not the other way around.45 This brings us to our last author – John of Ruusbroec – who according to Leonce Reypens provides the most comprehensive synthesis of the foregoing tradition, to which the following centuries contributed surprisingly little.46 Chapters 4, 5, and 6 of this book will provide specific details of Ruusbroec’s anthropology, but his main insights might be summarized as follows: The highest faculties of memoria (memorie, ghedachte), intellectus (verstandenisse) and voluntas (wille) naturally flow toward their ground (gront) – which Ruusbroec often calls eyghendoem der crachte (“own domain of the faculties”) – where they are united in simplicity. This is called “unity of spirit” (enicheit des geests) or “simple ground” (eenvuldighen grond), or “essence” (wesen): The elevated memory, turned in toward the bareness of its essence (wesen47), becomes inactive in the simple essence (wesen). The memory has a natural

Introduction 11

inclination toward, and lust for, the simple ground of the mind. The memory is turning downwards to outward works with the rational faculty of the intellect and with freedom of the will, and they [the faculties] rule and order all the senses and corporeal faculties. And it [the memory] is turning inward, away from occupation and multiplicity, toward the bare essence (wesen) of the soul, with a natural inclination [toward that essence] as to its beginning and its natural rest. There the memory is confronted with the bare essence (wesen) of the mind, and that essence (wesen) is the memory’s natural richness.48 This unity has a double aspect: an active aspect (werkelijc) and an “essential” aspect (weselijc). The first is the principle of the natural activity of the faculties, but also of their mystical activity under the impulse of the divine Persons: We find a triple unity in all people naturally, and in good people also supernaturally. The first and the highest unity is in God; for all creatures hang in this unity with their being, life and subsistence; and if they should be cut off in this way from God, they would fall into nothingness and be annihilated. This unity is in us essentially by nature, whether we are good or evil, and it renders us neither holy nor blessed without our effort. We possess this unity in ourselves, and in fact, above ourselves, as a principle and support of our being and our life. A second union, or unity, is also in us by nature, that is, the unity of the higher faculties, where they take their natural origin as to their activity: in the unity of the spirit or of the mind. This is the same unity which is hanging in God, but in the latter instance we understand it as active, and in the former as essential. Nevertheless, the spirit is totally within each unity, according to the entirety of its substance. We possess this unity in ourselves, above sensory perception, and from it come memory and intellect and will and every faculty of spiritual activity. . . . The third unity which is in us by nature is the domain of the bodily faculties in the unity of the heart, the beginning and origin of bodily life. The soul possesses this unity in the body and in the natural vigor of the heart; and from it flow all bodily activity and the five senses. . . . And this is natural in all mankind.49 Next, Ruusbroec also defines unity of spirit as “potential understanding” (moghenlijke verstane),50 namely in its fundamental receptivity to God’s activity. Incidentally, the latter entails the flourishing and the real life of the faculties of the soul. Indeed, the created wesen “hangs” in the uncreated Word, and it is there that it experiences its deepest enjoyment, namely in sharing the Trinitarian life, and finding fundamental rest in that life (which cannot be reached by any creaturely activity): This love [the Holy Spirit] actively and enjoyably encompasses and pervades the Father, the Son and everything that is living in both of them

12  Rob Faesen and John Arblaster

with such great richness and joy that all creatures must eternally keep silent about it. For the incomprehensible marvel which resides in this love eternally transcends all creatures’ understanding. But where one understands and savors this marvel without astonishment, there the spirit is above itself and [is] one with the Spirit of God, and it tastes and sees, without measure, even as God, the richness which itself is in the unity of the living ground where it possesses itself according to the mode of its uncreatedness.51 In this sense, the unity of spirit is a “mirror” that bears the image of the Trinity – an imagelessness that corresponds to the Father, clarity that corresponds to the Son and the inclination of the “spark” that corresponds to the Holy Spirit: We are created unto the image, that is: to receive the image of God. And that image is uncreated, eternal: the Son of God. This image is, in the essence of God, essence and essential; and in [God’s] nature, that nature itself. That nature is fruitful: fatherhood and Father. In the fruitful nature the Father is in the Son, and the Son in the Father. But in the Father the Son is sonly and unborn, like an indwelling fruit of his nature. And there the nature behaves in a fatherly way: always to give birth, and in a sonly way: to be born without cessation. But in the birth the Son is another person, eternally going out from the Father; and the Holy Spirit, the third Person, flowing out like a burning glow, the love of them both, into all creatures that are prepared for it. The highest [part] of our soul is always prepared, for it is bare and unassailed by images, always seeing its beginning and inclining toward it. And therefore it is an eternal living mirror of God, always without cessation receiving the eternal birth of the Son, the image of the Holy Trinity, in which God knows himself: all that he is according to his essence and according to the Persons; for the image is in the essence and, in each person, all that the Person is in nature. And this image we all have as an eternal life, without ourselves, before our createdness. And in our createdness that image is the superessential being of our essence and is eternal life. And from this the substance of our soul has three attributes that are one in nature. The first attribute of the soul is unimaged essential bareness. Therewith we are like and also united with the Father and his divine nature. The second attribute may be called the higher reason of the soul, that is: a mirror-like clarity. Therein we receive the Son of God, the eternal truth. In that clarity we are like him, but in the receiving we are one with him. The third attribute we call the spark of the soul, that is: the natural inward inclination of the soul toward its origin. Therein we receive the Holy Spirit, the love of God. In the inclining inward we are like the Holy Spirit; but in the receiving we become one spirit and one love with God. And these three attributes are one undivided substance of the soul, one living ground: the ground of the higher faculties.52 In other words, created being by its nature bears within it the imprint of the divine Image, and grows into its likeness to the extent that the Son bestows

Introduction 13

participation in his sonship. The wesen itself, however, is not the “image” of God, but is union with God, since God is present interiorly (see also insine, “to indwell”) in the wesen, as its Creator and sustainer, and as its overwesen. On the one hand, the soul is oriented to God, and the created reality of the soul is, in its essence, oriented to the divine ground (the overwesen); on the other hand, because it bears the image of the Son, the soul is “stabilized” with the Son in the bosom of the Father: For the essence and the life which we are in God, in our eternal image, and which we have and are in ourselves according to [our] essential being, are without intermediary and inseparate. And therefore the spirit, according to its innermost, most sublime part, receives without cease the impress of its eternal image and of divine brightness in [its] bare nature; and [it] is an eternal abode of God, which God possesses with eternal indwelling, and which he always visits with new comings and new inshining of the new brightness of his eternal birth.53 The historical overview forms the framework within which the various chapters of this book discuss the contributions of mystical authors from the Low Countries. By focusing on authors from this particular geographical area, we by no means wish to suggest that this tradition diverges in any significant regard or presents radically alternative positions from the authors previously discussed. As mentioned with respect to Ruusbroec, he forms a comprehensive synthesis of the foregoing tradition; his project presupposes the centuries of reflection that preceded him. Rather, the chapters of this book aim to provide a number of clarifications or analyses of the presumed anthropological conditions for the encounter with God. Therefore, it is important to note that the following articles do not provide comprehensive synthetic overviews of the mystical anthropology of each of the authors treated, but rather seek to offer discussions of various important aspects and themes of their theological anthropology.

Notes

1 Gardeil (1926), p. xv. 2 For Ruusbroec’s influence, see Andriessen (2014). 3 Reypens (1937), cc. 433–434. 4 Which is evident from, for example, 1 Cor. 14:14–16: “For if I pray in a tongue, my spirit prays but my mind is unproductive. What should I do then? I will pray with the spirit, but I will pray with the mind also; I will sing praise with the spirit, but I will sing praise with the mind also. Otherwise, if you say a blessing with the spirit, how can anyone in the position of an outsider say the ‘Amen’ to your thanksgiving, since the outsider does not know what you are saying.” 5 The word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow. 6 Clement, Paedagogus (1970), p. 12. 7 Origen, Princ. I–III (1978), p. 348. 8 Origen, Orat. (1899), p. 319. 9 Origen, Princ. III–IV (1980), p. 236.

14  Rob Faesen and John Arblaster 10 Athanasius, Against the Heathen (1977), p. 164. 11 Boulding (2004), p. 150 (Augustine, Enarr. in Ps. 101–150 [1956], pp. 1905–1906). 12 Boulding (1997), p. 261 (Augustine, Confess. 8–13 [1962], p. 206). 13 Boulding (2000), p. 245 (Augustine, Enarr. in Ps. 1–50 [1956], p. 465). 14 Boulding (1997), p. 261 (Augustine, Confess. 8–13 [1962], p. 206). 15 Boulding (1997), p. 261 (Augustine, Confess. 8–13 [1962], p. 204). 16 Hill (1991), p. 378 (Augustine, De Trinitate [1968], p. 434). 17 Cf. Confess. 3, 6, 11: “You were more intimately present to me than my innermost being, and higher than the highest peak of my spirit” (Boulding 1997, p. 83, Augustine, Confess. 1–7 [1962], p. 382). 18 Hill (1991), p. 379 (Augustine, De Trinitate [1968], p. 436). 19 Hill (1991), p. 378 (Augustine, De Trinitate [1968], pp. 435–436). 20 Hill (1991), p. 383, (Augustine, De Trinitate [1968], p. 443): “[the mind] will be wise not with its own light but by sharing in that supreme light.” 21 Cf. In Joh. 21, tr. 124, 5 (Augustine, In Joh. [1954], pp. 214–215). 22 Bernard, Super Cant. (1957), p. 107. 23 Hugh of St. Victor, De unione (1854), c. 289A. 24 Hugh of St. Victor, De vanitate (1834), c. 715. 25 Richard, Benjamin major (1855), c. 167A. 26 Zinn (1979), p. 287. Richard, Benjamin major (1855), c. 154B. 27 McGinn (1977), pp. 156–157 (Isaac of Stella, Epistola [1855], cc. 1876C-1877A) 28 McGinn (1977), p. 157 (Isaac of Stella, Epistola [1855], c. 1877A). 29 McGinn (1977), pp. 161–162 (Isaac of Stella, Epistola [1855], c. 1879). 30 McGinn (1977), p. 175 (Isaac of Stella, Epistola [1855], cc.1887–1888). 31 Leonce Reypens himself presumed that the text had been written by Alcher; later research argued, however, that this was a misattribution and that the text was a twelfthcentury compilation of texts by Alcuin, Anselm, Bernard, Hugh of Saint-Victor, Augustine and others, cf. Raciti (1961). In the Summa theologiae,Thomas Aquinas states that the book had little authority (Ia, q. 79, art. 8, ad 1: quamvis liber ille [= De Spiritu et Anima] non sit magnae auctoritate; Thomas Aquinas, Pars prima (1899), p. 274). 32 Reypens understands this as in quantum dat esse spirituale; “mens” (cf. Bonaventure, 1 Sent. [1882], p. 94). 33 A quote from Augustine, which occurs often in his work, e.g. De Trinitate XV, 27, 50 (Augustine, De Trinitate [1968], p. 531). 34 Bonaventure, 2 Sent. (1885), pp. 226–227. 35 Boas (1985), p. 9 (Bonaventure, Itinerarium [1891], p. 297). 36 Boas (1985), p. 44 (Bonaventure, Itinerarium [1891], p. 312). 37 Cf. Lewis & Short (1969), s.v., first definition: “a state of body and esp. of mind produced in one by some influence.” The passive forms in this sense emphasize this (transferatur, transformeretur). 38 Bonaventure, 1 Sent. (1882), p. 86. 39 Reypens notes that the following text contains a very brief but notable summary of his interpretation: Sicut ab essentia animae effluunt eius potentiae quae sunt operum principia, ita etiam ab ipsa gratia [i.e. that affects the essence] effluunt virtutes in potentias animae, per quas potentiae moventur ad actum (Summa theol. Ia IIae, q 110, a 4, ad 1) “As from the essence of the soul there flow its powers, which are the originating principles of actions, so too from grace in its turn there flow virtues into the powers of the soul which are moved to action by the virtues.” Thomas Aquinas, Summa theol. (1972), pp. 122–123. 40 The Sources Chrétiennes edition cites Stoelen (1969), p. 859: “Hugues de Balma de Dorche, prieur de la chartreuse de Meyrat, en Bresse, de 1289 à 1304. Cette attribution, proposée avec beaucoup d’érudition par S. Autore est maintenant généralement acceptée comme certaine ou très probable. Sur le personne de Hugues on n’a pas d’autres renseignements.” Cf. Barbet & Ruello (1995), p. 11. The reference is to Autore (1921), pp. 215–220.

Introduction 15 41 Leonce Reypens interprets this as “le primat de la volonté” (Reypens 1937, c. 448). On our reading, however, this actually relates to the “deepest affect.” 42 Hugh of Balma, Theologia mystica (1996), p. 216. 43 Ibid., p. 218. 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid., p. 198. 46 “Une synthèse sur la structure de l’âme si complète, et dans les grandes lignes si achevée, que les âges suivants n’y ajouteront guère d’éléments nouveaux,” (Reypens 1937), c. 454. In his overview, Reyens also discusses the Rhineland authors, Eckhart, Tauler and Seuse. Space does not permit us to discuss them here. 47 For the meaning of the word wesen in Ruusbroec’s work, see below in chapter 4. 48 Ruusbroec, Realm (2002), pp. 179–181. 49 Ruusbroec, Espousals (1988), pp. 286–288. 50 Cf. Ruusbroec, Espousals (1988), p. 507, l. b1963. 51 Ruusbroec, Espousals (1988), p. 597. 52 Ruusbroec, Mirror (2001), pp. 285–287. 53 Ruusbroec, Espousals (1988), p. 437.

1 William of Saint-Thierry and his Trinitarian mysticism Paul Verdeyen (translated by John Arblaster)

It is important to note from the outset that William of Saint-Thierry’s anthropology cannot be understood without reference to his Trinitarian theology, since the former is entirely inspired by the latter. In this regard, we must first revise the following description of “Trinitarian mysticism” by Karl Rahner: We hereby refer to a type of mysticism in which the graced relationship of the human person to the three Persons in God are explicitly experienced. In the history of Christian mysticism, it attains neither the breadth nor depth one might expect when one considers the articles of faith concerning the indwelling of the Trinitarian God and the relationship between the three divine Persons with every blessed soul. One explanation may be the fact that the fundamental schema of mysticism tends to describe the union of the human person with the absolute, simple and beingless God in the silent desert of the Godhead. This applies to the beginning of mysticism in Evagrius Ponticus and Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, and it continues to be the case in more recent times. Medieval Christological mysticism and the devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus pay little heed to the mediating role of the Logos who leads to the Father. People often saw God Himself in the incarnated Word. Nevertheless, the Trinity was not completely absent from mystical experience. It may be found, among others, in the Logos mysticism of Origen († 253), for whom the Logos clearly still plays a mediating role by referring to the Father. The same mysticism may be found in Ruusbroec and in the practical experiences of Ignatius of Loyola, in John of the Cross, and in Madame Acarie and Elisabeth of Dijon or of the Holy Trinity († 1906).1 The list of mystics Rahner cites as Trinitarian is certainly incomplete. For example, he makes no mention of William of Saint-Thierry, who is undoubtedly worthy of note between the figures of Origen and Ruusbroec. William has rightly been described as the Latin interpreter of Origen and Ruusbroec’s principal guide.

William of Saint-Thierry 17

William’s Trinitarian thought in his Meditations Let us first attempt to bring William’s Trinitarian thought into clear focus. His most explicit passages in this regard are to be found in the Meditationes devotissimae. They indicate that William struggled for years with the unity and plurality in the Christian doctrine of God. When awaking from the sleep of negligence I suddenly direct my gaze on God, concerning whom the divine law instructs me, saying: “Hear, O Israel! The Lord your God is one God,” [Deut. 6:4] and while I fix my soul’s regard entirely on him from whom I look for light and whom I am about to worship or implore, I am confronted with the fact of God as Trinity. This mystery the Catholic faith, rehearsed by my forebears, impressed upon me by long use, and commended to me by yourself and those who teach your truth, declares to me.2 But my soul’s foolish way of picturing things sees and regards the Trinity in such a fashion, that she fondly thinks that there is number in the simple Being of the Godhead which, itself beyond all number, made all that is by number and by measure and by weight [Wis. 11:21]. And she thinks of the several Persons of the Trinity as having each his place, and prays to the Father, through the Son, and in the Holy Spirit, as though she passed from one to the other through the third. And so my mind, befogged by the one, is scattered between the three, just as if there were three bodies to be differentiated or to be made one.3 Although faith, reason and authority alike all teach me to think of the Father, the Son, and the Spirit each by himself, they will allow no element whatever in my thought of the Trinity, which either suggests division of its substance in time or place or number, or seems to imply confusion of the Persons. They [faith, reason and authority] so assert the unity of the Trinity as to rule out solitude; and the threefoldness of the Unity they so declare as to exclude from the Being of God plurality of number.4 The third meditation recapitulates and deepens William’s perspective on the triune God. He here provides a relatively long commentary on Mt. 11:27. III. 8. No-one sees the Father but the Son, neither does any see the Son except the Father.” For this is to “be” the Father – to see the Son, and this is to “be” the Son – to see the Father. But the Lord adds, “and he to whomsoever the Son shall have willed to reveal him.” Now the Father and the Son have not two wills, but one, which is the Holy Spirit. Through the Holy Spirit, therefore, the triune God reveals himself to any friend of God on whom he would bestow especial honor [Esther 6:6, 9]. But does a person ever see God as the Father sees the Son, or the Son the Father, who see each other as we said in such wise as to be not separate but one God? Yes, assuredly, but not in every way the same.5

18  Paul Verdeyen

III, 10. To return to the sense of the soul, is it not of this that Paul is speaking when he says: ‘Beholding the glory of God, we are changed into the same image?’ [2 Cor. 3:18] That is how the soul’s sense functions. For the soul’s sense is love; by love it perceives whatever it perceives, alike when it is pleased and when it is offended. When the soul reaches out in love to anything, a certain change takes place in it by which it is transmuted into the object loved; it does not become of the same nature as that object, but by its affection it is conformed to what it loves. For it cannot love a good person because he is good, without being itself made good by that same goodness.6 William – in line with Paul – describes a transformation that respects the particularity of the persons who encounter each other. The encounter and the relationship are described precisely here. There is a clear presupposition that every encounter requires a degree of openness, although it is an openness that never threatens one’s own being or one’s own nature, but rather enriches it. William’s Trinitarian reflections lead him to a more profound understanding of all human relationships. In addition, to the realizations that the words “being” and “nature” are not closed concepts, but terms that determine the nature and quality of every encounter. VI, 13. Whereas the birth of the Son belongs to the eternal divine nature, our birth as sons of God is an adoption of grace [in time]. The former birth is not something that happens, nor does it effect a unity; it is itself a oneness in the Holy Spirit. The latter birth, however, has no existence of itself, but comes into being through the Holy Spirit, in so far as it is stamped with the likeness of God. This unity of course transcends the limits of our human nature, but falls short of the unity that belongs to the being of God.7 We may note here that in the description of the divine mystery, the terms “transcendence” and “immanence” are not opposed but must be conceived as necessarily complementary. VI, 14. This unity, this likeness is itself the heaven where God dwells in us, and we in God. O Truth supreme, you are the heaven of heavens, you who are what you are, who have your being from yourself, who belong to yourself and are sufficient to yourself. You lack nothing, yet you have no excess; there is in you no discord nor confusion, no vacillation, no change nor shadow of turning, no need, no death; rather you have within yourself supremest concord, utmost clarity, most perfect fullness and completest life. No foulness in your creation affects you; no malice hurts you, nor does any error make you go astray. For you have pre-ordained for all the righteous their own abodes of virtue or of blessing, and they must come to them,

William of Saint-Thierry 19

whatever circumstances let or hinder them. And for the wicked in their evil too you have appointed bounds which, even if they will, they cannot overpass.8 VI, 18. These blessings, that were hidden in your secret heaven through the ages, you at the ages’ end unveiled to the world’s longing eyes, when you opened in heaven the door that is yourself. You opened that door when your grace appeared to all men, teaching us; when your kindness and love appeared, saving us not by works of righteousness that we have done, but according to your mercy (Tit. 2:11–3:5).9 This is a long meditation on the three births of God: the eternal birth of the Son from the Father, the Incarnation of the Son in time and the birth of Christ in every faithful heart. Hugo Rahner’s fine study demonstrates that this perspective originated in the works of Origen of Alexandria († 253),10 from whom the following are two key insights: 1 Saint Augustine nowhere mentions the birth of God’s Word in the hearts of the faithful.This theme was primarily developed by Origen and his followers, the Church Fathers of Cappadocia. Augustine knew little Greek and few Greek texts were translated into Latin. 2 William was thus primarily influenced by Origen. This is evident from texts such as the following: Unhappy the person who is born unceasingly from the devil, but blessed the person who is born unceasingly from God. Indeed, it is insufficient to say that the just person is born only once from God. We rather affirm that the just person is born from God in every good deed.11 The following passage is William’s last attempt to explain the great mystery of the Trinity by comparing it to the complex experience of loving and enjoying: XII, 23. For the holy soul is refashioned in the image of the Trinity, the image of him who created her after the very manner of his own beatitude. For just as we say and believe of the Trinity that there are three Persons, so also the enlightened and affective will – that is, understanding and love and the disposition of enjoyments – are three personal affections, in a sort of way; but the substance of beatitude is one, for nothing is loved except by being understood, nor understood except by being loved, and when a man is found worthy to enjoy a thing he does not do so unless he also both loves and understands it.12 In what follows, we will leave this inquiring William behind to examine how the doctrine of the Trinity and his personal encounter with God clarified his thought and influenced his anthropology.

20  Paul Verdeyen

William describes the encounter between the bridegroom and the bride Exposition on the Epistle to the Romans

In Origen’s writings, the bride signifies both the Church and the individual soul.William, on the other hand, focuses exclusively on the encounter between the individual person and the divine Creator and Lord. He does so not only in his commentaries on the Song of Songs, but also, and perhaps somewhat surprisingly, in his Exposition on the Epistle to the Romans. We shall begin with this early and little-known work. (1) “And the hope confounds not,” because wherever the hope searches you faithfully, immediately the reality of this hope is present to you, “because the charity of God is poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Spirit,” whom you give us.When he comes into us by your gift, he teaches us all truth. He makes us enter in you, O Father, you the source of the highest divinity; in you, O Son, the eternal birth of eternal consubstantiality; in you, O Holy Spirit, the holy communion of the Father and the Son; and in the three the one and simple equality of holy Omousion. (2) And what, O Lord, is this glory of your sons, what is the hope of their journey, what is the solace of their exile, no matter how prolonged, except that you wish us to have communion among ourselves and with you, through that which is common to you, holy Father and holy Son.You gather us into one through that gift which you both possess in common. In this we are reconciled to your divinity; in this we are hidden in the secret of your face (Ps. 30:21); in this we are cheered by the delights of your right hand until the end. (3) For what would whatever we are as men have profited us, unless we had progressed unto you by loving you, O God? Surely, just as we learn through truth, so we love through charity, with the result that in learning we perceive more fully and enjoy more sweetly what we have learned. (4) This is your prayer, O Lord, which you prayed for us to the Father: “I will that just as you and I are one, so they may be one in us” (Jn. 17:21,24). You wish this and vehemently wish that you may love us in yourself through the Holy Spirit, your love, and you wish to love yourself through us and in us. That precious substance by which we love you is not in us from ourselves, but from your Holy Spirit whom you give us. Give him to us, therefore, and dwelling in us, O God, love yourself through us by moving us and arousing us to your love, by enlightening us and stirring us up. (5) And since we have been estranged from the possession of true goods by our sins, may your charity cover up the multitude of our sins. When you do this, O pleasant and sweet one, those of your servants who have become your sons find it pleasant and sweet to meditate on or to speak of you, and in their speech and meditation their heart is made to burn for

William of Saint-Thierry 21

you, and they speak of you much more fully, seeing you with their sense of enlightened love, but most profusely when you deign to speak to the heart of the one loving you.You speak to your lover, and it is like adding oil to the flame, so that he who loves loves still more, and he who burns burns more intensely. You speak to him interiorly in his conscience by the enlightenment of your Holy Spirit, and he understands the breath of your whisper, as it is said in Job (Job 4:12). And why did Christ, when as yet you were weak, according to time die for the impious? Why, indeed, O Lord?13 However personal this text may appear, it is largely based on Augustine’s Sermo 71. Although William introduced slight modifications to the text, for our purposes these do not require extensive analysis. Let us examine this long quote paragraph by paragraph: (1) After a beautiful sentence on hope, William immediately leads us into the hidden life of the three divine Persons. His intention must certainly have been that we take his Latin wording literally: the Holy Spirit is infused in us, dwells in our heart and leads us into the communion of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit (insinuans nobis in Te . . .). In this regard, it is of the greatest importance that the encounter between God and the human person does not occur on the level of natures, but rather as an encounter of persons. We can never lose our human nature and be transformed into the divine nature. By engaging in the relationships of the divine Persons, however, we do participate in God’s own life. Moreover, the three divine Persons are named according to the proper manner that determines their role within the divine mystery. The Father is eternal beginning and origin; the Son is born eternally and consubstantially and the Spirit is the sacred bond between the Father and the Son. In these three Persons, we find the simple, onefold equality of perfect communion. (2) William then presents a significant insight: the union between God and the human person is completely identical to the unity between the three divine Persons. By the operation of the Holy Spirit, the human person is drawn into the unity of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.This implies complete reconciliation with God, refuge in the face of God and participation in divine pleasure. Why does William speak of such an intense unification? It is certainly not due to some extraordinary quality or merit of humanity itself. Rather, it is because God cannot reveal himself partly or by degrees. When he is welcome, it is with his complete divine majesty, as expressed by Jesus in the high priestly prayer: “May they all be one as you, Father are in me and I am in you, may they become one in us so that the world may believe that you sent me” (Jn. 17:21). (3) This paragraph describes two distinct activities of love in the human heart. On the one hand, this love gives us greater and more reliable knowledge, but on the other, it makes us enjoy these new insights more profoundly.

22  Paul Verdeyen

It grants a knowledge that satisfies the heart, but at the same time instills the desire for new horizons. William reprises both these activities of love in the first sentence of his Commentary on the Song of Songs: “God made us to behold him and enjoy him.”14 Other mystical authors have also devoted much attention to the twofold activity of love, particularly Bernard of Clairvaux and John of Ruusbroec. (4) Humanity’s history of love is, in fact, a divine occurrence. For God actually only loves himself, both within the Trinity and in relation to creation. Spiritual encounter is a dialogue between God’s Spirit and the enlightened spirit of the human person. At the beginning of his Commentary on the Song of Songs, William therefore prays: “May the canticle of your love be read by us in such wise as to kindle in us love itself.”15 William desires to participate in an encounter between Spirit and spirit. (5) “Seeing you with their sense of enlightened love.” From the time of his abbacy at Saint-Thierry, William had noted the importance of the spiritually enlightened will. This would later lead him to articulate his most programmatic statement: Amor ipse est intellectus (“love itself is a form of knowledge”). He thus grants no precedence to the will in relation to the intellect, but affirms the necessary cooperation of both in the spiritual life. This cooperation is the source of continual progress in knowledge and self-abandonment. This dynamic love mysticism recapitulates and heightens Gregory of Nyssa’s epectasis. John of Ruusbroec would later write that love cannot remain empty or inactive. Commentary on the Song of Songs

William again describes the encounter between the Bridegroom and the Bride in his Commentary on the Song of Songs. This commentary is currently considered William’s masterpiece, though it survives in only three manuscripts.16 This commentary contains William’s most profound description of the encounter between the triune God and the loving human person. Somewhat surprisingly, we find it in his annotation of the canticle verse “Our little bed is flowery” (lectulus noster floridus, Ct. 1:16). Therefore the Bride immediately goes on to speak of fruition and says:“Our little bed is flowery” (Ct. 1:15). The little flowery bed is a conscience full of charm, and the joy of the Holy Spirit in it; it is the constant fruition of truth in its very fountainhead. It is the bed of which the same Bridegroom says: “Upon whom shall my Spirit rest unless upon him who is humble and calm and who trembles at my words?” (Is. 66:2). It is pleasant to pause before the beauty of the flowery bed and consider its joyful pleasures – the springtime beauty of chastity and charity, the wafted fragrance of spiritual feelings and thoughts, the breath of the perfume of divinity and the strength of eternity.

William of Saint-Thierry 23

Upon this bed takes place that wonderful union and mutual fruition — of sweetness, and of joy incomprehensible and inconceivable even to those in whom it takes place — between man and God, the created spirit and the Uncreated.They are named Bride and Bridegroom, while word are sought that may somehow express in human language the charm and sweetness of this union, which is nothing else than the unity of the Father and the Son of God, their kiss, their embrace, their love, their goodness and whatever in that supreme simple unity is common to both. All this is the Holy Spirit — God, Charity, at once Giver and Gift. Upon this bed are exchanged that kiss and that embrace by which the Bride begins to know as she herself is known. And as happens in the kisses of lovers, who by a sweet, mutual exchange, impart their spirit each to the other, so the created spirit pours itself out wholly into the Spirit who creates it for this very effusion; and the Creator Spirit infuses himself into it as he wills, and man becomes one spirit with God (see also 1 Cor. 6:17).17 All the different elements of this daring text must be appreciated in their coherent complexity. It is inappropriate to read it as the description of a pantheist objective. Such a reading would not be in accord with the emphatic Trinitarian perspective of the encounter. The encounter is described most acutely in the last sentence: “[S]o the created spirit pours itself out wholly into the Spirit who creates it for this very effusion.” Let us examine the various elements: a

God created the world and humankind with one single purpose: to invite the free human person to love her Creator. For a human being achieves her end and happiness only through a kind of second creation, namely a personal encounter with God. b Creation has only one single purpose: to gift itself and abandon itself entirely to God’s creating Spirit to be mercifully drawn into the eternal relationships between the three divine Persons. This self-abandonment finds its exemplar and first expression in the mystery of the Cross. This self-abandonment occurs on the road of sacrifice and kenosis, in order to rise again with Christ in the eternal glory of the Father. c This encounter between God and the human person has two complementary aspects. On the one hand,William underscores the radical distinction between the creating Spirit and the created spirit (Creator Spiritus et spiritus creatus). But on the other hand, creation yearns to encounter its God and Creator.We have already noted the complementary nature of transcendence and immanence. d The spiritual encounter is characterized by the same two complementary aspects: it requires both unicity and alterity.This is precisely why it resembles the mystery of the Trinity so closely: one single God with three distinct Persons. William therefore considers this fundamental dogma of the Christian faith as model and foundation of every encounter with the divine mystery.

24  Paul Verdeyen

We may note here that Ruusbroec was a faithful disciple of William in his description of the spiritual encounter.This we may clearly read in a fine passage from his treatise The Sparkling Stone: And so we live completely in God, where we possess our bliss, and completely in ourselves where we practice our love towards God. And even if we live completely in God and completely in ourselves, yet it is only one life. But it is contrary and twofold according to experience. For poor and rich, hungry and replete, working and at rest, those are contraries indeed. Yet in them resides our highest nobility, now and for ever. For we cannot become God at all and lose our createdness, that is impossible. And if we remained in ourselves completely, separated from God, we would be wretched and beyond bliss. And therefore we should feel ourselves completely in God and completely in ourselves. And between these two feelings we find nothing but the grace of God and the practice of our loving.18 The Golden Epistle

William again described the union of the human person with the three divine Persons in his most famous work. The unity of spirit between God and the human person is the ultimate goal and pinnacle of the spiritual journey. Let us first consider the difference between likeness and unity of spirit. But there is another likeness, one closer to God, inasmuch as it is freely willed. It consists in the virtues and inspires the soul to imitate the greatness of the Supreme Good by the greatness of its virtue and his unchangeable eternity by its continual perseverance in good. In addition to this there is yet another likeness, of which something has been said already. It is so close to its resemblance that it is styled not merely a likeness but unity of spirit. It makes man one with God, one spirit, not only with the unity which comes of willing the same thing, but with a greater fullness of virtue, as has been said: the inability to will anything else. It is called unity of spirit not only because the Holy Spirit brings it about or inclines a man’s spirit to it, but because it is the Holy Spirit himself, the God who is charity. He who is the love of Father and Son, their unity, their sweetness, their good, their kiss and embrace, and whatever else they can have in common in that supreme unity of truth and truth of unity, man after his measure possesses towards God that which with unity of substance the Son possesses towards the father, and the Father towards the Son. When in the embrace and kiss of the Father and the Son the blessed mind finds himself as it were in the midst, when in an unspeakable and unthinkable manner the man of God is found worthy, not indeed to become God, but that which God is by nature, man becomes by grace.19

William of Saint-Thierry 25

The doctrine of “unity of spirit” as articulated by William was never accepted by his friend Bernard of Clairvaux. This is evident when we read in Sermon 71 on the Song of Songs: “How can there be unity where there are multiple natures and a diversity of substances?”20 Might Bernard here fall prey to a certain protoscholastic inclination? Namely, that natura et substantia are isolated monads that can never interfere? Whatever the case may be, his position is clearly different from that of William, as we have demonstrated abundantly elsewhere.21 It is consequently even more remarkable that the Golden Epistle was attributed to Bernard for so long.

William’s spiritual anthropology It is striking that in addition to his explicitly spiritual works,William also wrote theological and even dogmatic texts. In his mind – as in many in this period – there was no division between spirituality and dogmatic theology. William’s theological works, such as his treatises on the Faith and his debates with Abelard and William of Conches cannot be separated from his spiritual insights. For example, in his Mirror of Faith we find the same description of the encounter with God as in the Golden Epistle. And such is the astounding generosity of the Creator to the creature; the great grace, the unknowable goodness, the devout confidence of the creature for the Creator, the tender approach, the tenderness of a good conscience, that man somehow finds himself in their midst, in the embrace and kiss of the Father and the Son, that is, in the Holy Spirit. And he is united to God by that charity whereby the Father and the Son are one. He is made holy in Him who is the holiness of both.22 Nevertheless, there are also irrefutable differences between William’s theological and spiritual works, which are particularly evident when one examines a late work such as On the Nature of the Body and the Soul. We are relatively well informed of the sources that inspired William’s treatise on human nature. The majority are new and generally little-known authors for his period. The first part of the treatise, on the human body, devotes considerable attention to the new medicine of his time. The medical school of Salerno paid much attention to the innovative insights of Arabic medicine. As a result, William used sources such as the works of Constantinus Africanus († 1087), namely his Liber pantegni and of Alphanus, Archbishop of Salerno (1058–1085). These works had not been circulated widely, and they thus indicate William’s acute and particular interest in the new medicine from Salerno. The second part of the treatise, on the soul, was profoundly influenced by On the Creation of Humanity, a Greek work by Gregory of Nyssa (335–395). The work had been translated into Latin several times, but William most probably used the ninth-century translation by John Scotus Eriugena. As another source we may point to De statu animae

26  Paul Verdeyen

by Claudianus Mamertius († 474).23 On the Nature of the Body and the Soul is enlightening as to the medical and psychological interests of the older William. In the prologue to his Golden Epistle, he describes them as follows: There is also another work of ours On the Nature of the Soul, written under the name of  “John” and addressed to “Theophilus.”To this, in order to treat to some extent of man in his entirety I prefaced On the Nature of the Body. My sources for the latter were the books of those who concern themselves with healing the body; for the former, the books of those who are anxious to cure souls.24 All things considered, we may conclude that William’s spiritual works are of greater importance for an inquiry into his anthropology. Contemporary readers and researchers are most particularly fascinated by William’s three most personal works: the Meditations, the Commentary on the Song of Songs and the Golden Epistle. What type of anthropology emerges from a reading of William’s spiritual texts? We must concede that in these works,William devotes far less attention to the “nature” of the human person than to his or her spiritual development and ultimate end. His central themes are the experience of God, union with God and attaining a radically experiential unity with the three divine Persons. He therefore commences with the famous aphorism of the oracle in the Temple of Apollo in Delphi: “Know thyself ” (Homo, cognosce teipsum). William gradually came to the realization that this knowledge increases primarily through greater attention to others; through relationships with one’s fellow humans and especially also the transcendent Other. William never believed in the power of the isolated subject or in external structures.That is probably why he was never particularly happy as an abbot. Through prayer and active meditation, he occasionally attained the passive and blessed contemplation of God. The title of his first work is On Contemplating God. His final, unfinished work was a biography of his friend Bernard of Clairvaux. These are the two most important and profound relationships of William’s life. William described the human person as a creature that grows and develops thanks to its many relationships in time that prepare it for the intense and never-ending relationships of eternity. Nevertheless, we would like to conclude this brief study with a passage from John of Ruusbroec, whose anthropology is even more clearly defined on the model of the triune God of the Christian faith. This divinely inspired anthropology is a meditation of the concise phrase in John’s First Epistle: “God is love” (1 Jn. 4:8). God is spiritual love. In this storm of love, two spirits contend: the Spirit of God and our spirit. God, through the Holy Spirit, inclines Himself towards us, and thereby we are touched in love. And by God’s operation and our faculty of loving, our spirit presses into and inclines itself towards God, and thereby God is touched. From these two (movements) arises the strife of love. In the depths of the encounter and in that innermost and most intense visit, each

William of Saint-Thierry 27

spirit is wounded the most by love. These two spirits, that is our spirit and God’s Spirit, flash and shine each into the other, and each shows the other its face. This makes each spirit continually crave for the other with love. Each exacts of the other that which he is, and each offers and invites the other to which he is. This makes the lovers flow away (into each other). God’s touch and His gifts, our loving craving and our giving in return, keep love steadfast.This flowing out and flowing back cause the fountain of love to overflow. Thus God’s touch and our love’s craving become one single love. Here a person is so possessed by love that he must forget himself and God, and he knows nothing but love.25

Notes 1 Rahner (1959), pp. 563–564. 2 Lawson (1970), p. 99 (William of Saint-Thierry, Meditationes [2005], p. 11). 3 Ibid. 4 Lawson (1970), pp. 99–100 (William of Saint-Thierry, Meditationes [2005], pp. 11–12). 5 Lawson (1970), p. 105 (William of Saint-Thierry, Meditationes [2005], pp. 16–17). 6 Lawson (1970), p. 106 (William of Saint-Thierry, Meditationes [2005], p. 17). 7 Lawson (1970), p. 129 (William of Saint-Thierry, Meditationes[2005], p. 36). 8 Lawson (1970), p. 129 (William of Saint-Thierry, Meditationes [2005], p. 37). 9 Lawson (1970), pp. 130–131 (William of Saint-Thierry, Meditationes [2005], p. 38). 10 Rahner (1964). 11 Origen, In Jeremias (1976), p. 392. 12 Lawson (1970), p. 175 (William of Saint-Thierry, Meditationes [2005], p. 77). 13 Hasbrouck (1980), pp. 94–96 (William of Saint-Thierry, Exp. Rom. [1989], pp. 63–64). 14 “O Lord our God, you did create us to your image and likeness, it is plain that we might contemplate you and have fruition of you.” Hart (1970), p. 3 (William of Saint-Thierry, Exp. Cant. [1997], p. 19). 15 “Come to us, [O Holy Spirit], that we may truly love you, that whatever we think and say may flow from the fountainhead of your love. May the canticle of your love be read by us in such wise as to kindle in us love itself.Yes, may love itself show us the meaning of its own canticle.” Hart (1970), p. 7 (William of Saint-Thierry, Exp. Cant. [1997], p. 21). 16 Charleville BM 114 (produced at the Abbey of Signy), Uppsala UB, C 79 and Wolfenbüttel, Helmstedt 394. Although the manuscript from Signy is the oldest, it is by no means the most reliable. Our edition in the Corpus Christianorum series was based predominantly on the two other manuscripts, which were produced in the fifteenth century and are copies of the lost text William himself had sent to the Carthusians at Mont-Dieu. 17 Hart (1970), pp. 77–78 (William of Saint-Thierry, Exp. Cant. [1997], p. 70). 18 Ruusbroec, Stone (1991), p. 150. 19 Berkeley (1971), p. 95 (William of Saint-Thierry, Epist. [2003], p. 282). 20 Bernard, Super cant. 71 (1958), p. 219, ll. 14–15. 21 Verdeyen (1990), pp. 71–81. 22 Davis (1979), p. 80 (William of Saint-Thierry, Speculum [2007], p. 123). 23 Both these treatises have appeared in English translation with extensive commentary: McGinn (1977), pp. 101–152. 24 Berkeley (1971), p. 7 (William of Saint-Thierry, Epist. [2003], p. 227). 25 Ruusbroec, Espousals (1988), p. 465, ll. b1558–1573.

2 The mystic’s sensorium Modes of perceiving and knowing God in Hadewijch’s Visions Veerle Fraeters

Whereas up to the twelfth century, contemplation was generally considered to be a purely spiritual experience of the enlightened intellect of the soul, the so-called affective tradition that developed in the wake of Bernardine unitive mysticism engendered a focus on the humanity of Christ and on emotional and physical sensations of God’s presence.1 Recent scholarship on the senses has shown that in discourses belonging to the affective mystical tradition, the established distinction between inner sensation with the interior senses and outer sensation with the bodily senses gets blurred.2 While the Origenist and Augustinian position clearly distinguishes between these two sets of senses and considers contemplation – or “intellectual vision” as Augustine has it – a matter of the inner or spiritual senses only3, late-medieval mystics tend to describe the encounter with God as a holistic psycho-corporeal sensation which involves the whole person, soul and body, and which is perceived with what Gordon Rudy has called “a single sensorium.”4 As one of the earliest vernacular mystical authors, the Middle Dutch female author Hadewijch (ca. 1240) figures prominently in scholarship on mystical sensation in late-medieval spirituality. Gordon Rudy devoted an entire chapter to her in his study Mystical Language of Sensation in the Later Middle Ages. As the title of this chapter, “The touch and taste of Minne,” suggests, Rudy focuses on those passages in her works that contain language of taste and touch – as opposed to hearing and seeing, the senses traditionally used to describe contemplation – to articulate the encounter with God.5 He categorizes her views as indisputably belonging to the “single sensorium” stance.6 In his article on the spiritual senses in the late-medieval mystics, Bernard McGinn corroborates Rudy’s view that Hadewijch rejects a clear distinction between inner and outer forms of sensation. His analysis of selected passages in her Visions, Songs and Letters leads him to conclude that she holds a holistic view in which the boundaries between external acts of sensation and inner perceptions are fluid.7 More recently, Patricia Dailey has presented a somewhat different view. In her study on Hadewijch’s views on embodiment, she has noted that the author unequivocally and consciously distinguishes between “inner” (binnen) and “outer” (buten), as well as between “(glorified) body” (lichame) and “matter” (materie).8 This article aims to contribute to a better understanding of the anthropology of perceiving and knowing God in Hadewijch, and clarify her position within

Hadewijch  29

the varied landscape of late-medieval views on contemplation and the senses. I will restrict my analysis to the Visions and will not take into consideration the other texts of her oeuvre – i.e. the Letters, the Poems in Couplets (also “Rhymed Letters” or “Epistolary Poems”) and the Poems in Stanzas (also “Songs”). The focus on one genre is not just prompted by the limited frame of this article but is also informed by a methodological concern. Although previous scholarship on the meaning of key terms and the bearing of themes throughout Hadewijch’s oeuvre as a whole has proven to be fruitful, it has also been shown that genre is a category that strongly influenced Hadewijch’s choice of theme and terminology.9 For the present topic, the Visions are the most evident genre to consider, as Hadewijch’s collected visions are predominantly contemplative in nature and the encounter with God is at their core. The collection of Visions, as it has been handed down to us, consists of fourteen chapters and an appended document, the so-called “List of the Perfect.”10 The first thirteen chapters of the collection each relate one visionary experience in the form of first-person narratives.11 In the closing chapter 14, the speaking persona looks back on several contemplative and mystical experiences she has had and in passing addresses a “you,” a dear friend who, according to the text, wanted to know as much as possible about the author’s contemplative encounters with the divine.12 The fourteen chapters of the collected visions were apparently written at the request of this friend.13 In this article, I will look at the language of sensing and knowing God throughout the collection of Visions. Scholars with an interest in affective mysticism or incarnational theology have previously focused mainly, or even exclusively, on one text within the collection, chapter 7, a text that obviously describes a somatic encounter with God.14 The phrase “[He] took me in his arms, and pressed me to him; and all my members felt his in full felicity” is undoubtedly the most popular quote from Hadewijch’s Visions. However, we must bear in mind that the seventh vision is an exceptional text within the collection as it is the only one to narrate a corporeal encounter with the divine in a non-ecstatic context – i.e. without the meditating mind being transported into the spirit and temporarily alienated from the body.15 According to the definition of the German scholar Peter Dinzelbacher, the seventh vision is not a vision, but an apparition: the supernatural is perceived by the visionary as manifesting itself in the “this-worldly.”16 In order to acquire a full view on the modalities of meeting God in Hadewijch, it is important to consider both the ecstatic visionary narratives and the non-ecstatic narrative within the Book of Visions. The distinction between ecstatic and non-ecstatic visions defines the main structure of this article. For each of these two types of encounter with the divine, I will look at the type of language that is used for the experience of perceiving and knowing God. Following the checklist Bernard McGinn has proposed for research on the senses in mystical texts, special attention will be given to whether this language involves explicit or implicit distinctions between inner and outer sensation, and whether there is a prioritization of the senses.17 The latter question is important given that while the so-called higher senses of hearing and seeing were traditionally favoured as metaphors for expressing the experience of contemplation, the new affective discourse and the single

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sensorium-stance favour the “lower” senses of taste and touch, as these evoke corporal contact with the divine.18

The ecstatic encounter with God Elsewhere I have demonstrated that Hadewijch’s ecstatic visionary narratives are structured along a clear pattern.19 Each text opens with a reference to the liturgical feast at which the ecstasy occurred, as well as to the inner disposition of the visionary, which invariably is one of intense desire. Second, her soul is rapt “into the spirit” and shown a vision, the imagery of which harbours a specific revelation. In some of the chapters, the visionary soul is so overwhelmed with awe by the magnitude of the revelation, that she experiences a second ecstasy “out of the spirit.”20 In this latter phase, the soul experiences an ineffable mystical union with the divine Beloved. Finally, as visionary and mystical encounters with God are temporary, some of the narratives perfunctorily close by mentioning the painful return to reality. In fact, the visionary narrative is structured as a journey of the soul through different realms. In each realm, another aspect of the subject takes the stage: the “devotional I” that is participating in the divine office, transforms into to a “visionary I” when the soul is rapt in the Spirit. In case of a second rapture “out of the Spirit,” the “visionary I” transforms into a “mystical I” experiencing the fruition of God. Each of these “I”s relies on specific powers of perception and cognition suited to the specific state she is in. Raptus21

As the topic of this essay is the direct perception of God, I will not dwell long on the devotional “I” that participates in the liturgy where she encounters God through the medium of his Word. Suffice it to say that the devotional subject’s mental state is one of undivided focus on a specific question concerning God, while her emotional state is one of intense desire to meet Him.This is exemplified through the opening lines of Vision 6: It was on a certain feast of Epiphany.  . . . Then it was my will to go to our Lord; for at this time I experienced desires and an exceedingly strong longing how God takes and gives with regard to persons who, lost in him and taken up in fruition, are conformed to his will in all circumstances. On this day, because of my longing, I was again strongly moved in Love.22 In line with the traditional Christian view that desiderium is the prerequisite for a successful prayer, this mental focus and emotional craving is, in Hadewijch’s visionary accounts, answered by God. The answer consists in the gift of being rapt into the spiritual realm that is His dwelling place. In the first three visions of the collection, the moment of rapture is phrased actively as God “receiving” (ontfangen) the visionary, taking ((op)nemen) her in the spirit and transporting (voeren) her into the spiritual realm.23 In Visions 4 to 13, the raptus is phrased

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passively as the “I” being “taken up in the spirit” (wart getrect in de geest), which is the vernacular rendering of the traditional Latin phrase raptus in spiritu or fui in spiritu (Rev. 1:10).24 In the majority of the visions, the moment of rapture is mentioned briefly in just one sentence or subclause.25 In the first four visions, however, the experience of transportation is described more elaborately, which allows for a deeper insight into the phenomenology of rapture held by the author. The agent of the raptus is God, or an angel or spirit serving Him.26 The locus of rapture is the senses (sinne), a term that in this context refers to the sensorium of the intellectual or mental faculty of the soul. From one passage, it can be deduced that being rapt can be a sudden experience that is vehement and bewildering.27 The effect of rapture on the mind is a state of consciousness in which the soul is alienated from everything except God.28 This state evidently entails an alienation from the body and of the lower faculties of the soul that animate it. In Vision 1, an angel guides the mind of the visionary to the throne of God and then takes leave saying: “I am going now to serve your body in the noble worthiness in which I found it and wish to keep it.”29 This suggests a trancelike state in which the soul has temporarily left the body. As soon as the angel has guided the soul to God’s throne, he can safely leave her there and return to guard the body during the soul’s contemplative experience. The body and the outer senses are not involved in the ecstatic encounter of the soul with God. If sensory language is used to express this visionary encounter, it refers metaphorically to modes of inner perception by the mind, the highest faculty of the soul. Vision in the spirit

After having mentioned the experience of being rapt into the spirit, the visionary “I” reports what is shown to her. Given the topic of this essay, I will not elaborate on the imagery of Hadewijch’s visions, but rather focus on the language of perception and cognition used by the visionary “I” in the second stage of the ecstatic narrative – i.e. the “vision in the spirit.” Given the abovementioned current categorization of Hadewijch as being one of the “new mystics” for whom touch and taste prevail in the encounter with God, it is striking to note that perceiving God “in the spirit” is formulated predominantly as seeing and hearing, the two higher senses that are favoured in traditional contemplative literature. Common phrases used in the descriptions of the spiritual vision are: “and there I was shown . . . ,” “and I saw . . . ,” “and I heard. . . .” The following passages from Vision 6 illustrates the prevalence of language of vision and hearing during ecstasy “in the spirit”: And then I was taken up in a spirit and carried on to where a vast and aweinspiring place was shown to me, and in this strong place stood a seat. And he who sat upon it was invisible and incomprehensible in the dignity of the jurisdiction he exercised on that height. . . . And then I heard a voice speaking to me; it was terrible and unheard-of. It spoke to me through a vision and said: “Behold who I am!” And I saw him whom I sought.30

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Indeed, with the exception of one instance in Vision 4 to which I will return in a moment, the language of taste and touch is entirely absent in this stage of spiritual vision. In Hadewijch’s visions, the spiritual perception of Christ or other heavenly dwellers is phrased predominantly as “seeing” and “hearing,” the senses traditionally associated with contemplation. No less noteworthy is that the narration of the visionary experience “in the spirit” is marked not only by verbs of visual and auditory perception, but also, and consistently so, by their cognitive counterparts “to understand” in the sense of “recognize, acknowledge” (bekinnen) and “to understand” auditory (verstaen).31 Indeed, in Hadewijch’s visionary collection the ecstatic encounter with God “in the spirit” consists of two distinctive moments: first, the visionary soul relates the images shown to her or the words spoken to her and, second, she spells out what she understands to be the divine message revealed through them. In several of the accounts, the transition between these two moments – i.e. the moment of vision (and audition) and the moment of revelation – is marked by an address of one of the heavenly inhabitants the visionary “I” has met (an angel, Christ, Mary), who challenges her to reveal the spiritual meaning of the vision.32 Obviously, the author has made a conscious effort to shape the visionary narratives in such a way that they exemplify the traditional monastic view, which states that the value of the visionary encounter lies, not in the images, but in the divine revelation they harbour. The finality of the visionary experience is intellectual.33 Throughout the collection of Visions, the aforementioned cognitive verbs (bekinnen, verstaen) are used consistently to communicate the moment of revelation. Only on one occasion is a non-cognitive verb used to express revelatory understanding in the account of an ecstatic vision, namely in Vision 4, in which the verb “to taste” (ghesmaken) is used.34 At first sight, this passage may point to an influence of the new affective discourse that favours the corporal senses of taste and touch over the eidetic and the auditory, yet, it might also be understood within the old monastic phrasing of wisdom (sapientia) as taste (sapor).35 This latter interpretation is substantiated by Vision 4 in which Hadewijch indeed explicitly relates the word “taste” (noun and verb) to the cognitive verb bekinnnen (“to understand”) to qualify the latter, thereby stressing the experiential aspect of the acquired knowledge. When shown two identical heavens, the angel of the Lord invites her to “taste (ghesmake) and know (kinne) herself what the difference between the two heavens is.”36 Whatever the terms used, it is clear that the finality of the ecstatic visionary experience is insight into divine truth and its integration by the visionary soul. The reformation of the soul into a likeness to the divine exemplar, a process also called deification, is indeed the explicit function of the visionary experience. In the closing chapter of the book, chapter 14, Hadewijch reflects in passing on the pragmatics of her visionary encounters with the divine.The short passage is dominated by words belonging to the paradigm of the intellect (weten, revelatie, verstannesse), while the only sensory word that occurs is “to see,” obviously in its epistemological sense.The insights received through the ecstatic vision of God’s

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Countenance concern aspects of His perfect Love, and allow the visionary soul to model herself according to His image: Every time that unbearably beautiful Countenance of our Love, who is all, . . . had a different form, corresponding to the different gifts that he bestowed on me each time. Each time then and always I received new gifts, which made known (weten) to me how far I had then advanced, and to what stages of development I had been raised. (Vision 14, ll. 126–133, tr. Hart 1980, p. 304) Union out of the spirit

In five of the visionary narratives, the ecstatic stage “in the spirit” is followed by a second ecstasy whereby the visionary “I” enters yet another realm of consciousness. The two phrases used to denote this transition are “to fall out of the spirit” and “to fall in Him.” Some of the narratives explicitly state that this second ecstasy is caused by wonder or stupefaction: the visionary “I” is incapable of fully grasping the revelation received in the spirit. The mind is blown, as it were, and the soul, freed from the limitations of the mind, momentarily participates in God, as this typical passage from Vision 6 illustrates: But then wonder seized me because of all the riches I had seen in him, and through this wonder I came out of the spirit in which I had seen all that I sought; and as in this situation in all this rich enlightenment I recognized my awe-inspiring, my unspeakably sweet Beloved, I fell out of the spirit – from myself and all I had seen in him – and, wholly lost, fell upon the breast, the fruition, of his Nature, which is Love. (Vision 6, ll. 76–85; tr. Hart 1980, p. 279) Descriptions of the fruitful unio mystica are invariably short.Whereas the visionary experience “in the spirit” is perceived with the senses of the intellectual faculty of the soul and can therefore be described, the mystical union “out of the spirit” is ineffable: the inner senses which allowed the visionary “I” to see, hear and comprehend are no longer at the soul’s disposal. When the mind is transcended and the soul merged into minne, there is nothing but supersensory apprehension of being one with God: There I remained, engulfed and lost, without any comprehension of other knowledge, or sight, or spiritual understanding, except to be one with him and to have fruition of this union. I remained in it less than half an hour. (Vision 6, ll. 85–89; tr. Hart 1980, p. 279) In this passage, the author explicitly states that the language of vision and cognition is unfit to describe the experience of mystical union. Another telling passage is in Vision 10: “[M]y spirit failed me to see or hear no more. And I lay

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in this fruition half an hour.”37 The author resorts to non-descriptive technical terms such as “to be one” and “to have fruition” (Md. gebruken). In only one place, in an explicatory passage in Vision 13, she qualifies fruition “which does away with everything that pertains to reason” as a kind of “touch” (gherijnesse van ghebrukene), thereby electing the sense of touch as an apt metaphor for this ineffable experience.38 Despite the fact that the mind is transcended, the unitive experience “out of the spirit” does harbour a specific mode of cognition. The knowledge present in mystical union cannot be intellectual, as this latter mode of knowing implies a division between subject and object. Rather, it is knowledge through participation. This non-intellectual participatory mode of knowing God is, according to Hadewijch, deeper and more transformative than intellectual vision or contemplation in the spirit. In the closing chapter 14, she writes that in the noncognitive union with God “out of the spirit” one is closer to God than any (spiritual or intellectual) vision “in the spirit” allows for: I lay . . . out of the spirit, lost here to myself and to all persons, in fruition of him: to know how in fruition he embraced himself. To be out of the spirit and be in him – this surpasses all that one can have from him and all that he himself is. (Vision 14, ll. 148–154; tr. Hart 1980, pp. 304–5)

The non-ecstatic encounter with God As mentioned earlier, Hadewijch’s collected Visions also contain a non-ecstatic encounter with God in Vision 7. This text begins in the same vein as the others, namely by specifying the liturgical moment in which the vision took place, in this case Pentecost. But unlike the other narratives, no raptus takes place, as the last sentence of Vision 7 reads: “I was . . . taken up in the spirit, and there it was shown me concerning such hours” (ll. 96–7). Obviously, the experience described in Vision 7 takes place, in its entirety, in what I have called the first moment of the visionary narrative, the stage of the devotional “I” participating in the liturgy. The following chapter,Vision 8, is then presented as the account of the ensuing moment of the ecstatic visionary experience after the soul has been rapt into the spirit.39 Vision 7 is, therefore, not a spiritual or intellectual vision perceived by the inner sensorium of the soul’s mind. Rather, it is a corporeal vision perceived with the bodily senses. Consequently, somatic language is much present throughout the text. Besides, senses other than hearing and sight come into play, and the mystical lexicon is different from the other chapters. The text opens with an unusually long description of the physical impact “on my heart and my veins and all my limbs” of the intense desire to meet God.40 The inner focus of the “I” is on a somatic matter as well, as she desires to experience God in his Humanity with her humanity: I desired to have full fruition of my Beloved (mijns lieves te vollen te ghebrukene), and to understand (bekinne) and taste (ghesmakene) him to the full.

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I desired that his Humanity (sine menscheit) should to the fullest extent be one in fruition with my humanity, and that mine then should hold its stand and be strong enough to enter into perfection until I content him, who is perfection itself, by purity and unity, and in all things to content him fully in every virtue. (Vis. 7, ll. 21–29, tr. Hart 1980, p. 280) In correspondence with the scheme that the experience received is God’s graceful answer to a specific prayer, the devotional “I” is, in Vision 7, not rapt into the spirit to meet God in his eternal realm thereby leaving her body behind. Rather, God comes to meet her within the realm of humanity. He appears within the earthly frame in a bodily form and can be perceived with the corporeal senses. Interestingly, this non-ecstatic encounter is structured along the same pattern as the ecstatic encounters within the collection. After the liturgical feast has been mentioned, and the inner disposition and prayer of the protagonist related, the narration of the corporeal vision takes off with the lexical marker “to see”: “As my mind was thus beset with fear, I saw a great eagle flying toward me from the altar, and he said to me: “If you wish to attain oneness, make yourself ready!”41 After the eagle’s announcement, the narrator describes that she saw God coming from the altar in the form of a three-yearold child, taking his Body from the ciborium and holding a chalice in his left hand. He then transformed into the man he was on the day of his passion, and “with glorious face, he came to me as humbly as anyone who wholly belongs to another” (ll. 68–70). He first gave her the sacrament and offered her to drink from the chalice and then embraces her, thereby imprinting his body on hers: After that he came himself to me, took me entirely in his arms, and pressed me to him; and all my members felt (ghevoelden) his in full felicity (in al hare ghenoeghen), in accordance with the desire of my heart and my humanity. (Vis. 7, ll. 74–78, tr. Hart 1980, p. 281) The experience described is of a somatic nature and the mode of perception is described as “feeling,” a verb never used in the ecstatic visionary accounts where seeing and hearing are the favored senses of perception and where cognition is an epistemological matter. This sensorial and intensely erotic embrace can, in my view, be seen as the corporeal counterpart of the moment of revelation in the ecstatic visions. In line with the ecstatic revelatory moment, the non-ecstatic revelation is characterized by two aspects. First, the revelation received is perceived as the divine answer to the prayer of the devotional “I.” When the narrator mentions that “for a short while, she had the strength to bear this” (ll. 80–81), she explicitly refers back to the prayer in which she had expressed the desire that her humanity might be one with His and “that mine then should hold its stand” (l. 24). Second, the wondrous revelation can blow the mind and prompt a second ecstasy. Likewise, in Vision 7, the confrontation with the limited capacity of the bodily

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self to stand unity with the embodied Christ for a longer time, triggers a new experience: I saw him completely come to nought and so fade (verdoyende) and all at once dissolve (smelten) that I could no longer recognize or perceive him outside me, and I could no longer distinguish him within me. Then it was to me as if we were one without difference. (Vis. 7, ll. 83–87, tr. Hart 1980, p. 281) This unitive experience parallels the moment of mystical union “out of the spirit” in the ecstatic visionary narratives. In those accounts, a second ecstasy occurs when the mind of the visionary is blown by wonder over the revelation she has received, and thereupon is propelled beyond itself into an ineffable mystical union with the divine.This inner experience of ecstatic mystical union has a non-ecstatic corporeal counterpart, described in Vision 7 as “a passing away of one in the other” (vervaeren), implying some sort of bodily disintegration. In an explicatory passage near the end of the chapter, the author stresses that both moments within the non-ecstatic encounter – i.e. vision and union – were of a bodily nature: It was thus: outwardly, to see, taste, feel as one can taste, see and feel in the reception of the outward Sacrament. So can the Beloved and the loved one (lief met lieve) wholly receive the other in all full satisfaction (ghenoechten) of the sight, the hearing, and the passing away (vervaerne) of one in the other. After that I remained in a passing away (vervaerne) in my Beloved (mijn lief), so that I wholly melted away in him and nothing any longer remained to me of myself. (Vis. 7, ll. 88–96, tr. Hart 1980, pp. 281–282) The choice of words in the quoted passages implies that a non-ecstatic sensual encounter with God within the human dimension, however intense and transformative, is of a different order than the ecstatic encounter in the spiritual dimension. Rather than gebruken (“fruition”), Hadewijch here uses the term ghenoechte (“satisfaction” or “pleasure”), a notion with which she consistently invokes the subjective feeling of sweetness, on the emotional or somatic level, that resides in the experience of mystical union.42 The same holds true for the term lief (“sweetheart”): unlike minne, it is exclusively brought into play when the author wants to stress the subjective point of view of the human lover who momentarily enjoys the blissful presence of minne within the this-worldly context and, in the height of enjoyment, feels equal to her divine lover (lief met lieve).43 Moreover, there is an explicit emphasis on the subjectivity of the experience: “it was to me as if we were one without difference” (ll. 87–88). The use of the adverbial “as if ” (ochte) in this sentence indicates that the author is conscious that the experience of mystical unity in a corporeal vision is a simile of non-bodily mystical union. Mystical union without difference essentially is a spiritual matter.

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Conclusion Hadewijch does not engage in an explicit and systematic discussion of the sensorium with which the mystic soul can perceive and know God.Yet, the collected Visions indirectly reveal the author’s views on inner and outer sensation of the divine. Rather than holding a view in which the boundaries between external modes of sensation and inner perceptions are blurred, as some scholars have suggested, her views are nuanced and differentiated, and expressed in a precise terminology. First, a clear distinction is made between ecstatic spiritual vision and non-ecstatic corporeal vision. The majority of the visionary accounts in the collection relate a spiritual vision. While meditating on a liturgical theme, the mind or intellectual faculty of the soul is rapt into the spiritual realm where she is given a vision constructed mainly of images, but also containing spoken word. Spiritual perception in this state is expressed in terms of sight and hearing, the senses traditionally favoured. Also traditional is the view that spiritual vision is not an end in itself, but rather a means for intellectual vision or contemplation. Intellectual vision is consistently expressed by language of cognition (“to know” or “to understand”), while at one instance the verb “to know” is qualified by the verb “to taste,” a traditional metaphor for sapiential knowledge. In all, the visionary experience “in the spirit” corresponds to the traditional model of contemplation. In five of the ecstatic visions, the revelation received triggers a second rapture in which the soul transcends the limits of the mind: she falls “out of the spirit” and into God. It is stated expressly that in such an experience of mystical union, inner hearing and seeing are no longer present. Neither are there any references to the “lower” senses of touch, smell and taste. Rather, the ineffable experience of union is expressed by means of technical terms such as “being one” or “fruition.” In the last chapter of the collection, which is a letter rather than a visionary account, Hadewijch explains to the addressee that the experience of mystical union “out of the spirit” harbours a deeper knowledge of God than any vision “in the spirit” can convey, since one is then “no less than He himself is.” Vision 7 reports a non-ecstatic, outer encounter with God. The text relates an apparition of Christ who takes on bodily form and as a result can be perceived by means of the corporeal senses. While in the ecstatic visions, the mystic’s soul meets the glorified Christ in his spiritual realm, here she meets the crucified Christ in his humanity. Consequently, in this vision somatic language abounds. As the theme of the Eucharist is at the core of the vision, the sense of taste is present, next to the sense of sight. In line with the format of the ecstatic encounters with God, the experience of corporeal vision brings about a revelation that is somatic in nature: Christ embraces the visionary and imprints his body on hers. This erotic experience of bodily cognition is phrased, not as “knowing,” but as “feeling.” This moment is then followed by a non-ecstatic corporeal counterpart of the unitive experience: the two bodies melt and pass away the one into the other.This outer unitive experience is phrased in a set of

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terms that differs from that used to convey mystical union in the spiritual realm. Feeling and tasting are now used, in addition to hearing and seeing. With its focus on corporeality and on the humanity of Christ, the seventh vision is a prime example of affective mysticism.We should keep in mind, however, that this text holds a special position within the volume as it is the only one to relate a corporeal vision of an apparition of Christ in his humanity. The author herself painstakingly insists on it being different, as she stresses that it was perceived by the outer senses, while the other visions are perceived by the inner senses in the state of being “in the spirit.” In the unio mystica “out of the spirit,” the senses are utterly transcended and merged into an ineffable experience of mystical union. Based on the Visions, Hadewijch cannot be classified in the one-sensorium paradigm in which inner and outer sensation have in blurring manner merged into one affective discourse. Hadewijch’s Visions present, with conceptual precision, a lucid anthropology in which traditional views on rapture and contemplation are consciously integrated with new ideas on mystical union and participatory cognition of God, while the new affectivity and its focus on corporeality is incorporated as well, though clearly confined to one chapter only. The collected Visions teach that the individual human person is fully equipped to meet God through a differentiated range of visionary revelations and unitive experiences, inner and outer, spiritual and corporeal. And, while each of these types of direct encounter with God has its distinct logic, lexicon and value, they all serve one and the same goal: to discover the divinity of one’s soul and restore it gradually by modelling oneself after His image.

Notes 1 On Bernard and the rise of affective mysticism, see Louth (1976). The division between intellectual and affective mysticism has been questioned and nuanced by several scholars. Bernard McGinn cautions against a divide between the two types and has introduced the neutral term “new mysticism” for post-twelfth-century mysticism (McGinn 1998, p. 157; see also McGinn 2008). Nonetheless, the binary “intellectual – affective” remains a useful analytical tool, especially in the context of research on mystical anthropology. The main features of affective spirituality are its focus on corporeality and on the humanity of Christ. 2 Rudy (2002), pp. 1–7; Largier (2003); McGinn (2011). 3 As is common in literature on the history of the senses, I here use the notions inner and spiritual a-historically as quasi-synonyms. However, it is important to note that the medieval notions “inner senses” and “spiritual senses” originally derive from different traditions, namely natural philosophy and medicine (Aristotle and Galen) on the one hand, and Christian theology (Origen and Gregory) on the other. “The inner senses” (sensus interiores) originally refer to the cognitive faculty of the soul that, in the brain, processes (outer) sensory input, and which was thought to involve four cerebral functions: sensus communis, imagination, cognition, and memory (expanded to five by Avicenna so as to match the five outer senses). The concept of “the spiritual senses” (sensus spirituales) was developed by early Christian theologians to interpret and conceptualize the use of sensual metaphors in the Bible. It refers to the sensorium with which the highest part of the soul, the mind, can perceive God. This sensorium was conceived as a spiritual duplication of the outer senses (sensus exteriores) of touch, taste, smell, hearing and sight. Augustine used the term sensus interiores to refer to the perception of God by means of

Hadewijch  39 inner hearing and inner sight, so that, within theological discourse, the notions “spiritual senses” and “inner sense(s)” came to have important overlaps. See Harvey (1975); Largier (2003); Nichols, Kablitz & Calhoun (2008); Gavrilyuk and Coakley (2011), pp. 1–18. 4 Rudy (2002), p. 6; see also McGinn (2011), p. 190. 5 Rudy (2002), p. 67. 6 “Hadewijch: The Touch and Taste of Minne” in Rudy (2002), pp. 67–100 (notes on pp. 147–155). 7 McGinn (2011), p. 196. The criteria underlying the selection of the passages remains implicit which, in my view, makes his analyis of Hadewijch’s texts, though illuminating on many points, unbalanced, and the conclusions uncertain. 8 Dailey (2013), esp. pp. 66–71 and pp. 109–114. Moreover, from a non-exhaustive analysis of the term “sense” (sinne) in Hadewijch, Dailey (2012; 2013, pp. 66–68) has inferred that the Gregorian doctrine of the five spiritual senses as spiritual analogies of the five bodily senses must have been at the core of Hadewijch’s mystical anthropology. In my view, there is no textual evidence to support this thesis. The expression gheestelike sinne which is the Middle Dutch equivalent of Latin sensus spirituales, is absent in Hadewijch’s work, as is any reference to the number five that usually accompanies allusions to the spiritual senses. Hadewijch obviously favors the notion “innighe sinne” (which translates sensus interiores) to refer to the soul’s capacity to understand God’s message. See also supra n. 3. 9 For the impact of matters of genre on Hadewijch’s mystical lexicon and thought, see e.g. Willaert (1984) and Fraeters (2004). Thematic studies that have revealed interesting differences due to genre are Jahae (2000) on the semantic field of ghenoegen (to satisfy), and Faesen (2000) on begeerte (desire). 10 I have used the critical edition by Willaert (1996) of manuscript A. The line numbers of this edition are identical to the edition by Van Mierlo 1924 of manuscript C. The English translation quoted in the article is that of Hart (1980), with my own minor emendations. 11 Since Van Mierlo’s edition in 1924–25, Hadewijch-scholarship has entitled each of the 14 chapters as “Vision 1, Vision 2, etc.” although the manuscript tradition speaks of “cap.,” i.e. chapter. In this essay, I will use the terms vision and chapter interchangeably. 12 Hart (1980), p. 304 (Hadewijch, Vision 14, ll. 118–124). 13 Van Mierlo (1924–5) considered the addressee to be Hadewijch’s confessor. Later scholars assume it to be one of her spiritual children. There is no textual evidence as to the gender of the addressee. 14 The seventh vision is exclusively dealt with, or given a predominant place in, a.o., Milhaven (1993), Wiethaus (2003), Faesen (2003), Hollywood (2006), Murk-Jansen (2010), McGinn (2011), Dailey (2013). Readings of the text differ as some have read the corporal encounter with Christ erotically, while others as unitive suffering with the crucified Christ. 15 As Vision 7 is placed in the middle of the collection (Chapter 7 out of 14), the editor obviously had the intention to mark its exceptionality. Within the context of this article, I will not expand on the organization of the collection as a whole. For the design of the collection and the ensuing message, see Heszler (1994); Fraeters (2004), esp. pp. 73–77. 16 Dinzelbacher (1981), p. 42. 17 McGinn (2011), p. 191. 18 Rudy (2002), p. 4. 19 Fraeters (2004), esp. Appendix 1 with an overview of the structure of each of the visions. 20 The lexical pair “in de geest” (in spiritu) – “buten de geest” (sine spiritu) is most likely derived from a passage in book 5 of Benjamin major [also known as De arca mystica and De contemplatione], a treatise on contemplation by the twelfth-century canon Richard of St. Victor, see Fraeters (2004), with references to earlier literature on p. 71, n. 53. Mystical union “out of the spirit” occurs in Visions 5, 6, 9, 10, 13, see Fraeters (2004), Appendix 1. 21 On the phenomenon of rapture or ecstasy in the tradition of Christian mysticism, see Casey (1985), Elliott (2012), and Nemeth (2012).

40  Veerle Fraeters 22 Hart (1980), p. 278 (Hadewijch, Vision 6, ll. 1–9). 23 E.g. “When I had received our Lord, he then received me to him (doe ontfinc hi mi), so that he withdrew my senses (so dat hi mi opnam alle mine sinne) from every remembrance of alien things to enable me to have joy in him in inward togetherness with him” (Hart 1980, p. 263 [Hadewijch, Vision 1, ll. 15–16]); “Later, one Easter Sunday, I had gone to God; and he embraced me in my interior senses (van binnen mine sinne) and took me away in spirit” (Hart 1980, p. 272 [Hadewijch, Vision 3, ll. 1–3]). 24 For a brief overview of the terminology of rapture in the early thirteenth century in the Low Countries, see Hollywood (2001, p. 245). 25 E.g. Hart (1980), p. 278 (Hadewijch, Vision 6, ll. 8–9): “On this day, because of my longing, I was again strongly moved in Love and then I was taken up in a spirit and carried on to where a vast and awe-inspiring place was shown me.” 26 E.g. in Vision 1, ll. 15–16 it is Christ at the moment of the Eucharist; in Vision 4, ll. 4–8 it is an awesome spirit. 27 Hart (1980), p. 273 (Hadewijch, Vision 4, ll. 3–8): “During the Epistle my senses were drawn inwards with a great tempestuous clamor by an awe-inspiring spirit that from within drew me within myself.” 28 Hart (1980), p. 263 (Hadewijch, Vision 1, ll. 15–17): “When I had received the Lord, he then received me to him, so that he withdrew my senses from every remembrance of alien things to enable me to have joy in him in inward togetherness with him. Then I was led as if into a meadow.” 29 Hart (1980), p. 267 (Hadewijch, Vision 1, ll. 211–213. 30 Hart (1980), pp. 278–9 (Hadewijch, Vision 6, ll. 10–14, 40–43) (italics mine). 31 E.g. Hart (1980), pp. 278–9 (Hadewijch, Vision 6, ll. 43–46): “And I saw him whom I sought. His Countenance revealed itself with such clarity that I recognized (bekinde) in it all the countenances and all the forms that ever existed and ever shall exist”; Hart (1980), p. 279 (Hadewijch, Vision 6, l. 91): “. . . and I understood (verstont) all reasoning.” 32 E.g. Hart (1980), p. 263 (Hadewijch, Vision 1, l. 35): “ ‘Human nature, understand (verstant) and know (kinne) what this tree is.’ And I understood (verstont).” 33 It is noteworthy that the collection contains no ecstatic vision without an explicit revelation, while the opposite – i.e. a revelation without preceding vision – does occur once (Hart 1980, p. 271 [Hadewijch, Vision 2, ll. 1–4]). Obviously, the author was aware that spiritual vision was considered fallible and intellectual vision infallible. 34 Vision 4, ll. 50 (smaken), 53 (ghesmaken), 118 (ghesmaken). It is telling that the only other places where the verb “to taste” occurs is Vision 7, which relates a non-ecstatic corporeal vision (Vision 7, l. 22; Vision 8, l. 98, which refers to the somatic experience of Vision 7). 35 Sapor and sapientia were considered to be etymologically connected, see Isidore of Seville, Etym. 10.240, quoted in Carruthers (2013), pp. 95ff. 36 Hart (1980), p. 274 (Hadwijch, Vision 4, ll. 53–4). 37 Hart (1980), p. 288 (slightly modified) (Hadewijch, Vision 10, ll. 70–72). 38 Hart (1980), p. 300 (Hadewijch, Vision 13, ll. 180). Apart from Vision 13 where the noun gherinesse occurs, there are four instances where the verb gherinen (to touch) is used: Vision 14, l. 79 where the author explains that the Countenance seen in ecstasy “could not be touched by sight”; Vision 8, l. 42 where the Voice of the invisible Lord invites the visionary “I” to “touch me in my being untouchable”; Vision 4, l. 52 where the angel of God addresses the visionary “I” as “you, who are touched by infinite Fidelity”; Vision 11, l. 120 where the author, in an explicatory postscriptum to the vision, writes: “so powerfully am I touched by Love.” The motif of the divine touch is more important in the Songs than in the Visions. 39 The relationship between Visions 7 and 8 is explored by Mommaers (1975). 40 Hart (1980), p. 280 (Hadewijch, Vision 7, ll. 3–14). 41 Hart (1980), p. 281 (Hadewijch, Vision 7, ll. 42–44). 42 Jahae (2000). 43 E.g. Song 25, stanza where pleasure (genoechte) is evoked by an extravagant repetition of the word lief, see Hadewijch, Songs (2009), pp. 204–209.

3 “The wild, wide oneness” Aspects of the soul and its relationship with God in Pseudo-Hadewijch John Arblaster and Rob Faesen This contribution focuses on a cycle of Middle Dutch mystical poems that have not been researched extensively hitherto but which are, nevertheless, of great importance in the development of Middle Dutch mystical literature. The series was initially published in Jozef Van Mierlo’s first critical edition of Hadewijch’s works in 1912, but his later research convincingly demonstrated that Hadewijch did not write them.1 Therefore, the anonymous author is known as “PseudoHadewijch.” The series of poems consists of two distinct sets with different literary forms.2 They are difficult to date, but they were presumably written in the late thirteenth or early fourteenth century. They were transmitted in only four manuscripts, of which two belonged to the Charterhouse of Herne.3 The hermeneutical frameworks within which these poems have been analyzed have often been influenced by a comparative approach. The poems have been studied in conjunction with many of the major figures of thirteenthand fourteen-century mystical theology in the Low Countries and beyond. Researchers such as Jozef Van Mierlo and Stephanus Axters, as well as some more recent scholars, have indicated a number of similarities between the poems and the works of Meister Eckhart, but that position is contested.4 According to Saskia Murk-Jansen, the early twentieth-century discussion on the association between Pseudo-Hadewijch and Eckhart was strongly affected by the political climate in Belgium at the time (i.e. in the context of the movement of Flemish emancipation).Van Mierlo was a strong critic of the idea that the Middle Dutch Pseudo-Hadewijch might owe anything to the German Eckhart, although on the German side, Kurt Ruh noted that, in this respect at least, “the authority of Van Mierlo is an almost incomprehensible phenomenon.”5 More recently, Paul Verdeyen associated the poems with the school of Marguerite Porete rather than with that of Hadewijch, since he saw parallels between Marguerite Porete’s descriptions of the soul’s annihilation, her emphasis on non-reciprocity between the soul and God, and her quietism with respect to performing any action at all when united with God.6 In a certain sense,Verdeyen thus inclines us away from the older apophatic reading of the poems7 because he identifies in Porete certain pantheist inclinations.8 Indeed, the combination of pantheism and apophaticism implies a logical contradiction, for how can God be essentially inaccessible and unknowable if the soul becomes God by nature?

42  John Arblaster and Rob Faesen

Whatever the case may be, it is clear that Ruusbroec knew the poems well since he alludes to them often and occasionally even quotes them literally. Alessia Vallarsa’s research has compellingly demonstrated this point.9 The poems were translated into French by the Carthusian Jean-Baptiste Porion,10 into Italian by Alessia Vallarsa11 and into English by John Arblaster.12

Dynamics in the ground of the soul Although the poems discuss the core or the ground of the soul, they do not use the specific term “ground,” which we do find in other mystics such as Eckhart and Tauler, as well as in John of Ruusbroec and Jan van Leeuwen.13 Rather, the poet uses the term “mind” (gedachte).14 In his critical edition, Jozef Van Mierlo interpreted this to mean “intellect,” based on the definition of the word in the Middelnederlandsch Woordenboek.15 However, Stephanus Axters’ suggestion that the word be understood as a Middle Dutch equivalent of the Latin mens is more compelling.16 Indeed, that is how Ruusbroec appears to have interpreted it.17 The second series of poems supports this view, since we there find the definition of it as “the very life of the soul” (die levelicheyt der zielen, Poem 27, l. 4). The poems describe what occurs in the centre or the deepest dimension of the soul.The soul’s structure is not a static reality, but consists in a certain dynamism at the deepest level. Furthermore, this is a dynamism of minne, or love – often characterized as “pure” love, or “love without a why.” Minne is crucial, since it is emphasized in every poem in the cycle.18 This dynamism has a number of consequences that may be summarized in four points: (1) the core of the soul is stripped of its “self ” and becomes fathomless; (2) the soul is transported into God; (3) a new, simple “something” is born in the soul; (4) this is a union with (and also a simplification in) the soul’s origin. The core of the soul is stripped of its “self” and becomes fathomless

A first and clear consequence of the love dynamism is that the core of the soul is stripped of its particularity and becomes fathomless. Poem 18 expresses this explicitly: Maer nu hoert dat ghebod Dat ons god Doet bekinnen: Hoe wine met crachte Uut alre gedachten Selen minnen.

But hear now this command That God makes Us confess: How we shall love Him With all our strength And all our mind.

Met minnen crachte Moet die ghedachte Haers selvesheyt Sijn ontwrongen Ende verswongen In overstheyt.

Through love’s power The mind From itself Must be wrested And enraptured Into the highest.

Pseudo-Hadewijch 43 Daer wertse gheleydet Ghewidet, ghebreydet, In deemsteren weghe, Ende verresen In hoghe wesen In gracien seghe.

There she is led –Widened, broadened– On dark paths, And raised In high being, In the victory of grace.

The poem clearly refers to the commandment in Deuteronomy concerning total love (Dt. 6:5–9). The active force in this love does not coincide with the human person and does not remain within the limits of the human subject. The person loves, but there is more to this love than the merely human. Indeed, in this experience, the mind (gedachte, mens) is stripped of its “self.” The Middle Dutch actually reads selvesheyt, which means “selfhood,” but the poet does not define precisely what this means. It appears to be synonymous with the “self ” as contrasted with what is “above” or “higher” (see also Ende verswongen/In overstheyt “And enraptured/Into the highest”19) – although that too is left undefined. It appears to refer to God, a point to which we shall return. The mind is led into this “highest” (overstheyt), and it is important to note the passive voice here.This is emphasized because it is along dark ways: it is precisely because the mind is led here that it has no insight of its own, and the ways are dark. It is interesting to note here that the soul is then “widened” and “broadened.”20 This idea recurs throughout the poems. It appears that the author thus suggests that the soul acquires dimensions that transcend human limitations, and which correspond to the “breadth” and infinity of God. One might say that the soul receives the dimensions that God has by nature. This soul is led into God

Poem 18 treats the aforementioned points more explicitly. The dynamism of love consists in the soul being led into God (31–38): Die ghedachte in god Es der minnen slod In die enecheyt Daer se minne heeft gheleydet Ghewidet, ghebreydet In dies lichs claerheyt.

The mind in God Is the enclosure of love In that union To which love has led her – widened and broadened her – In the light of that clarity.

First, we again note the expression “widened and broadened” (ghewidet, ghebreydet). This obviously refers to the quote from Poem 17, where the poet uses the same expression in reference to the “highest” (overstheyt). We are now given confirmation that this does indeed refer to God.21 In other words, the “centre” of the soul (the mind) is led into God through the experience of love, and is

44  John Arblaster and Rob Faesen

widened and broadened by that experience. This implies that the soul does not have these dimensions of its own nature, and is thus not divine in and of itself. The dynamism of love is imperative in this experience. Furthermore, it is striking that the poet uses the expression “the enclosure of love” (der minnen slod). This presents something of a problem to the English translator, for the Middle Dutch slod could be translated in two ways. It could be an equivalent of fortress or castle (as in the Latin castrum). The image would then be comparable to what Teresa of Avila would later call the “interior castle.” The same word can also, however, be used for the equivalent of the Latin clausura, and there are some indications to prefer this reading. For example, Ruusbroec certainly understood the poet in this sense, and according to her vita, one of the lost texts by Beatrice of Nazareth also uses the image of the clausura of the soul.22 Following this interpretation, the poem appears to suggest that the centre of the soul is completely in God and is enclosed there – implying that it can no longer leave23 – and that this enclosure also prevents others from entering within. If the poet does indeed refer to the religious clausura, this also implies that it is a free choice on the part of the soul. Indeed, entering an enclosed religious community is a voluntary choice, as Ruusbroec emphasizes in his Seven Enclosures.24 The soul is in God, and this is entirely consonant with its own will. This is: the birth of the light in the soul

Poem 17, ll. 25–54 raises a number of the issues we have discussed, and associates them with another element, namely the birth of a new, simple “something”:

Die in dat hoghe kinnen Der bloter minnen Waerdeloes Diepere crighen Venden haere ontbliven Meere altoes.

In that high knowledge Of pure love, Wordlessly Striving deeper, We may evermore find What we lack.

Nuwe mare In doncker clare Vinden si, Van hoghen prise Sonder wise In verre bi.

In dark clarity We find Modeless New tidings Of great value In the far-near.

In dat eweghe wide In allen side Sonder inden Werdet si ghedeilt, Ghebreidet, gheheilt In een verslinden:

In the eternal expanse, – Without end, On every side – They are unfurled, Broadened and healed By being consumed:

Pseudo-Hadewijch 45 Die ghedachte In stilre jachte Die dat onghemeten Al in al Venden sal Al ombegrepen.

The mind In silent hunt, Will find This endless ‘All in All’ ungraspable.

Daer dunct hare baren Sonder verclaren Een simpel iet, Alse in vertien; Doch moet sijs lien In een bloet niet.

There it seems to her, Inexplicably A ‘simple something’ is born And though short-lived, Must be affirmed In a pure nothing.

These brief verses are rich with meaning and much could be said about them and similar expressions that we find in other mystical texts of the period. We highlight two central elements here. First, the poet refers to a specific form of knowledge, namely knowledge that is given in this “pure” (blote) love.25 It is clear that the knowledge is related to an increasingly profound knowledge of the soul’s lack (haere ontbliven), a theme that is of course immediately reminiscent of the defectus amoris.26 The soul receives new tidings, and these relate to modeless love, which is given in the “far-near” (verre bi).27 This expression is a particularly interesting because it is a direct literary equivalent of the famous expression loing-près in Marguerite Porete.28 Although we cannot attempt an exploration of the subject here, a historical investigation of the connection between these poems and Porete would be interesting. We only note the striking textual link. Second, these verses connect the new knowledge received with the theme of “being born,” which on our reading refers to the birth of Christ in the soul. The theme of the birth of Christ was most famously developed by Meister Eckhart, but actually dates back to the most ancient Christian literature.29 It is an important theme because it expresses the presence of the “other” in the human soul – which here is further emphasized by the use of the expression “a simple something” (een simpel iet). The soul is not divine by nature, but receives divinity through the presence of the “other.” The consciousness of the presence of this other is ungraspable as such: its self-revelation is short-lived, which means that it reveals and withdraws simultaneously, or perhaps more accurately: it reveals itself in its withdrawal – which confirms that it is both far and near: verre bi or loing-près. This is a union with (and also a simplification in) the soul’s “origin”

A fourth consequence of the love that draws the soul into God is that the soul becomes simple. The poet suggests this simplicity at several points throughout the cycle. Let us first read a passage from Poem 17, ll. 85–96 that describes the dynamism of love as a union with God, who is conceived of as the soul’s origin:30

46  John Arblaster and Rob Faesen Die niet en geroen In ander doen Dan hier es gheseit Si eneghen hen In hare ierste beghin In die ewicheit.

Those unsatisfied In doing other Than described here, Unite themselves In their first beginning In eternity.

Daer werdense in Hare ierste beghin Met hem so een Dat en mach ghelike In eertrike So sijn van tween.

There they become So one with him In their first beginning That upon the Earth No two could Be so similar.

We ought not to interpret the “first beginning” in an abstract or impersonal sense because immediately after the reference to the “first beginning,” the poet uses the personal pronoun “him.” Therefore, on our reading, the poem refers to God as the soul’s most fundamental origin – and not merely in the chronological sense of the word (i.e. inception), since beginning can also refer to a fundamentum or principium. The poet says that these people become one with “him” and in such a way that there is no closer comparable union between two things on earth. In other words, although there may be profound, intense unions between created beings, the union that may occur between God and the human soul is of an incomparable depth and far outstrips the union between created beings because the union with God is a union with the “origin.”31 The second series in the cycle returns to this theme and treats it more explicitly, namely in Poem 26, l. 5ff, which may serve as a summary of the above:

De blote minne die niet en spaert In die weelde overvaert, Alse si alles toevals wordt ontpaert, Comt si in haren eenvoldeghen aert;

Pure love spares nothing In the wild crossing. When stripped of all accidentals, She comes into her simple nature.

In bloter minnen toeverlaet Moet sijn af der creaturen raet. Want si van hen alle vorme slaet Die si in hare simpelheyt ontfaet.

Abandon the counsel of creatures In the refuge of pure love. For she unmasks all their forms Received in her simplicity.

Daer werden si alle wisen quite Ende vervremdet van allen ghelike. De arme van gheeste in eerdrike Houden van rechte dese vite.

There she is freed from all modes And estranged from all compare. The poor in spirit on earth Justly live this life.

. . .

. . .

Pseudo-Hadewijch 47 In dese weelde wide eenvuldicheit Wonen die arme van gheeste in enecheyt. Daer en vendense niet dan ledicheit Die altoes antwerdet der ewicheyt.

In this wild, wide oneness The poor in spirit live united. There they find nothing but emptiness, Which answers always to eternity.

The characteristics of pure love that is stripped of all accidentals are its onefold or simple nature, its simplicity, its wild, wide oneness. Precisely when the soul abandons itself and entrusts itself to this pure love, it is united with this oneness. The poet then associates these souls with the “poor in spirit,” that is, those people who experience this union. Could this be a reference to Eckhart’s famous sermon Beati pauperes spiritu?32 At a cursory glance, there are unmistakably certain points of similarity, but on closer inspection the two texts appear to be different. It seems more plausible that – on the contrary – Eckhart further developed and radicalized this theme in his sermon. Jozef van Mierlo notes in this regard that “spiritual poverty” was a new concept that was especially discussed in fourteenth-century literature.33 It would perhaps be more accurate to say that it is a much older theme34 and that the fourteenth century made its specifically mystical-contemplative dimension more explicit – a dimension that had previously been present implicitly. We may also note that the last verse was adopted almost verbatim by Ruusbroec, in one of his later works: Ps.-Hadewijch:

Ruusbroec, Mirror of Eteral Blessedness:

In dese weelde wide eenvuldicheit Wonen die arme van gheeste in enecheyt. Daer en vendense niet dan ledicheit Die altoes antwerdet der ewicheyt.

In this wild, wide oneness The poor in spirit live united. There they find nothing but emptiness, Which answers always to eternity.

Daer en venden wi anders niet dan welde, wueste, onghebeelde blooetheit, die altooes antwerdt der eewecheit.35

There we find nothing but wild, waste unimaged bareness, which always responds to eternity.

To sum up, this brief investigation has shown that these highly contemplative poems explore the “centre” of the soul. They describe a dynamism of love that is played out in the foundation of the soul. This love is experienced by the human person, but at the same time it transcends the merely human: the initiative is taken by the other, who is actively present in that centre, and is born there as a light. The centre of the soul is thereby stripped of its “self ” and led into God – which are apparently two aspects of one and the same reality – and the soul thus becomes widened and broadened. The expression “wild, wide oneness” – adopted by Ruusbroec – captures this experience perfectly. The word “wild” has the connotation of unmanipulated in the sense of not being

48  John Arblaster and Rob Faesen

influenced by culture or civilization and not being determined by structuring elements.36 Indeed, the “centre” of the soul escapes the control of even the subject. The word “wide” refers to the fathomlessness and infinity that the centre of the soul receives. And “oneness” refers to the union of love: in essence then, the “centre” of the soul consists in an encounter, a union of love, not an isolated substance or individuality. Based on these insights into the structure of the soul, we can now examine the way in which these poems conceive of God, and the implications of this doctrine of God for the theme of the soul’s deification in these texts.

The conception of God in Pseudo-Hadewijch In general, one may say that studies on these poems’ doctrine of God have tended to focus on their apophatic content. The prevailing attitude is that these poems are averse to what is often termed “affective” mysticism, and there has consequently been a tendency to emphasize that these poems contain more theory than practice. In other words, they are considered more intellectualist than affectivist. As mentioned earlier, the first study of these poems by Jozef   Van Mierlo set the tone in this regard. He concluded that these texts merely contain theoretical reflections on mystical union, and thus do not stem from mystical experience proper.37 Concerning the consensus of the poems’ apophaticism, it is perhaps worth mentioning that Paul Dietrich has argued that the increasing appreciation of the true Hadewijch’s apophaticism brings these poems in line with the more famous thirteenth-century Dutch mystic.38 Dietrich claims that references to “wildness, wilderness and desert are part of an apophatic discourse linked to theological claims about the nature of God and the soul.” He goes on to claim, however: “in addition to these more formal metaphysical (or anti-metaphysical) assertions, wilderness language also describes a process of personal transformation and a phenomenology of mystical experience.”39 This highlights an important point, namely that to impose on mystical texts an exclusively apophatic interpretation skews our understanding of the complexity of the relationship with God about which the texts attempt to speak. On our reading, these poems evince an attempt to articulate – albeit unsystematically – the ways in which the contemplative soul becomes both one with God while ontologically always remaining distinct from God. By speculative reason, the soul may never grasp or attain God or knowledge of God, but it may nevertheless receive something of the divine self-revelation. Apophatic statements about God

As mentioned before, the prevailing tendency in secondary research has been to interpret Pseudo-Hadewijch as a descendant of Pseudo-Dionysian apophatic discourse, and indeed there are good reasons for doing so. The poems contain many of the mystical tropes of the negative way to God. For instance, in Poem 17 (ll. 13–18) we read:

Pseudo-Hadewijch 49 In kinnen bloet Al eest groet Dat mens vercrighet, Het schijnt alse niet Alse men besiet Dat daer ontblivet.

Of pure knowledge, What one receives is great, but seems as naught, when one perceives its lack.

And a few stanzas later (ll. 31–48): Nuwe mare In doncker clare Vinden si, Van hoghen prise Sonder wise In verre bi.

In dark clarity They find Modeless New tidings Of great value In the far-near.

In dat eweghe wide In allen side Sonder inden Werdet si ghedeilt, Ghebreidet, gheheilt In een verslinden:

In the eternal expanse, – Without end, On every side – They are unfurled, Broadened and healed By being consumed:

Die ghedachte In stilre jachte Die dat onghemeten Al in al Venden sal Al ombegrepen.

The mind, In silent hunt, Will find This endless ‘All in All’ ungraspable.

The storm of rational inquiry and all forms and images must be discarded to come to this unknowing. The dark ways recur in the next poem, which specifies that these dark ways lead not to light but to darkness, where the contemplative must go “without a cleaving to illumination, in a desire, in a veil of darkness” (Poem 18, ll. 97–102). At the end of Poem 19, ll. 79–96, we find further examples of classical apophatic discourse, when the poet speaks of being stripped of all human affect, emotion and rationality: Vresen, minnen; Begheren, kinnen Ende verstaen, Hopen, haken, Ghebruken, smaken Es mi af ghegaen.

Fear, love, desire, knowledge and understanding, hope, longing, joy and taste have left me.

Mi es weten ontgaen Ende dore verstaan Verre dore sen; Dies moetic swighen Ende noch bliven

Knowledge has escaped me and beyond understanding, far beyond reason; of this I must be silent and yet remain

50  John Arblaster and Rob Faesen Daer ic ben.

where I am.

Maer het ghelijct eenre wustinen Daer te sine Inden aert; Want daer en can gheraken Noch vertaken Sen noch waert

But it is as a desert to be there while on earth because neither sense nor word can reach it.

In Poem 25, which scholars generally agree forms part of the second series in the cycle, the poet defines God in terms of an unknowable abyss, another common theme in mystical literature. The abyss was introduced to Dutch vernacular mystical theology by Beatrice of Nazareth in her Seven Manners of Love. Its use in these poems and other mystical texts of the period may also have been inspired by the short text known as In lacu, which in the Middle Ages was attributed to Bernard of Clairvaux, but is now thought possibly to have been written by William of Saint-Thierry. The beginning of the text reads, “But, oh Lord, abyss calls unto abyss: the abyss of my deepest misery to the abyss of your great mercy.” In lacu was circulated in manuscripts as the prologue to William’s De contemplando Deo,40 which soon after William’s death had already been attributed to Bernard. The image is used here to express that God is fundamentally unfathomable. The poet reiterates this emphasis on unknowing in Poem 25, ll. 1–6:“Whether I desire anything, I do not know, because I find myself captured constantly in a fathomless unknowing. I think human reason has never understood – in a way words may express – how it fathoms the deep abyss.” A longer section from Poem 26, summarizes the apophatic content of Pseudo-Hadewijch. Incidentally, this passage has been associated with the Middle High German poem Granum sinapis, which may have been written by Eckhart.41

In bloter minnen toeverlaet Moet sijn af der creaturen raet. Want si van hen alle vorme slaet Die si in hare simpelheyt ontfaet.

Abandon the counsel of creatures In the refuge of pure love. For she unmasks all their forms Received in her simplicity.

Daer werden si alle wisen quite Ende vervremdet van allen ghelike. De arme van gheeste in eerdrike Houden van rechte dese vite.

There she is freed from all modes And estranged from all compare. The poor in spirit on earth Justly live this life.

Die en heeft inde noch beghin Noch vorme, noch wise, noch redene, noch sin Noch duncken, noch dincken, noch merken, no weten; Si es sonder cierkel wijt onghemeten.

The wide oneness has neither end nor beginning, Nor form, nor mode, nor reason, nor sense, Nor impression, nor thought, nor notice, nor knowing; It is unencompassed, wide and immeasurable.

Pseudo-Hadewijch 51 In dese weelde wide eenvuldicheit Wonen die arme van gheeste in enecheyt. Daer en vendense niet dan ledicheit Die altoes antwerdet der ewicheyt.

In this wild, wide oneness The poor in spirit live united. There they find nothing but emptiness, Which answers always to eternity.

This leads us to the conclusion that the God of Pseudo-Hadewijch is a radically transcendent and unknowable God about whom we can essentially say nothing and whose presence lies completely beyond reach.This God is radically absent from human experience and lies even beyond any type of consciousness of his absence. The human person must be divested of all the earthly vestiges of God to realize that God is fundamentally different and the radically unknowable and unreachable other.The mysteries of God are an unfathomable abyss – a wild, waste wilderness – about which nothing can fruitfully be said. Our contention, however, is that if we go no further, assuming that this selective reading has summarized all of the most fundamental points in the poems and has unmasked the kataphatic or affirmative strategies as ultimately only a preamble to the end point of the dark unknowability of God, we have only partially uncovered the theological content of the poems, for our poet has more to say about God and the transformative experience of becoming one with God. In other words, we do not believe it is justifiable to privilege the radically apophatic discourse over other claims about God that appear to occur beyond the darkness of God that reason alone can attain. Christological, pneumatological and Trinitarian formulations

There are few explicit references in these poems either to the three Persons of the Trinity or to the Godhead itself, but the few occurrences we do find are telling for Pseudo-Hadewijch’s conceptions of the Trinitarian operations.The most extensive explicit Christological discussion concerns the need to imitate but ultimately to transcend the saving wounds of Christ. In Poem 18, ll. 259–264, the poet writes: U es doghen goet, Het ghevet u spoet Al eest u suer; Het dodet u sonden, Het ganset u wonden, Het maket u puer.

For you [that is, the soul], suffering is good: It makes you prosperous, Despite its bitterness; It kills your sins, It heals your wounds, It makes you pure.

This verse is a classic expression of the salvific action of Christ, who took upon himself the sins of the world to redeem humanity, but the poet continues (ll. 265–288): Maer wildi hoghen, En hebt geen doghen Al es u cont Daer die gheloeven Af verdroeghen In menegher stont.

But if you want to ascend further, Do not suffer; All is known to you That makes the faithful Wither away In many moments.

52  John Arblaster and Rob Faesen In christus weghen Ende in sijn leven Moghdi merken Hoe ghi selt volghen Onverbolghen In al uwen werken.

In Christ’s ways And in his life You may see How you should follow peaceably In all your works.

Dore christus wonden Werdet si vonden, Die edelheyt, Die al weten Doet vergheten In ewicheit.

Through Christ’s wounds One will find: Nobility, Which makes one forget All knowledge In eternity.

In other words, the poet suggests that although suffering with Christ in his passion may be initially beneficial, the mature contemplative must transcend this suffering. The passion of Christ guarantees human redemption, but there is no more suffering in the risen Christ. In Christ’s glorified body, where the wounds of the passion remain, the mature contemplative no longer suffers, but is rather transfigured in nobility. Contemplating on the fullness of the glorified Christ transcends the discrete concepts attained by discursive reason (“forget all knowledge”). Both Hadewijch and John of Ruusbroec also treat this theme in Vision 7 and The Sparkling Stone, respectively. Embraced by Christ, Hadewijch can bear to suffer the wounds of his passion only momentarily before he is absorbed into her – or more correctly, she is absorbed into him – and can thereafter no longer distinguish herself from Christ.42 In the following, connected vision, she describes being taken up spiritually in the love of the Spirit of God. Ruusbroec, on the other hand, takes a nuanced view in which meditating on images of the passion may be beneficial as mediators, but that the immediate encounter with God is a bare, imageless state in which one feels only love.43 A distinct but related theme is brought to the foreground in Poem 18, ll. 403–408, in which the poet discusses the tension between reason and love:44 “One must be led far and made wide beyond reason’s understanding through love before one may know or receive the light” (emphasis ours). In other words, our poet appears to have adopted the theological presupposition that the love of the Holy Spirit, which is the mutual love between the Father and the Son, bestows a kind of knowledge within love itself. Amor ipse intellectus est, as Gregory the Great and William of Saint-Thierry would view it.45 This position would evidently not be amenable to the Scholastic mind, which through the psychological analogy distinguishes carefully between the human will, intellect and memory, and stresses the necessarily mediated way in which these faculties reflect the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.46 It is important to note, however, that this knowledge in love can never be acquired independently, since human reason can never grasp it, but that this knowledge may be infused, and can as such only ever be received. Poem 20, Poem 21 and Poem 22 are entirely devoted to working out these themes in more detail. We will not quote the entire poems here, but the salient

Pseudo-Hadewijch 53

features for our concerns are (i) an emphasis on the anthropology of being created in the image and likeness of the Trinity, (ii) that the image to which human beings are created is the second person of the Trinity, and (iii) that the likeness is the extent to which we conform to the image’s relationship to the Father through the third person of the Trinity – i.e. the Holy Spirit. This consists for the contemplative soul in becoming one with the Trinity by means of precisely that which makes the Trinity one – i.e. their mutual love. The final stanza of Poem 21, ll. 49–54 summarizes these ideas: Selker salegher minne Wert onderlinghe oetkinne Uut gode in hen ontdect Metten gheeste ons heren Die in snel keren In hen ondersprect.

The mutual knowledge of such a blissful love from God becomes known to them [i.e. those in the wild, wide desert] through the Spirit of our Lord who comes and goes rapidly in a mutual conversation.

The first five stanzas of Poem 23 might be interpreted as a speech addressed to God about those who have become one with the Godhead without distinction, a reiteration that knowledge itself is indeed bestowed in love: Ghi sijt licht Ende bericht In dat anschijn Der contemplacien; Te diere collacien En mach nieman sijn

You are light and you speak in the light of contemplation; nobody can partake in such discourse

Dan ghi ende si Allene vri In enecheit. Si verliest te diere ure Beelde ende figuere Ende onderscheit,

except you and her [the soul], alone, free, united. At that moment, she loses images and figures and distinction

Als ghi hare ghevet Daer si bi levet Uut uwer wijsheit Daer se meer weet Dan si versteet Ute uwer volheyt.

when you give her what she lives on from your wisdom, when she knows more than she understands from your fullness.

Communitarian aspects of the deified soul Finally, the poems of Pseudo-Hadewijch contain new and striking metaphors, an analysis of which may be revealing for the poet’s theological and anthropological concerns. Incidentally, this analysis might also be an argument against the attribution to Hadewijch, since the true Hadewijch’s imagery is very different.

54  John Arblaster and Rob Faesen

There are one or two references in these poems to the court, the palace and the banqueting hall of God – all kingly and chivalric images that we might also find in other courtly mystics, such as Hadewijch, but in Poem 24, ll. 67–96, we find several stanzas that depict the kingdom of heaven not in imperial terms, but by analogy with a tavern, in an apparently strange reversal of the courtly ideal: Al esse fier, Si es oec ghier Ende scumet al Ende verslindet Al datse vindet Sonder ghetal.

Though it is noble, It is also greedy. It plunders all And devours All that it finds Immeasurably.

Maer dat es haer sede Si es melde mede Ende schinket van vollen. Maer die met haer drincken Doetse op een winken Bloet vertollen

But that is her way: She is generous And gives all good. But in the blink of an eye, Those who drink with her, Are forced to pay with their blood,

Maer drincken vaste. Al doetse haer gaste Aldus betalen Si comen gherne In haer taverne Wiltse onthalen.

And to drink ceaselessly. Though her guests Must pay thus, They come happily To her tavern, If she is welcoming.

Ghi maect vri, minne, In uwe sinne Uwe ghebuere, Die drincken te uwen, Ghi doet vernuwen Hare natuere;

Love, in your disposition You set Your neighbors free. You renew Their nature, Those who drink with you.

Den ouden man Doense ute, ende an Weder den nuwen. Dit es uwe bejach Ende hare ghelach Die drincken te uwen.

They strip off Their old self, and clothe Themselves with a new self. That is your intent And the nourishment Of those who drink with you.

Van Mierlo and Axters associate this image with a later degradation of the true Hadewijch’s high courtly and chivalric ideals,47 but the tavern as an image for the kingdom may not be as coarse or vulgar as they spontaneously assumed.48 In fact, this imagery might be ingenious socio-theological commentary that undermines the inequality of the feudal imperial political structure and replaces the stratified hierarchical state with a more egalitarian cross-section of society. Discussing the English context, Barbara Hanawalt has claimed: “Taverns and inns were among the most complex institutions of medieval social life and social regulation because they occupied contradictory roles both in reality and

Pseudo-Hadewijch 55

in the mentality of the age.”49 In addition, discussing the French context, Susan Dudash has affirmed: “Both [taverns and theatres] were, in a sense, carrefours – places where, for a time, a variety of peoples intersected and interconnected. The medieval tavern in particular was an ambiguous space, a crossroads of many sorts.”50 And yet, in these poems, it is to places such as these that the kingdom of heaven is compared. Beyond a possible socio-political critique, the image also makes an interesting theological point, namely an ingenious application of the drunkenness trope inspired by the Song of Songs in which all the frequenters of the tavern are served their fill of divine wine, which is to say, they become completely spiritually drunk on God’s love. This implies that all those who come to God are infused with the love of God fully, to the varying degrees of their own particular capacity. What is given back in payment, however, is the same for all: their blood. This immediately conjures associations of the blood of Christ, which itself is drunk in the form of wine, but it also implies that in this encounter, the soul must yield itself entirely to God. Indeed, according to Caroline Walker Bynum, human blood was considered the seat of the soul. Blood carries life or is the seat of life. As the carrier of the soul or life, blood was equated, allegorically or symbolically, with spirit.51 Moreover, it is this blood, according to PseudoHadewijch, that must be sacrificed for union with God to be attained.

Conclusion From the perspective of mystical anthropology, this anonymous Middle Dutch poem cycle is a particularly interesting case study. Considering the poetic literary form of these texts, it is evident that they do not contain a systematic theological exposition. Rather, we are dealing here with suggestive indications which, as it were, presuppose a more systematic or theoretical background and reflection from the reader. The present contribution has focused primarily on two distinct but related aspects of the poet’s theology, namely the dynamic characteristics of the “ground” of the soul, and its deification. The former primarily concerns the mutual indwelling of God and the soul, through which the soul becomes groundless, and because of its complete orientation to the Other, is stripped of its “self.” This corresponds to the second aspect, namely the dynamism of deification. Indeed, in the soul’s deepest dimension, it receives an intimate knowledge of God that transcends its understanding. This knowledge conveys both the complete transcendence and “otherness” of God but also knowledge of God’s inner Trinitarian life. In other words, the soul’s deification consists in its conformity – through its groundlessness and orientation to the Other – with the image that is Christ, and his relationship to the Father, namely the Holy Spirit. The communitarian aspects that are highlighted by the unusual metaphor of the tavern confirm that the soul’s union with God is not a fusion, but rather a mutual self-gift that establishes a loving union and communion.

56  John Arblaster and Rob Faesen

Ultimately, the poet recognizes that this loving communion is an ineffable, experiential reality. Indeed, the poems self-annihilate (Poem 27), reminding the reader that it is not language but the spiritual senses that perceive God: Waren wi comen te desen lichte, Soe werden wi ledich in sijn ghesichte Van alre wise, van alre berichte, Van alre storien, van alre gedichte; In een afgrondich onghestichte Saghen wij dan dat licht inden lichte.

If we were to come to this light, We would be empty in his sight Of all modes, of all speech, Of all histories and poems. In an abyssal emptiness, We would see the light in the light.

Notes 1 Van Mierlo (1923). 2 As noted by Axters (1950–1960), vol. 2, pp. 195–196; cf. Murk-Jansen (1991). 3 Brussels, K.B. 2777–78 (from Herne); Ghent, U.B. 941; Antwerp, Ruusbroec Institute, Neerl. 385II; Brussels, K.B. 3093–95 (from Herne). In the past, the two manuscripts now held in Brussels were often considered to have been made at Rooklooster. New research has indicated, however, that they originated at the Charterhouse of Herne. See Kwakkel (2002). 4 Van Mierlo opined that Pseudo-Hadewijch preceded Eckhart, see Van Mierlo (1940), vol. 2, p. 89. Van Mierlo (1952), p. xxx; Axters (1950–1960), vol. 2, p. 204. Kurt Ruh strongly disagreed with Van Mierlo’s position: Ruh (1993), p. 188. See also Axters (1950– 1960), vol. 2, p. 211. See also Murk-Jansen (1994) and Dietrich (1997). 5 Ruh (1993), p. 188. 6 Verdeyen (1982).Van Mierlo had already noted the poet’s quietist tendencies:Van Mierlo (1952), p. xxviii. 7 See ibid., pp. xxx–xxxiii. See also the introduction to section 2 below. 8 See Verdeyen (1992). 9 Vallarsa (2010). 10 Porion (1954). 11 Vallarsa (2007). 12 Published in Arblaster & Faesen (2014), pp. 339–378. 13 Cf. Fischer (1962). 14 Cf. Poem 17, l. 43; Poem 18, ll. 8, 31, 63; Poem 23, ll. 34, 37, 45, 57; Poem 24, l. 4. 15 In the introduction to the edition, he associates this definition with the conclusion that these are “intellectualist” texts: “Of great importance in the correct understanding of this mysticism is its Pseudo-Dionysian character, which makes its doctrine much more intellectualist. . . . Hence the central role of the ghedachte, the intellectus here; while the word enjoyment (ghebruken) is almost never used here to describe the highest bliss. The highest bliss is knowledge in unknowing without ground” (p. xxxiii). We will return to this theme in the second part of the chapter. 16 Axters (1937), p. 36*. 17 See Ruusbroec, Enclosures (1981), p. 117, ll. 147–148: ghi sult oeffenen in uwer gedachten, dat es in uwen geeste, versmeltende minne. 18 See Poem 17, l. 26; Poem 18, ll. 1–18, 32, 88, 120, 127–128, 138, 155–156, 170, 245, 409, 421–426; Poem 19, ll. 42, 43, 49–54; Poem 20, ll. 31–36; Poem 21, l. 5 (bloter minne also occurs in Poem 21, l. 47); Poem 22, ll. 28–36, 43–48; Poem 23, ll. 6, 33, 39, 51; Poem 24, ll. 51, 57, 58, 103, 123, 139–141; Poem 25, ll. 17–22, 25–30; Poem 26, ll. 1, 5, 9; Poem 27, ll. 9, 39; Poem 28, l. 9. 19 This expression is also used by Ruusbroec in Realm (2002), ll. 1838; 2236; 2322; 2462, although it is not found in any of his other works. Self-forgetfulness – which may mean

Pseudo-Hadewijch 57 that the soul no longer knows where its “being” is – also occurs in Poem 25, ll. 9–10: “When anyone asks where I am/ I tell him I do not know.” 20 We also read that the soul becomes wide in Poem 17, ll. 38–42, although Van Mierlo suggests that the term ghedeilt is vague (see p. 86 and p. 153). It may mean broken, widened and thus made whole. It is also to be found in Poem 18, l. 404 and in the famous line of Poem 21, l. 15, as well as in later stanzas. Note that in Poem 23, l. 38 it is God that is “infinite.” 21 The whole of Poem 20 discusses where the soul is led, namely the eternal Trinitarian dynamism. 22 Vita Beatricis (1964), pp. 81–84. Poem 25 refers to the prison of love (l. 20), which appears to support this interpretation. 23 A similar thought occurs in the use of the expressions that refer to the soul being “consumed” in love (Poem 25, l. 18). The expression diepe slont (Poem 25, l. 6) is particularly striking in this regard: the association with “consuming” (slinden, praeteritum slont) is clear – slont may mean “throat, gaping mouth” (Verwijs & Verdam [1882–1952], def. 1) – but the link to fathomlessness is also clear, considering that slont is often used as a synonym for abyss (Verwijs & Verdam [1882–1952], def. 2). A few verses later, we find in onwetene sonder gront/vendic mi ghevaen (Poem 25, ll. 2–3). Cf. “being led into our beginning,” in Poem 18, l. 105ff. 24 Ruusbroec, Enclosures (1981), ll. 502–507. 25 We might add that it is not clear from the context whether “the knowledge of pure love” (dat hoghe kinnen Der bloter minnen) is a subjective genitive or an objective genitive. 26 Love without a why as a source of knowledge about God is the theme of Poem 18, ll. 151–162. The school of love (which teaches more through pure clarity) is referred to in Poem 22, ll. 42–48. Being enlightened by pure love appears in Poem 27. 27 This may be an allusion to the “dark light” (donkere clare) in the tradition of PseudoDionysius, although the content is more specific than in Pseudo-Dionysius. The expression “far-near” (verre bi) only occurs here, not in any of the other poems in the series. The content appears to be consistent throughout, however. Indeed, this expression refers to the immanent transcendence of God. The meaning relates even more specifically to the inner presence of (modeless) pure love that is revealed in the soul, and which gives the soul awareness of its lack. In this sense, pure love is near, namely in this intimate knowledge, but at the same time it is far, because the soul lacks the nature of divinity. 28 Cf. Marguerite Porete, Mirror (1986), pp. 176–178. 29 Cf. Rahner (1964). 30 A comparable reference to the “led into our first beginning” also occurs in Poem 18, l. 108.The simplicity of the soul corresponds to the unity of God, as indicated by Poem 19, l. 11: the human person finds the “mirror” in his or her simplicity, namely “the way of our Lord” (den wech ons heren, l. 6), which indicates the Christological dimension. 31 It is interesting to note that this point appears to nuance the Decrees of the Fourth Lateran Council (1215), which claimed that “Between creator and creature there can be noted no similarity so great that a greater dissimilarity cannot be seen between them.” See Tanner (1990), p. *232. 32 Eckhart, Sermon 52 (1968), pp. 486–506. In the translation by Walshe, it is Sermon 87 (as in Pfeiffer’s edition), cf. Walshe (2009), pp. 420–431. 33 Hadewijch, Poems in Couplets (1952), p. 135. 34 The oldest reference to the “poor of Christ” in the medieval West dates to the first half of the eleventh century in the Prince-Bishopric of Liège (namely before 1030), cf. Mens (1947), p. 254. 35 Ruusbroec, Mirror (2001), ll. 2064–2066. 36 Verwijs & Verdam [1882–1952]: “not influenced by culture or civilization; not characterized by ordering elements.” 37 Hadewijch, Poems in Couplets (1952), pp. xxx–xxxiii. 38 Dietrich (1997). 39 Ibid., p. 31.

58  John Arblaster and Rob Faesen 40 Sed, o Domine, abyssus abyssum invocat: abyssus profundissimae miseriae meae, abyssum altissimae misericordiae tuae. For the background of In lacu and the manuscript association with William’s De Contemplando Deo see Déchanet (1957) and Hourlier (1985). 41 See Dietrich (1997), pp. 37–39. 42 See also the chapter by Veerle Fraeters in this volume. 43 See, respectively, Hadewijch, Visions (1924), pp. 78–79, and Ruusbroec, Stone (1991), pp. 105, 107. 44 It must be noted that Hadewijch also considered this a related theme, since her Vision 8, which, as mentioned, is in fact the second part of Vision 7, describes how Hadewijch through love was able to ascend further than the man she encounters because he did not possess sufficient affective love and clung too strongly to the dictates of reason. 45 Gregorius Magnus, Hom. in evangelia 27 (1999), p. 232;William of Saint-Thierry refers to Gregory the Great explicitly in this regard, cf. Disputatio (2007), p. 20. 46 As the great thirteenth-century Scholastic thinker, Thomas Aquinas, wrote: “In contemplation God is seen through the medium, which is the light of wisdom.” (in contemplatione Deus videtur per medium quod est lumen sapientiae, De ver. 18, art. 1, ad 4). And apophatically: “Through that which is the highest part of the intellect, the human person is united with God as the totally unknown.” Per id quod est supremum intellectus, homo Deo conjungitur sicut omnino ignoto (Sum. theol. Ia IIae q 3 a 3, with an allusion to Pseudo-Dionysius). 47 In Hadewijch, Poems in Couplets (1952), p. xxviii, Van Mierlo claims that “the great beguine movement had started to democratize and become more bourgeois.” Although Axters declares that “nobody shall deny that the vision evinced by these poems remains at a level rarely seen in the religious poetry of humanity,” he concedes that “the thrust [of the poems] is less passionate than in Hadewijch’s Poems in Stanzas and in her Mengeldicht 15, and the imagery, where the jousts have made way for taverns, is less distinguished and aristocratic than that to which we were accustomed in Hadewijch” (Axters [1950– 1960], vol. II, p. 200). 48 Although she provides no corroborating evidence, Romana Guarnieri suggests that the theme of the mystical tavern is typical of Arabic-Persian influence. Incidentally, she also suggests that “Hadewijch’s poetry contains many other points of contact with Arabic mystical lyric” (Guarnieri 1965, p. 370). 49 Hanawalt (1999), p. 205. See further in the same essay for the association of the tavern with the female domain. This may lend further weight to Alessia Vallarsa’s preference for a female author of the poem cycle. See Vallarsa (2009), pp. 73–85. 50 Dudash (2005), p. 35. 51 Bynum (2007), pp. 161–163.

4 “Poor in ourselves and rich in God” Indwelling and non-identity of being (wesen) and suprabeing (overwesen) in John of Ruusbroec Rob Faesen (translated by John Arblaster) It is assumed that John of Ruusbroec began his literary activities in approximately 1335–1338.1 In this period, mystical literature was confronted with considerable challenges as a result of the condemnation of a number of statements from Eckhart’s work (1329) and the condemnation of Marguerite Porete (1310).2 Ruusbroec was undoubtedly familiar with both these cases.3 It appears that Ruusbroec intended fundamentally to rethink a number of difficulties, and that he attempted to valorize the radical union with God in a period in which it was becoming increasingly unclear how best to conceive of this union. It is striking that to this end, Ruusbroec never employed polemics, but he sought to rethink the central issues. One such central issue may be found in his analysis of what he calls the wesen of the human person. The way he analyses this aspect, namely in relation to the overwesen, is decisive in discovering how he rethinks the problem of the union with God. Ruusbroec realized that the misunderstanding of the condemned texts concerned precisely this issue, and through meticulous formulation, he attempted to solve this misunderstanding.

Wesen and overwesen When Ruusbroec uses the word wesen, he does not refer in the first instance to “essence” as it is usually understood, namely “intrinsic, fundamental nature.” In Middle Dutch, the word wesen is related to the verb sijn, which means “to be.” For lack of a better equivalent, it is translated into English as “essence.” However, one should be aware that the original word refers to the simple fact that the human person “is” – namely as a creature. Albert Deblaere summarized this briefly as follows: “Le point d’insertion, où l’acte créateur donne l’être à la créature spirituelle, s’appelle essence (wesen) de l’âme.”4(“The point of insertion, when the creative act gives being to the spiritual creature, is called the ‘essence’ [wesen] of the soul.”)

60  Rob Faesen

The best-known passage in this regard, in which Ruusbroec refers to the wesen, is found in the Espousals: The first and the highest unity is in God; for all creatures hang in this unity with (their) being, life and subsistence; and if they should be cut off in this way from God, they would fall into nothingness and be annihilated. This unity is in us essentially by nature, whether we are good or evil, and it renders us neither holy nor blessed without our effort. We possess this unity in ourselves, and in fact, above ourselves, as a principle and support of our being and our life. A second union, or unity, is also in us by nature, that is the unity of the higher faculties, where they take their natural origin as to their activity: in the unity of the spirit or of the mind. This is the same unity which is hanging in God, but in the latter instance we understand it as active, and in the former as essential. Nevertheless, the spirit is totally within each unity, according to the entirety of its substance. We possess this unity in ourselves, above sensory perception, and from it come memory and intellect and will and every faculty of spiritual activity.5 This passage concerns the highest unity of the human person, wherein Ruusbroec distinguishes two aspects: weselijcke and werkelijcke. It is clear throughout the passage that Ruusbroec conceives of weselijc as “being.” Indeed, the expressions “if they should be cut off in this way from God, they would fall into nothingness and be annihilated” (ll. b45–b46) and “a principle and support of our being and our life” (l. b49) leave no doubt in this regard. The highest unity of the human spirit rests in the mere fact that the human person is. At the same time, Ruusbroec indicates that this condition is necessary for human activity. As he says, it is “the unity of the higher faculties, where they take their natural origin as to their activity” (ll. b51–b52). Or, as he says later: “from it come memory and intellect and will and every faculty of spiritual activity” (ll. b56–b57). And as he clearly states, this is one and the same unity: “the same unity . . . , but in the latter instance we understand it as active, and in the former as essential” (ll. b53-b54). Ruusbroec conceives of overwesen as that which is deeper or higher than the wesen, in other words: that which belongs to the life of God himself.6 The prefix “over-” thus presupposes the perspective of the created being. In relation to the created being, God is “over”-wesen. The human person as a creature is completely dependent on God for existence. That which is deeper or higher than the “being” of the created – that from which it has its origin – is the Creator, and that is the overwesen. In the Little Book, Ruusbroec expresses this view briefly and concisely: “God’s essence (wesen) which is the superessence (overwesen) of all essences.”7 This also confirms that the term wesen should be understood as the substantivized form of “being”: this thus concerns the “being” of God, which is deeper or higher than the “being” of all beings, and may consequently be referred to as overwesen.

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From the previous passage, we may also conclude that the decisive element in Ruusbroec’s description is the constant contact between overwesen and wesen. If at any moment the “being” of the created person were to be separated from the overwesen – i.e. the cause of its being – the creature would ipso facto immediately cease to exist.8 The wesen-overwesen relationship is fundamental and decisive, which Ruusbroec clarifies in the Espousals through the image of the wesen as the source of the faculties and activities of the human person, and the overwesen as the hidden fountain of life from which this source flows. The wesen exists, simply based on its relationship with the overwesen. We might also note that through the attention he devotes to the wesen, and that he uses this specific term, Ruusbroec clearly emphasizes the being of the created person. Indeed, the older spiritual tradition used terms such as “heart,” “ground,” apex mentis, conscientia, synderesis, etc. The theological commission at Avignon investigating Meister Eckhart’s case charged Eckhart with not taking the act of creation sufficiently seriously, and that his works appeared to have lost sight of the actual being of creatures.9 Ruusbroec clearly avoids this direction in his thinking by emphasizing that beings “are” (sijn, hence: wesen).

The relationship of the wesen vis-à-vis the overwesen Thus far, there is nothing particularly surprising about Ruusbroec’s position. The important question now, however, is how the wesen and overwesen relate to one another. Essentially, this question addresses the way in which God and the human person relate to one another. A passage from the Little Book provides an enlightening explanation on this point:10 When he who lives in this manner raises himself with the totality of himself and with all the powers and turns to God with lively active love, then he feels that the depth of his love, there where it begins and ends, is enjoyable and fathomless. If he then wishes further to penetrate this enjoyable love with his active love, there all the powers of his soul must give way and suffer and endure the piercing truth and goodness which is God himself. For in the same way as the air is bathed with the sun’s light and heat, and just as the iron is penetrated by the fire so that with the fire it does fire’s work – for it burns and gives light like fire; I say the same thing for the air: if the air itself could reason it would say “I give light and warmth to the world”; nevertheless each keeps his own nature, for the fire does not become iron nor the iron fire, but the union is without intermediary, because the iron is within the fire and the fire within the iron, and in the same way the air is in the light of the sun and the light of the sun is in the air – so God is always in like manner in the essence of the soul. (Ruusbroec, Little Book (1989), ll. 246–263) The decisive clause in this passage is “so God is always in like manner in the essence of the soul” (ll. 262–263), in which the preposition “in” demands all of

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our attention. Indeed, Ruusbroec chose the foregoing comparisons precisely because he sought to emphasize the importance of this “in”: “in the same way as the air is bathed with the sun’s light and heat, and just as the iron is penetrated by the fire” (ll. 253–255), and also:“the iron is within the fire and the fire within the iron, and in the same way the air is in the light of the sun and the light of the sun is in the air” (ll. 260–262). In both comparisons, he places a clear emphasis on the fact that the one element penetrates the other, and it does so completely. The one is completely in the other. In precisely the same way, God (overwesen) is in the wesen. The advantage of these comparisons – which are, incidentally, classical and were used for centuries in the preceding tradition11 – is that they illustrate the point that although one element permeates the other, no fusion occurs between the two, as Ruusbroec explicitly states: “each keeps his own nature, for the fire does not become iron nor the iron fire” (ll. 258–259). This is most probably the reason why Ruusbroec made a selective choice from the series of classic comparisons. Indeed, a third comparison is often added to the two aforementioned images, namely of the drop of water in the wine. It is far less clear in this comparison that “each keeps his own nature,” and thus Ruusbroec wisely avoided the use of this metaphor, which makes all the more evident that he describes indwelling without fusion. In precisely the same way that the fire is in the iron, without the iron becoming fire as a result, and in precisely in the same way as the light is in the air, God dwells in the soul. The overwesen is thus in the wesen. Although the prefix “over-’’ indicates that the overwesen is “higher” than the wesen, and thus does not coincide with it, Ruusbroec emphasizes that it dwells in the wesen of the soul. The transcendence of the overwesen should thus not be understood as exterior, but as something that is within the wesen. What is more, Ruusbroec conceives of this relationship as a mutual indwelling: “the iron is within the fire and the fire within the iron, and in the same way the air is in the light of the sun and the light of the sun is in the air” (ll. 260–262). This conception of indwelling relies on a conception of wesen and overwesen as comparable entities, which are situated on the same level and whereby the one does not stand in opposition to the other, or the one might be reduced by the other, just as the presence of light by no means reduces the reality of air, or as the heat of fire does not affect the reality of iron. Air and light are of a different order and should in no way be considered competitors; the essential character of the iron is not transformed because of being put in the fire. In the same way, the wesen remains entirely wesen despite dwelling entirely in the overwesen. The foundational character of relationality, to which we referred earlier, is again emphasized here. Ruusbroec provides a fundamental reflection on the “I,” which from his perspective is located completely in God, without being any less of an “I” as a result. On the contrary, it is precisely this relationality that

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determines the “being” of the “I.” In the Sparkling Stone, Ruusbroec expresses this view as follows: Therefore we are poor in ourselves and rich in God. . . . And so we live completely in God, where we possess our bliss, and completely in ourselves, were we practice our love towards God. And even if we live completely in God and completely in ourselves, yet it is only one life. But it is contrary and twofold according to experience, for poor and rich, hungry and replete, working and at rest, those are contraries indeed.Yet in them resides our highest nobility, now and forever. For we cannot become God at all and lose our createdness: that is impossible. And if we remained in ourselves completely, separated from God, we would be desolate and miserable.12 Ruusbroec provides a precise description here: we live completely in God and in ourselves – self-evidently the word “live” is important in this regard.13 Indeed, if he were to say that we “are” simultaneously both God and ourselves, the statement would have different ramifications. This description becomes even clearer at the end of the paragraph, where Ruusbroec radically rejects the position that fusion occurs between God and the human person (“we cannot become God at all and lose our createdness: that is impossible,” ll. 585–586), as well as the opinion that there is a dualistic division between the two (“if we remained in ourselves completely, separated from God, we would be desolate and miserable” ll. 589–590). If relationality is indeed the fundamental category, Ruusbroec’s position is understandable: either fusion or division would entail the end of the relationship.

A possible mistake There is a remarkable clause in the abovementioned passage from the Little Book, in which Ruusbroec briefly indicates a possible mistake. Discussing the mutual indwelling of light and air he says, “if the air itself could reason it would say ‘I give light and warmth to the world’ ” (l. 257). The activity that is proper to the light permeates the air to such an extent that the air might come to think that it actually lights the world, however obvious it may seem that this is not the case. After all, indwelling entails no identity or fusion, and yet it is so profound, so complete and so total that it might give rise to the impression that air actually gives light. Incidentally, this is only possible precisely because light and air are of a different order.14 If we were to compare, for example, light and darkness, it is evident that as light increases, darkness diminishes and vice versa. In this case, if darkness could reason, it would certainly not say, “I give light to the world.” The comparison is clear. Ruusbroec suggests that the overwesen dwells in the wesen of the soul in such a way – so completely and so totally – that a mistake may arise on the part of the wesen – i.e. the human person, namely

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to think that he or she does or accomplishes that which is in reality the work of the overwesen. The person then confuses the most profound element of personhood, one’s wesen, with God – although there is fundamental “alterity” between the two. Ruusbroec provides a detailed explanation in the Little Book of Enlightenment: These men then, remark, by their plain simplicity and natural inclination, have turned to the nakedness of their essence. . . . You see, these men have strayed into the empty and blind simplicity of their own essence and wish to become blessed within their own nature. For they are so simple and inactively united to the naked essence of their soul and to the indwelling of God in themselves, that they have neither ardour nor devotion towards God, neither without nor within. For in the highest point in which they are turned, they feel nothing save the simplicity of their essence, hanging in the essence of God. This absolute simplicity which they posses they regard as being God because there they find a natural repose. This is why they consider themselves as being God in the ground of their simplicity, for they lack real faith, hope and love.15 In this passage, Ruusbroec discusses people who have an experiential consciousness of their wesen and its simplicity (“turned to the nakedness of their essence” [l. 81], and further: “in the highest point in which they are turned, they feel nothing save the simplicity of their essence” [ll. 95–96]). Ruusbroec remains consistent in emphasising that the wesen of these people hangs in God, in the overwesen, and is thus by no means identical to it (“they are so simple and inactively united to the naked essence of their soul and to the indwelling of God in themselves” [ll. 92–93] and further: “in the highest point in which they are turned, they feel nothing save the simplicity of their essence, hanging in the essence of God” [ll. 95–96]). The only difference is that these people labour under the impression that their wesen is the same thing as God; they have an experiential consciousness of their wesen, and they think that it is God (“This absolute simplicity which they posses they regard as being God” [l. 97]). Considering that wesen refers to the “being” of the person, it is evident that these people think that they are God, in the most profound depth of their being (“this is why they consider themselves as being God in the ground of their simplicity” [ll. 98–99]), or that they have found God Himself, ipso facto, through the discovery of the simplicity of their essence (sempelheit haers wesens). From the passage cited here, it is clear that from Ruusbroec’s perspective, this mistake is understandable. The overwesen is present in the wesen and the wesen is so completely in the overwesen – just as the air is in the light or the iron in the fire – that it seems as though this “simplicity of their being” (sempelheit haers wesen) is God Himself. Yet, this is a dramatic mistake. It implies that the human person has no regard for the alterity of God, and that consequently, the experience of relationship ceases (“these men . . . wish to become blessed within the limits of their own

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nature” [ll. 90–92] and further: “For they are so simple and inactively united to the naked essence of their soul . . . that they have neither ardour nor devotion towards God, neither without nor within” [ll. 92–95]).

The historical context When we situate Ruusbroec’s specifications in their historical context, it appears that he attempts to provide an explanation of the central point on which Meister Eckhart and the Movement of the Free Spirit,16 for example, remain unclear, were misunderstood and were even condemned.17 Ruusbroec implicitly indicates that the condemnation on this point is entirely justified, though the mistake is understandable – considering the structure of the wesenoverwesen relationship. To what do these condemnations relate precisely? Let us begin with a statement referred to by the theological commission at Avignon, which prepared the bull In agro dominico: “Whatever Holy Scripture says of Christ, all that is also true of every good and divine man, and so this man works whatever God works” (art. 23,18 art. 12 in the bull). These sentences – drawn from a lost sermon – appear to be consonant with one of the doctrinal positions noted by Albert the Great in the Movement of the Free Spirit many decades earlier, in circa 1260– 1262: “that a human person may attain a state wherein God operates entirely in him.”19 Eckhart’s statements were radically rejected by the theological commission at Avignon (“this is so obviously foolish and deranged that it need not even be discussed,”20 the only occasion upon which the commission expressed reproach of Eckhart in such strong terms). Eckhart, however, defended himself by stating, “Christ is our head and we are the members; when we speak, He speaks in us.”21 This statement indicates that Eckhart was not referring to mere, simple identity, but rather to indwelling. A similar problem arises from another sentence: “Whatever God the Father gave to his only-begotten Son in human nature, he gave all this to me”22 (art. 21, art. 11 in the bull). This was rejected because through the hypostatic union, human nature and divine nature are united in one subject in Jesus Christ, which is not the case for any other person (“Indeed, God gave his Son a personal being in human nature, by which the Word became flesh, and this he gave to nobody else”).23 From Eckhart’s answer, it appears again that he understands the sentence from the perspective of indwelling: “When He gave us his Son, he also gave us all the properties of the Son, just as when fire brings forth fire, it also imbues it with the properties of fire, such as light and warmth, or upward motion.”24 And yet, we must state that Eckhart did not explain the issue convincingly. Not only was the commission utterly unconvinced by his responses in the two examples mentioned here but during the discussion of another sentence, he did not take advantage of an excellent opportunity to raise the issue of indwelling explicitly. We refer to the sentence: “There is something in the soul that is uncreated and not capable of creation; if the whole soul were such, it would be

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uncreated and not capable of creation”25 (art. 4, art. 27 in the bull). Although from the perspective of indwelling, this sentence may be meaningful, Meister Eckhart himself emphatically rejected it (“he rejects this article because he claims that it is foolish to maintain that the soul is divided into a created and an uncreated part”).26 The commission responded, somewhat surprised, that the statement was based on the writings of the Meister himself.27 This would have been an ideal opportunity for Eckhart to indicate that it is not a question of simple identity. However, he did not take advantage of the situation. On the contrary, it appears that he implicitly assented to a conception of the soul that precludes the possibility of indwelling, whereby the soul is considered as a single “I,” in contrast to the relational conception.

A number of consequences The position Ruusbroec adopts on this point does not only have historical dimensions. It concerns a fundamental issue, namely the way in which the relationship between God (or the divine) and the human person should be understood, and this question has always occupied a central place in the history of human thought. For example, let us contrast Ruusbroec’s position with the contemporary French historian and philosopher Marcel Gauchet (b. 1946). Naturally, it is not my intention here to provide an extensive discussion of Gauchet, but rather, as a short excursus, to indicate the relevance of Ruusbroec’s position. Indeed, Gauchet is well known as a representative of the thought that suggests that Christianity is the religion that made “the exodus from religion” possible. Gauchet’s primary objective is to understand current political problems, especially those that developed in the 1970s (which he refers to as the “pathology of unattachedness”: the rise of the individual that thinks it owes nothing to society but expects and demands everything from it).28 I will not treat this theme. It is his point of departure that is particularly interesting for our purposes. According to him, every religion contains some conception of the manner in which the human person relates to that which transcends it. There are two central ideas in these positions: The religions of the Middle East (Jewish, Christian and Muslim) developed according to the idea of two realities that are distinguishable: a relationship of exclusion. This is a dualistic conception, though awareness of it will penetrate only gradually. The eastern religions developed in the direction of the idea of fusion. The distinction between the visible and invisible world does not exclude their eventual unity: the transcendent is found in immanence (in Hinduism or Chinese Taoism, for example). Here we see a relationship of inclusion, a conception of unity.29 According to Marcel Gauchet, this leads Christianity to a profoundly dualistic vision. The reality of God and that of the human person are radically different and detached, and the world of the human person is increasingly experienced

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as an autonomous reality. Although during the first millennium, the conception of unity was still attractive, it necessarily entails the subordinate, heteronymous position of the human world with respect to God. Around the beginning of the second millennium, an essential reversal occurred, and the idea gained ground that the world exists for the human person, that the person can appropriate this world and that the Christian message can be translated into a mission in the world itself. The “exodus from religion” had begun. It is clear how relevant Ruusbroec’s conception of the relationship between wesen and overwesen is in this regard. Ruusbroec explicitly states that the two alternatives Gauchet posits – the exclusion of dualism or the fusion of the conception of unity – are disastrous, namely in the passage from the Stone quoted earlier. In Ruusbroec’s conception, wesen and overwesen are indeed distinct, but that certainly need not ultimately lead to dualism. On the contrary, Ruusbroec envisions mutual indwelling, and it would be an unfortunate mistake to understand this as fusion. Ruusbroec’s analysis of the relationship indicates this clearly. For Ruusbroec, the crucial element is that this relationship should be understood as a loving encounter. Love is neither fusion nor dualism (and most certainly not subordination). On the contrary, love fosters the alterity of the other, while at the same time entailing the possibility of a profound unity – which of course does not imply identity. Gauchet’s historical analysis appears entirely to overlook this possibility.

Minne as the key to understanding: wesen and overwesen in the Mirror The extent to which Ruusbroec considered minne (“love”)30 to be the fundamental category with which to address the issue of the relationship between wesen and overwesen is evident from the following passage from the Mirror. It is an important passage in this regard, which is also indicated by a gloss in the Groenendaal manuscript: What is written here exonerates and justifies the author of this book, which was proclaimed to be unsound by the Chancellor of [the University of] Paris concerning a certain other passage in his work. The Chancellor, however, was insufficiently informed of the good intentions of the very enlightened Brother who wrote this book.31 Indeed, it is well known that Jean Gerson accused Ruusbroec of championing the idea that in the last instance, the human person fuses into God as a drop of water in the ocean – although Gerson did honestly admit that Ruusbroec never used this image.32 The passage from the Mirror is as follows: Furthermore, in our mere being, where we are one with God in his love, there begins a superessential contemplation and feeling, the highest one can

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put into words, that is: to live dying, and to die living, out of our essential being in our superessential blessedness. When we are in control of ourselves through the grace and the help of God so that we can rid ourselves of images whenever we wish, right down to our mere being, where we are one with God, in the fathomless abyss of his love, there we are indeed satisfied. For we have God in us, and are blessed in our essential being through the inworking of God, with whom we are one in love, not in essence, nor in nature; but we are blessed and blessedness in God’s essential being, where he has joy of Himself and of us all, in his high nature: that is the kernel of love that is hidden from us in darkness, in fathomless unknowing. This unknowing is an inaccessible light that is God’s essential being, and superessential to us, and essential to Him only. For He is his own blessedness, and has joy of Himself in his nature. And in his enjoyment we have died and sunken away from ourselves and we are lost according to the manner of our having joy, but not according to the manner of our essence. For our love and his love are always alike and one in having joy, where his Spirit has drunk up our love and swallowed it in Him in having joy and in one blessedness with Him.33 Ruusbroec here describes the union with God on the level of the mere “being” of the human person (“our mere being, where we are one with God, in the fathomless abyss of his love” [l. 2131]). This is a union in love, not an identity of “being,” and it is rooted in the active indwelling of God in the wesen of the human person (“we have God in us, and are blessed in our essential being through the inworking of God, with whom we are one in love, not in essence, nor in nature” [ll. 2138–2140]). It is notable, moreover, that Ruusbroec emphasizes the joy of this union-inlove,34 a joy that for God is absolute and which he has by his nature (“he is his own blessedness, and has joy of Himself in his nature” [ll. 2144–2145]), and in which the human person shares by sharing in God’s life (“we are blessed and blessedness in God’s essential being, where he has joy of Himself and of us all, in his high nature” [ll. 2140–2141]). Although the human person shares in this joy of absolute love, its origin, the “core of love,” remains concealed from the human person precisely because it belongs to the overwesen (“the kernel of love that is hidden from us in darkness, in fathomless unknowing. This unknowing is an inaccessible light that is God’s essential being, and superessential to us, and essential to Him only” [ll. 2141–2144]). By no means, however, does this imply that there is a qualitative difference between the joy of minne as it is experienced by God and as it is gifted to the human person (“Our love and his love are always alike and one in having joy, where his Spirit has drunk up our love and swallowed it in Him in having joy and in one blessedness with Him” [ll. 2147–2149]). Ruusbroec continues: And when I write that we are one with God, it is to be understood: in love, not in essence, nor in nature; for God’s essence is uncreated, and our essence is created. And this is unlike without measure, God and creature.

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And therefore, even though it may unite, it cannot become one. If our essence came to naught, we would not know, love or be blessed. But our created essence is to be beheld as a wild, waste wilderness, wherein God lives who reigns over us. And in that wilderness we must wander modelessly and without manner. For we cannot come out of our essential being into our superessential being otherwise than with love. And therefore we are blessed in our essential being, if we live in love. And we are blessedness in God’s essential being, if we, in love, have died to ourselves in his enjoyment. We are always living in our essential being through love. And we are always dying in God’s essential being through having joy. And therefore this is called a dying life and a living dying, for we live with God and we die in God. Blessed are the dead who live and die thus, because they have been made heirs in God and in his realm. (Ruusbroec, Mirror (2001), ll. 2149–2165) In order to avoid any confusion or misunderstanding on this point, Ruusbroec emphasizes that this concerns fusion, a melting into God (“And when I write that we are one with God, it is to be understood: in love, not in essence, nor in nature; for God’s essence is uncreated, and our essence is created, and this is unlike without measure, God and creature, and therefore, even though it may unite, it cannot become one” [ll. 2150–2153]). An important argument in this regard is precisely that in case fusion occurred, this would entail, ipso facto, the end of love (“If our essence came to naught, we would not know, love or be blessed” [ll. 2153–2155]). Clearly for Ruusbroec, the relationship between wesen and overwesen must fundamentally be understood as minne. He summarizes this view in the expression:“For we cannot come out of our essential being into our superessential being otherwise than with love. And therefore we are blessed in our essential being, if we live in love. And we are blessedness in God’s essential being, if we, in love, have died to ourselves in his enjoyment” (ll. 2157–2161). Ruusbroec expresses that the structure of love entails both the autonomy of the human person (the wesen) and the complete dedication to the Other (overwesen, i.e. God’s wesen), as well as the joy of this dedication, by saying “we are always living in our essential being through love. And we are always dying in God’s essential being through having joy” (ll. 2161–2162). From the twofold use of the word altoes, Ruusbroec clearly does not conceive of these two as consecutive stages, but rather as aspects that necessarily belong together in the complex structure of the union. From Ruusbroec’s perspective, the autonomy of the human person is not abrogated by his or her dedication to God.35 Finally, it is also notable that Ruusbroec uses the term “unfathomable” for God’s love.36 In mystical literature, the “ground” of the soul is often referred to as an abyss (e.g. in Hadewijch’s Eighteenth Letter). Although Ruusbroec clarifies that the soul as such is not unfathomable, but that the ground of the soul is an unfathomable relationship. It is precisely this relationship (wesen-overwesen) that is the foundation of the soul, and it is in this sense that the soul can be called “unfathomable.”

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Conclusion What has this investigation taught us? First, it is clear that Ruusbroec makes a precise and clear distinction between the wesen and the overwesen, which means that the “being” of the human person does not coincide with God, and that God is understood to be the origin of the human person’s “being.”This implies that human autonomy is fully valorized in Ruusbroec’s conception. As a creature, the human person certainly has a personal and autonomous existence.37 A genuine loving encounter and loving union between God and the human person would simply be impossible if this were not the case. Second, Ruusbroec describes an unbreakable connection between the wesen and the overwesen, considering that the overwesen is the constant life source of the wesen. This relationship is only fully realized in love. What is more, when this minne is fully realized, Ruusbroec conceives of it as a mutual indwelling. In describing this indwelling, he used the metaphors of the iron in the fire and the water in the air but omitted the drop of water in wine, which indicates that he attempted to retain the relationality as completely as possible. Wesen and overwesen may be distinct, but they are completely united with one another in love. Ruusbroec rejects both fused unicity and the unbridgeable gulf.38 Indeed, an additional aspect in this regard is that the actual sense and meaning of the “being” of the human person is not located in herself but in the Other. The human person can thus rightfully claim that the sense of her being completely eludes her, since she cannot grasp it, but can only receive it in love. Third, when we read his analysis in light of the historical context of his work, it seems highly probable that Ruusbroec’s clear position on this point is an explanation of a dramatic misunderstanding. The mutual indwelling of wesen and overwesen may, according to Ruusbroec, be so complete that the human person has the impression that his or her wesen is God. Although wesen and overwesen are completely present in each other, they never become identical; on the contrary, they are united in love. Ruusbroec thus emphasizes that in his conception, the intimacy between God and the human person might be completely misunderstood – and it appears that de facto this was the case – precisely if it is not understood as love. Ruusbroec’s analysis provides clarification and a clear solution to the impasse that the mystical literature of the thirteenth and fourteenth century had reached, for example, following the condemnations of Porete and Eckhart. According to him, this impasse may be understood to be an unsurprising but highly unfortunate misunderstanding. The history of mysticism shows, however, that the same difficulties recurred later, in for example, the condemnations of so-called Quietism (Miguel de Molinos, Madame Guyon). If Ruusbroec’s analysis of the relationship between the wesen and the overwesen had received a more widespread and positive reception, many such mistakes and misunderstandings would undoubtedly have been avoided.

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Notes 1 This is a revised version of a lecture delivered at the International Medieval Congress in Leeds in July 2011, in the session “Poor in Ourselves, Rich in God”: The Anthropology of the Mystics of the Low Countries, organized by the Faculty of Theology of the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven and the Ruusbroec Institute Antwerp University. This chapter was previously published as an article in Medieval Mystical Theology 21 (2012). 2 See e.g. McGinn (2006). 3 Paul Verdeyen has made a compelling argument that Ruusbroec knew Porete’s work. See Verdeyen (1992). Whether Ruusbroec was also familiar with Eckhart’s work is unclear, although it is highly probable that he knew the bull In agro dominico, which was promulgated in the ecclesiastical province of Cologne. Brussels, where Ruusbroec lived and which was located in the diocese of Cambrai, is near the border of the prince-bishopric of Liège (a part of the ecclesiastical province of Cologne). See Kikuchi (2014). 4 Deblaere (2004), p. 12. 5 Ruusbroec, Espousals (1988), p. 287, ll. b43-b57, all the English translations are from the Opera omnia, with occasional modifications. 6 Ruusbroec provides a concise but informative description of his conception of overwesen in Enclosures: “Beyond all the divine modes . . . he shall understand the modeless essence of God which is a modelessness, for it can be demonstrated neither by words nor by actions, by modes nor by signs nor by likenesses. It reveals itself, however, to the simple insight of the imageless mind. We may also set out signs and likenesses along the way, to prepare man to see the kingdom of God. Imagine it this way: as if you saw a glow of fire, immensely great, wherein all things were burnt away in a becalmed, glowing, motionless fire. This is how it is to view becalmed, essential love, which is an enjoyment of God and of all the saints, above all modes and above all activities and practice of virtue. It is a becalmed, bottomless flood of richness and joy, into which all the saints together with God are swept in a modeless enjoyment. And this enjoyment is wild and waste as wandering, for there is no mode, no trail, no path, no abode, no measure, no end, no beginning, or anything one might be able to put into words or demonstrate. This the simple blessedness of us all, the divine essence and our superessence, above reason and without reason. If we are to experience this, our spirit must be transported into that same (essence), above our creatureliness, in the eternal point, wherein all our lines begin and end, point wherein they lose their name and all differentiation, and are one with the point and the selfsame one that the point itself is. Nonetheless, in themselves, they always remain converging lines. So, you see, we shall always remain what we are in our created essence; nonetheless, losing our proper spirit, we shall always cross over into our superessence” Ruusbroec, Enclosures (1981), pp. 187–191, ll. 834–858. 7 L. 450, cf. also e.g. Ruusbroec, Beguines (2000), p. 63, ll. 630–636. 8 An important passage in this regard is Ruusbroec, Espousals (1988), p. 475, ll. b1655– b1669: “This essential unity of our spirit with God does not exist by itself, but abides in God, and it flows forth from God, and it hangs in God, and it returns back into God as into its eternal cause, and in this mode, it never parted from God nor will it ever do so. For this unity is in us by our bare nature. And were the creature ever to part from God, it would fall into a pure nothingness. And this unity is above time and place, and it always acts without cease after the mode of God; only it receives the impress of its eternal image passively, insofar as it is God-like but creature in itself. This is the nobility which we have by nature in the essential unity of our spirit, where it is naturally united with God. This makes us neither holy nor blessed, for all persons, good and evil, have this within themselves, but this is certainly the first cause of all holiness and of all our blessedness. And this is the meeting and the union between God and our spirit in our bare nature.” 9 “Although creatures depend on the creating God, they are nevertheless, through the act of creation, beings in themselves and of themselves concerning their form. Further

72  Rob Faesen still, precisely because they genuinely depend on God – considering that their genuine dependence is founded in genuine being – it is clear that creatures possess genuine being,” Votum (2006), p. 574. 10 Ruusbroec’s Little Book is probably the clearest, most concise explanation of this issue, which he also treats more extensively elsewhere. The book was written following a visit to the Charterhouse of Herne in approximately 1362. The Carthusians had requested that he clarify this point. As Ruusbroec himself said “[they] desire and have prayed me to show and explain in a few words . . . most precisely and clearly, the truth that I understand and feel about the most profound doctrine that I have written . . . and that I most willingly do,” Ruusbroec, Little Book (1989), p. 109, ll. 24–29. 11 Cf. Pépin (1967). See also Ruusbroec, Beguines (2000), p. 63, ll. 628–636. 12 Ruusbroec, Stone (1991), p. 151, ll. 574–588. 13 See also: Ruusbroec, Beguines (2000), p. 73, ll. 733–743. 14 Cf.Van Nieuwenhove (2003), pp. 60–61. 15 Ruusbroec, Little Book (1989), p. 115, ll. 80–100. 16 The use of the term “Movement of the Free Spirit” is, of course, a simplification. It is by no means used to indicate a concrete, organized movement, as Romana Guarnieri indicated as early as 1965 (Guarnieri 1965, esp. p. 354). 17 It is often assumed that in his Little Book, Ruusbroec adopts an apologetic, defensive position, in light of the condemnations of 1310 and 1329. Upon closer inspection, however, this appears rather unlikely, as I argue in Faesen (2013) and Faesen (2014). 18 Votum (2006), p. 584. 19 de Guibert (1931), p. 118 (nr. 15). 20 Votum (2006), p. 585. 21 Ibid. 22 Ibid., p. 583. 23 Ibid. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid., p. 572. 26 Istum articulum negat quia, ut dicit, stultum est sentire quod anima sit petiata ex creato et increato, ibid. 27 Ibid. 28 Segers (2011), p. 313. 29 Ibid., p. 306 (Segers’ emphasis). 30 The Middle Dutch word minne may be rendered in English as “love.” In the edition of Ruusbroec’s Seven Enclosures, Guido De Baere defines it as follows: “minne is love in its orientation toward and in its meeting with another person, whether it be God or man,” and adds that on a number of occasions, “minne has in view the unification aspect of love,” De Baere (1981), p. 272. 31 Cf. the note in the edition, Ruusbroec, Mirror (2001), p. 405. 32 See Faesen (2010a), pp. 299–303. 33 Ruusbroec, Mirror (2001), pp. 405–407, ll. 2131–2149. 34 Wi hebben gode in ons ende sijn salegh in onse wesen (l. 2138); the first meaning of the word salegh (“blessed”) is “happy,” “joyful,” see Verwijs and Verdam (1885–1929), vol.VII, s.v. 35 As e.g. Ruusbroec, Enclosures (1981), pp. 189–191, ll. 854–856: “So, you see, we shall always remain what we are in our created essence; nonetheless, losing our proper spirit, we shall always cross over into our superessence” (cf. our note 10). 36 L. 2137. 37 According to the theological commission at Avignon, this was one of the problematic aspects of some statements in Eckhart’s work (. . . negat deum creatorem rerum dantem esse eis, negat creationem terminari ad esse, Votum (2006), p. 574). 38 See e.g. Ruusbroec, Stone (1991), p. 151, ll. 585–589.

5 Ruusbroec’s notion of the contemplative life and his understanding of the human person Rik Van Nieuwenhove Medieval Christian authors (drawing on St Augustine and others) realise that genuine selfhood and personal identity cannot be construed but can only be found when we lose ourselves in God through faith, hope and love.This implies that we foster a theocentric focus in the midst of our lives, in our knowing and wanting, a focus or disposition that we call “contemplative.” Ruusbroec is one of the mystical theologians who developed a rich theological anthropology that is undergirded by a Christian exemplarist ontology – a “theology of the image.” In what follows, I examine how Ruusbroec understands the notion of contemplation, which, for him, is founded on profound Trinitarian and theologicalanthropological considerations. I will also have the opportunity to propose, in a somewhat more technical vein, how a proper understanding of the relation between memoria and Ruusbroec’s notion of “the unity of the spirit” can yield a new perspective on the structure of his masterpiece The Spiritual Espousals, and its third part in particular.

Theological-anthropological underpinnings of the relational self If genuine selfhood is a gift, for Ruusbroec it is nonetheless a gift that builds on a natural orientation toward the Trinitarian God. In other words, Ruusbroec’s anthropology is shaped by his understanding of the intra-Trinitarian dynamics of the divine Persons. In his first work, The Realm of Lovers, ll. 1597–1624, he wrote: The noble nature that is the principal cause of all creatures is fruitful. Therefore it cannot rest in the unity of the Fatherhood, because of the stirring of fruitfulness; but it must without cease give birth to the eternal Wisdom, that is, the Son of the Father. . . . Where the Father beholds his Son, the eternal Wisdom, and all things in the same Wisdom: there he has been born and is a Person other than the Father. . . . Neither out of the fruitful nature, that is, Fatherhood, nor out of the Father’s giving birth to his Son does Love, that is, the Holy Spirit, flow; but out of the fact that the Son is born, and everything one with him as the life of everything, and

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the Son, in turn, beholds the Father giving birth and fruitful, and himself and all things, in the Father – this is seeing and seeing-back in a fruitful nature – from this comes love, which is the Holy Spirit, and it is a bond from the Father to the Son and from the Son to the Father. By this love the Persons are embraced and permeated and have flowed back into that unity out of which the Father without cease is giving birth. Now, even though they have flowed back into unity, there is no abiding, on account of nature’s fruitfulness. The originality of Ruusbroec’s Trinitarian thought is well-documented at this stage: while he adopts the Bonaventurean notion that the Son is generated from the Father’s fruitful nature, and the Holy Spirit flows from their mutual contemplation, his innovation lies in his view on the Holy Spirit as the principle of the return of the divine Persons into their perichoretic unity.1 Hence, the Trinity is “an ebbing, flowing sea” characterised by going out (generation of the Son, and procession of the Holy Spirit), going back in (regiratio, or return), and fruitive enjoyment in their shared unity, from which, as the quotation suggests, the dynamic of going out recommences in a never-ending pulsation of divine life. Ruusbroec’s originality does not end here. Indeed, he boldly suggests that we are called to participate in these three moments: the Catholic, universal or common (ghemeyne) life is constituted by an outgoing dimension of active engagement in the external world; a God-desirous interior life of deepening devotion and longing for God; and, finally, a fruition of God in the contemplative life through a radical theocentric focus, or meyninghe. In my view, Ruusbroec’s notion of simple intention or theocentric focus recaptures the Augustinian contrast between fruition of God, and use of things. Indeed, Ruusbroec explicitly refers to this distinction in The Spiritual Espousals, ll. 765– 766: “We should use all things, but enjoy God” (men sal alle creature orboren, ende gods ghebruyken). Ruusbroec has beautifully described this dynamic of activity, yearning interiority, and fruitive contemplation in his work The Sparkling Stone, using the metaphors of faithful servants, friends, and sons to describe our participation in the intra-Trinitarian dynamics in its threefold dimension.2 I will come back to this transformation throughout this contribution. For now, it will suffice to note that Ruusbroec clearly links our transformation with the inner-Trinitarian life. Ruusbroec has outlined the relational understanding of the self in several of his works.3 For the purposes of this chapter, I will mainly consider his outline in The Twelve Beguines and The Mirror of Eternal Blessedness, one of Ruusbroec’s most attractive treatises, if only because of the centrality of the Eucharistic ­mystery – an aspect which, unfortunately, I cannot elaborate on here. In the third part of The Mirror of Eternal Blessedness, Ruusbroec discusses people who are drawn toward the contemplative life. For that purpose, he sketches an exemplarist theology of the image, which is indebted to St Augustine,4 and which had been further developed by St Bonaventure.

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Ruusbroec states that we have an eternal life in the image of God, “the living Exemplar (exemplaer) of all that he has made” (Mirror, l. 1762). This life always remains in the Father, and flows out with the Son and is bent back (wederbooeght) into the same nature with the Holy Spirit. . . . From this we have a created life, flowing from the same wisdom of God; and therein God knows his power, his wisdom, and his goodness, and that is his image with which he lives in us. And from his image our life has three properties with which we are like his image, that we have received. For our life is always in the act of existing/being (wesende), seeing (siende), and inclining toward (neighende) the origin of our createdness. . . . And this is a living life that is in us all essentially and in bare nature.  . . . And this life is hidden in God and in the substance of our soul. . . . It is in us all by nature. . . . (Mirror, ll. 1704–1719) Ruusbroec makes clear that as created beings we already have an orientation toward God. In light of twentieth-century discussions, it may prove worthwhile to indicate that, for Ruusbroec, human beings have an openness toward God, but this does not, however, imply that they have a claim over God. How could we possibly have a claim, if only because our created being (which includes our desire for God) is itself an act of pure gratuity on God’s part (Mirror, ll. 1772– 1775)? Grace, for Ruusbroec, fulfils nature, and is not an extrinsicist add-on. In adopting this perspective, Ruusbroec is part of a greater tradition which Henri de Lubac attempted to recover in his book Surnaturel (and who, incidentally, refers with approval to Ruusbroec’s writings).5 Ruusbroec is a major exponent of a tradition that acknowledges we have a natural desire for God, which grace meets and fulfils – in sharp contrast to later views in which nature and grace have become two-tiered and severed from one another, thereby paving the way for the modern secularist outlook. At the core of our created being we are not a reified entity but relation: “the essential unity of our spirit with God does not exist by itself (en besteet op haere selven niet), but it abides in God, and it flows forth from God, and it hangs in God, and it returns back into God as into its eternal cause . . .” (Espousals, ll. b1655–1658). Through faith, hope and love (see also Mirror, l. 1867) we are called to actualise this ontological reality of having been created as a relation toward God. The exemplarist ground of our created being in God’s eternal Word allows us to participate in the generation of the Word and the procession of the Holy Spirit as Love (Mirror, ll. 1751–1755). Of course, Ruusbroec always makes the point that an exemplarist understanding of our created nature does not render us in any way divine. In The Twelve Beguines ll. 2a164–169, he states unequivocally that created and uncreated always remain distinct. In Mirror, ll. 1755–1757 we find: “And out of that life God has created us, but not from that life nor from its substance, but from nothing.”The distinction between “out of this life but not from this life” is taken almost verbatim from Augustine, who wrote in De Natura Boni, 27 (referring to

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Rom. 11:36: ex ipso et per ipsum et in ipso sunt omnia): “ ‘Out of him’ (ex ipso) does not have the same meaning as ‘from him’ (de ipso). What is de ipso may also be said to be ex ipso. But not everything that is ex ipso can be correctly said to be de ipso. ‘Out of him’ are the heaven and earth, for he made them. But they are not ‘from him’ because they are not part of his substance.” In short, Ruusbroec’s understanding of union with God, based on an exemplarist theology, is participatory, and not a case of identity or conflation. In the earlier quotation from the Mirror, Ruusbroec stated that our created being is always in the act of existing/being (wesende), seeing (siende), and inclining toward (neighende) the origin of our createdness. This indicates that intellect (seeing) and will (inclining) are subject to a dynamic of a return into unity, while the core of our being is simply wesende, or existing. This suggests that there are only two dynamic aspects, namely those of the faculties of reason or intellect, and of will – not three. I will discuss the excessus of intellect and will or love in the second part of this contribution. For now, let me just note that, according to Ruusbroec, reason yields to the light of God (which I take to be an appropriation referring to the Word), and beyond reason, he says, there is “the onefold eye” which “above reason, in the ground of understanding, is always open, and contemplates, and gazes with bare sight on the light with the same light.” (Mirror, ll. 1838–1840) The idea that we can see the light with the light of God is inspired by Ps. 36:9 (Ps. 35:10 Vulg.: in lumine tuo videmus lumen) – a favourite and recurring quotation from St Augustine, for whom it refers to the inward radiance of wisdom, which is ultimately the indwelling of Christ, God’s wisdom.6 I will come back to the intellective excessus which Ruusbroec is describing here (the self-transcendence of human understanding). A second kind of excessus occurs, namely of the will or loving faculty.Throughout his works, Ruusbroec describes in detail the dialectic of love, which is both “voracious and generous” (Mirror, ll. 2083–2087): God’s love “demands of the soul all that it is, and all that it can do. And the soul is generous, and wants to give everything to voracious love that it demands and desires; but it cannot fulfil it, for its createdness must last forever.”7 Ruusbroec has given an eloquent description of this epektasis in Mirror, ll. 2093–2098: “[N]ow the loving soul is particularly greedy and voracious, and yawns wide, and wants to have all that is shown to it; but it is creature and cannot devour nor grasp the allness of God. And therefore it must yearn and yawn, remain thirsty and hungry forever. And the more it yearns and strives, the better it feels that the richness of God is lacking to it. And this is called striving in lacking (crighen in ontbliven).”8 In contrast, while there is a dynamic in our excessus of intellect and will or love, our mind or memoria is the “space” in which we enjoy the fruition of God beyond all activity of love (Mirror, l. 2102ff): “there we feel no difference between us and God, for we are above ourselves and above all order breathed out of ourselves into his love. There is neither demanding nor desiring, neither giving nor taking, but a blessed, empty being (een salegh ledegh wesen).” It is clear that wesen (being), siende (seeing) and neighende (inclining toward) are linked with our three faculties, namely memoria, intellect and will, which

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become transformed through participation in the generation of the Word and the procession and regiratio of the Holy Spirit. The Trinitarian reason why the wesen of the “living life” Ruusbroec describes in The Mirror is “beyond activity” (Mirror, l. 2103) or “empty,” is that the Father himself is not being generated or spirated. This important observation suggests that Ruusbroec’s description of this third dimension of the “living life” does not cancel out the activity of intellect and will (including the combat of love between soul and God). In other words, Mirror, l. 2102ff is not a “stage” beyond the two previous ones but rather a third dimension of the one contemplative life. Ruusbroec asks us to imagine a process in which our intellect and will struggle to transcend themselves in response to God’s activity (or presence) in the soul, while, at the same time, they are to rest in, or enjoy, God (i.e. theocentric focus or fruition of God through the mind or memoria). Similarly, because it is the Father who is the ground or origin of the divine Persons, and not some nature “behind” the divine Persons, Ruusbroec’s description of the superessential life (Mirror, l. 2131ff) is not a subsequent phase but the perfection of the contemplative life (in its three dimensions of (a) seeing, (b) desiring or inclining and (c) wesene or being). So, when Ruusbroec writes, “And when I write that we are one with God, it is to be understood: in love, not in essence. . .” he is not simply pre-empting possible criticisms of autotheism. He is emphasizing a point essential to understanding his description of union (Mirror, ll. 2161–2164): “We are always living in our own essential being through love. And we are always dying in God’s essential being through fruition (ghebrucken). And therefore this is called a dying life and a living dying, for we live in God and we die in God.” In short, Ruusbroec describes an excessus of our intellective and loving powers, while the mind (memoria) rests in its being or essence. A similar reading of The Spiritual Espousals may prove fruitful. I admit that I found the third book of The Espousals somewhat puzzling when I first read it: in book II we find, to be honest, better descriptions of the common life than in book III. However, it would be a mistake to consider book III of The Espousals a description of the contemplative life beyond some of the descriptions of the common life outlined in book II. Lode Moereels was correct to propose that we should understand Ruusbroec’s outline in a “concentric manner,” as if we were climbing a spiral staircase, rather than in terms of a journey in which we travel through different étappes, which we then leave behind. In The Spiritual Espousals, ll. b212–971, Ruusbroec recapitulates the coming of Christ in our lower sensibility (“the heart”). He then treats the inner life (Espousals, ll. b972–1007), describing, first, how divine grace transforms the mind (memoria or memorieen in Middle Dutch), which produces a singleness (eenvoldegheit) of theocentric intention in us, beyond the distractions of multiplicity and busyness (Espousals, l. b991). Secondly (Espousals, ll. b1008–1109), we are transformed by the light of God’s grace, which illuminates our intellect (verstaene). This offers an occasion for Ruusbroec to outline some of the key teachings of his understanding of divine nature, the names and properties of the divine Persons, how they are personally distinct through their mutual relations (Espousals,

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l. b1069: wederdraghinghen), which results in verwonderen or intellectual astonishment – a kind of intellectual excessus (Espousals, l. b1083). This kind of enlightenment assists us in pondering the mysteries of faith and discerning the right way of living (Espousals, ll. b1121–1124). Thirdly (Espousals, l. b1111), the will is enkindled in silent love: the bestowal of divine grace in our will permeates our entire being with a quiet love (minne zonder aerbeit). Now we come to the important point. In most modern editions, the editors consider Espousals, l. b1405 to be the start of a new, higher influx and deeper union with God, namely, through the stirring of divine grace in “the unity of the spirit.” This is not surprising: after all, Ruusbroec himself suggests that, after he has dealt with the streams of grace into the three faculties, he will discuss the stirring of grace “in the unity of the spirit” (see also Espousals, ll. b1462–1489). Moreover, when Ruusbroec describes (Espousals, ll. b167–211) three manners of coming of Christ (namely in our lower sensibility or “heart,” in the “three higher faculties of the soul,” and in “the unity of the spirit”), it appears that the “unity of the spirit” is distinct from the mind or meemorien. However, if we are to take seriously Ruusbroec’s Trinitarian understanding of the human person, and if the Father is the origin of the divine Persons (and not some nature or essence behind him),9 then it stands to reason that the unity of the spirit is not distinct from the mind (memoria), which is the origin of intellect and will/love. Indeed, when describing the transformative action of Christ’s coming in the meemorie, resulting in freedom from distractions and instability, Ruusbroec says that the person will find himself “steadied and permeated and sustained in the unity of his spirit or his mind” (ghedachten) (Espousals, ll. b995–996). So it seems that Ruusbroec is treating the “unity of spirit” as synonymous with ghedachten, which is, in turn, the Middle Dutch equivalent of the Latinised meemorien or memory. Ruusbroec further observes that when grace transforms mind or memory, we will possess the unity of our spirit as “our own dwelling” (Espousals, l. b1000) – an observation he does not make about will or intellect. The same link between unity of spirit and memorie occurs in Espousals, ll. b1120–1121: our memory is “established in the unity of spirit.” Again, he does not make the same connection when discussing intellect and will (Espousals, ll. b1122–1127). Now, if it is correct that there is no real distinction between mind and unity of spirit (just as the Father is identical to the divine nature, which is not a fourth entity “behind” the three divine Persons), then we should not interpret Ruusbroec’s description of the third coming of Christ (after his coming in the heart and the three faculties) as really distinct from his coming in the unity of the spirit. It is not a distinct event. Rather, Ruusbroec is describing the same event from a deeper perspective.The following sentence from Espousals, l. b1132ff (just after Ruusbroec has outlined the coming of Christ in the three faculties) illustrates this perspective: Now a person established in the bond of love should remain dwelling in the unity of his spirit (in eenicheit sijns gheests); and he should go out with enlightened reason (met verlichter redenen) and with abundant charity (met

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overvloedigher karitaten) in heaven and on earth, and examine all things with clear discernment (met claerre bescheedenheit) and distribute all things out of true generosity (gherechter miltheit) and out of divine riches. Let’s examine this sentence in some detail. First, in structural terms, there is a clear parallelism: we should associate “enlightened reason” with “clear discernment,” and “abundant charity” with “true generosity.” Secondly, and more important, Ruusbroec only mentions two of the three faculties he has been discussing, namely intellect and will/love, but he does not mention mind (memoria). Why not? Because memoria is not really distinct from the unity of the spirit, but is itself puere eenvoldicheit (Espousals, l. b984). So, intellect and will allow us to engage with the external world, while memoria is the medium through which we are continually drawn within. This explains why Ruusbroec immediately develops his dialectic of the common life in the pages that follow, namely, how to continually engage with the external world, while remaining utterly focused on God in every aspect of our life. He concludes with this characteristic sentence (Espousals, ll. b1390–1392): “We should also dwell in the unity of our spirit (woenen in eenicheit ons gheests), and flow forth with the expansive charity (met wider karitaten) in heaven and on earth, in clear discernment (met claerre beschedenheit).” Again, we have the same dialectic, which constitutes the common life: while we are actively engaged through will and intellect, we should simultaneously linger in the presence of God in the unity of our spirit/mind. It is this which makes us Christ-like (Espousals, l. b1193), who himself is the common person par excellence. This common life, of course, mirrors the triune God: the unity of the Father, and the active generation of the Word, and the procession of Love or Holy Spirit (Espousals, ll. b2058–2067): For those who are most simple are the most quiet and the most totally peaceful in themselves, and they are the most deeply sunken away in God, and they are the most utterly enlightened in understanding (claerst in verstane), and the most utterly manifold in good works, and the most utterly common in outflowing love. And they are the least hindered, for they are the most God-like. For he is simplicity in his being (eenvuldicheit in sinen wesene), clarity in understanding (claerheit in sinen verstane), and an outflowing common love in his working (eene uutvloeyende ghemeyne minne in sinen werkene). And the more God-like we are in these three, the more we are united with him. And therefore we shall remain simple in our ground, and consider all things with enlightened reason, and flow through everything with common love. Thus, the dialectic of rest or fruition, on the one hand, and active understanding and loving, on the other hand, reflects a similar dialectic within the Trinity, who is “simplicity” in his Fatherly being, and “clarity” in the Word, and “love” in the Holy Spirit.

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Similarly, book III of The Spiritual Espousals does not describe a “further” or “subsequent” stage of our union with God. Rather, it simply describes the theological foundation of the common life, namely our participation in the life of the Trinity – i.e. the generation of the Word (Espousals, l. c126ff) and the procession of the Holy Spirit or Love (Espousals, l. c199ff). Ruusbroec is describing the theological (exemplarist-Trinitarian) foundation of the common life. This description is in its own right “contemplative”: it requires from the reader the kind of loving disposition and faith-filled insight which it actually describes – which is perhaps why Ruusbroec says that those who are not enlightened in this truth, or who cannot feel this unity with God, should not be scandalised (Espousals, ll. c28–46). I do not think Ruusbroec is simply “playing safe” by pre-empting criticism; rather, he is making the point that you need to share in profound faith, hope and love to be able to make sense of what he is saying. In other words, he is suggesting that there cannot possibly be a proper understanding of what he says without participation. While my interpretation here may perhaps seem like splitting hairs, it implies that the structure of Ruusbroec’s Espousals is somewhat less “baroque” or intricate than a superficial glance at a table of contents might suggest, and that, let’s be honest, is certainly to be welcomed. So we need no longer wonder: “What does Ruusbroec mean in addition to his descriptions of the coming of Christ in mind, intellect, and will (descriptions which include some fine outlines of the common life) in book II of The Espousals, when he then goes on to describe the coming of Christ in the unity of the spirit?” Ruusbroec may, at times, be repetitive, but he is not overly intricate: Espousals, l. b1405ff does not outline a different coming of Christ from the one already discussed earlier, as if the coming of Christ in the “unity of the spirit” is different from his coming in the mind, described earlier.10 Using an (inadequate) spatial metaphor, we can say that the mind (memoria) and “the unity of the spirit” are not different places of encounter. Ruusbroec covers the same ground, albeit from a deeper perspective (see also the simile of a vein and a fountain). Again, it is significant in this context to note that when Ruusbroec discusses our reaction to the divine touch in the unity of the spirit (Espousals, l. b1491ff), he only treats verlichtene redene (“enlightened reason,” Espousals, ll. b1500–1501) and minnende cracht (the “loving faculty” in Espousals, l. b1524) – not of mind, which strengthens my point that “the unity of the spirit” is not essentially different from “memorie.” Similarly, we need not worry about the question: “Does book III of The Espousals add anything substantially new to the outline of union with God described in book II?” It seems to me that the answer is that Ruusbroec is not describing anything different. He is simply describing the same process from a higher perspective. The common life is not simply a dialectic of charitable activity and fruition of God; it is more specifically a dialectic of engagement with the world through intellect and will/love, on the one hand, and dwelling in God through the unity of the spirit (mind), on the other hand. In book III, he simply outlines the Trinitarian foundation of this spiritual ideal. This explains why it may strike some readers as somewhat more doctrinal (especially in its sketch of Trinitarian

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theology). Ruusbroec is simply unpacking the Trinitarian foundation of the dynamic of our transformation: as the Son and the Holy Spirit go out from the Father, and flow back in to rest in enjoyment, so too, do our intellect and will go out from the mind, and are drawn back in to rest in fruition. As indicated earlier, this Trinitarian foundation implies an exemplarist anthropology: because we have been made in the image of God, in whom we have an eternal eidetic existence, our graceful transformation builds on a natural orientation toward participation in the life of the Trinity. Incidentally, we need not worry either whether Ruusbroec is describing, in book III, the beatific vision of God in the afterlife, or our inchoate participation in the life of the Trinity here on earth: clearly, it is both. I will now discuss the two kinds of excessus – of intellect and will or love in more detail. Ruusbroec, of course, does not use the word excessus. But he uses words that capture the idea quite well, such as onthogen, ontpluken, ontsinken, ons selfs vergheten, ute ons selven trecken, ontgheesten, overghaen . . . I will mainly focus on the excessus of intellect – not because the excessus of will or love is less important in Ruusbroec’s oeuvre but rather because minne and its dynamism has received ample attention in recent scholarship,11 while the excessus of intellect has remained somewhat neglected.

The excessus of will and intellect Loving God: Minne

Throughout his works, Ruusbroec beautifully describes how our love for God is itself subject to epektasis – an ever-continuing longing which increases to the extent it is satisfied. Here is a typical description from Espousals, l. b1528ff: Here begins an eternal hunger which will never be filled. It is an inward avidity and craving on the part of the faculty of loving and of the created spirit for an uncreated good. And since the spirit desires enjoyment (ghebruken) and it is compelled and invited thereto by God, it always wants to fulfil that (desire). See, here begins an eternal voracity and insatiable craving in an eternal failing. These are the poorest people alive, for they are voracious and gluttonous and they have bulimia (mengerael). Whatever they eat or drink, they are never satisfied in this mode, for this hunger is eternal. For a created vessel cannot contain an uncreated good; this is why there is an eternal, hungry avidity here, and God overflows everything, but (is) always uncontained. After he has described “the strife of love” between God and soul, Ruusbroec concludes (Espousals, ll. b1572–1580): God’s touch and our love’s craving become one single love. Here a person is so possessed by love that he must forget himself and God, and he knows

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nothing but love. Thus the spirit is burned up in the fire of love, and it goes so deeply into God’s touch that it is overcome in all its craving and is reduced to nothing in all its acts; and it must exhaust its activity, and it becomes itself love, above all devotedness, and it possesses the innermost (core) of its created being, above all virtues, where all creaturely works begin and end. This is love in itself, foundation and ground of all virtues. The dialectic between satiation in the unity of the spirit (where we enjoy fruition or ghebruken) and the need to go out in activity is unending: being reduced to nothing in love, the soul “falls back into new activity. And this is the life of heaven” (Espousals, ll. b1587–1588). Our yearning for God cannot be satisfied but is subject to an ongoing dialectic of satiation and longing, not unlike the Holy Spirit or Love who goes in and out while seeking rest or enjoyment in the perichoretic unity. We are caught up in a desire for God that permeates our being, every aspect of our lives. While this aspect permeates every dimension of the spiritual transformation (i.e. the active, interior and contemplative lives united in the common life), it is especially characteristic of the God-yearning or inner life. The following dimension, namely the excessus of intellect, is more typical of the contemplative life, although it, too, permeates all dimensions of the common life. The excessus of our rational faculty

A beautiful discussion of contemplation can be found in part one of Ruusbroec’s last book, The Twelve Beguines, also known as De Vera Contemplatione. The actual treatise is preceded by a poem – one of Ruusbroec’s more successful outings in the genre. In the poem, Ruusbroec alludes to an important contrast between modes (wise) and modelessness (onwise) (Beguines I, l. 248ff). He treats the two concepts in a dialectical manner: although they are distinct, they ought to remain united throughout life. Faith (including discursive reasoning about faith) and good works are considered “modes.” He associates modelessness with the contemplative life (Beguines I, l. 263). The term modelessness is, in my view, inspired by St Bernard of Clairvaux’s De Diligendo Deo I, 1 and VI, 16. In this text, Bernard tries to capture the gratuity and generosity of Christian love: love is its own ultimate reason or cause, and should never be subjugated to anything extraneous. As Ruusbroec says in The Seven Rungs, l. 828: “Love is its own life and reward” (Minne es leven ende looen haer selfs). Similarly, Bernard had admonished us to love without mode or measure (sine modo diligere) – an expression that he may have come across in a Letter from Severus, Bishop of Milev addressed to St Augustine: ibi modus est sine modo amare – “there the measure (mode) is to love without measure/ mode.”12 Interestingly, Ruusbroec expands the Bernardian notion of onwise or modelessness and applies it to both love (minne), as Bernard had done, and intellect. Although reason (redene) is still caught up in a discursive mode, contemplation, in contrast, is beyond the modes of reason: “Thus we shall live in

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reasonable modes, so that, above reason, we may obtain a contemplative life” (Beguines I, ll. 260–261). Boven redene (“beyond reason”) should not be interpreted in anti-intellectualist, fideist terms. The language of “above reason but not without reason” (as used, for instance in Mirror, l. 1899) seems reminiscent of Richard of St Victor’s terminology (supra sed non praeter rationem) in his work The Mystical Ark. It refers to things we can know with reason but only if we are assisted by faith (such as the goodness or mercy of God). Richard further discusses things that are above reason and apparently beyond or even against reason, such as the belief that God is three-in-one. For Ruusbroec too “beyond reason” often refers to the world of faith, approached from a more intellective (rather than merely discursive) angle. For instance, in The Sparkling Stone (ll. 529–530), Ruusbroec links being above reason with faith: “[I]f we are to taste God or feel the life eternal in ourselves, we must go into God with our faith, above reason” (boven redene met onsen ghelove in gode gaen). Similarly, in The Mirror of Eternal Blessedness (ll. 2035–2037), we find: “[I]f we want to behold eternal life and find it in us, then through love and faith (overmids mine ende ghelooeve) we must transcend ourselves beyond reason (boven redene) to our onefold eye.” Finally, in The Seven Enclosures (ll. 153–155), in a particularly clear passage, we read: “If you want to practice and possess love and holiness to the highest degree, you must strip your rational powers from all images, and raise them through faith beyond reason.” Thus, it is faith that elevates us beyond our ordinary discursive reason.This, however, does not mean that we somehow abandon our intellective activity. I think Ruusbroec wants to convey that faith results in a self-transcending dynamic of our reason. In addition, this is not a momentary occurrence or transient experience but rather a disposition or habitus that shapes our outlook on the world.13 In the words of Denys Turner: it is not an experience but a category of experience, which shapes all our experiences. Perhaps a literary illustration can clarify what I mean. In Charles Dickens’ novel Hard Times, one of the main protagonists, Mr Thomas Gradgrind, is a highly “rational” man – the quintessential positivist, empirically minded, deeply hostile toward the intuitive, imaginative and intellectual aspects of life. He loves facts, preferably scientific ones. Only at the end of the novel, after a number of tragic events involving his children who have been deeply hurt by the onedimensional education he inflicted on them, it begins to dawn on him how deeply myopic his outlook on life really is. He admits: “The ground on which I stand has ceased to be solid under my feet,” and he ultimately realises the need for “making his facts and figures subservient to Faith, Hope and Charity.” Now the process that Ruusbroec describes throughout his writings, I think, is similar to the transformation that occurred to Mr Gradgrind. Through faith, hope and love we ideally become transformed, “excentric,” open to the mystery at the heart of reality. Medieval theologians drew a distinction between ratio (discursive reason) and intellectus (intuitive insight, associated with contemplation).14 We use ratio when we engage in a discursive process of reasoning. Reason is active, moving

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from one element in our reasoning process to another. However, our reasoning comes to rest in intellect, the moment of insight, “when the penny drops,” in colloquial English. This moment of insight is a dimension of intellect, not ratio. Again, reason can only begin to operate in light of certain truths that it simply accepts but cannot argue for in a discursive manner. For instance, the principle of non-contradiction, a key axiom in traditional logic, is a truth that we can perceive solely in an intellective manner, not in a rational manner. Human reason or ratio thus operates in an intellective context, and is quite literally unthinkable without it.15 As the passage quoted from Mirror, l. 2037 makes clear, Ruusbroec does not use the word “intellect” consistently but rather a number of different expressions to capture the same idea, such as “the onefold eye.” While there is a Middle Dutch equivalent for ratio/reason (namely redene and its derivatives), there is no immediate equivalent for intellectus/intellect. Verstendegheit/ verstaene would be a prime candidate, and indeed in Espousals (l. b1963), Ruusbroec translates intellectus potentialis as moghelijkcer verstane. In Realm of Lovers (l. 2260ff), he does contrast reason (redene) and intellect or understanding (verstane): “reason (die redene) fails in this considering. But the understanding (dat verstaen) that is transformed by the divine resplendence without cease contemplates and gazes . . .” Or again, in Mirror (ll. 1868–1869), he also appears to contrast redene and verstendegheit. I am afraid, however, that Ruusbroec is not entirely consistent in this usage of these two terms (i.e. sometimes he appears to attribute features that are traditionally associated with ratio [rather than intellectus] to verstane). Even so, and notwithstanding his admittedly somewhat loose use of terminology, Ruusbroec subscribes to the notion that discursive reason transcends itself and becomes modeless contemplation, which is intellective. Consider the following passage, which is the end of the poem from The Twelve Beguines I (ll. 308–325), in which Ruusbroec indicates how contemplation relates to reason: Contemplation is a modeless knowing That always remains beyond reason. It cannot descend into reason, And reason cannot reach above itself. . . . Modelessness is without modes, in which all operations of reason fall short. Modelessness is not God, But it is the light in which we see him. Those who wander in modelessness, in divine light, Discover in themselves a void. Modelessness is beyond reason but not without it  . . . Modelessness sees, but it does not know what It is above all, neither this nor that.

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Several elements are worth mentioning. The reader will recognise the reference to Ps. 35 (in lumine tuo videmus lumen), on which we already had occasion to comment. Furthermore, the last verse echoes Meister Eckhart’s apophatic description of God in Sermon 68 (“God is neither this nor that.” Got enist daz noch diz). God is beyond our categories, beyond beings and their particularity. Also significant is that Ruusbroec indicates that contemplation is “beyond reason but not without it.” As indicated earlier, Ruusbroec, writing before the modern divide between faith and reason, is not guilty of fideism: while he associates “beyond reason” with faith (as indicated earlier); this does not mean that he espouses an anti-intellectualist position. In order to explain the difference between the modes of discursive reason and intellective modelessness, it may be useful to allude to the distinction Ruusbroec draws between speculatio and contemplatio. Having reminded his readers that speculatio is derived from speculum (or “mirror”) – a medieval commonplace, again inspired by St Augustine (De Trin. XV, 14) – he says: The rational (verstendighe) power of the soul is a living mirror . . . God has given it his Spirit of truth. By means of this light, the rational (redelijcke) eye is enlightened so that it can recognise in forms, in ways, in similitudes, God and all creatures, insofar as God wills to show them. (Beguines I, ll. 484–489) Although reason, enlightened by God, has some grasp of the doctrines of faith in rational images (verstendighe beelden), it cannot understand God himself: its rational eyes must yield to the incomprehensible light (Beguines I, ll. 504–508). The verstendighe beelden Ruusbroec mentions refer to our rational grasp (insofar as possible) of the divine attributes (such as God’s power, wisdom, truth, justice . . .) as well as the distinction between the three Persons, who are united in threeness and are three in unity. After this, he concludes: “For reason enlightened by the Spirit of truth sees God in its mirror (in haren spieghel) in as many modes (wisen), forms and images as it may imagine and as it desires to see in any way” (Beguines I, ll. 516–519). A similar discussion is found in The Seven Rungs, ll. 372–385: Now note how we are to honor and praise God.When God shows himself to the eyes of the our intellect (onsen verstendeghen ooeghen) in bestowed light, then he gives us power to get to know him in similitudes (in ghelikenessen) as in a mirror in which we see forms, images, similitudes of God. But the substance that he himself is we cannot see in any other way than by himself, and that is above ourselves, and above all practice of virtue.This is why we like to behold and be occupied with God in images, in forms, in divine similitudes, so that he might raise us above ourselves in unity with him without similitudes. Now we see in our mirror with images and similitudes, that God is greatness, sublimity, majesty, power, wisdom, and truth, justice and graciousness, richness and generosity, goodness, mercy, fidelity, and fathomless love, life, and our crown, bliss without end and

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eternal blessedness. About names there is still much more than we are able to understand or to recount. We can ponder the names of God in a speculative-discursive mode, but this does not suffice: “our reason and understanding come into an astonishment, and our loving desire wants to give God praise and honor according to his worthiness” (The Seven Rungs, ll. 386–387; see also Realm of Lovers, ll. 2310–2317). So, again, Ruusbroec alludes to an “excessus” of our intellective and volitive powers (reason and love).Thus, the rational-discursive approach to God can never capture God’s mystery. The soul wants to meet God “beyond images and similitudes” – today, we would perhaps translate this as “concepts and metaphors” – bare and uncovered, as Ruusbroec says in Beguines I, (l. 522).This leads to a moment of excessus or self-transcendence of reason: hier ontpluyct hare die verstendighe oghe. Helen Rolfson translates this in a felicitous manner as “here the eyes of reason dilate in order to see what it desires.”The translation of ontpluycken is apt, not only because Rolfson carries through Ruusbroec’s visual metaphor (eyes dilating) but also because it echoes Gregory the Great’s metaphor that the soul must expand or dilate (dilatet, in Hom. Ez. II.2.12). (Gregory is undoubtedly an important influence on Ruusbroec.) For our purposes, it is significant that Ruusbroec contrasts the eye of reason (discursive reason) with the onefold eye (de sempel oghe): The eye of reason follows after it [the simple vision of what God is] and it wants to know and discover in the same light what God is and who he is. But before the face of our Lord reason and all considerations with distinction fail; and the rational power (die verstendighe cracht) is lifted up in modelessness (in onwisen) and its vision is without modes, that is, without manners, neither this nor that, neither here nor there, for modelessness has embraced everything. . . . What it understands is that it cannot understand nor fully obtain, for its comprehension is without mode and without manner; and this is why it is more profoundly comprehended by God than it can itself grasp. (Beguines I, ll. 528–538) This contemplation is situated between speculation (or scouwen in verstendighen beelden or rational similitudes), and bare contemplation beyond all images in divine light (Beguines I, ll. 539–541).

Conclusion The contemplative life is only one aspect of Ruusbroec’s spiritual ideal, which is, of course, the common life. Nonetheless, even a cursory glance at Ruusbroec’s understanding of contemplation has revealed a multifaceted picture. Although the common life is a harmonious dialectic of activity and fruition of God, this fruition of God (which is the essential feature of the contemplative life) is itself also subject to a dialectic of modelessness and modes, activity and

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self-transcendence. Ruusbroec beautifully describes the excessus of intellect and will, which need to transcend themselves in modelessness. I have tried to show that there is no similar excessus or self-transcendence of mind or memoria, and that this has implications for the way we understand Ruusbroec’s descriptions of the contemplative life (and specifically what he says about the coming of Christ in “the unity of the spirit” in The Spiritual Espousals). I have further tried to show that Ruusbroec’s understanding of the human person is deeply relational and is based on a profound theology of the image – a Christian exemplarism, which allows grace to build on nature. As human beings who have been created unto the Image of God, we have a natural orientation toward fulfilment in God. Thus, Ruusbroec would be deeply sceptical of postmodern attempts to construct a self. He would argue that the self is a gift, which we can only obtain through surrendering ourselves (excessus) in faith, hope and love to the Trinitarian rhythm of activity and fruition.

Notes 1 See Van Nieuwenhove (2003), chapter 3. For a different view on the role of the Holy Spirit in the divine regiratio, see Uyttenhove (2011), pp. 109–114. Within the confines of this contribution, I cannot do justice to the nuance of Uyttenhove’s proposal. I will state simply that I suspect Uyttenhove does not distinguish clearly enough between love as an essential, notional and personal term. 2 See The Sparkling Stone, ll. 265–476 and Van Nieuwenhove (2003), pp. 67–70. 3 For a more detailed outline, see Van Nieuwenhove (2003), chapter 4. McGinn (2012), pp. 20ff and footnote 70 for literature. 4 Augustine, De Trinitate, VI, 11. Augustine’s favourite quotation in this context is “What was made, in him was life” (Literal Meaning of Genesis,V, 15 (33); Homilies on the Gospel of John I, 17); thus – in contrast to modern readings – collating verses Jn. 1:3b-4a: quod factum est, in ipso vita erat. Ruusbroec reads it in the same way (e.g. Mirror [2001], ll. 900–902; l. 1769). 5 de Lubac (2012), pp. 234, 236; de Lubac (1988), pp. 30 (major quotation from Mirror), 43, 124–125, 235, 346–47; and de Lubac (2000): on page 24 de Lubac quotes Ruusbroec’s Little Book of Clarification, ll. 91–92, where he castigates those people who desire to achieve blessedness “within the limits of their own nature.” 6 See Augustine, De Trinitate, VII, 4 (Hill 1991, pp. 222–223); Ennar.in Ps. 35 (no. 15) and 41 (no. 2). 7 Another fine description can be found in Espousals (1988), l. b1528ff 8 For a similar description, see Stone (1991), l. 550ff. 9 Espousals, l. b2067: “The Father is the principle/source (anebeghin) of the whole Godhead with respect to being and Persons.” 10 In this context, it is important to note that in twentieth-century editions we find an inserted heading of “Third coming. The touch in the unity of the spirit” in Espousals, l. b1405 (p. 194 of the 1932 edition published in Mechelen by Het Kompas). Surius did not insert a similar heading, and rightly so. 11 For a recent discussion of minne in Ruusbroec, and its contemporary relevance, see Cooper (2014). 12 Augustine, Ep. 109, 2. 13 In Realm of Lovers, ll. 2141–2145 we find: “this bottomless light shines without cease in all minds; but the person who lives here in time is frequently encumbered with images (verbeelt), so that he does not always actively contemplate or gaze with this light into

88  Rik Van Nieuwenhove the superessence, but he who has received this gift has possessed it essentially (weseleec), and thus he can use it if he wants.” Surius translates weseleec correctly as habitus in this context: Secundum habitum tamen id obtinet. . . . Again, in The Sparkling Stone (ll. 603–605), Ruusbroec writes that our immersion in God’s love is “essential, with habitual love. And it happens whether we are asleep or awake, whether we know it or not.” In other words, Ruusbroec talks about a transformation (ghetransformeert in Realm, 2747), which results in a different habitus or disposition. Similarly, in The Sparkling Stone Ruusbroec mentions our sinking away in God is “essential with habitual love” (weselijc, met hebbelijcker minnen). In my reluctance to subscribe to an “experientialist” reading of Ruusbroec, I differ from my friend and colleague Rob Faesen who probably had my perspective in mind when he expressed his concern that “a hermeneutical framework that dismisses the possibility of such an experience [i.e. a mystical experience of God] necessarily leads to misinterpretations” (from Van Nieuwenhove, Faesen & Rolfson 2008, p. 377, n. 3). At any rate, it seems clear that a reading which sees union with God in terms of “transformation” (resulting in a theocentric focus or disposition) is indeed very different from one that understands it in terms of a passive, fleeting and immediate experience of God (such as proposed by Paul Mommaers and others). 14 See Van Nieuwenhove (2012), pp. 11, 32, 63, 201ff. See also Summa Theologiae I, 79.8 and II-II, 49.5 ad 3. 15 Van Nieuwenhove (2012), pp. 137–140, 182, 201–203.

6 Retrieving Ruusbroec’s relational anthropology in conversation with Jean-Luc Marion Patrick Ryan Cooper The following essay stems from an ongoing theological retrieval of the fourteenth century Brabantine contemplative, Jan van Ruusbroec (1293–1381) whose mystical theological synthesis of love, or minne, can be counted amongst one of the best reflections on love within the Catholic tradition. While principally rooted within the domain of systematic theology, this retrieval bears a distinctly interdisciplinary character, as it is situated amid a renewed focus on love in theology and philosophy of religion discourses. Specifically, I engage in a constructive-critical encounter with the French phenomenologist and Catholic philosopher of religion, Jean-Luc Marion, his “erotic” phenomenological reduction and appeal for a univocal conceptuality of love. To facilitate the encounter, I must bring into consideration that which Ruusbroec’s minne presupposes in primarily gauging its intrinsic theological relevance. In a secondary manner, retrieving Ruusbroec must engage with critical questions as to its contemporary contextual plausibility. Herein, I contend that the contemporary reception and possible critical retrieval of Ruusbroec hinges more on the plausibility of his mystical anthropology of mutual indwelling and the various consequences stemming therefrom, than on the question of “mystical experience” as a determining criterion of legitimacy and hermeneutical engagement. With recourse to Marion, the following chapter maintains the view that the question over the possibility of “mystical experience” – understood in terms of passive and immediate – is a discourse that inescapably displays the underpinnings of an autonomous, modern subject.That anthropology, arising from the tradition of the Enlightenment, is certainly discontinuous with both the pre-modern Ruusbroec as well as the postmodern Marion. In what follows, we will see two distinct attempts at thinking a more substantial relationality, both of which are fundamentally at odds with modernity’s enclosed, autonomous subject. Instead, both Ruusbroec and Marion regard the depths of the human person as groundless and nonfoundational, indelibly set in relation to God as an immanent and ever greater degree of alterity – in the Augustinian tradition of interior intimo meo.This alterity, for Marion, disrupts a Cartesian vision of the “contained” human self and its epistemic certainty. Ruusbroec too rigorously seeks to maintain the primacy of such relationality as disrupting the quietist views characteristic of the

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movement of the Free Spirit. Arguably, Ruusbroec’s dogged persistence against the Free Spirit movement throughout his writings is in nucleo a refusal of such an enclosed autonomy, which he depicts as equivalent to the “deceitful inactivity which they themselves feel,”1 the “inactive blind simplicity of their own wesen” and its fusion with the “indwelling of God in themselves.”2 For Ruusbroec, understanding the human person as enclosed and autonomous is fundamentally antithetical toward what he regards as our natural desire or “inclination towards God.”3 Instead, such self-enclosure often tends to produce what he unhesitatingly calls a “hellish fruit,” that is, a refusal of love and is indicative of a loss of aptitude for a more fundamental, immanent otherness, while in its place, the restlessness of our graced desires become increasingly “fused” with the “wish to become blessed within the limits of their own nature.”4 Therefore, Ruusbroec concludes in strong terms that for the Free Spirits, “. . . their essence (wesen) is their idol,” which subsequently undergirds their opinion that “they have and are one essence (wesen) with God,”5 which, in Ruusbroec’s view, is impossible. This constructive retrieval, therefore, mobilizes various positions that result in upending and problematizing the epistemic claims of modernity’s autonomous subject both in terms of “mystical experience” and love. Both critiques will lead to constructive alternative visions that uphold strong relationality. Both Ruusbroec’s dynamic exemplarism that proposes creation’s inalienable union with God as eternally and indissolubly “in the image of the Son” and Marion’s phenomenological attention to the “ ‘saturated’ phenomenon” (i.e. phenomena that always exceed our conceptual grasp, not by a lack of intuitive givenness, but by their excess) portray the revelation of God’s divine love abundantly reflected in creation and the creaturely self. Both are in line with in the tradition of the imago dei, and the erotic similitude,6 in a heteronomous, asymmetrical relation to the Creator in His greater dissimilarity. And yet, there is an equally radical divergence in these two following accounts precisely in terms of what such a relational similitude entails. This regards specifically the natural human capacity for a relationship with God (order of creation) and subsequently, the redemption and full recovery of this natural capacity in the economy of salvation (order of grace). For Ruusbroec, the similitude between the human person and God mobilizes a strong reaffirmation of creaturely particularity, fostered specifically in terms of minne’s insatiable demands. He writes: “This minne that is God is common to us all and to each one in particular and (belongs) totally to those who love.”7 Ruusbroec’s soteriology and theology of sanctification and deification (overforminghe) maintains that our graced union with God is but a further intensification and unfolding of our natural relationality with God. Thus, deepening in the life of grace and glory is a movement that Ruusbroec affirms as rendering one more human, more particular in and through the createdness of the world. Consequently, Ruusbroec’s theological synthesis of minne and its strong thinking of relationality holds questions of personal identity to be the result of, and not the precondition of loving as relationally common to us all.

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For Marion, on the other hand, the similitude between God and creature affirms, in a highly apophatic manner, that the human person is ultimately unknowable and ungraspable.8 And precisely because of this foundational unknowability, Marion situates claims to human dignity precisely as a safeguard from more reductive analyses. These foundational moves reflect Marion’s larger project to affirm a more robust and radically pure sense of thinking the radical alterity of God. He maintains that “transcendence the concept will not take us far, nor truly ‘beyond’.”9 In phenomenological terms, transcendence is defined as that which surpasses intentional consciousness; yet, it is never apart from such consciousness. Hence, it inexorably remains dependent on human consciousness and is thus enclosed within an immanent frame. Instead, in calling on the aid of Cusanus’s docta ignorantia, Marion suggests that we consider the proper region for the possibility of God’s transcendence as beginning precisely where we as humans encounter barriers that cannot be transgressed – in other words, that which remains inescapably impossible for us. Since the infinity of God’s transcendence is precisely without condition and measureless it is upheld in terms of radical possibility. Marion calls it the “impossibility of impossibility, and therefore his possibility.”10 As a kataphatic statement unflinchingly maintaining God’s incomprehensibility, this affirmation of God thereby entails the impossibility of God’s phenomenalization. This impossibility “has meaning only for us, who alone are capable of experiencing the impossible.”11 Radical possibility thus endures for God, while for us as creatures, God remains the impossible phenomenon, since God, as God, cannot be intuited in space and time, nor conceived as such.

“Mystical experience” or loving knowledge The critique of the phenomenalization of God and its purported value surrounding the “possibility of mystical experience” as both “passive” and “immediate” receives a strong philosophical support from Marion. However, to be clear, in no way am I arguing against the richly prevalent, “experientially” felt dimensions generously attested to within mystical theological texts, and in particular, those of Ruusbroec. “Feeling” (ghevoelen)12 is unambiguously a multifaceted, central mode of reflection for Ruusbroec on the mystery of God’s grace.13 And yet, Ruusbroec’s ghevoelen, stemming from the primacy of our relationality to and natural desire for God and His grace, is certainly different from various modernist positions that upheld mystical experience in tandem with the “turn to the subject.” These later historical developments have contributed to theology’s frequent understanding of “mysticism” as extraneous to, and at times mutually suspicious toward the nature of revealed Christian faith because of its emphasis on the subjectivity of “religious” or “mystical experience” as somehow adding to the depositum fidei. Rather, I would like to suggest that Ruusbroec’s ghevoelen can be seen in the vernacular mystical theological tradition as a variation of the “traditional Scholastic notion of connatural, or sympathetic knowledge.”14 In modern

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theological terms, Pierre Rousselot termed this as “loving knowledge” (la connaissance amoureuse) in line with Gregory the Great’s own well-known saying amor ipse notitia est (“love itself is knowledge”).15 For Rousselot, such loving knowledge constitutes the entirety of the creature’s fundamentally dynamic relationship to God. A generation later these insights would be historically resourced by Henri de Lubac’s controversial Surnaturel and his account of St. Thomas’ desiderium naturale visionis beatificae. Rousselot writes that the “intelligence itself is the expression of a natural appetition. . . . [as] every affective habit define[s] a vision of love. . . . reason itself is nothing other than a pure love of Being.”16 He later adds:“Thus the rectitude of our intelligence, when it knows with certainty, comes entirely from that God has inspired it with a natural inclination to the First Truth, that is, to Himself insofar as He is the End of all spiritual beings. Because of the inclination intellection is natural to us, and when truth dawns on us, we experience pleasure.”17 Ruusbroec clearly and repeatedly refers to minne as a “loving knowledge,” as well as the enjoyment (ghebruken) of knowing that stems from its fundamental naturalness. Noteworthy in this regard, in his book The Twelve Beguines, Ruusbroec ends his treatment on contemplation (schouwen) with a long presentation of minne as “perfect[ing] a genuinely contemplative life”18 whereby “all the faculties of the soul answer and say to one another: ‘Let us love the fathomless love (grondelose minne) which has loved us eternally’.”19 In a similar vein, Ruusbroec in The Seven Enclosures further explains this dynamic orientation and persistent endurance between knowing and loving as equally and ontologically indicative of the inherent dissimilarity and relationality between Creator and creature.20 Marion’s apophatic thought and his views on the (im)possibility of God and His phenomenalization are not an assault on the “content” of Christian Revelation. Nor, for that matter, does he easily align himself with other postmodern deconstructionists, whereby appeals to the apophatic necessarily call into question the particularity of religious identity itself. Rather, Marion’s apophasis challenges the a priori conditions of experience itself and its anthropological basis as delimiting the excessive givenness of the knowable “object” and a reduction of its autarkic primacy.

Marion and the (im)possible For Marion, the “impossible” is both an important concept and rhetorical strategy employed in the “religious turn” in contemporary Continental thought and therefore deserves a brief summary.That is why, by way of shorthand, I refer to this concept as bracketed – the (im)possible.This refers to God’s radical transcendence and heteronymous dissimilarity: the (im)possibility of God for us. However, this radical negative certitude only announces the complete caesura between God and creature. The (im)possible possesses also an equally radical, kataphatic denomination for God: the “impossibility of impossibility.” Rhetorically, Marion makes use of this as another way of affirming the radical possibility of God, entailing that the possibility of God remains radically indifferent to

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impossibility as such. Therefore, while albeit radically apophatic, the two orders of transcendence and immanence nonetheless do converge. Such a convergence is precisely evidenced in the irrepressibly recurring question of God and the aporia of the impossible refusing to collapse in on itself. Here, we encounter Marion’s critique of claims of mystical “experience,” understood as the “immediate” and “passive” experience of God since they objectify and idolize what amounts to the radical alterity of God and His transcendence as (im)possible. Here, Marion clarifies that the terms themselves – “possibility” and “impossibility” – first and foremost “refer to experience,” namely to the a priori conditions of experience itself, what it permits and excludes – “therefore, to what may or may not appear and let itself be seen, the phenomenon.”21 Marion maintains that there is “no intuition at my disposal” of God that is “susceptible to be experienced within the parameters of space and time.”22 Hence, the immediate and passive experience of God, for Marion, is nothing other than an (im)possible phenomenon. Marion clarifies that this does not rest upon “any doctrinal preference nor on any arbitrary negativity”; rather, it emerges from the “simple possibility” of God and His impossibility for us.23 Here, the “most speculative theology agrees with the most unilateral atheism” Marion recalls: if the eternality and infinity of God is to be radically possible and not subject to finitude and its “impossibility,” “then there can never be any intuition of God.”24 It is precisely in view of these critiques of experience that we thus now turn to Jean-Luc Marion’s reading of St. Augustine in his work, Au lieu de Soi (2008) (English translation, In the Self’s Place, 2012). Marion has given various hints throughout the years that the Bishop of Hippo was never far from his thoughts. In principal, his Augustinian commentaries accelerate and further refine his attempt to obliterate any type of modern Cartesian autonomous subjectum, while positing a contrasting portrait of the gifted (l’adonné) creature’s endless erotic search for the “place” of the self in God.25 Marion’s principal avenue in approaching the Bishop of Hippo is seen in his attempt to think after the onto-theological critique of metaphysics (Heidegger) by way of a historical figure26 (Augustine), who – he argues – arrives decidedly before the distinction between theology and philosophy. Marion supports this by exemplifying the clear difficulty Augustine posed within early twentieth century debates on the question of Christian philosophy,27 namely that we do not know when Augustine is speaking as a philosopher or as a theologian (Gilson’s critique),28 or that Augustine insufficiently fails to distinguish grace from nature (Garrigou-Lagrange’s critique).29 Marion audaciously offers a range of historical sources and commentaries, and conceptually undercuts any approach of historical critique.Various philosophical and theological “mis-readings” attribute a fortiori a metaphysical distinction within Augustine himself. Moreover, according to Marion, Church historians often inadequately read his works. In particular, Marion has in mind the Confessions and the historian’s mistake of assigning it the “status of an autobiography, without worrying about the autos, the self of the question.”30 Instead, Marion argues that given the confessional structure

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(structurally as well as thematically) of Augustine’s famous work and its logic of praise or confessio, such a genre is not about anything in fact. It does not presuppose a stable reference point, but instead invites performative and participatory readings as confessional.31 Marion even strictly applies this hermeneutic standard of confessio in claiming that approaches that do not integrate such a primary “interpretative criterion” of Augustine and in particular, the confessio structure of the Confessiones, are “worth nothing.”32 Second, and more fundamentally, Marion’s approach opens onto the proper “aporia of Saint Augustine” as amounting to the question of access. What gives access, and furthermore, a privileged access, both to the illusiveness of Augustine himself? Moreover, how can one behold the ipseity of one’s own self? Marion’s thought oscillates between the utter facticity of my existence and its manifest distance that excludes any form of reified essence. Such distance opens onto what he calls as the gifted, “to the self ’s place” – the “distance where I see my self so to speak come upon me . . . as he who receives himself.”33 In Marion’s view, the fact that the self is fundamentally gifted, although never fully possessed, thus gives the self an erotic certainty that is far more original and primary, even to the point of destabilizing and upending the modern subject’s foundational identity, as seen in Descartes’ cogito and its unshakable, ontological certainty (certum est et inconcussum). Marion instead proclaims that the “cogito, sum is carried away toward the interior intimo meo.”34 Conversely, this in turn ushers forth Marion’s similar emphasis on love’s givenness as a univocal, unmediated sameness deployed under the figure of an infinite distance: “as I am (myself, ego) that which I seek (the self’s place), since I am what I love, it follows that I will never cease coming to the self’s place, to the degree that I bury myself in the incomprehensible into whose image I understand myself.”35 Here, the aporetic nature of Marion’s non-foundationalist self entails the necessity that “inversely, if I praise and therefore confess God as such, I also recognize myself as such, as creature that can truly neither speak to Him as coequal nor say anything whatsoever about him, but that admits him.”36 For Marion, the creature is dialectically viewed as the radical inverse of praise, which attests to the “incommensurability between God and myself.”37 And yet, as “one single linguistic act,” such an incommensurability sustains the access to the approach of God and its creaturely inverse as itself. Thus, it is the incommensurability that roots the infinite confessio. Hence, to praise God is not to attribute something to Him or about Him. Rather, it is motivated by the radical caesura and dissimilarity of its inverse. In other words, for Marion, we praise that which we are not.

Creation without nature Following the “confessional” approach to Augustine and, in particular, the Latin father’s depiction of interiority as precluding any form of enclosed, autonomous subjectivity – and hence, in no way foreshadowing the Cartesian self – Marion reads Augustine’s famous interior intimo meo as radically dislodging and alienating the self, rendering it both incommensurable and foreign. Marion

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speaks of the self ’s lack of autarkic “self-sufficiency,” pointing toward the nonpossessiveness of life. By a somewhat contorted and highly selective appeal to Augustine’s writings, Marion argues that creation is not to be confused with the “world” or “nature.” He regards it heuristically, speaking of it as an “infinite site”38 of heaven and earth that is opened up by the rhythm of the confessio: the givenness of its anterior call and response, of praise and privation, laudatio and peccatorum. In this sense, Marion argues that biblical creation is incommensurable with the Greek cosmos, just as creation for Augustine is almost never synonymous with the “world.”39 Marion thus presents an interesting alternative approach to Creation, different from the “inept, or rather in-apt, response,” as typified by creationism and its ontological question of causality that often obscures the point itself.40 In doing so, Marion first draws on the Heideggerian critique of biblical accounts of creation as failing to adequately address the primary metaphysical question: “Why is there something, in general, rather than nothing?” In a secondary move, Marion positions Augustine as inverting such a critique. Responding to Heidegger’s principal critique, Marion cites the famous ohne warum (“without a why”) from Angelus Silesius41 as itself evidence of an intrinsic theological hermeneutics of faith that blunts such a critique. Creation does not, Marion contends, “respond to the question why concerning the world.” Rather, in view of Augustine’s confessio, a view of the world as “created” is already the response itself.42 Marion suggests that there is a “liturgical ordering” of creation that stands prior to any ontology and that serves as the site, or place, of the confessio itself. Here, such a spiritualized creation is removed entirely of its ontological character, as an a posteriori of the liturgical itself. And by doing so, Marion evacuates any and all native dimensions of our intrinsic, natural desire for God. However, Marion affirms the “unshakable certainty” and universality of an intrinsic desire for life, beatitude and God, but holds that this is in no way a “natural desire itself.” According to Marion, if one were to conceive of a “naturalness” of creation as integrally endowed and set in relation to the Creator (and thereby considered prior to the order of salvation and its liturgical, doxological consummation), then the purely asymmetrical and the anterior givenness of such an intrinsically natural desire would compromise its “gratuitous purity.” Then, desire would be coloured more as a “demand” and thus would be drawn into a greater sense of economic mutuality, relationality and indebtedness between God and man. Instead, for Marion, the possibility of desire is precisely such that its object remains entirely impossible for the creature – God remains radically (im)possible. Although Marion is rigorously consistent in his “non-metaphysical” reading of Augustine, this nonetheless produces a curious schizophrenic split or doubling, seen for example when Marion inquires over the utter impossibility of thinking of a “place” (i.e. myself) as an “open place for God.”43 Hereby, the self is radically rejected as a locus capax dei. Instead, Marion argues that one’s similitudo resides on the panentheistic basis that “I take place in Him.”44 Indeed, in Marion’s account, there is fundamentally a lack of space for praise resident

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within the specificity of creation itself, and in the human in particular, as Marion denies the possibility of “opening for us a place to receive God.”45 Thus, we can understand why Marion’s strong accent upon asymmetry and purified transcendence thus render narratives such as the Annunciation and Mary as the Theotokos to be “difficult.”46 Indeed, Marion’s view removes any form of agency or cooperation on Mary’s part, obscuring her fiat. Furthermore, his view similarly removes from her – and thus also from the Church – her receptivity of the incarnational paradox that the Church praises: “With what praises to extol thee we know not, for He whom the heavens could not contain rested in thy bosom.”47 Hence, in obliterating the natural and any form of native inclining desire toward God, Marion situates the place of the self and the site of creation’s confessio not in itself, but always exceeding itself panentheistically in God. In short, we are given a heuristic picture of “creation” as that which comes after the fact of givenness itself. Therefore, Marion’s two-tier approach to grace and nature comes into full view as he denies any form of original orientation and reception to givenness itself. Creation here is both radically divorced from nature, while entirely submerged in God. Marion makes these same moves in a distinctly anthropological key, clarifying that it is on the basis of humanity’s similitudo as created in the image and likeness of God, that “Man is defined by the fact that he remains without definition.”48 This is entirely consistent with the dislodgement and de-centering of the self in Marion’s reading of the interior intimo meo such that the human is properly non-essentialist – as discarded by the “impracticable” designation as created in the image.49 Instead, the non-essential self is relationally seen by a “reference to another to himself, who more intimate to himself, occupies the essential place on loan to him.”50 Here, there is a dire bleakness in Marion’s description that is unavoidable. The human’s radical indebtedness and subsequent estrangement from the self is coupled with the insistence that it is the “privilege of man” to be without definition. We are given “access” to humanity’s privilege by the logic of the confession – herein emphasizing our similitudo to God’s incomprehensibility – such that the human similarly bears such incomprehensibility. However, the abiding paradox in Marion’s formulation – and subsequently, that which preserves distance from collapsing into pantheism – is precisely that which is on “loan to him.” The “privilege of man” as non-foundational, without definition and without essence, is at the same time that which displaces and alienates the self by way of dissolving one’s particularity. In summary, the pertinence of Marion’s truly significant philosophical contributions are precisely to be seen not only in how he restores a rigorous approach to transcendence in terms of (im)possibility. Furthermore, his rearticulation of a relational, non-foundationalist philosophical anthropology – the givenness of the self – which is inseparably tied to the question of love, may prove to be of enduring significance. He stands in the foreground as one of the principal players in having disquieted modern philosophy’s “silence on love,” while boldly rearticulating a univocal and universal take on the Augustinian theme of the “weight of love” (pondus amoris). For just as “there is no one of course who

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doesn’t love,”51 in Marion’s re-reading, the excessive givenness of love’s weight is that in terms of its fundamental givenness, it is completely devoid of personal volition.52 Instead, the emphasis on love’s givenness implies that in no way does it comes from the self, but always from “elsewhere.”53 Love “pushes, from the outset and forever behind me” as a weight that knows no impossibility in its “absolute and unconditioned transcenden[ce],”54 such that as “motion follows weight, like desire follows love, to the point that the loving drive of the desiring soul becomes the paradigm for movement, even in things.”55 Within Marion’s postmodern, de-Hellenized Augustinianism, the givenness and asymmetry of God’s infinite place is set over against our creaturely finitude such that it disables any form of economic mutuality and reciprocal return. Indeed, while Marion’s retrieval of the weight of love rearticulates love as a fundamental movement and inclination toward the other, as we have seen, this is in no sense a natural inclination and mutual reciprocity that in part emerges from within the self. In theological terms, the order of salvation is here depicted by being overwhelmed by the event of an undeniably violent grace that renders creation utterly feeble to respond to such givenness.This lack of active receptivity – at once epitomized by Mary – is a consequence of Marion’s distinctly antimetaphysical thinking, which infinitely seeks to distance the superabundant givenness of love from that of being itself and any form of natural opening or receptivity toward such an adventious gift. For Marion, love attests to that which is most intimate in one’s relation to God, as “I am what I love.”Yet, as a wholly erotic love, so too does it recognize my utter alienation from the impossibility of such a love. Such a portrait of love collapses the integrity of our creaturely lives, rendering ourselves imageless and unknowable, as love gives us ourselves to the degree that we abandon any likeness to ourselves,56 so that “I bury myself in the incomprehensible into whose image I understand myself.”57 Therefore, from a (mystical) theological stance, Marion’s account is highly constructive, yet insufficient on its own. For it is not only how we are to conceptually affirm the transcendence and greater dissimilarity of God as radically other. Instead, the mystical theological tradition of Ruusbroec precisely inquires, in an equally robust, immanently participative frame, how are we to morally receive and respond to, doxologically praise and ultimately love such a radically other God within history and its concrete particularity, amid our relations to God and others. In short, it is precisely a question of the enduring role of the economy of salvation, the appeal of the ethical and its mutual reciprocity of “exchange” or commercium as enabled by the asymmetrical priority of doxological givenness. For what is impossible for man, which, in theological terms is uniquely and most perfectly expressed in the Incarnation – “wherein God, remaining God, became man” – can at the same time be said to be likewise impossible without man. That is, in the Incarnation’s prolongation of the “whole Christ”58 (Christus totus) in its ecclesial and personally deified ends: “so that we might become God.” And this, a more robust and dynamic immanence, is continuously supported by Ruusbroec’s mystical anthropology of mutual indwelling, which likewise underlays the dynamism of minne itself.

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Ruusbroec – maintaining the erotic tension between “image” and “likeness” Strongly contrasting Marion’s thinking of relationality that leads to a dire estrangement, one crucial way to reflect on the difference in Ruusbroec’s anthropological approach is his insistence on maintaining the dynamic tension – without separation, without confusion – between both “image” and “likeness.” As creatures created in the Image of God and unto His Likeness, Ruusbroec’s mystical anthropology facilitates both an exemplarist and historical dynamic that likewise underpins and informs his reflections on minne itself. Time and again, the revelatory communication of God’s love (minne) – within the Trinity of Persons, gushing out, or “overflowing” (uutvloeyen) – within creation is depicted as a gratuitous gift of God’s self, which for Ruusbroec is met by a natural fundamental openness – or to use Ruusbroec’s terminology, creation’s inclining (neygen) – toward God. Creation itself, as well as our human nature bears out, in exemplarist terms, this natural union with God: We are all one life in God in our eternal image above our createdness. We are also one humanity, which God has created, and we are one human nature, on which God has impressed His image of threeness and which He has taken on out of love, so that with us He is God and man. This is something that all humans alike receive, both the bad and the good; for this is the nobility and greatness of our nature.59 Joined to the nobility of our common nature, as human persons, we are equally created unto His likeness. Within history and our diverse cultural contexts, for Ruusbroec, we are uniquely and individually created in terms of receiving such an Image, as well as responding (or not responding) virtuously, ethically, with charity, faith and hope – actions with which we uniquely “cleave” (aencleven) to such an Image. Moreover, this cleaving is nothing other than a question of redemption and the economy of salvation’s restoration of the original “image” that we all naturally possess. Hence, this dynamic unity of both the asymmetry and mutual reciprocity of God’s “common” love60 or “double minne”61 ultimately seeks to convey both the gratuitousness of God’s love for creation, while depicting the openness to respond to such love is itself fundamentally natural, as supported by Ruusbroec’s mystical anthropology of mutual indwelling. In this regard, the eternal dynamism of minne – as both gratuitous gift, yet nonetheless reciprocal, demanding and voracious (ghierighe) – is so because it fundamentally mirrors ourselves, both in the Image and unto His likeness. The dynamism of minne accords with who we are and our fundamental, creaturely inclining toward both God and others. In addition, since it is creaturely, we can speak of this dynamism of minne in terms of various modes (wise) of loving God and others: charity, or active love; affectionate love (liefde); voracious yearning (eros). As well, we can speak of such creaturely minne in terms of its various manners (maniere): gratuitous gift, reciprocal and mutual demands. These diverse modes

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and manners of minne are themselves indispensable, since the praxis of minne is, in part, creaturely. That is, by way of our fundamental union and relationality with God, humanity’s equally fundamental otherness (anderheit) to God and personal distinction (onderscheet) emerge in accord with the manner in which we live and bear out the likeness of such an Image. The critical importance of the unending praxis (oefeninghe) of minne’s distinct modes and manners reflects one of the fundamental convictions of Ruusbroec’s mystical theology: that deepening in our union with God and others accords with who we fundamentally are as creatures. Alternatively, as Frans Jozef van Beeck argues in specific reference to Ruusbroec’s thought, human integrity “turns out to be union with God, and this union turns out to be reunion.”62 And thus, by way of a creatio continua, the praxis of such minne – according to diverse modes and manners – renders us more distinctly particular as human persons, as “each is dedicated to God and cleaves to Him to a greater or lesser degree according to his hunger, thirst and craving after God.”63

Undergoing modeless enjoyment However, there is another mode of minne, that which is “supra-essential” (overweselijc) for us, while weselijc for God and is thus entirely the work of the Holy Spirit that is itself modeless – the contemplation (schouwen) or enjoyment (ghebruken) of God. And while minne’s contemplative enjoyment in, with and toward God is marked by a sense of continuity and mutuality within an anthropological view (i.e. “natural contemplation”), however, as a gift, it is an entirely gratuitous and uncrossable barrier, or in Ruusbroec’s terminology – “modeless” (wiseloes) that is itself transcendent and radically other. By Ruusbroec’s typical, proto-phenomenological acumen, we can more generally speak of the suddenness or eventlike character of joy that no action on our part can anticipate or mechanically bring about. In addition, it is with this in mind that Ruusbroec writes in Twelve Beguines that “mode cannot attain to modelessness.”64 Rather, they are “two things/That never shall be one/For they must remain distinct from each other.”65 Therefore, the fundamental question, once again, is to consider how these two distinct understandings of love – Ruusbroec’s minne and Marion’s saturated, erotic phenomenon – respond to this impossible border. What, for Marion remains (im)possible, for Ruusbroec remains equally “distinct from each other,” although the Brabantine quickly adds that “the one may not drive away the other.”66 Marion’s view is largely determined by his own Heideggerian genealogy of the history of modern metaphysics and its “perfect hegemony” – treating God as causa sui and the transcendentals as “establish[ing] God’s transcendence, but at the price of giving it a definition.”67 For Marion, this modern history narrates the height of conceptual idolatry. Ever since his early days, he has steadfastly affirmed the necessity to move away from such totalizing thought, which requires a radical and pure differentiation between that which is impossible and possible. For Ruusbroec, on the other hand, the threshold between

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modes and modeless minne is none other than abiding within the impossible demands of Christ’s love – impetuous, at times voracious and ultimately, an erotic impossibility wherein “there remain for us hunger and thirst and eternal lust to follow the One, to reach the One who is without measure; this is impossible for us. This is why we must . . . strive and always remain hungry and thirsty in our work.”68 In short, we can only begin to appreciate Ruusbroec’s reflections upon deification (overforminghe) or being “wrought” by the Holy Spirit and the modeless enjoyment of minne when we first recognize the utter impossibility from which such modelessness emerges. Not, as Marion would have it, as a pure differentiation and conceptual separation, yet that which Ruusbroec eloquently reflects on as the “exhaustion of minne” (uutminnen): And between unity with God and otherness that we ourselves are, there lives our eternal exhaustion in loving (uutminnen), in which our blessedness consists. For the Spirit of God demands of our spirit that we exhaust ourselves in love of Him. And our spirit wants to give itself over, and be one love with God. But exhaustion in love and otherness between us and God are eternal works that we cannot control. This is why we have to eternally remain created creatures in ourselves.We are to exhaust ourselves in love in the Holy Spirit, who has eternally loved us; and we shall exhaust ourselves in giving to our heavenly Father, who has created us in our beginning; and we are to exhaust ourselves in living in the eternal Wisdom of God, in which, without beginning, we are eternally imaged. And by means of these three points, we have a flowing out of ourselves and a flowing inwards into God, and a flowing-back into ourselves. And these works are always renewed without cease.69

Conclusion As it has been argued, “modelessness,” for Ruusbroec, can be spoken of in similar terms of Marion, namely, as an “impossible-possible,” or (im)possible. It is, like joy, inescapably tied to the gift of loving. No modes or practices can bring about such contemplative modelessness. For when the modelessness of contemplation loses its gift character and is seen as something that is possible for us, then it turns into “deception,” a false sense of modelessness – which Ruusbroec frequently counters in citing the errors of the Free Spirit.70 Here, amid this confusion (that fuses specific techniques, or modes, with that of modelessness), Ruusbroec sees the direct linkage with an autotheism and the loss of distinction between Creator and creature. So too joy is lost, amid such confusion.This false sense of modelessness – as a matter of technique and deemed as distinctly possible for us – Ruusbroec refers to in terms of a radical sense of negation or nothingness: “and they say that God is nothing; and that they themselves also are nothing”71 – a pure nothingness wherein distinction, difference and otherness collapse. “There is nothing saved nor damned, nothing active or inactive, nothing God nor creature, nothing good nor evil. See, here they have lost their

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created wesen, and they have become nothing . . . that God is nothing; and in that nothingness, you find everything.”72 Again, Ruusbroec’s fundamental critique here is not so much this radically apophatic language – a language that he himself similarly employs.73 Rather, his critique highlights how the absence of difference, distinction and ultimately otherness itself between God and creature are not only heterodox, yet they also denigrate human dignity, as relationally uphelded by his exemplarism, as seen in the Johannine Prologue: “All that is made, is living in God.”74 This is to say, the dynamism and the inseparability between the activity of modes and the gratuitousness of modelessness is continuously stressed by Ruusbroec and subsequently forms the critical test from which he assess the (il)legitimacy of such modeless contemplation. Decisive in this regard is whether such contemplation contributes to our moral life in Christ, our ever-growing “likeness” that subsequently affirms our greater particularity, distinction and otherness as human persons, or conversely, if such modeless contemplation detracts from such an active life, purportedly collapsing the difference in a bid of quietism. This relationship equally reflects minne’s dynamism as asymmetrical, yet mutually inseparable. Ruusbroec reflects on the (im)possible crossing of this border as undergoing a fundamental, modeless enjoyment, such that “This touching mediates between us and God; we cannot intervene. For we cannot know what this touch is in its ground, and what minne is in itself.”75 By stressing that we undergo God’s minne, Ruusbroec is implicitly clarifying the meaning of such a claim – in the tradition of Gregory the Great’s saying that amor ipse notitia est. The meaning is revealed not so much in terms of the immanent Trinity, but rather in terms of its economic sense – i.e. its meaning for us, and reflective of minne’s abiding, insatiable eros. As Ruusbroec explained that to “comprehend God in an incomprehensible manner” (gode begripen onbegripelijckerwijs),76 such that: Next, there follows the fourth point: by the touch of the Holy Spirit, we are altogether moved from within, and we receive an insatiable desire and a voracious lust that neither reason nor any creature can restrain or pacify. For the Spirit of God demands of our spirit that we give ourselves totally out of ourselves into God and that we entirely embrace and hold God in ourselves. For we cannot come out of ourselves into God, and lose our createdness; and so we must eternally remain other than God and a created creature. For no creature can become God, nor God a creature. We also cannot comprehend God in us, for He is greatness without measure. We can also neither attain nor overtake, for He is length without end, depth without bottom, height above all that He has created. But what is impossible to us, is possible to Him, for where our spirit and all our faculties fail in their work the Spirit of our Lord works above our faculties and above our works. And there we are wrought by the Spirit of our Lord, and we undergo His works above all our works; and in undergoing, we comprehend Him. In our works we always fail and cannot comprehend Him; and above our works, where He works and we undergo, we

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comprehend, in undergoing, above all our works. This is what it means to comprehend God in an incomprehensible manner, that is: undergoing and not comprehending.77 For Ruusbroec, the impossibility of minne’s demands are neither ruthless nor cruel, nor do they evidence an intolerable portrait of a domineering and unjustly insatiable, hegemonic God. Rather, while Ruusbroec leaves no doubt in reaffirming the fundamental ontological difference, he nevertheless pushes the limits of this analogical similitude by framing such difference in an explicitly erotic manner that is both mutual and common between Creator and creature. Hence, just as the ontological difference remains, whereby “no creature can become God, nor God a creature,” Ruusbroec characterizes this ontic border as a shared (im)possibility between God and the human person, from which arises his repeated stress on the erotics of minne. In this way, minne’s strong eros stems neither from an original lack, nor one of estrangement (as reflected in his exemplarism) yet is utterly excessive in its radical difference “that neither reason nor any creature can restrain or pacify.” Ruusbroec thus upholds a view of human integrity, moral striving and the perfection of our graced “works” in ever growing “likeness” neither in terms of mastery nor possession, yet as fundamentally erotic and thereby precisely in view of our continuing failure; that is, our “exhaustion of minne” (uutminnen) in reciprocating the glorious magnanimity of God’s self-gift by which God cannot but love us with Himself. The superabundance of God’s groundless minne is understood in clear Pauline terms as none other than the “charity of the Holy Spirit poured into our hearts” (Rom. 5:5). Hence, what remains utterly impossible for us to ever fully reciprocate is distinctly (im)possible for God. Precisely because of Ruusbroec’s anthropology of mutual indwelling and its innate, erotic tensions as a unity-in-difference, the transgression of God’s working “above” in no way mitigates nor minimalizes its overall character of continuing erotic failure. Instead, Ruusbroec situates the failures of minne’s exhaustion, our being “wrought” by the Spirit and “undergoing His works” within the procession of the Holy Spirit as both from the Father and the Son, as well as its return – in the Son – and toward the Father in the “bond of love” (bande van minne). Herein, this Trinitarian dynamism of procession and return, of preserving the difference by its continual transgression directly entails both a radical transcendence and equally radical immanence, both of which are impossible for the creature to comprehend. Such impossibility establishes the setting in which Ruusbroec situates our undergoing such modeless enjoyment and its incomprehensible comprehension. That is, we comprehend God’s radical immanence within us by way of our failure to know Him, which paradoxically spurs further the persistence of our hunger and desire for God. In terms of Ruusbroec’s minne, I would contend that this is what it means to lovingly comprehend God amid unknowing, namely in our failure to reciprocate love’s demands amid love’s continuing persistence in demanding more, as well as our craving for love itself. This persistence leaves us exhausted in ourselves, while inexhaustibly abiding in the Other.

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Notes 1 Ruusbroec, Little Book (1989), p. 117, ll. 119–120 (with slight modification). 2 Ibid., p. 115, ll. 90–91; 93 (with slight modification). 3 See Ruusbroec, Espousals (1988), p. 165, ll. a122-a124. 4 Ruusbroec, Little Book (1989), p. 115, ll. 91–92. 5 Ruusbroec, Temptations (1991), p. 293, ll. 207–210. 6 Or “unto His likeness,” as Ruusbroec distinctly translates Gn. 1:26. See Ruusbroec, Mirror (2001), p. 283, ll. 898–969. See also de Lubac (1988), pp. 29–30. 7 See Ruusbroec, Beguines 2b (2000), p. 215, ll. 662–664. 8 See Marion’s inaugural lecture at the University of Chicago (Marion 2005). 9 See Marion (2007), p. 17. 10 Ibid., p. 28. 11 Ibid. 12 On this point, it is necessary to state that ghevoelen is often misleadingly translated, although not always, as “experience” in some of the critical editions in the Opera Omnia series. 13 See Ruusbroec, Little Book (1989), p. 135, ll. 304–310, pp. 135–137, ll. 323–328. 14 Rousselot (1990), p. 16. 15 See generally, Rousselot (2001), pp. 223–234. See also Benedict XVI, Francis, Lumen fidei, § 27: If love needs truth, truth also needs love. Love and truth are inseparable.Without love, truth becomes cold, impersonal and oppressive for people’s day-to-day lives. The truth we seek, the truth that gives meaning to our journey through life, enlightens us whenever we are touched by love. One who loves realizes that love is an experience of truth, that it opens our eyes to see reality in a new way, in union with the beloved. In this sense, Saint Gregory the Great could write that “amor ipse notitia est,” love is itself a kind of knowledge possessed of its own logic. It is a relational way of viewing the world, which then becomes a form of shared knowledge, vision through the eyes of another and a shared vision of all that exists. William of Saint-Thierry, in the Middle Ages, follows this tradition when he comments on the verse of the Song of Songs where the lover says to the beloved, “Your eyes are doves” (Sg.  1:15). The two eyes, says William, are faith-filled reason and love, which then become one in rising to the contemplation of God, when our understanding becomes “an understanding of enlightened love.” 16 Rousselot (1990), p. 52. 17 Ibid., p. 54. 18 Ruusbroec, Beguines I (2000), p. 55, ll. 542–543. 19 Ibid., p. 57, ll. 560–562. 20 See, e.g., Ruusbroec, Enclosures (1981), p. 175, ll. 700–712. 21 Marion (2007), pp. 20–21. 22 Ibid., p. 21. 23 Ibid. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid., p. 312. 26 See also Marion’s earlier essay on Thomas Aquinas and onto-theology (Marion 2003). 27 In this regard, see Marion (1990). 28 See Marion (2012), p. 8. 29 Ibid., p. 6. 30 Ibid., p. 12. 31 See Howells (2011). 32 Marion (2012), p. 36. 33 Ibid., p. 98. 34 Ibid. 35 Ibid. 36 Ibid., p. 16.

104  Patrick Ryan Cooper 37 Ibid. 38 Ibid., p. 230. 39 Ibid. 40 Ibid., p. 232. 41 Such as we see in Angelus Silesius’ famous epigram, “Ohne warum,” Angelus Silesius, Wanderer (1960), p. 57. See also Marion (2012), p. 233. 42 Ibid., pp. 233–234. 43 Ibid., p. 238. 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid., p. 239. 46 See e.g. Marion (2007), p. 34. 47 See, “Matins, First Lesson,” in the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary (1952 edition). 48 Marion (2012), p. 254. 49 Ibid., p. 255. 50 Ibid., pp. 254–255 (my emphasis). 51 Cf. Hill (1990), p. 166 (Augustine, Sermo 24). 52 Rather, love’s distinctly moral and ethical character, which admittedly is not Marion’s primary concern, is rather framed in terms of location (i.e. Augustine’s two cities): “At best, he can direct it” in either its theocentric or anthropocentric orientation. 53 Marion (2012), p. 83. 54 Ibid., p. 274. 55 Ibid., p. 267. 56 See ibid., p. 256: “man bears the image of God to the degree that he abandons any likeness to himself.” 57 Ibid., p. 312. 58 In this regard, I am highly indebted to Mersch (1938). 59 Ruusbroec, Beguines I (2000), p. 73, ll. 733–739. 60 See Ruusbroec, Beguines IIb (2000), p. 215, ll. 662–664. 61 See Ruusbroec, Tabernacle 4 (2006), p. 511, ll. 1706–1709. 62 See van Beeck (1993–2001), II/I, §90, 3, p. 251. 63 See Ruusbroec, Enclosures (1981), p. 175, ll. 711–712. 64 Ruusbroec, Beguines I (2000), p. 27, ll. 247. 65 Ibid., p. 27, ll. 248–250. 66 Ibid., p. 27, ll. 250–251. 67 Marion (2007), p. 18. 68 Ruusbroec, Beguines I (2000), p. 79, ll. 797–800. 69 Ruusbroec, Beguines IIa (2000), pp. 135–137, ll. 517–530. 70 Ruusbroec, Beguines I (2000), p. 29, ll. 262–264. 71 Ruusbroec, Beguines IIa (2000), p. 115, ll. 296–297, with slight modification. 72 Ibid., p. 115, ll. 297–299, 308. 73 See Faesen (2005). 74 See Jn. 1:3–4. 75 Ruusbroec, Beguines I (2000), pp. 77–79, ll. 790–793. 76 Ibid., p. 77, ll. 781–782. 77 Ibid., pp. 75–77, ll. 762–782.

7 Jan van Leeuwen’s mystical anthropology A testimony of lay mysticism from medieval Brabant Satoshi Kikuchi Jan van Leeuwen († 1378) is the author of more than twenty mystical treatises in Middle Dutch that he composed while serving the priory of Groenendaal near the city of Brussels as a lay brother.1 Considering his self-proclaimed illiteracy before entering the priory at a mature age, and his busy engagements in the support for the material life of the community, the quantity of his writings is surprisingly large.2 In fact, he wrote twice the number of works left to us by his confessor John of Ruusbroec (1293–1381), generally acknowledged to be the most prominent mystical author in the medieval Low Countries. Not only was the lay brother a productive author, he was also appreciated throughout the late Middle Ages in the surroundings of Groenendaal. Dates of manuscripts that contain Jan’s works suggest that some of his writings might have been edited as early as 1355 in the midst of his active period as author.3 The fact that the edition of his complete works was made only a few decades after his death also attests to the significant esteem in which his works were held by medieval readers.4 Apart from his well-known criticism of the German Dominican Meister Eckhart (ca. 1260–1328), however, his works have attracted little attention from modern readers of mystical literature.5 This situation stands in clear contrast to the works of Ruusbroec and the presumably thirteenth-century Brabantine female mystic Hadewijch, which enjoy increasing readership today.The humble position that Jan van Leeuwen’s writings currently assume is perhaps – at least partly – due to his stylistic weaknesses as well as his unsophisticated theological argumentation, which might discourage scholars from investigating his doctrines and making them known to a larger audience.6 It might also be because he has been regarded merely as a derivative follower of Ruusbroec.7 Considering common terminology and ideas, scholars have suggested the plausibility of Jan van Leeuwen’s having learned theology from Ruusbroec.8 The lay brother does not hide his fanatic admiration for his “dear glorious confessor” from whom he alleges to learn more good things than he could do from all the others who had ever lived on earth.9 Scrutiny of his texts, however, reveals not a few original doctrines that deserve our attention. In some respects, his mystical-theological thinking appears distinct from Ruusbroec’s, especially regarding his strong emphasis on penitence,

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desertedness and Christ’s passion. Moreover, Jan van Leeuwen’s writings provides a remarkable testimony of lay mysticism – expressed not by members of the clergy and not even by monks or nuns in the religious orders present in the closest vicinity of Ruusbroec. In other words, such similarities to as well as differences from Ruusbroec demonstrate a unique phase of spirituality in the medieval Low Countries as a connection between the climax of Middle Dutch mysticism and popular devotion. This contribution, thus, intends to explore Jan van Leeuwen’s particular mystical theology in view of his position toward Ruusbroec, and in its historical context. In keeping with the general theme of this volume, we will focus on his mystical-anthropological thoughts. First, we investigate Jan’s mystical anthropology by tracing the spiritual growth of the human person that he describes in different writings. Second, we explore his Christology pertaining to his mystical anthropology in which his distinct position is most clearly shown. In note, since no complete edition of his oeuvres has yet been published, this contribution can provide a study only on texts currently available in different sources.10 While acknowledging this limitation, our contribution attempts to stimulate to the greatest possible extent readers’ interest in this Middle Dutch author. All of the translations of quotations from Jan van Leeuwen are my own.11

Spiritual growth according to Jan van Leeuwen Like Ruusbroec, Jan van Leeuwen recognizes the traditional division of modes – often three modes – in the Christian life: the virtuous life, the spiritual life and the divine life.12 In his treatises, such a division is mentioned with various names, for instance, “an external virtuous life,” “an interior spiritual life” and “a divine life”13; “a common preceding life which is necessarily virtuous,” “an inner spiritual life” and “the life imitating Christ according both to divinity and humanity.”14 Although each of these modes is not always explained systematically, in the way Ruusbroec usually does, a narrative of an ascending path toward the perfection of the human person can be reconstructed from his descriptions. The virtuous life – purification from sin

For Jan van Leeuwen, the practice of virtues is intended to purify oneself from sin as a necessary first step to beginning spiritual growth. In this regard, Axters and Delteijk regard Jan’s understanding of the virtuous life as being “negative” in comparison to Ruusbroec, for whom the practice of virtues is considered as a higher mode of union with God.15 The lay brother’s stronger emphasis on penitence might suggest indeed a pessimistic view on the natural condition of the human being, yet his firm conviction in God’s salvation which is at work in this point should not be overlooked, as is seen in the following quote: For this is surely a foundation, and also a true beginning of all interior heavenly meals, that is, that one acts freely and willingly for the honor and

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the praise of God in such a way that he never wants to commit sin. Then for the first time this person becomes a true member and a faithful servant of God and of the Holy Church, truly, when he hopes, believes, and trusts without doubt that God has forgiven and relieved him, freely, from all his sins through His groundless mercy.16 Jan van Leeuwen’s understanding of penitence aims to teach awareness of God’s “groundless mercy” and His will for the forgiveness of people from all sins. It is vitally important and necessary to recognize thoroughly the smallness and sinfulness of oneself, so that one may know that the one has nothing good that can save oneself without God’s grace beyond the natural inclination to sin.17 This contribution will clarify later that the union with God’s salvific intension is a coherent theme throughout Jan’s mystical thought. Historically, the previous statement above may also be read as a critical response to the heterodox doctrines dominant in his time, which are often ascribed to the heretics of the Free Spirit and the heretical group of Beguines among lay people.18 This contribution will show also that the impeachment of false mystical doctrines was central to his thought. As for the understanding of penitence, some of these doctrines claim that a perfect person who is united with God commits no sin, and that such a person does not need the help of God and the Church.19 In contrast, Jan van Leeuwen says in this quote that the one who “never wants to commit sin” can become a true member of the Church. For the lay brother of Groenendaal, such a sinless state has to be chosen with the free will and responsibility by the human person as the condition for “beginning” on the path of perfection, and this has to be sustained unceasingly as the “foundation” of the Christian life. The spiritual life – the highest contemplation

In the intermediary stage of the mystical life, which Jan often calls “the inner spiritual life,” the human person is supposed to be interiorly oriented to God. It is noteworthy that the author includes the highest contemplation in this second stage. Paradoxically, given the entire mystical path, the highest mode is located on the way to real perfection.20 The author describes this mode as follows: For a busy unstable person can never come to the true wisdom, or to the clear divine discernment, unless he ceases first from all activities before the naked, simple, essential, clear, and in-drawing face of God without means. There, this person can stably contemplate, perceive, and receive all truth of God in the highest part of his spirit without labor. There, what cannot be brought forth in reason, that one receives and understands above reason in an instructive way.21 As a necessary condition for attaining contemplation, one must arrive at the full repose from all works in the face-to-face relation with God in this life. In this

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regard, Jan van Leeuwen demonstrates an audacious understanding of divine experience, going further than St. Paul’s statement that it is in eternity that we will see the face of God (1 Cor. 13:12). His description about the repose in the simple nakedness above reason sounds akin to that of his adversaries, Eckhart and the Free Spirits, whom Jan believes claim “a simple nakedness beyond reason and without reason and also without any works and without any practices.”22 However, Jan van Leeuwen does not speak about the abolition of human reason and the practice of the virtues, but about their limitations for achieving union with God. Such union, according to him, is only possible through “love,” while “reason” (or intellect) stands outside.23 Therefore, Jan specifies “love” neither exclusively as a human faculty, nor merely as a gift from God. Precisely because it is mutual, God and the human person can be one in this love.24 She [common love] purifies the conscience and strengthens the soul. She opens the heart and gives to him the wisdom which distinguishes evil from good. She enlightens our reasonable intellect with her clarity. She adorns our spirit with full wisdom, and unites us with God beyond all this. In truth, without means this love elevates our spirit to herself, where she keeps herself essentially at the highest tranquility of God before our superessence, for God’s essence is unknown-ness and superessence for all created spirits.25 In this quote the author speaks about “common love” (ghemeyn caritate) which transforms the human soul until the soul comes to the essence of God. Why is this “love” said to be “common”?26 It may be because, as suggested in the quote, love is common and mutual between God and the human person. Considering other cases where the term “common” is employed in Jan’s writings, it may also be because love gives herself totally and equally to all people.27 Again, we can discern his soteriological concern that salvation must be given to all regardless of whether they are good or evil, innocent or sinful, religious or lay, etc. It is also remarkable that in this quote Jan van Leeuwen uses the typical Ruusbroecian term “superessence” (overwesen) to highlight the transcendence of God’s essence over creatures.28 By this neologism, which enables them to verbalize simultaneously both distinction as well as relatedness between God and creatures in terms of essence (wesen), Groenendaal mystics respond critically to the mystical heretics who claim the sheer identification of their created essence with God’s essence.29 On this point, however, the lay brother is not always one spirit with his confessor in his claim that there can be neither “otherness” nor “distinction” between God and human insofar as both are in the “naked love or the high hidden simplicity”: What takes form beyond all otherness and distinction between us and God is nothing but naked love or high hidden simplicity. Where we transcend ourselves in the abyssal single oneness of God, there no one is obedient

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other than to God, [that is, to] all simplicity. For the one who is obedient to the highest single oneness of God’s simplicity, and shall perceive such a simplicity, on this point this person must celebrate and cease from all other works [than being obedient to God’s simplicity and perceiving it] which one may do or work in heaven and on earth both from without and within. And he must follow [such implicity] alone, and pass away to himself through all the fathomed clarity until he comes in the highest tranquility of God. For above there, there is no motion, no provision, no distinction, and no otherness between us and God.30 While admitting the possibility for the human person to be united with God without “distinction” (onderscheet), Ruusbroec says nowhere that one can be so also without “otherness” (anderheit).31 For Ruusbroec, in such a mode of union, one does lose “distinction” from God with respect to the enjoyment in love, yet the “otherness” remains as necessary for a loving relation of two partners.32 Considering his unelaborated theological argument, a possible explanation for Jan van Leeuwen’s bold language here is that he was simply little attentive to the conceptual difference between “otherness” and “distinction” which his confessor was careful to maintain. Another explanation is that Jan stresses more the aspect of oneness between God and human in “common love” than Ruusbroec did, given that the former says in another place: “For love as love wants to make no distinction, but she wants all otherness to pass away and give up, and to be one with the one who she loves.”33 The background of such a oneness-oriented understanding of love between God and human can be clarified in the description about the next – and final – stage of spiritual growth. The divine life – the integration of all modes, and the return to the desertedness

Although contemplation was said to be the highest mode, Jan van Leeuwen places in the final stage the integration of the practice of virtues and the contemplation, which is exemplified in the life of St. Paul,34 and ultimately in the life of Christ. Jan says: “However, contemplation and action both together, that is the best, because that was the life of Christ and that of those who followed Christ according to the highest perfection.”35 This understanding corresponds to that of Ruusbroec who finds also Christ as the exemplar of the integrated life, what he calls “the common life” (het gemene leven).36 On this point, the lay brother writes in the same spirit as his confessor against the antinomianism of mystical heretics who claim that the perfect person who has reached union with God does not need the practice of virtues anymore, and goes even beyond Christ.37 As for the distinct position of Jan van Leeuwen, what is remarkable is that at the highest mode of mystical life, he describes what McGinn has called “mystical dereliction,”38 that is, the desolation in being deserted by God the Father.

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Jan sees the completion of spiritual growth in the return to the dereliction in the smallness of oneself: If you want to become a pious holy person, then train yourself day and night humbly in that noble suffering and in the open wound of our Lord Jesus Christ. For through the humanity of Christ we have to come to the divinity and have to reach the highest height of God. And when the highest height of God, which is the divine source of God’s Trinity was and is shown and revealed to us, behold, then shortly afterwards and even at the same moment, these people are deserted again to the smallness of themselves. And furthermore they become a thousand times, yes, a hundred thousand times worthier and also nobler for our Lord Jesus Christ, God and man, living in all the holy practice of virtues and of good works, both from without and from within, than they ever did before.39 At the end of the mystical journey, which begins from the penitence of one’s sinfulness, and goes through both the humanity and the divinity, the human person returns to the primordial desolation, for that is the likeness to the passion of Christ.40 Why then does Jan van Leeuwen recognize the climax of the union between divinity and humanity, as well as the sublime revelation of the integrated life, not just in the whole life of Christ, but precisely in His crucifixion? Jan says: And it has to be understood that we will be able to be so poor and so miserable, [so] abandoned [that we cannot even] desire the lowest portion of all the consolation, as Christ was when He was abandoned from His Father in death on the cross, and yet nothing was replacing nor replaced in His divinity . . . thus we shall receive, give, and take all the spiritual gifts with the same richness with which God gives all heaven and earth. Behold, if we can be thus poor and rich without preference, both together at once, that is the heritage and the loan of the highest love, in such a way that you shall never hear. With this, we shall attain this topmost divine state.41 For the lay brother, the goal of spiritual growth is thus not a kind of indulgence in the intimate relation with the giver of consolation, but rather the oneness with “the highest love” which Christ demonstrated precisely at the moment of the greatest desolation when He dedicated Himself totally to the will of the Father. This love is what Jan van Leeuwen calls “groundless mercy” (see the quote on pp. 106–107), or “common love” (see the quote on p. 108), which are ready for the redemption of all human beings. The one who suffers “day and night” in the penitence on his or her sinful creaturely state meets this love in oneself. At this stage, the desolation (or the poverty) at the earlier stage of penitence is t­ransformed into the desolation in the richness of Christ’s suffering, while remaining in this person as the “foundation” (see the quote on pp. 106– 107). This desertedness is now not only that of someone who is desperate for

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one’s own salvation but also that of the Savior Himself who is abandoned, from love and compassion, for the sake of all those in need of salvation. Love, which one was eager to receive from outside is now fully interiorized in this person, so that love comes out from this person by herself toward people, as is said in the previous quote: “all the holy practices of virtues and of good works” are spontaneously flowing “both from without and from within”; and in the present quote: “thus we shall receive, give, and take all the spiritual gifts with the same richness with which God gives all heaven and earth.”This may also be the reason that Jan van Leeuwen acknowledges neither “distinction” nor “otherness” within the loving union, for in this love God and the human person not only love each other mutually but also both are in one work of loving others.

Christology in Jan van Leeuwen’s mystical anthropology Now that we have seen Jan van Leeuwen’s consideration of Christ’s passion as the highest exemplar of the mystical life, we shall look at his particular Christology pertaining to his mystical anthropology. In his thinking, as Delteijk suggests, devotion to Christ – especially to His humanity and passion – comes more to the foreground than does speculation on the Trinity.42 The mystical life of the human person is understood as a dynamic process of increasing likeness to Christ, rather than to the likeness of the Trinity. This feature differentiates the lay brother’s position from that of his confessor, and testifies to a transition from highly speculative mysticism to popular folk spirituality in which devotion to Christ becomes more central. In the following section, we pick up three doctrines that exhibit the lay brother’s particular Christology. The sonship of Christ and Christians

When Jan van Leeuwen criticizes a heretical doctrine in which one claims to be “one son of God” – this is clearly related to a number of Eckhart’s condemned statements43 – the lay brother exhibits his particular understanding regarding Christ’s sonship: But they are all together now and in all time praiseworthy and blessed, all who feel and taste both proofs [proofs of being one son by nature and being many sons by grace] together in themselves, and (who) feel how we shall be, there and also here, one simple son of the glory of God in Christ, and moreover (we shall be) many sons of grace by Christ and alongside Christ. And by means of Christ’s holy death and His merits we are all consecrated and blessed. For Jesus Christ, my Lord and my God, He is Himself a son of grace and also one Son of the glory of His Father. For Christ is Himself glory and also eternal joy in the divinity. Nevertheless, He shall always remain as a son of grace, as a creature, created according to the lowest part of His humanity and [at the same time] uncreated in the divinity.44

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The author affirms here that all Christians have to be “one son of the glory of God.” From an ecclesiological perspective, he understands this state of “being one son” not as an identification between Christ and the individual human person, as the heretics claim,45 but that all Christians are one in Christ, the only-begotten Son of the Father. This unity of Christians is the fundamental condition for their diversity and multiplicity, that is, the “many sons.” Despite this diversity, people can all be saved insofar as they are members of the Church. This idea corresponds to Augustine – whose name Jan van Leeuwen mentions several times in his writings46 – who used expressions such as “one Son” (unus Filius), “one man” (unus homo), “one Christ” (unus Christus), to describe Christians’ participation in the sonship of Christ, the head of the Church.47 However, in the next quote from the same treatise, Jan further claims that “being one only son” makes the human being neither holy nor blessed, but it is a natural condition given to all Christians as the foundation for becoming “many sons of grace”: Behold, and I have proved in this way to you how we shall be one only son of the glory of God beyond ourselves, indeed, the same Son of God as Christ is, one only son by nature. And moreover, we shall be also many sons by grace through Christ. Because, if we were not one only son by nature, eternally provided by God, we would not indeed become sons by grace through Christ. Nevertheless, you shall know further that this eternal unchangeable providence of God’s eternal choice, [namely] our being sons by nature, does not make us holy nor blessed, unless we choose again to love God and observe all His legal commandments until death.48 The lay brother says that everyone is, insofar as he or she is Christian, “the only son” of God by nature. However, when they choose “again to love God and observe his commandments,” they are many “sons by grace through Christ.” In this crucial point of Christology, Jan van Leeuwen’s understanding of the sonship differs from Ruusbroec’s, who does not admit the natural givenness of sonship for human beings.49 According to the latter, natural sonship can refer only to Christ as the only-begotten Son in the Trinity, since this “natural” refers to His divine nature. Augustine says, too:“He is unique, we are many. He is One, we are one in Him. He is born, we are adopted. He is begotten by nature from eternity, we are made by grace in time.”50 In this regard, Jan van Leeuwen seems to presume to say something that is not formulated in traditional doctrine. For him, this doctrine was intended to maintain the sheer equality between Christ and Christians on the level of sonship, rather than to emphasize the absolute distinction between Christ and Christians. The “birth of God” doctrine

Another Christological debate can be seen in his understanding of the “birth of God” doctrine (often known as Gottesgeburt in der Seele in German), which

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is a traditional doctrine in early and medieval Christian thought that expresses the spiritual birth of Christ in the soul of believers.51 This doctrine can be understood as a set of expressions – rather than an established doctrine – which associate the two kinds of birth, that is, the birth of Christ from the Virgin Mary and the eternal birth of the Son from God the Father in the Trinity.These expressions are typically seen in late-medieval Germanic mysticism, especially in Eckhart,52 Johannes Tauler (ca. 1300–1361),53 and (though to a lesser extent) in Ruusbroec.54 Jan van Leeuwen can be added to this Germanic tradition. What is particular for the lay brother is that in him, unlike Eckhart, the “birth” doctrine does not develop into the discourse of the transformation of the soul into the Son Himself.55 Neither does he say, unlike Ruusbroec, that the birth of the Son in the human soul takes place specifically when she contemplates the eternal birth of the Son in the Trinity as a reflection in herself as a mirror.56 Rather, Jan van Leeuwen says that the birth takes place in the person who “knows in him that he desires to be the lowest and the highest as well as the most common, in truth, to have nothing for his own or proper to himself in all the earth.”57 The Son is born in the human person who has gone through the lowest (active) as well as the highest (contemplative) modes of life, and has come to the “most common” (alre ghemeynste) state, that is, the abandonment of all that belongs to oneself for the sake of others. As seen previously, such an integrated mode of life is modeled after the life of Christ. Thus, through the motif of the birth of the Son in the human soul, the lay brother attempts to express the moment of the interiorization of the exemplar, which is beyond mere imitation of the exemplar that exists extrinsically, while he also rejects the transformation of the human person into the exemplar itself. Behold, and this is the true heavenly pilgrimage to Rome which dismisses all sins without labor. Nevertheless this gives the greatest reward because one goes and can go with spirit at every moment to the heavenly most hidden city of the essential gracefulness of God. And there the Son of God, Christ, is born for us in the divinity always anew in the highest part of our spirit, or in the essence of our soul. And therefore this is called the city of the gracefulness of God, for there all sins are forgiven for us and also all grace appears through Christ’s holy innermost.58 When one completes “the heavenly pilgrimage to Rome,” namely spiritual growth, the Son of God is born in the soul of the human person. Such an interiorization of Christ is expressed most typically in Jan’s doctrine of “the innermost of Christ” (het binnenste christi), as expressed at the end of this quote. The innermost of Christ

“The innermost of Christ” is a frequent and central concept in Jan van Leeuwen’s mystical anthropology, which is, by contrast, almost entirely absent from Ruusbroec’s writings.59 The lay brother says that each human person can attain

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the divinity through this “innermost of Christ,” “interiorly.” However, what precisely is “the innermost of Christ?” Although the author does not give a clear definition of this concept, it seems to be a particular sensitivity that one has to possess to understand the pain and suffering of Christ.When he criticizes Eckhart, Jan van Leeuwen at one point identifies the cause of Eckhart’s erroneous doctrine as the lack of this “innermost of Christ,” so that the German Dominican could see only “the pure, bare and simple oneness”: Behold, if Eckhart had felt some of this innermost of Christ in him in true imitation, so that he pursued the humanity of our Lord with His divinity together, if it were the size of a mustard seed, then Eckhart would have kept all his doctrine well with discernment; however he did not have it. This man was completely turned to the pure, bare and simple oneness.60 “The innermost of Christ” is considered the key to experience the (soteriological) meaning of Christ’s humanity, and therefore His divinity as well.61 When the human person seeks exclusively for the divinity,“the innermost of Christ” is not present to this person. Moreover, where this is not present, the divine mystery is not revealed. In other words, the “innermost” is the clue to interiorize Christ’s passion in oneself. Without this “innermost,” any intellectual, laborious or habitual attempt of recollecting His pain and suffering has no sense.62 For you will know that Christ still feels and has His bodily pain and His death from within toward us, as He did then when He wandered on earth. However, how it is that no one can know nor feel truly in the spirit, unless one is, totally with the wholeness of himself, demanded to come and drawn to the oneness through the innermost of our Lord Jesus Christ.63 It is, therefore, natural for the lay brother to conclude that this “innermost of Christ” enables one to attain the highest divinity, regardless of the external conditions of one’s life, such as one’s level of education or whether one is lay or religious. Precisely on this point, Jan van Leeuwen finds that the possibility of reaching the mastership of divine knowledge is open to lay people like himself: There every person, regardless of whether he is lay or unlearned, is a perfect master in the divinity, because there he receives all the truth without means before the face of God, and can present it in true discernment in an equal manner than many thousands of saints [of theology] have done before. Those lay people were, like myself, poor sinful servants of God, and never learned or understood letters in a scholarly way with distinction between A and B, like St. Peter and his brother St. Andrew who both let themselves be crucified on the cross in love of our Lord Jesus Christ, and also like the other apostles commonly who had learned no book of theology ever before and after. Then, where did they learn their divine knowledge? One can ask this. In truth, that is in Christ’s holy divine innermost.

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There every person who attains Christ’s innermost with spirit is made a master of theology. Indeed, one cannot find Christ’s innermost only by [reading] letters or mere writings, even if he understood all books on earth, with all sorts of discernment that one can speak about only according to reason from below upwards. For the loving faith which makes us good and holy and favorable to God, that comes to us in the soul from above downwards, through the innermost of Christ, born out of God. . . . Therefore I say, if we want to come in Christ’s innermost through His innermost in His innermost without means, then we must penetrate all scriptures and all multiplicity, and pass away to ourselves until [we reach] the fatherly face of God. There we receive all true wisdom with spirit. Where the heavenly Father speaks His eternal Word in us, there all things are uncovered to us according to a simple manner, naked and open.64

Conclusion Jan van Leeuwen’s particular mystical theology – characterized by an emphasis on penitence, desertedness and the interiorization of Christ – attests to a unique phase in the history of the spirituality in the medieval Low Countries. His position was significantly formed in his combat with the heretical mysticism that was increasing in Northern Europe. He was critical against those who believe that it is holier to be obedient only to God than to obey superiors in religious orders or the Church community.65 By rejecting such an indulgence in the one-to-one relationship with God as a false form of religiosity, he distinguished his alleged orthodoxy from the heretics. If Warnar’s hypothesis is factual that the lay brother might have been involved with some heretical groups before his “conversion” to Groenendaal,66 his harsh attitude against them can be explained by his need to cut his ties with them definitively and publicly.Yet, his intention was by no means to disapprove of the mysticism of the laity, but, on the contrary, to open up the possibility of the highest experience of union with God for ordinary lay people – those who are not clergy or monks or nuns in religious orders, and even not learned theologians. In order to achieve this goal, he promoted the interiorization of the intermediaries between God and the human person – Christ and the Church – although not excluding their exterior institutional meaningfulness, as he summarizes: “However, I mean not only that we should be obedient members of the Holy Church until death in the exterior and physical sense, but [also] that we must be following, obedient, interior members of the only Holy Church of our Lord Jesus Christ in the spirit from within.”67 His confessor Ruusbroec also did not limit the possibility of mysticism only to religious.Yet, by being lay and unlearned, Jan van Leeuwen was presumably closer to ordinary people, and apparently his teachings had a particular impact on them.68 In this point, we can reconsider him as one of the important figures who set the stage for a next phase of the spiritual tradition in the Low Countries marked by the semi-religious devotional movements, such as the Brothers and Sisters of Common Life and the Modern Devotion.69

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Notes 1 A detailed biography is provided in Axters (1943), pp. xix–xxxiii. 2 Jan van Leeuwen is said to have entered a Groenendaal priory in 1344, when he had already been “a person with years of experience” (see ibid., pp. xx–xxi), and about eight years later he composed his first treatise (for the date of his works, see ibid., pp. lv–lviii). Several times in his texts Jan testifies to his illiteracy before joining Groenendaal (e.g. see the quotation below from Vanden drien coninghen, on pp. 114–115). 3 See Geirnaert & Reynaert (1993), p. 193. 4 See ibid., pp. 192–193. Desplenter and Vandemeulebroucke point out that Jan van Leeuwen was one of the four Middle Dutch authors alongside Hadewijch, Ruusbroec and Willem van Hildegaersberch († ca. 1409) whose opera omnia edition was made in contemporaneous manuscripts. See Desplenter & Vandemeulebroucke (2016). I thank Eva Vandemeulebroucke (Ghent University) for providing me with access to the draft version of their article. 5 Studies on Jan van Leeuwen’s criticism of Eckhart include De Vooys (1905), Kok (1973), Ubbink (1978), esp. pp. 225–234; Épiney-Burgard (1984), Kikuchi (2012b). 6 Such weakness has been suggested by many scholars including Axters (1943), p. lxiii; Kok (1973), p. 137; Reynaert (2005). 7 Axters argues that in comparison to Jan van Schoonhoven (ca.1336–1432), another disciple of Ruusbroec’s in Groenendaal, the spirit of Ruusbroec is transmitted more to the lay brother. Meanwhile, Desplenter mentions the general scholarly assumption that Jan van Leeuwen was an unoriginal author. Desplenter (2010), p. 2. 8 See Axters (1943), pp. lxv–lxvii; Ruh (1999), p. 103. 9 See Axters (1943), p. 74. 10 An anthology of Jan van Leeuwen’s writings is edited in Axters (1943), pp. 1–199 (according to the count of Geirnaert and Reynaert, this anthology covers one-third of his works, see Geirnaert & Reynaert [1993], p. 427, n. 4). The full text of the treatise Van vijf manieren broederliker minnen is edited in Delteijk (1947), pp. 101–215. The full text of Wat dat een armen mensche van gheeste toebehoert is edited in Dorresteijn (1934), pp. 30–38; the full text of Van meester Eckaerts leere daer hi in doelde is edited in Kok (1973), pp. 152–172. Some excerpts that contain criticism of Eckhart are included in De Vooys (1905), pp. 182–194. 11 This contribution intends to make Jan van Leeuwen’s mystical thought accessible for English readers. Studies in English on him started to appear only recently: McGinn (2012), pp. 71–76; Kikuchi (2012b). Likewise, only a few of his texts have been translated into English: Wat dat een armen mensche van gheeste toebehoert (under the title: What Pertains to a Person Poor in Spirit), Van meester Eckaerts leere daer hi in doelde (under the title: The Erroneous Teachings of Meister Eckhart) in Van Nieuwenhove, Faesen & Rolfson (2008) and The Eulogy of John of Ruusbroec by Jan van Leeuwen in Arblaster & Faesen (2014). 12 See Axters (1943), p. lviii. 13 Dboec vanden inval (ibid., p. 5). 14 Een ghetughe (ibid., pp. 5–6). 15 See ibid., p. lix; Delteijk (1947), pp. 70–71. 16 Van vijfterhande bruederscap (ibid., pp. 125–126). 17 See also Een ghetughe (Axters [1943], p. 6). 18 For a survey on the heretical movements of the Free Spirit and the Beguines, see Lerner (2007). 19 The document called the Compilatio de novo spiritu, composed by the Dominican Theologian Albert the Great (ca. 1193–1280) (the text is edited in de Guibert [1931]), and the constitution Ad nostrum qui promulgated in 1312 (the text is edited in Denzinger & Schönmetzer [1963], nr. 866) contain a number of heterodox propositions of the Free Spirits and Beguines, which claim the sinless state of the human person who is united with God.

Jan van Leeuwen 117 20 For instance, in Wat dat een armen mensche van gheeste toebehoert in which the author describes four rungs of the soul’s assent, the human person is said to come to the union with God on the third rung (see Dorresteijn [1934], p. 36). 21 Van tienderhande materien (Axters [1943], p. 99). 22 See Van meester Eckaerts leere daer hi in doelde (Kok [1973], p. 161). Remarkably, Jan van Leeuwen accuses Eckhart of being the sower of this false doctrine. His well-known criticism of Eckhart has to be thus understood within the context of his whole impeachment campaign against those mystical heretics. 23 See Vanden X gheboden gods (Axters [1943], p. 189); Van vijfterhande bruederscap (Delteijk [1947], p. 191). 24 Although he does not mention the Holy Spirit here, Jan van Leeuwen is, on this point, in the line of theologians alongside Peter Lombard (ca. 1096–1164) and William of Saint-Thierry (1075/80–1148) who identify the Holy Spirit and the love of the human person toward God. For references to relevant texts on those twelfth-century theologians, see Wéber (1986). 25 Hoe dat men alle ongherechticheit laten sal ende christus’ roepe ghetrouwelyc na volghen met allen doechden tot in deweghe leven (Axters [1943], pp. 78–79). 26 Arblaster and Faesen argue that Beatrice of Nazareth (1200–1268) and Marguerite Porete († 1310) are the earliest authors who employed the concept of “common love” in the vernacular writings and introduced a particular mystical sense to this concept. See Arblaster & Faesen (2012). 27 The term “common” (gemeen) appears in Jan van Leeuwen’s writings no less frequently than in Ruusbroec’s who is known for the doctrine of “common life” (gemeen leven). Among a variety of meanings, this term is often employed by Jan van Leeuwen in the sense of “giving oneself totally and equally to all.” 28 For studies on the concepts wesen and overwesen in Ruusbroec, see Alaerts (1973) and Faesen’s contribution in this volume. 29 In Vanden tien gheboden, Jan van Leeuwen takes issue with the erroneous doctrines that claim the identification between God’s essence and the created essence (see De Vooys [1905], p. 193). For Ruusbroec’s criticism of this doctrine, see Kikuchi (2014), pp. 84–86. 30 Van sevenderhande manieren van menschen die gode minnen (Axters [1943], pp. 178–179). 31 For a few exceptional cases of such a usage of these terms in Ruusbroec, see Kikuchi (2014), c. 9, n. 16, although in those cases the term “otherness” (anderheit) is used in other meanings. 32 For a more detailed discussion on Ruusbroec’s understanding of “distinction” and “otherness,” see ibid., pp. 248–253. 33 Van tienderhande materien (Axters [1943], p. 97). 34 See Dboec vander bedinghen (ibid., pp. 54–56). It is not clear to which event in the Pauline Epistles Jan van Leeuwen refers. See ibid., p. 54, n. 2. 35 Een ghetughe (ibid., p. 58). 36 See Ruusbroec, Espousals (1988), ll. b2733–2746. As is mentioned in the footnote above (n. 27), “the common life” is a well-attested doctrine of Ruusbroec’s to which several studies have been dedicated, among others, Fraling (1974), Dupré (1984), Bonny (1988), Kikuchi (2012a). 37 The Compilatio de novo spiritu and Ad nostrum qui (see n. 19) list heterodox propositions that claim freedom from the practice of virtues and superiority to Christ. 38 See McGinn (2012), p. 74. 39 Vanden X gheboden gods (Axters [1943], pp. 106–107). See also ibid., p. 112. 40 As McGinn suggests, such a return to desolation is not a typical motif in Ruusbroec (McGinn [2012], p. 75). Meanwhile the desolation at the highest stage of union with God appears in Beatrice of Nazareth’s Seven manieren van minne, although the passion of Christ is not mentioned. For Beatrice, the dereliction represents rather the soul’s everincreasing desire to be with Christ, which is never fulfilled insofar as she is exiled in this life. See Beatrice, Seven Manners (1926), pp. 32–39.

118  Satoshi Kikuchi 41 Een ghetughe (Axters [1943], p. 6). 42 See Delteijk (1947), p. 88. 43 In the papal bull In agro dominico, Eckhart’s understanding of the sonship was condemned in four articles (a. 11, 20, 21, and 22) insisting on the equality of the human person to the “only-begotten Son.” See In agro dominico (2006), pp. 598–599.The contrast between “one son” (éin sun) and “many sons” (vil süne) appears in Eckhart, Sermon 46 (1971), p. 378. 44 Van vijfterhande bruederscap (De Vooys [1905], pp. 189–190). 45 See the Compilatio de novo spiritu (de Guibert [1931]), a. 23, 28, 51, 65, 85, 109, 120. 46 See Axters (1943), pp. lxi–lxiii. 47 See Mersch (1933), pp. 82–86. 48 Van vijfterhande bruederscap (De Vooys [1905], p. 190). 49 See Brief II, Ruusbroec, Letters (1991), ll. 293–299 (the line numbers refer to the English translation). 50 Augustine, Enarrationes in Ps 51–100 (1990), p. 1225. 51 For a survey on the history of this doctrine from the Church Fathers until Eckhart, see Rahner (1964). 52 The literature on Eckhart’s understanding of the “birth of God” doctrine is too extensive to list here. Major studies include Ueda (1965), and McGinn (2001), ch. 4. 53 For Tauler’s understanding of the “birth” doctrine, see Valléjo (2006) and Reinhardt (2006). 54 For Ruusbroec’s understanding of the “birth” doctrine, see Kikuchi (2011). 55 See Kikuchi (2014), pp. 168–173. 56 See Kikuchi (2011), pp. 94–97. 57 Van vijfterhande bruederscap (Delteijk [1947], p. 174). 58 Vanden drien coninghen (Axters [1943], p. 73). 59 In only one passage in Mirror, Ruusbroec mentions this term to describe the place in one’s soul where one can “feel” Christ and the worthiness of His humanity. See Ruusbroec, Mirror (2001), ll. 65–71. 60 Thiers (1972), p. 51. 61 Reypens defines the general position of Jan van Leeuwen as “experience of Christ” (Christusbeleving). See Reypens (1935), p. 30, n. 5. 62 See also Van tienderhande materien (Axters [1943], p. 36). 63 Vanden drien coninghen (ibid., p. 92). 64 Vanden drien coninghen (ibid., pp. 109–110). 65 See Van vijfterhande bruederscap (Delteijk [1947], p. 135). 66 See Warnar (2007), pp. 215–216. 67 Van vijfterhande bruederscap (Delteijk [1947], p. 124). 68 It appears that Jan van Leeuwen had opportunities to give speeches “in many towns” to people. See Van vijfterhande bruederscap (ibid., p. 205). Geirnaert and Reynaert argue that Jan had indeed many contacts with lay people, and that some of his writings were possibly addressed to them, while some others to the readers in religious convents. See Geirnaert & Reynaert (1993), pp. 196–199. Desplenter and Vandemeulebroucke further argue that Jan was later made an authority for the lay mysticism deliberately by the editors of the medieval versions of his opera omnia. See Desplenter & Vandemeulebroucke (2016). 69 Axters suggests that Jan van Leeuwen’s teaching of “experience of Christ” connected Groenendaal and the Modern Devotion closer than Ruusbroec did. See Axters (1943), p. lxvii.

8 The playing field of mysticism Middle Dutch anthropological terminology in the Spieghel der volcomenheit by Hendrik Herp Thom Mertens Hendrik Herp: life, works and importance When and where Hendrik Herp was born is unknown.1 His name probably refers to his birthplace, for which there are three candidates: Erp near ’sHertogenbosch in Brabant, Erpe between Brussels and Ghent, and Erp near Cologne. A certain Heinricus Erppe, a cleric of the Diocese of Cambrai, was enrolled at the university of Leuven in 1426, but it is not certain whether this is the same person. Consequently, “our” Hendrik Herp makes his first appearance in history in the year 1445 as the rector of Sint-Hieronymusdaal, a congregation of brethren of the Modern Devotion in Delft in Holland. In this year, Herp accepted the invitation to found a similar congregation in Gouda and took on the obligation of delivering a collatio for the laity every Sunday. This decision led to a conflict with most of his brethren and eventually with the leader of the movement, Dirc van Herxen (1381–1457), and Herp was forced to take the rectorship of the Gouda congregation. In Gouda, Herp may have met the Franciscan observant Friar Johannes Brugman († 1473), who lends his name to the Dutch expression “preach like Brugman” for ardent speaking. In 1450, Herp travelled to Rome and joined the observant Franciscans. After his return to the Low Countries, he was appointed to leading positions in Mechlin (guardian) and Antwerp. He founded the convent of Boetendaal near Brussels (1467–1471) and in 1470, Herp was elected Provincial Vicar (vicarius provincialis) of the Cologne observant province. In 1473 he returned to Mechlin as guardian, where he died in 1477. Hendrik Herp wrote mainly in Latin. The only vernacular work he wrote is the Spieghel der volcomenheit (“Mirror of Perfection”).2 The only works that survive were written during his period as a Franciscan observant. He wrote several sermon collections, of which De processu humani profectus, consisting of twentyone sermons, has a mystical bias.3 Furthermore, he is the author of Eden, the Scala amoris, the Divini amoris Christiformiumque virtutum soliloquium (also called Soliloquia super Cantica) and Tres collationes.4 Eden is thought to be one of Herp’s earliest works. It has much in common with the Mirror of Perfection (ca. 1460?), of which it seems to be a preliminary version. The Mirror of Perfection may be considered the concise summa of Herp’s teachings.5

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In 1496, the Carthusian Petrus Blomevenna (1466–1536), the future prior of the Cologne monastery of St. Barbara (1507–1536), made a Latin translation of chapters 1–12 of the Mirror (B-branch) on the mortifications, referring for the rest of the content to the Latin Eden. Afterwards, he decided to translate the other three parts of the Mirror. To this translation, completed in 1504, Blomevenna added a prologue to prevent misinterpretations of Herp’s text and to account for his translation. In 1509, it was printed as the Directorium aureum contemplativorum (“Golden Guide for Contemplatives”).6 In 1513 he published a slightly revised version, combining the readings of the B-branch of the Dutch text with some of the A-branch. His confrere Dietrich Loher incorporated Blomevenna’s 1513 version into his edition of Herp’s Latin works, published in 1538 and reprinted in 1545, 1556 (twice) and 1564.7 In 1586, a Counter Reformation editio purgata was published and all former editions were banned.8 Another Latin translation, of the C-branch, was entitled Speculum perfectionis. The oldest known print dates from 1524 and was produced in Venice. There must have been at least one earlier edition, because the Italian translation of 1522 is based on this Latin text, as are the Portuguese (1533) and Spanish (excerpts 1543, complete 1551) translations.9 In the Speculum perfectionis, each of the four parts has its own chapter count starting from one.

The structure of the Mirror of Perfection Hendrik Herp structured his Mirror very deliberately. It is divided into four parts: (1) the mortifications, (2) the active life, (3) the spiritual contemplative life and (4) the superessential contemplative life.10 The text had a general prologue and a prologue precedes each part (chapters 13, 27§1, 59). When combined, these four prologues can be read as a summary of the Mirror.11 One is inclined to think that the mortifications are a prelude to the threefold life, divided according to the classic division of beginners, advanced and perfects, but mortification and unification are necessary to come to a perfect life in which one becomes equal to God: The first is that a person must completely mortify him/herself and turn away from all things that may hinder in any way coming nearer to God and uniting with Him. The other is that we have to understand how we obtain a loving, enduring unification without any means of God and all powers of our soul.12 The mortifications (chapters 1–12) account for the first, the three lives (chapters 13–65) for the second: the unification. These are not two phases, rather they are the two constituting aspects of one and the same movement: “And the more we grow in the first [mortification], the more we grow in the other [unification], and we may not have the first in a real and profitable way without the other.”13 Already from the designation of the lives, it is clear that Herp distinguishes the contemplative life from the active life, and divides the contemplative life

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into a spiritual and a superessential life. The subdivision of the contemplative life may seem artificial. Rik Van Nieuwenhove signals oddly placed passages, repetitions and continuations in part IV and states: “It is difficult to see how this constitutes the highest part of the spiritual journey.”14 In Figure 8.1, a visualization of the structure of the Mirror represents Herp’s binary view. As is clear from the previous quotations, Herp explicitly describes the structure of the Mirror, probably for didactic purposes. At the beginning of the active life, he explains the structure of the three lives: the active, the spiritual contemplative and the superessential contemplative lives: One should know that there are three lives, being the active life, meant by Lia, who had running eyes; and the spiritual contemplative life, personified in Rachel, who was beautiful but infertile; and the superessential contemplative life, personified in Mary Magdalene, who chose the best part. And in each of these three lives we have to make a preparation, an adornment, and an advance, if we want to posses them completely and blissfully sacrifice them to God.15 Accordingly, each part from II–IV is divided into three subdivisions: the preparation, in which one fulfils the necessary conditions; the adornment, in which one acquires the necessary qualities; and the advance or ascent (opclimmen) to God.16 So the structure and the content17 may be summarized in this table: Prologue Mortification (ch. 1–12)   I Twelve mortifications (ch. 1–12) Unification (ch. 13–65)   II The active life (ch. 13–26)   Prologue (ch. 13) The three lives (ch. 14) Preparation: truth and mercy (ch. 15–18) Adornment: moral virtues (ch. 19–21) Ascent: intention, love and adhering to God (ch. 22–26)   III The spiritual contemplative life (ch. 27–54) Prologue (ch. 27 § 1) Preparation: desire and intellect (ch. 27 § 2–37) Adornment: seven gifts of the Spirit (ch. 38) Ascent: in the lower, middle and upper part of the soul (ch. 39–58)   IV The superessential contemplative life (ch. 59–65) Prologue (ch. 59) Preparation: patience of the will (ch. 60) Adornment: light of the glory (ch. 61–62) Ascent: the Holy Spirit, the Son and the Father acting on the soul (ch. 63–65)

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I

chapter 1–12

II

13–26

spiritual

III

27–58

superessential

IV

59–65

mortification Spieghel der volcomenheit

active life unification contemplative life

Figure 8.1 The structure of the Mirror of Perfection

Approach The ascent to God and the unification with God take place in the soul, the soul being the field on which this “game” of mysticism is played. The aim of this article is to describe Herp’s views on the structure of the soul as a substrate of mystical ascent. We want to have a clear understanding of the terms Herp uses. Our approach will be intra-textual, using little information from outside the text. We do not want to impose an external system that obscures any inconsistency or misinterprets terms according to preconceptions. We aim to see how Herp describes the soul and its “parts” in Middle Dutch, including all possible inconsistencies. Our approach is not entirely unproblematic. For example, we refer to the common metonymic use of terms, e.g. siele (“soul”), herte (“heart”) or geest (“spirit”) as a pars pro toto for the human person as a whole,18 verstant as a pars pro toto for “spirit” (see next). The reverse, totum pro parte is common, when mensche (“person”) or the soul is mentioned without specifying which “part” is meant. See also pp. 317–319, ll. 6–21: in which the soul is divided into soul, spirit and thought, giving a double meaning to the term “soul” as the word for the soul as a whole and for one part of the soul. Metonymic use of terms may go unnoticed or it may be impossible to decide whether it occurs at a certain place or not. Another problem is grammatical ambivalence. Middle Dutch grammar is not strict. It suffers from deflexion: the system of cases is beginning to decline. Moreover, some propositions may govern the dative and accusative case, the gender of some words varies, and so on. Consequently, it may be unclear whether a word is singular or plural. For example, the expression in die begheer­like crachten (p. 69, ll. 79–80; p. 147, ll. 184–185) raises the question whether Herp speaks about desirous powers apart from the traditional appetitive power of the soul. The possible Latin parallel passages by Herp may give an indication, as does the translation of Blomevenna, but these are not decisive. A definitive answer is possible when the expression is the subject of a finite verb, but this is also only an indication for the number of the term in other, ambivalent occurrences.

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Although we proceed in an intra-textual way, it may sometimes be interesting to refer to the available Latin translations of a term: Peter Blomevenna’s complete translation and the parallel passages in Herp’s Latin Eden, which has many parallels with the Mirror. These are easy to find since Verschueren edited Blomevenna’s translation on the left pages of his Mirror edition and referred to the parallel passages in Herp’s other works in footnotes. Blomevenna himself used Herp’s Eden for his translation: “Translating [the Mirror] I often looked at the Latin work which is called Eden contemplativorum, as mentioned above, and I took much from that work literally wherever they corresponded fully with each other.”19

The overall structure of the soul The soul is related to one of the two natures of man, namely corporeal and spiritual nature (p. 175, ll. 3–4). Herp uses the term natuer elsewhere in his Mirror more specifically for the corporeal nature and the sensory capacity of man (e.g. p. 65, ll. 9–10). The soul is the “form” – i.e. the constituting principle – of the body, it gives life and feeling to it. Body and soul are connected through the sensory powers, which man has in common with animals (p. 119, ll. 8–15; p. 131, ll. 183–186; p. 395, ll. 13–14). The soul-body relation is reflected by the relation of the soul to God: the soul is related to God as matter is to form (p. 193, ll. 50–53). Hendrik Herp’s Mirror contains one single lyrical passage, a soliloquy to the soul: O my soul, where does your flowing out take its origin? Have you not flowed out from the abyss of the Godhead as an essence from an essence, a life from a life, an intellectual light from an intellectual light, but in a creaturely way not an essential way? You are not God from God, but something to be deified from God. There is such a strong bond, so exalted a union, between both of you that it can never be separated for eternity.20 The text continues with a comparison to the sun: like rays flow forth from the sun and adhere eternally to it and continue to exist in this way, so the soul flows forth from its origin and stays connected to it. The soul is fed and preserved by this connection with its origin. Because, when this pending–in would be cut off, at the same moment the soul would be nothing again. And like one is guided in the wheel of the sun by the rays, so one is guided from the outer senses and powers to the inner [powers], and from the lower inner [powers] to the higher, and from the higher [powers] to the essential unity of the soul, and from there forward into the first origin.21

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In this last passage, elements of the soul’s structure are mentioned and the process of mystical ascent is described. Comparable passages are found on other crucial points in the Mirror of Perfection. First, in chapter 13, the prologue to the parts on unification with God (II–III–IV), which includes a comparison to the sun and is marked as the core of his message: “This is exactly what I want to teach here [in the Mirror]: how we could come to this.”22 At the very end of the Mirror, we find a comparable passage.23 God is the origin of all creatures: they have flowed forth from Him, in particular from God the Father (p. 147, ll. 172–175; p. 177, ll. 23–24; p. 219, ll. 38–40; pp. 359–261, ll. 75–87; p. 333, ll. 64–67). Especially the rational creature has flowed forth from this origin, which at the same time is the destination of every creature. The return of the powers of the soul to their origin is what Herp aims to teach in his Mirror of Perfection (p. 95, ll. 55–56). This return passes through the in–flowing movement of the uutwendege sinnen (“outer senses”) via the onderste inwendege crachten (“lower inner powers”) via the overste inwendege crachten (“higher inner powers”) to the overste des gedanckes (“the top of thought”). This series of concepts can be taken as the anchors of Herp’s anthropology. In accordance with this path of flowing-in, Herp writes about the three parts of the soul several times. In chapter 20, he mentions three places that have to be adorned and prepared as dwelling places for God: the heart as origin, the beginning and root of life and the sensibility of man; second, dat ghedanc of die ghedacht des menschen (“the thought of man”24) and third dat blote wesen der sielen (“the bear essence of the soul”). In chapter 39, about the ascent according to the three parts of man in the contemplative life, he discerns the lower powers of the soul, the higher powers that are called the intellectual powers or the spirit of man, and the essence of the soul (p. 235, ll. 42–47). In chapter 50, Herp writes an important paragraph that is worth quoting: One should know that in the Scriptures the soul is divided into three parts and each part has its own name. The lower part, that is according to the lower powers, is called a soul, because through this part it is connected to the body and it gives the body a life.The middle part is called a spirit, that is according to these three higher powers through which man so much may approach to God through continuous contemplation that he becomes one spirit with God. The highest part of the soul, in which these three powers are originally unified and from which they flow like rays from the sun and in which they flow back again, is called a thought. And this is the point in which the image of the Holy Trinity is printed. And it is so noble that one cannot give it a proper name, but it is referred to with many names, the best one can, and it is the highest in the soul.25 As is clear from Table 8.1, the classifications in chapters 20, 39 and 50 do not correspond completely. The problem seems to be the relation between

Hendrik Herp 125 Table 8.1 The three parts of the soul according to chapters 20, 39 and 50 Chapter 20 dat blote wesen der zielen (“the bare essence of the soul”) dat ghedanc of die ghedacht (“the thought”) die herte (“the heart”)

Chapter 39 dat wesen der zielen (“the essence of the soul”)

Chapter 50 een ghedanck (“a  thought”)

die verstandelike crachten oft die gheest (“the intellectual powers or the spirit”) die ziele (“the soul”)

een geest (“a spirit”) een ziele (“a soul”)

thought and the essence of the soul. In chapter 20, they are set apart and the spirit is not mentioned; in chapters 39 and 50 the spirit is mentioned, while the essence and thought seem to be interchangeable, even more so since chapter 50 writes that the gedanc has no proper name, as quoted. However, the classification in chapter 20 suggests that thought and essence are different aspects of the soul and that the bare essence is superior to thought. The adjective blote (“bare”) plays no part in this distinction: elsewhere, it is said that ghedanc must be bare and empty.26 In fact, thought and bare essence are two aspects of the same thing.27 Finally, it should be noted that in Herp’s Mirror, as in many medieval texts, there is an ambivalence in the application of the term ziele, which overarches the domain of the lower forces, also called ziele, and the domain of the higher forces, called the spirit (p. 119, ll. 30–31; p. 201, ll. 4–8; p. 317, ll. 6–9). So, ziele is used for the lower “part” of the ziele. This double meaning of the term was mentioned earlier. The soul and the lower powers

Herp uses the term uutwendige sinnen (“outer senses”) to designate the five outer senses, which he clearly distinguishes from the lower inner powers (p. 163–165, ll. 15–23; p. 167, ll. 47–51; p. 139, ll. 23–30; pp. 283–285, ll. 52–58; p. 361, ll. 99–104). The inner powers can be divided into the lower inner powers or soul (siele) and the higher inner powers or spirit (geest). The lower inner powers are the traditional three: the begeerlijke, torenlijke and redelijke cracht (“the irascible, the appetitive and the rational powers,” p. 201, ll. 8–12), subsumed under the designation die onderste mensche (“the lower man,” p. 307, l. 27). They are also named sinnelijke crachten (“sensory powers”) and beestelijke crachten (“animal powers”), a name especially appropriate to the irascible and appetitive power, which should be brought under the guidance of reason and should be tamed like an animal to make it pull a wagon (p. 119, ll. 8–24; p. 131, ll. 183–186; p. 23, ll. 54–55; p. 239, ll. 45–56). The lower powers unite the soul with the body and give the body life and feeling (p. 119, ll. 8–15). The heart is the origin, beginning and root of this bodily life and feeling. The lower, sensory powers

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originate from it and are attached to it (p. 119, ll. 5–11; p. 309, ll. 64–65). They are sensitive to temptations, just as they have their specific spiritual enjoyments, namely sensible grace, devotion, love and inner sweetness, of which they impart man’s nature (p. 307, l. 27; p. 65. ll. 3–9). To start with the temptations, Herp discusses the desire to know hidden things from God through the outer senses (with examples of seeing, hearing and tasting), by the lower powers (visions and images) or the higher inner powers (the essential knowing of God) (p. 71, ll. 94–108). The heart, being the centre of feeling, is susceptible to impressions from outside and, thus, to temptations and concerns about the temporal (p. 119, ll. 5–11; p. 323, ll. 111–113; p. 167, ll. 45–46; p. 169, ll. 12–14; p. 121, ll. 33–34; p. 213, ll. 86–88; p. 281, ll. 52–54; p. 391, ll. 332–333). In these contexts, “heart” is often used as a metonymic word for “desire.” The heart may also attempt to resist the activity of the higher powers, which demand mortification. Wedertrek des herten (“resistance of the heart”) is an expression for this resistance, which we find in some chapters of the Mirror (46§2; 46§3; 60). As each of the three parts of the soul has its own temptations, it has its own manner to ascend to God and its own ability to be united with Him (p. 235, ll. 42–49). The ascent of the lower powers is described briefly on p. 237, l. 66 and more extensively in chapters 40–49. The appetitive power is susceptible to the incitement to ascend and it may have a unifying, upward-moving effect on the lower powers (pp. 237–239, ll. 10–46; p. 249, ll. 8–11).The lower powers should not hinder the higher powers to flow to God and in God. Therefore, they have to be brought to rest and they have to be separated from the spirit of man (p. 19, ll. 42–7; p. 319, ll. 21–39. See also p. 207, ll. 56–61).When man has acquired the moral virtues, the lower powers unite in their origin, the heart, and find rest and peace there because they are mortified (p. 53, ll. 68–75; p. 119, ll. 19–24; ch. 21, pp. 121–135). Consciencie and gemoet are two concepts that must be situated. Consciencie appears in the generally accepted meaning of the ability to discern between good and evil. It seems to be situated on the level of the lower powers, beside the irascible, appetitive and reasonable power, perhaps as a function of the rational power (p. 125, ll. 79–84). In Herp’s Mirror, we find nine occurrences of gemoet and one occurrence of moet, a word and concept important in Johannes Tauler’s anthropology.28 Herp seems to situate gemoet on the level of the heart, as a property or as its intentional power, comparable to the appetitive power (p. 53, ll. 70–71; p. 53, ll. 65–66; p. 109, ll. 17–18). In the corresponding Latin passages, Herp renders gemoet with animus and sometimes with mens, whereas Blomevenna consistently translates gemoet/moet as animus.29 The spirit and the higher powers

The human spirit is the realm of the higher powers: memorie, verstant and wil (“memory,” “intellect” and “will”; p. 119, ll. 24–28: “The middle dwelling place

Hendrik Herp 127

[to be prepared for God] is thought or the human mind, which is the natural origin of the intellectual powers, (and) from this origin the intellectual powers come forth, which are memory, intellect and will.”30 Herp frequently uses the expression verstandelijke crachten (“intellectual powers”) metonymically for the three higher powers, thus suggesting that the intellect in his view is the most important faculty of the spirit (p. 201, ll. 4–8; p. 235, ll. 45–46). On the other hand, Herp holds the view that the loving will can go further into the unity with God than the intellect (p. 337, ll. 26–35). Memorie. The word memorie occurs only twenty-six times in the Mirror.31 Herp neither defines nor describes memory, other than remarking that the memory may be occupied with lower things, be filled with heavenly and divine things, and experience a bareness and purity from all images (p. 201, ll. 8–28; p. 329, ll. 40–42; p. 351, ll. 10–13; p. 405, ll. 35–36). In one place, the Middle Dutch text reads in den ghedanc of memorie des menschen, dat is in dat binnenste der zielen (“in the thought or memory of man, that is in the inmost part of the soul,” p. 133, ll. 217–218). The identification of “memory” with “thought” seems strange and Blomevenna’s translation has only in mente hominis for in den ghedanc of memorie.32 So the identification of memorie and ghedanc is just a matter of the Middle Dutch text and it may be a mistake. On one other occasion, memory seems to signify “awareness,” when Herp says that St. Clare once had no memorie of earthly reality for thirty days (p. 211, ll. 75–78). Verstant. As has been said, the verstant (“intellect”) can lend its identity to the spirit as a whole, and to the three higher powers, which are frequently called verstandelijke crachten (“intellectual powers”). God is viewed as an uncreated intellectual light from which all created intellectual lights have flowed forth (p. 323, ll. 89–96). An intellectual light illuminates the human intellect, which is received in the lower, middle and higher part of the soul in accordance with the capacity of that part, comparable to the sunrise from the dark beginning of the dawn to broad daylight (p. 323, ll. 89–96). The destination of the created intellect is to be unified with the uncreated intellectual light, which is the divine Essence (p. 395, ll. 6–24). The intellect has an eye that is clarified by repentance, and is blinded to the true light of contemplation by worries about temporal things and by natural passions (p. 103, ll. 23–29; p. 203, ll. 2–6; p. 167, ll. 24–26; p. 229, ll. 8–11). Above the intellectual eye, a simple eye may open in the loving power (p. 415, ll. 47–61). Herp warns against intellectual curiosity of the intellect contemplating without desire for the divine (pp. 203–205, ll. 14–22. See also pp. 69–71, ll. 73–108; p. 141, ll. 57–61; p. 169, ll. 25–41). The term verstant may be used in the more common sense of “comprehension” (p. 211, ll. 75–78). Verstant (“understanding”) is also one of the seven gifts of the Spirit, interpreted as a supernatural light (p. 229, ll. 2–5). The plural “hidden, intellectual lights” is also used for truths that are revealed by the inner whispering of God (pp. 329–331, ll. 2–12).

128  Thom Mertens

Will. The free will is the most noble thing given by God to man, who can sin with it and work virtuously with it (p. 81, ll. 5–7) and by this become like God by virtues and gifts of grace, or unlike Him by sins (p. 343, ll. 9–19). chapter 53 discusses the ascent of the will or the higher loving power and from this chapter onward we see the expression minnende cracht (“­loving power”) eighteen times, as a synonym for wil (p. 337, ll. 27, 35; p. 387, ll. 239–240; p. 407, ll. 10–16, esp. ll. 14–15). In p. 335, l. 4. This loving power is identified with die overste wil (“the higher will”). We do not find the ­expression “the lower will” in the Mirror, but we do find natuerlike wille (“natural will”) as opposed to the wille der reden (“will of reason,” p. 281, ll. 55–56). Rede (“reason”) has a broad meaning where the human person is defined as a rational creature, composed of two natures: one corporeal, the other spiritual (p. 175, ll. 3–4). Reason and will may represent the fundamental capabilities of knowing and striving (p. 241, l. 74; p. 313, l. 134). Rede may function as the general term for the rational soul, the spirit or the higher powers, in formulations like the “will of reason” (p. 23, ll. 45, 58; p. 279, l. 37; p. 281, l. 55, where it is opposed to “natural will”). Nevertheless, the rational power is expressly mentioned as one of the lower powers and in p. 201, l. 12, Herp mentions the onderste redelike cracht (“the lower rational power”). The suggested pendant is found on p. 23, l. 59 and p. 313, l. 137, where Herp speaks of the overste redene (“higher reason”), apparently avoiding the expression “the higher reasonable power.” In the Mirror, we find the term redelijke cracht (“rational power”) only three times, each time in the immediate context of the torenlijke and begeerlijke cracht, the irascible and appetitive powers (p. 125, l. 82; p. 201, l. 12; p. 237, l. 62). Reason seems to be a faculty that is active in the domain of the lower powers of the soul and in the higher powers of the spirit. The terminology onderste redelijke cracht (“lower reasonable power”) and overste redene (“higher reason”) may refer to the Augustinian ratio superior and ratio inferior: the same faculty of reason may be turned downward to creatures and temporal activities, or upward to God and the eternal truths.33 In some places, reason is a synonym for intellect: “illuminated reason” in p. 353, l. 54 refers to what in p. 351, ll. 13–14 was called “the high intellectual illumination of the intellect.” In chapters 57 and 58, reason and intellect are mentioned six times together and it appears that reason represents the more rational, discursive aspect of the intellect.34 These contexts are in the chapters on the ascent of the higher powers in the spiritual contemplative life. The one other context in which reason and intellect are mentioned together is p. 241, l. 63, on the ascent of the lower powers: pagan masters have been able to realize this by exercising their reason and intellect. Reason here seems to refer to prudence, the capability of reflection and of detachment from lower impulses. This aspect of reason is also found in the recommendation to place the sensory and animal powers under the guidance of reason (p. 131, ll. 183–186).

Hendrik Herp 129 Beyond the spirit

The part above the spirit that still belongs to the soul is designated with various terms: enicheit des geestes, wezen and gedanc (“unity of the spirit,” “essence” and “thought”), and some variations on these terms. As we have seen in the discussion of Table 8.1, Herp appears to distinguish the bare essence of the soul from thought, without separating them. Dat blote wesen der zielen (“the bare essence of the soul”) is the highest dwelling place of God in the human person (p. 119, ll. 1–5; p. 121, l.48; p. 343, ll. 12–19). It is situated above the spirit, but clearly distinct from the first origin, which is God (p. 347, ll. 95–96; p. 361, ll. 104–105). In other contexts, the noun wesen and the adjective wesenlijc may refer to the essence of God, viewed as overwesen (“superessence”) from the perspective of man (one time: p. 409, l. 53), the adjective overwesenlijc (“superessential”) being much more frequent (twenty-one times, e.g. p. 357, l. 11). The essence of the soul is also called the wesen des gheestes or binnenste des gheestes (the “essence” or “inmost part of the spirit,” p. 357, ll. 15, 17). An alternative term for the highest part of the soul is die (weselijke) enicheit der zielen (“the (essential) unity of the soul,” p. 341, ll. 4–8), the source and origin of the higher powers of the soul. Herp uses enicheit des geests (“unity of the spirit”) more frequently for this.35 This “place” is where the higher faculties of the soul originate and rest (p. 259, ll. 21–23), as the unity of the heart is for the lower faculties (p. 165, l. 27; p. 243, l. 97; p. 257, l. 4). In some contexts, unity of spirit is not a “part” of the soul but an event or state, as in p. 261, l. 46, where Herp describes a situation in which the heart cannot obtain the desired unity of spirit. Moreover, in the introduction to the contemplative life, Herp says that we have to adorn our heart, thoughts and essence with a form of unity, thus preparing it as a dwelling place for God (p. 119, ll. 2–5). Dat gedanc (“thought” or “the mind”) is the equivalent of the soul’s essence, considered in its aspect as the source and origin of the higher powers of the soul (p. 341, ll. 4–8; p. 119, ll. 24–28; p. 319, ll. 14–17). It is depicted as the most noble part and highest point of the soul, in which the image of the Trinity is printed (p. 133, 217–218; p. 319, ll. 14–21; p. 411, ll. 79–80; p. 319, ll. 17–19). Other cognate forms of the term are die ghedacht (p. 119, l. 25) and die ghedachte (p. 365, l. 58). The position of the gedanc seems ambivalent. In several contexts, it is an equivalent of the essence of the soul; in chapter 20 it seems to be situated below the essence (see the discussion of Table 8.1) and in pp. 399–401, ll. 82–88 it seems to be the equivalent of the intellectual powers. The questionable identification of gedanc and memorie in p. 133, l. 217 is dealt with earlier. Sometimes ghedachte(n) simply means “thought(s),” the result of thinking (p. 265, ll. 49–60). Generally, Herp uses mens as the Latin word for gedanc in the parallel passages in Eden, one time using unitas mentis, sometimes cogitatio and one time, less specifically, anima.36

130  Thom Mertens

The motif of the bareness of thought occurs about ten times from chapter 58 onward. This bareness is the simple eye of the soul, or of the “heart” (the inmost part) of the soul, which sees God when the higher faculties are turned inward in the unity of the spirit. Above reason in the highest point of the intellect (intellect being a metonym for the spirit here), only the simple eye remains open and contemplates the light of God without blinking. Our simple, bare thought is a living mirror in which the light of God shines (see also p. 411, l. 78; p. 417, ll. 26–28: a living mirror demanding likeness and unity with God). Simple thought is called a simple eye and it is called bare because the intellectual eye is denuded of all corporeal, spiritual and even divine images, however exalted they may be, and it ascends into a dark nothingness (pp. 361–365 ll. 1–39; p. 365, ll. 61–64; p. 399–401, ll. 82–92). The intellect stays behind, thought cannot control itself and only love can go further (p. 415, ll. 57–65). The simple eye of bare thought receives no other image than the divine image that it knows by the image itself (p. 419, ll. 38–43).

Conclusion To conclude this inquiry and to summarize our findings, it may be helpful to design a “map” of the soul. Designing a “map” is possible because Herp, as many authors, speaks of “parts” of the soul and uses spatial indications for the relations between the parts, such as “higher” and “lower.” We must realize, however, that this spatial layout of aspects of the soul is an auxiliary.37 The larger parts of the soul (2+3+4+5) are the soul (2) and the spirit (4). The heart (3) connects the soul (2) to the body and gives life and feeling to the body, which is dead matter without the soul. The heart is the origin and the seat of the lower inner powers, being the irascible power, the appetitive power (both animal powers) and the reasonable power, which should guide the two animal powers. Herp seems to situate gemoet/moet and consciencie on the level of the soul (2). Gemoet or moet may be conceived as an intentional aspect of the heart. Possibly, Herp views consciencie as a function of reason, as the capacity to discern between good and evil. The spirit (4) is the domain of the higher inner powers: memory, intellect and will, of which the intellect is so prominent that Herp uses it as pars pro toto for the spirit, although Herp shares the view that the will can reach higher in the ascent to God than the intellect. Reason is also active on the level of the spirit. Herp even discerns a higher form of reason from a lower form of reason. Reason on this higher level seems to be conceived as a more discursive aspect of the intellect. The relationship of the essence of the soul and thought, being two aspects of the same, is represented by placing them in one field, separated by a dotted line. Thought is placed underneath essence, in accordance with chapter 20 (see Table 8.1).

Hendrik Herp 131

god

6

wesen der zielen (essence of the soul) 5 4

gedanc (thought) geest (spirit) verstant (intellect)

memorie (memory)

wille (will)

redene (reason) 3

herte (heart) ziel (soul)

2

toernlike cracht (irascible power)

1

redelike cracht (rational power)

begheerlike cracht (appetitive power)

uutwendige sinnen (outer senses)

Ziel (soul): 2+3+4+5 inwendighe crachten (inner powers): 2+4 onderste inwendighe crachten (lower inner powers): 2 overste inwendighe crachten (higher inner powers): 4

Figure 8.2  A “map” of the soul according to Hendrik Herp’s Mirror of Perfection

Notes 1 OnHendrikHerp’slifeandworks:Dlabacˇová(2014),pp. 27–79;Ruh(1999),pp. 219–228;Freienhagen-Baumgardt (1998), pp. 5–35; De Troeyer (1974), vol. I, pp. 108–123, 269;Verschueren (1927–1931), vol. II, pp. 343–393. I would like to thank Marieke Abrams M.A. (AlbertLudwigs-Universität Freiburg) for her comments on an earlier version of this article. 2 Edition: Herp, Mirror (1931). 3 Edited by Épiney-Burgard (1982). On pp. 33–76 a survey of the sermons (summarized and discussed by Freihagen-Baumgardt [1998], pp. 11–12).

132  Thom Mertens 4 There are no scholarly editions of Eden, Scala amoris or the Soliloquium. Usually one refers to the 1538 edition by the Cologne Chartusian Dirc Loher of Stratum: Herp, Theologia (1538) (reprint: Farnborough Hants.: Gregg 1966). 5 Ruh (1999), p. 221: “. . . den ‘Spieghel,’ der alle wesentlichen Themen und Aspekte Herps in sich vereinigt.” Bernard McGinn calls the Mirror Herp’s major work (McGinn [2012], p. 130). 6 Herp, Mirror (1931), vol. I, pp. 131–135. Based on two autographs, Blomevenna’s Latin prologue and translation were edited by Verschueren in his edition of Herp’s Mirror (1931). One of these two autographs (Darmstadt, Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek, MS. 1023) served as the basis for the 1509 edition. 7 Herp, Theologia (1538), fol. CXXXIIIR–CLXXVIIV. 8 Herp, Mirror (1931), vol. I, pp. 135–137; De Troeyer (1981). 9 Herp, Mirror (1931), vol. I, pp. 137–139; Orcibal (1964). 10 A modern English translation of the fourth part by Rik Van Nieuwenhove in:Van Nieuwenhove, Faesen & Rolfson (2008), pp. 144–164. 11 Cf. Mertens (2001). 12 Herp, Mirror (1931), prologue, 13–20: Dat een is dat een mensche doen moet een volcomen sterven ende een afsceiden van allen dinghen die eenighen hinder doen moechten gode te ghenaken ende daermede verenicht te werden. Dat ander is dat wij hebben moeten een bekennen hoe dat wij vercrighen sullen een minlike biblivende vereeninghe sonder alle middel tusschen gode ende den crachten van onser zielen. 13 Ibid., pp. 93–94, ll. 21–24. See also ibid., p. 95, ll. 24–38 for another example of Herp’s “binary” view on spiritual life. 14 Van Nieuwenhove (2014), p. 234. 15 Herp, Mirror (1931), p. 97, ll. 1–10: Het is dan te weten dat daer drie leven sijn, als dat werkende leven, mit Lya beteykent, die leep oghen hadde; ende dat gheestelike scouwende leven, in Rachel beteikent, die scoen was mer onvruchtber; ende dat overweselike scouwende leven, dat in Maria Magdalena beteikent is, die tbeste deel vercoren hadde. Ende in elc van desen drien leven moeten wi maken een bereitsel, een vercieringhe ende een voertganc, willen wi se volcomeliken besitten ende gode saliclicken offeren. 16 Cf. Herp, Theologia (1538), fol. 193a: De consurrectione ad Deum in activa vita et morali. Verschueren (1931), p. 366, thinks that it concerns an ascent to a higher level, but there are two counter-arguments: (a) each level start with a preparation, which would not be necessary if the foregoing level has an ascent to this higher level; (b) the highest level of the superessential contemplative life also has an ascent. 17 Other surveys by Verschueren (1931), pp. 365–367; McGinn (2012); Van Nieuwenhove (2014); the summary by Ruh (1999) is less accurate in my view. Thematic studies not limited to the Mirror: Kalverkamp (1940), Reypens (1924). 18 Ziel, p. 261, l. 74; herte p. 195, ll. 84–85, p. 265, l. 47; geest: p. 261, l. 52 (o minnende geest, “o loving spirit”). 19 Blomevenna, Prologus, ll. 255–60, in: Herp, Mirror (1931), p. 14: In transferendo frequenter oculos habui ad librum latinum quem Edenuym Contemplatiuorum appelari iam dixi et plura ex illo in isto de verbo ad verbum posui, ubi vtrumque per omnia concordare repperi. 20 Herp, Mirror (1931), p. 361, ll. 79–87. Translation by McGinn (2012), p. 136. 21 Herp, Mirror (1931), p. 361, ll. 97–104: Want als dat inhanghen werdet afghesneden, in dat selve oghenopslach solde die ziel weder te niete wesen. Ende daerom, ghelikerwijs dat men mitten radien wort gheleit in dat rat der sonnen, alsoe wort men oec gheleit van den uutwendeghen sinnen ende crachten totten inwendeghen, ende van den ondersten inwendeghen totten oversten ende van den oversten tot die weselike enicheit der zielen, ende van daer voert in die ierste oerspronc. 22 Ibid., pp. 95–97, ll. 39–66: Ende dit is properlic dat ic hier wil leeren: hoe dat wi daertoe solden moghen comen. 23 Ibid., p. 421, ll. 83–94; cf. also p. 121, ll. 33–57; pp. 275–277, ll. 52–56; p. 361, ll. 94–104; p. 403, ll. 13–16.

Hendrik Herp 133 24 Another possible translation of gedanc is “mind,” but “thought” is closer to the literal meaning of gedanc and gedachte. Herp often uses Latin mens (etymologically akin to the English word “mind”) as a translation for gedanc, but he also uses cogitatio. 25 Ibid., pp. 317–319, ll. 6–21: Hier is te weten dat die ziele in drien ghedeilt wert in der scriftueren ende elc heeft sinen sonderlinghen naem. Dat onderste deel als na den ondersten crachten, soe hiet se een ziel, want si mit dien deel vereenicht is mitten lichaem ende ghevet den lichaem een leven. Dat middelste deel hietet een geest te wesen als na desen drien oversten crachten, daer die mensche also seer mede mach god ghenaken overmids stadighen scouwen dat hi mit god wordet een geest. Dat overste deel der zielen, daer dese drie crachten oerspronghelic in verenicht sijn ende daer si uutvloyen als radien uter sonnen ende daer si weder invloyen, hietet een ghedanck; ende het is dat punct in der zielen daer dat beelt der heyligher drievoldicheit in gheprent is. Ende dat is also edel dat men hem gheenen proper naem gheven en can, mer men bescrivet mit veel namen als men best mach, ende het is dat overste in der zielen. 26 Ibid., p. 399, ll. 85–86: Want dat ghedanc moet bloot ende ledich wesen van alle ghemerc der dinghen . . . 27 Cf. ibid., p. 119, ll. 24–28: Die middelste woenstede is dat ghedanc of die ghedacht des menschen, die daer is een natuerlic oerspronc der verstandeliker crachten, uut welken oerspronc die verstandelijke crachten comende sijn, dat is die memory, verstant ende wil. Here, the relative clause has to be understood as a restrictive clause: “the thought of man in as far as it is the origin of the intellectual powers.” 28 See Ozment (1969), esp. pp. 15–22. 29 Animam in ch. 34, l. 36 of Blomevenna’s translation is a printer’s error, as is clear from the male suspensus (Ipse elevat sempter intantum animam, quod suspensus meneat . . .). The 1538 Cologne print also has animum here (155c). 30 Herp, Mirror (1931), p. 119, ll. 24–28 (cited in n. 306). 31 The word verstant and its cognates (verstandelijc, verstandelheit, verstandelijcheit, verstandenisse) occur 184 times; wille and cognates (willen (v.), willich, willichlijc, willicheit) occur ca. 237 times, of which at least 60 occurrences concern the will of God. 32 There is no parallel place in Herp’s Latin works. Herp’s Middle Dutch source text of this passage, Ruusbroec’s Brulocht speaks of reynicheit des gheests (Ruusbroec, Espousals (1988), ll. a766–767, “purity of spirit”), Willem Jordaens’ Latin translation of Ruusbroec’s text has castitas mentis (Ruusbroec, Ornatus [2004], p. 238, l. I 782). 33 Bourke (1974), p. 257; Fitzegerald (2009), p. 700. 34 Herp, Mirror (1931), p. 357, ll. 19, 26, 33; p. 363, ll. 27, 30; p. 365, l. 48. We also find this rational aspect in the closely related concepts of redelike minne (“reasoned love,” p. 43, l. 81) and redelike begeerte (“reasoned desire,” p. 173, l. 48) 35 Ibid., p. 327, ll. 2–11; p. 341, ll. 4–5; p. 343, 30–31; p. 361, ll. 103–104. Enicheit der sielen: 4 times; enicheit des geests: 19 times. 36 Unitas mentis: p. 119, l. 25, Eden, 191c1. Cogitatio: p. 417, l. 20, Eden, 233f11–12; p. 417, l. 26, Eden 233f17). Anima: p. 411, l. 79, Eden, 232b14: animamque vehementer incendens. 37 One of Herp’s source texts, De mystieke mondkus ascribed to Willem Jordaens (d. 1372), discusses this way of figurative speaking, which is unavoidable. Jordaens, Osculo (1967), pp. 138–139. Rather free translation in Van Nieuwenhove (2008), p. 33. Section 241 as a whole is important here. For the Mondkus as a source of Herp’s Mirror and Eden, see Moereels (1974).

The Arnhem Mystical Sermons and sixteenth-century mystical culture Ineke Cornet and Kees Schepers

The Arnhem Mystical Sermons are the largest sermon collection in Middle Dutch, totalling 162 sermons written on 372 folios.The sermons are organized according to the liturgical calendar of the Utrecht diocese, with a few adaptations to local traditions in Arnhem and in the monastery.1 Sermons 1–127 are written for the Proper of the Time or Temporale, sermon 128 for the occasion of a church dedication (from the Communale), and sermons 129–162 are written for the Proper of the Saints or Sanctorale. The Sanctorale remains incomplete. It begins with sermon 129 (St. Andrew, 30 November), and ends abruptly with sermon 162 (St. Michael and All Angels, 29 September); there is a hiatus of almost two months.2 The collection is copied in a unique manuscript dating from the third quarter of the sixteenth century.3 The manuscript was written by a scribe from the St. Agnes Convent of regular canonesses in Arnhem in ca. 1560–1580. The monastic community had grown out of a group of Sisters of the Common Life who were part of the Modern Devotion movement; it adopted the Rule of St. Augustine shortly after 1458.4 Based on their content and their relation to the historical-religious context, the original sermons most probably date from the second quarter of the sixteenth century.5 The sermons may have been written for the canonesses of St. Agnes, because the sermons address cloistered nuns who pray the Latin Divine Office. The sermon collection, moreover, contains a sermon for St. Eusebius (156), a saint locally venerated in Arnhem.6 St. Agnes seems to have been at the center of a short-lived mystical renaissance in this period and their library testifies to a great interest in mystical literature.7 The renewed emphasis on mysticism was part of the Catholic Reform Movement that occurred ca. 1517 to 1545. The movement probably started in response to the challenges posed and the deficiencies exposed by Lutheranism and gradually died down as the official Counter Reformation started. The author identifies him- or herself as religious8 and may have had a position of spiritual authority in the community. The author of the Arnhem Mystical Sermons synthesizes both the Rhineland and Brabantine mystical traditions. Sources used include Ruusbroec’s Spiritual Espousals and Pseudo-Augustine’s Liber de spiritu et anima,9 and the sermons bear witness to the influence of Eckhart and Tauler as well.10 In one sermon, the

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author refers to the contemporaneous Cologne Carthusian Peter Blomevenna (1466–1536).11At this point, it is impossible to say whether the author of the sermons was a man or a woman. Sermons were usually composed by men, but the Anrhem mystical sermons do not reflect actual preaching. Some sermons can best be seen as meditations that help the users of the texts to prepare for the interiorized mystical reliving of the events connected with the liturgical feasts. Most texts are structured as commentaries on the Missal readings from the day, and although usually only men would comment on the readings from the Scriptures, there are examples of women preaching and teaching, especially within the walls of a female monastery.12 Furthermore, the author clearly manifests an exceptional knowledge and understanding of mysticism and philosophy, which would be unusual since women had no formal university training, although they could have acquired such knowledge within the walls of the monastery. Thus, female authorship of these texts would be exceptional, but not impossible. Close conceptual ties of the sermons to two well-known major Dutch works of sixteenth-century mysticism – The Evangelical Pearl (Die evangelische peerle, 1538) and The Temple or our Soul (Vanden tempel onser sielen, 1543) – have been established.13 As a consequence, deeper insight has been gained into the mystical-spiritual culture of the contiguous region stretching from Arnhem in Guelders to Cologne in the Rhineland. The mystical culture to which the Arnhem sermons attest is the result of a close relationship between mystical women in the Guelders region and Carthusian men promoting the development of this culture from the charterhouse in Cologne. The Arnhem women lived the mystical life, while the Cologne Carthusians fueled this mystical culture through their editions of classic fourteenth-century texts and of contemporaneous mystical and spiritual literature (e.g. the Pearl and the Temple). Thus, the Arnhem Mystical Sermons have to be understood from within a larger literary network of mystical texts, encompassing fourteenth-century textual sources on the one hand and comparable sixteenth-century mystical treatises on the other.

Notes 1 The offices for the Utrecht diocese in this period can be found in: Missale trajectensis (1527). 2 The Sanctorale is incomplete, since the manuscript ends abruptly. 3 Ms. The Hague, Royal Library, Ms. 133 H 13. 4 Kienhorst (2007), p. 201, 214. 5 The arguments for this assertion can be found in Schepers (2010). 6 See Cornet (2011). 7 For a list of the books ascribed to their library, see Schepers (2008). 8 AMS¸ Sermon 106, fol. 237va. 9 On a textual parallel between Ruusbroec’s Spiritual Espousals and the Arnhem Mystical Sermons 111, see Cornet (2010), pp. 547–578. On a textual parallel between Ps.-Augustines Liber de Spiritu et Anima and Arnhem Mystical Sermons 32, see Cornet (2013).

136  Ineke Cornet and Kees Schepers 10 On Eckhart and Tauler, see Schepers (2008), pp. 301–302. On the influence of Tauler on the Pearl, the Temple and the Arnhem Mystical Sermons, see Faesen (2010b). 11 AMS, Sermon 154, fol. 353vb. 12 For an overview of the debate, see Kienzle (2009), pp. 12–16. On women preaching, see Blamires (1995). 13 Cornet (2011); Faesen (2010b); Schepers (2015).

9 The inner ascent to God and the innermost of the human person in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons Ineke Cornet The via mystica is traditionally described with the stages of purification, the illumination of the faculties and union with God in the spirit, the innermost of the person, representing an ascent from the outer to the inner dimensions of the human person. In the Arnhem Mystical Sermons, the inner ascent to union with God and the anthropological concepts that underpin this ascent are embedded in the liturgical-mystical character of the sermons. The liturgy functions as the main source of metaphors for the human person and union with God. The influence of the liturgy is clear throughout the collection because the sermons are systematically structured according to the liturgical calendar. Each sermon consists in a commentary on elements from the liturgy, mostly on the readings from the Missal, but also on the Latin Divine Office, the Eucharist and other prayers, gestures and rituals that are part of the liturgical celebration. All of these elements are applied to the inner ascent of the human person, which is described as the inner dimension of the liturgy. Sermon 85 summarizes the underpinning paradigm that the outer liturgy, which is the re-enactment of God’s saving works through human mediation in a dedicated space, is also celebrated within the spirit of the person, because God Himself dwells there: But when they [the senses] bring into a person the feasts and solemnities of the church, and the soul turns herself with them or through them purely to God in the spirit, where all solemnities are truly renewed and celebrated by God, then the senses and images are necessary and good until this moment, in so far they lead the soul into and point towards the truth of the solemnities in the spirit.1 The outer liturgy is reflected in the “solemnities of the spirit,” celebrated by the indwelling God. The sermons focus on the inner celebration of Christ’s life as commemorated in the liturgy. In the human spirit, “. . . Christ has been born, has lived, felt, taught and suffered, and he suffers now and dies and rizes with Him as a result of the death of love in newness of life, and ascends in Christ to heaven, and is filled with the Holy Spirit.”2 This systematic reflection on the theme of the inner celebration of the liturgy is relatively rare. In this regard, the sermons are similar to the Evangelical Pearl, the Temple of Our Soul and Johannes

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Tauler. One of the most explicit connections between the liturgical celebration of the great feasts and the inner celebration is made in Pearl III, 3, entitled: “How God wants to fulfil all the great feasts in the soul, and wants to renew them in her always.”3 The author states that the high feasts of the Church ought to be celebrated interiorly as well: “All the other great feasts that were outwardly celebrated by me [Jesus Christ] should also be fulfilled spiritually within you, for which reason they should be celebrated, since you should constantly have and carry in your heart my whole life. . . .”4 Similarly, chapter 8 of the Temple of Our Soul, entitled “How the Exterior Liturgy in the Holy Church is carried out for the sake of the Interior Liturgy,”5 illustrates how the Liturgy of Church Dedication is celebrated within the person. Subsequent chapters elaborate on the mystical celebration of the Temporale. The Middle High German mystical sermons of the Dominican Johannes Tauler (ca. 1300–1361), which were widely read in the Low Countries, reflect the same celebration of the liturgy within the person. According to Tauler, the Liturgy of Church Dedication in its true, full sense happens within the human person, without ceasing: “all modes and exercises of the Holy Church all point to the inner person, in whom the church dedication truly takes place without ceasing.”6 In another sermon, Tauler refers again to an inner Church Dedication: the Church Dedication of the “loving temple” is “much more real than in all temples that are ever built or dedicated.”7 In order to understand the deepest self and the inner ascent in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons, this chapter first analyzes sermon 128 (Church Dedication), in which metaphors from the liturgy dominate and the inner ascent to God alongside the various dimensions of the human person, is clearly outlined. The second section of this chapter investigates two concepts used to describe the innermost being of the human person, which are spirit and ground.

The human person in the church dedication sermon This sermon (128) elaborates on the mystical meaning of the rite of Church Dedication. This rite starts when the bishop and the community gather outside, at dawn, while the litany is sung and twelve candles are lit, and they walk three circuits around the church, during which the outer walls are purified by sprinkling them with holy water. After entering the church, the bishop signs the abcdarium crosswise in dust on the floor. These letters from the alphabet refer to Christ, symbolising Christ declaring the church to be His dominion. The altar and the inner walls are also purified with holy water and by marking them with twelve dedication crosses and lighting twelve candles in front of them. After the altar is consecrated with oil, marking it with signs of the cross and burning incense, the relics are carried into the church. Holy Mass concludes the rite. The full rite of Church Dedication was only performed once for any given church, but was commemorated yearly with a special Eucharistic Mass with adapted readings and antiphons and a dedication sermon.8 Sermon 128 applies this rite to the inner ascent of the human person, based on the

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commonly accepted concept of the soul as God’s inner church.9 The sermon represents an ascent toward full loving union with God in the spirit, which requires the full dedication of oneself to God. This ascent entails three stages: purification of the body (symbolized by the outer church), illumination of the faculties (symbolized by the inner choirs of the church) and union with God in the spirit (symbolized by the innermost of the church: the altar). The sermon opens with designating the yearly celebration of the Church Dedication as an occasion to perform the dedication of the soul: On the solemn day of the Church dedication, a faithful, inner soul should turn inwards earnestly, and observe the temple of her soul, which the Lord has purified and adorned with Himself: how it is now polluted and vitiated with sins and wicked pleasures.10 The first dimension of the person, the outer temple, the “windows,” “walls” and “floors”11 is to be cleansed. This purification of the “outer senses,” the “outer members” and the “heart”12 of all bad intentions and volitions occurs until “the outer temple of her body is then purified and adorned with all the perfect holiness of Christ Jesus.”13 Whereas sermon 128 does not provide any more detail about the outer dimension of the human person, other sermons devote more attention to the lowest dimension as well. Sermon 97 describes the inner hearing, seeing, smelling, appetite and inner feeling, along with the senses of hearing, seeing, smelling, tasting and feeling. Sermon 11, likewise, describes the inner and outer emotions, and refers also to the emotions in the lowest dimension in the person, which are natural love, joy, hope, fear, hate, sadness and shame.14 Parallel to the twelve dedication crosses on the wall made by the bishop, the second dimension, which is the inner temple, contains nine faculties and the three theological virtues, located in the middle choir and the high choir, drawn and impressed by Christ, the “highest, veritable bishop of the soul.”15 The high choir, the spirit, encompasses three faculties in their passivity: the faculties of memory, intelligence and love, and the theological virtues of faith, hope and love.16 The middle choir, the soul, entails six more active counterparts. Remembering, understanding, volition and love are related to the three faculties, and desiring, discerning and last hating or loving17 have a more affective emotional connotation associated with these powers and are similar to the concupiscible, rational and irascible powers, which are subordinate to the faculties. By distinguishing between a middle and high choir, the author describes the faculties in their receptivity and in their action, a distinction that is regularly employed in the sermon collection.18 Whereas Christ impresses these crosses on the person, the soul finds that Christ cannot perceive these crosses in the temple of the soul, unless He shines His own light into it.19 The person responds to Him by lighting the candles, which is symbolic of the purification of her faculties by Christ’s faculties: “And she takes, as twelve candles, the highest and purest mind of Christ and places it against her own impure mind, and she then takes His

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highest divine intellect and places it against her own darkened intellect, and similarly His most divine and highest love against her worthless, misdirected love.”20After all the faculties have been illuminated by Christ, the soul decorates herself so as to praise Christ.21 The third dimension of the human person is the “highest and innermost choir,” the sancta sanctorum, where the “altar of love stands” in the “highest part of the spirit.”22 Parallel to the liturgy in which the altar is the “focal point” and “heart” of the rite,23 the focal point of the person is the “altar of love.”The altar is approached by turning inward, and it is adorned with the qualities of Christ’s spirit: After all this she turns to the highest and most interior choir, that is, to the sancta sanctorum, where the highest and most delightful altar of love is raised, and she finds it prepared with six most enchanting crosses, that by the irradiation and brightness of the created spirit of Christ light up the highest part of her spirit, and she takes most silent silence, the most empty emptiness, the more bare bareness, the most silent tranquillity, yes, the most poor poverty with the nothingmost nothingness, and the most godlike godliness and adds to it her most impure silence, emptiness, bareness with what is most ungodlike in her spirit, and she makes with a bundle of the most precious herbs and flowers and strews and embellishes with them the high altar of love and the whole floor and the walls of the spirit.24 The inner ascent toward God involves detachment of the self, which is reflected in the use of nouns such as nothingness and tranquillity. The author uses negative theology to describe the total annihilation of all earthly categories in the encounter with God who is beyond comprehension. On the altar of love, “the highest part of her spirit,” union with God takes place. This union with God is linked to the person’s passive dimensions: After all these activities, preparations, washing and decorations, praise of organ playing, the raising of the voices, offerings and thanksgiving, which, like in a flash, in a sweet melting, bring together and combine in Christ Jesus the affections and soul’s faculties, a miraculous, divine tranquillity originates immediately in the soul, and she is completely robbed of herself by God. And in this tranquillity, the Personal, Eternal Word comes and performs the high sacrifice in the soul, and offers Himself in her, and [offers], melted and united in Him, to the Father in the Godhead, for the eternal delight and enjoyment of His love.25 The preparation of the person to experience God interiorly consists in the bringing together of all one’s faculties into the centre of one’s being. This is the condition that makes a God-given tranquillity in the soul possible. Though one can prepare oneself for this, the divine tranquillity is ultimately given by God Himself: the person “is completely robbed of herself by God.”26 The inner

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union with God, which is the climax of this sermon, is expressed in Eucharistic language: “The Word performing ‘the high sacrifice in the soul.’ ” This passage refers to the indwelling of God by referring to Christ coming into the soul as a priest. The coming of Christ as a priest to the altar in the soul’s temple is parallel to the coming of the priest to the altar to perform the sacrifice. The union between the person and Christ is the “inner liturgy” of the sacramental communion with Christ. In this union with God, the spirit is not only passive, detached and receptive to God’s love but is actively involved in “delight and enjoyment.”The sacramental and inner participation in the Eucharist unites the person with Christ so intensely that the human person can be lifted up into the divine reality. She or he becomes a son of the Father, so that she or he is loved with the same love as the Father has for the Son and the Son for the Father: Through this sacrifice of the Eternal Word, the soul’s form is transformed and made one with God’s form, and the loving Son of God presents this form in His own unity to the Father and the whole heavenly host, and the Father in the Godhead delights Himself in this soul’s form in the Son and that of the Son in the soul, . . . and how and what happens there to the soul, that is more to experience than to pronounce.27 The sermon clearly states that this experience transcends linguistic and intellectual categories. The union of love unites the person and God so much that the human person is deified: the “soul’s form is transformed and made one with God’s form.”28 The sermon continues by making clear that not everyone who dedicates himself to God and is united with God will experience this deeply.29 She or he describes that although not everyone experiences this deifying union, it happens in everyone who is God-like in virtue and who is turned inward.30 The transformative union “occurs in him through God being just as real in darkness and unknowing as it ever happened in any God-loving person with divine experience.”31 The accompanying experiences of mutual enjoyment are to a certain extent secondary: they are only good insofar as it brings the person “out of sins, into grace:”32 But the person who has never experienced this experiential light and God’s inworking, and is nevertheless always in humble releasement, and does not regard and follow God any less, may be a thousand times more blessed and perfect, although he does not know it. . . . Whoever is the most alike and pure as to the profound surrender and releasement of the will in God’s eternal will, is the most pleasant and perfect and holy before God.33 The sermon exhorts its listeners toward a surrender of the will to God, whether it is accompanied by experience or not. The sermon holds together the inner ascent toward God in the spirit and the transformation of the human person that flows forth from the spirit to all faculties and senses. This liturgical depiction of the inner ascent of the human person and the union with God has

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striking similarities with Tauler’s sermon Fuit in diebus herodis. This sermon uses the sacrifice of the priest Zachariah as a metaphor for the performance of the priestly sacrifice in the person’s spirit, which Tauler also calls a sancta sanctorum: He also refers to being robbed of oneself, to sacrificing the Son within to the Father, to being transformed by God, and not to rest in experiences but to obey the will of God.34 Therefore, amidst differences, concepts of the human person and the inner ascent overlap across time and regions. The next section focuses on the two concepts that describe the innermost being most frequently: the spirit and the ground.

The innermost in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons The concept of spirit (geest)

The concept of spirit is one of the most frequently used concepts in the Arnhem sermons, occurring almost 1,000 times, although not all references apply to the human spirit but to the divine Spirit as well. Like Ruusbroec, the author defines the spirit both as the active unity of the faculties and the innermost part of the human person that rests in God.35 The resting in God is referred to in terms of an ontological union with God: “But your spirit has no life, being or form except for my Divinity. Therefore, nothing works in your innermost being of the spirit except my Divinity. . . ”36 and “the ‘is-ness’ (dat is) of the spirit – that contains the sublime divine persons in one being in itself.”37 This ontological unity of the spirit with God is the foundation of the experiential unity of spirit with God, as sermon 103 illustrates: For He made us out of nothing, that is, out of Himself, Himself alike, because He could not find anything more precious from which He could make us than out of nothing, Himself alike, and breathed into us the spirit of His life, and united Himself so indistinctively to our spirit, because He wanted to rest and work in it forever with His high, indistinct triune unity, and wanted to enjoy Himself and us in one, as it always pleased and delighted him in eternity.38 The spirit is receptive to God, because it rests in Him, and it is capable of responding to God’s love without intermediary. Love is the most fundamental characteristic of the spirit. Sermon 128 describes the spirit as the “altar of love.” Many sermons illustrate the spirit’s union with God in love: “through all this the God-loving spirit is turned with strong love in tranquil, unshakable rest into the spirit of God,”39 “having one spirit in one love,”40 “our spirit with absolute love is entirely turned towards God,”41 “with love one spirit in God”42 and “one spirit united in love in my blessed divinity.”43 The experience of God in the spirit is beyond all concepts and words, as the Church Dedication sermon stated. Sermon 85 also mentions how the spirit experiences God in a way that cannot be understood by the senses, emotions

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and faculties: “What the spirit of a person experiences there of God and how he is pervaded with the pure eternal truth, that is something no tongue can utter, nor heart can envisage, nor can it be understood by any of the senses.”44 Union with God in the spirit involves detachment and a gathering into the innermost dimension. The Church Dedication sermon referred to this union as a coming to passivity, expressed through concepts of negative theology. Sermon 28 explicitly described this process of gathering into the spirit: “To that purpose he should often gather his outer senses and pull them into the inner senses of the soul, and push them with all the faculties of the soul into the innermost of the desert, that is, into the spirit. . . .”45 Sermon 97 states that a person becomes one with God in the Spirit through annihilation of all selfishness: “Now, observe in the bottomless annihilation and sinking away of yourself, how Jesus Christ, who once ascended over all heavens, wants to ascend today in the heaven of your spirit.”46 This annihilating spirit is drawn by Christ into His union with God, as Christ says: “I shall draw all loving spirits that are sunk away into the unity and enjoyment of my divinity.”47 Through detachment, the spirit experiences oneness with God beyond comprehension, as unlike the body and soul, it may experience God without intermediary. This detachment from the lower dimension in the person is based on the elevated position of the Spirit. Sermon 32, in which the author quotes Ps. Augustine’s Liber de spiritu et anima,48 expresses a soul-spirit dichotomy: Here the soul is completely resting with pure mind in God and God in her. This is not achieved by the senses or the imagination, but the lower faculties are deprived of their own activity and the most noble part of the soul is introduced in the most hidden inner silence. In this separation the soul and all that belongs to the soul remains below, but the spirit and all that belongs to the spirit, soars to the utmost heights.49 The spirit and the spiritual dimension of the person ascend to God in contrast to the soul and the lowest faculties.The sermons refer regularly to an innermost aspect of the spirit to express the spirit’s union with God, as a few examples illustrate: “from that part and innermost being of her spirit, by which she has rested uncreated and eternally in God”50 and “nothing works in your innermost being of the spirit except my Divinity. . . .”51 A concept specifically used to describe God’s indwelling in the spirit is the term “is-ness” of the spirit. This term defines the spirit as the locus for God’s indwelling and therefore as the only dimension of knowing God without intermediaries. Sermon 11 describes how the birth of God that takes place in the person is not known to the soul but only to the spirit, because the spirit has an “is-ness:” This [the birth of God in the soul] is known only to the spirit and remains partly unknown to the soul, for what is uncreated cannot be understood or fully grasped by what is created. But the ‘is-ness’ of the spirit – that contains

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the sublime divine persons in one being in itself and in which nothing else has been nor can enter into – sees, feels and knows that it happens and how it happens. For the is-ness of the spirit, that is one is-ness with God in God, that by itself and by God alone is seen, understood and known, is united with the savoury, eternal wisdom in the height of the intellect, that is the sight of the spirit, and joined without intermediary to the savoury, eternal wisdom of God, which does to some extent make a supernatural light flow through and shine into the soul through reason, but still leaves it [the soul] thereafter in a hunger, thirst and steady longing, and which leaves and keeps the spirit in a steady stillness, quiet and peace. For in his is-ness, where he is one with God, nothing can move him but God.52 The is-ness literally means the “it is,” the third-person singular of the Middle Dutch verb sijn (“to be”). The term is used to define the specific nature of the spirit, which, in contrast to the soul, is being joined to God “without intermediary,” and “contains the sublime divine persons in one being.” This indwelling of God enables the spirit to be one being with God: “in his is-ness, where he is one with God.” Because of God’s indwelling, the spirit can only be touched and known by God: “For in his is-ness, where he is one with God, nothing can move him but God.” This implies also that the spirit is the only dimension of the person that is able to experience the birth of God. Because the uncreated God dwells in the spirit, the spirit is the only dimension of the person that can understand and feel God’s working in the spirit. Although the is-ness of the spirit is one with God, the human person is not God himself. Sermon 121 states that God has always been uncreated, whereas the human soul is created and although one with God, different from God: For the uncreatedness has drawn into Himself the createdness of the soul so deeply, that He Himself is her power, her knowing, loving, contemplating, and enjoyment, and the soul is and has to remain the remaining is-ness of createdness, but God alone is her property, her sustenance, and her essential existence, in which she shall never fail the unity of the spirit with the essential bond of peace.53 The “is-ness” of the person indicates at the same time the person’s indwelling in God and God’s indwelling in the spirit, as well as the remaining createdness of the person’s soul. The person’s is-ness depends on God who sustains her and God is its existence itself. Thus, God Himself is also described as an is-ness, a pure being, in sermon 90: “Sink away with all that you are in that bottomless nothingness that is God Himself . . . and entrust yourself to the bottomless isness of the Godhead.”54 This concept of is-ness shows striking similarities to Eckhart, who also uses it to describe both God’s incomprehensibility and His indwelling in creation.55 He describes how the soul becomes one with God’s is-ness: “You should wholly sink away from your you-ness and dissolve into His Hisness, and your ‘yours’ and His ‘His’ should become so completely one

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‘Mine’ that with Him you understand His unbecome is-ness and His nameless nothingness.”56 Eckhart shows that the is-ness is in the human person because God dwells in the soul: “As Our Lord said, where I am, there my servants will also be, so the soul becomes one is-ness, which is God.”57 The term is-ness of the spirit clearly demonstrates Eckhart’s influence on the Arnhem Mystical Sermons. The concept of ground (gront)

“Ground” is another frequently used concept to describe the innermost part of the human person. The metaphor and related adjectives occur more than 400 times in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons. Like the spirit, the ground is also the innermost being, where the faculties are united: “the innermost of the ground of the soul, where all the faculties work in one being.”58 Unlike the spirit, the concept of ground is not part of triads such as body, soul and spirit.The ground is first and foremost the pure passive dimension to the human person, as sermon 83 illustrates.Whereas the human spirit receives the birth of God,59 the sermon describes how every devout person should sink into one’s ground along with the sinful senses and faculties, precisely because this is where one offers oneself to God: . . . every devout person who would like to share in this rich treasure of merit, must sink and sink again with all his sinful senses and faculties ever deeper and deeper into the ground, until he is surrounded, captured by the truth of God and taken into His might, and he shall there sacrifice and let go of himself with a fathomless self-rejection into the most dear known and unknown eternal will of God. . . .60 The author adheres to the traditional tripartite structure of the human person in describing the inner ascent from the senses and the faculties into the ground. The distinctiveness of the ground is its receptivity and passivity. One is exhorted to sink into one’s ground “until he is surrounded, captured, and caught by the truth of God.”61 The ground is not combined with active verbs such as “experiencing.” Sermon 85 shows a similar distinction between the spirit and the ground. The sermon describes a detachment from the senses and a gathering of all the soul’s faculties as the means “to turn inward into his innermost ground.”62 It is necessary to enter into God who is without images and without names.63 The turning into the ground is followed by an experiencing of God in the spirit, which cannot be understood by the senses, emotions and faculties.64 The ground is thus described as the innermost part into which one turns, whereas the spirit is the highest dimension that experiences and loves God. Consequently, the spirit may sink into the ground to be completely one with God, free from distractions: “the spirit sinks deeper and deeper into herself, until she reaches the ground into which God the Holy Trinity shines essentially and actively.”65 Thus, while the spirit has to detach from everything

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to be one with God, the ground denotes that aspect of the human person that is not attached to earthly matters, but sinks into God. Comparatively, the concept of ground is more exclusively connected to sinking into God, detachment and negative theology. The focus is on the ground as one’s deepest dimension, which one reaches through self-detachment, sinking away and annihilation. Sermon 103 describes the indwelling of God in the soul while frequently using the concept of ground. This sermon comments on only one verse from the Missal, Romans 11, 33: “O, the depth of the riches of God: of the wisdom and of the knowledge. How incomprehensible are his judgments and how inscrutable are his ways.”66 The soul is exhorted to sink into God, her origin. The ground of the soul is the locus of God’s dwelling in the person: O, inner soul, what highness, what might, what wisdom, what love or goodness could fulfil and please you more than what you are filled with? For the bottomless depth of the riches of wisdom and knowledge of God are in you.You are the clear, most shining mirror of the high Godhead, in which He most clearly and purely sees Himself imaged and essentially present, and in the gazing upon which you see and know yourself most similar and most clearly therein.67 In this sermon, the ground metaphor is closely related to that of the mirror in this sermon.The soul is described as the “mirror of the noble Godhead, in which he sees Himself imaged and essentially mirrored in the most bright and pure way.”68 The mirror metaphor powerfully expresses the unbreakable ontological relationship between Creator and creature. Like a mirror, the soul’s ground reflects God, not for a limited time span but eternally.69 There is no difference between God’s transcendent life and His immanent life in the soul. The ground contains God’s own “bottomless” depths of riches. Although the ground does not respond to God in love, it is not completely passive either. It has an observing capacity, as it observes and knows herself in God’s ground: “in which your ground sees and knows itself as resplendent, godlike and luminous as the Godhead knows Himself, with the distinction of persons and one in being.”70 This indwelling of God in the ground is at the heart of the admonishment to detach from oneself and to sink into one’s origin, which the author describes while referring to the Sursum corda, which is the introductory prayer for the Liturgy of the Sacrament: Therefore, lift up yourself, O noble soul, with a fathomless inclining and sinking away of yourself in God and rejoice beyond all joy, that through Jesus Christ you have found and may enter your eternal, immobile origin, in which you have rested eternally.71 To enter into one’s hidden ground requires a sinking away of oneself and being united with Christ. The soul is called noble because of God’s indwelling and may become one with God. Here, the author of the Arnhem Mystical Sermons

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does not use the concept of ground, as in the first part of this sermon, but shifts to spirit: . . . And breathed into us the spirit of His life, and thus He united Himself inseparably to our spirit, because He wanted to rest and work in it eternally with his noble, indistinctive Trinitarian unity, and enjoy Himself and us in oneness.72 This passage shows again that in contrast to the ground, the spirit describes oneness with God. The metaphor of bottomlessness and abyss are regularly expanded on in the sermon collection. In the first paragraph of the sermon, God is referred to as “bottomless depth”: “For the bottomless depth of the riches of wisdom and knowledge of God are in you.”73 The Middle Dutch word for bottomless, ongrondig, literally means “without a ground”, and indicated that God’s bottomless being dwells in the ground of the soul. The concept of “bottomless being” is another way of referring to God as an abyss, a classic interpretation of the biblical topos from Ps. 42:7 “Abyss calls unto abyss,” also quoted in this sermon to refer to the bottomless dimensions of both the soul and God. Because the infinite God lives in the person, the soul’s ground should not be understood as “bottom,” but as bottomless as God Himself. The grounds of both the human being and God are portrayed as abyssal: Because its [the solemnity’s] dignity demands of us its own image and likeness, subservience and secret praise, that goes beyond all created praise, such as to offer and to sink our soul in the hidden abyss of the Godhead, who without cease calls to the deep of our nothingness, as the prophet says:“O God, you are truly a hidden God”74 and also: “The abyss calls unto the abyss.”75 This passage illustrates how God’s ground (abyss) and the human ground call to each other. The metaphor of abyss describes both God, who calls the abyss of the soul into Himself, and the human soul, in which God dwells. Because the transcendent God is beyond all human attributes, names or attributes stemming from positive theology vanish: “For just as little as the Godhead has a name in itself, does the soul have a name in this. For she has flown over into that modeless being, faster than in the blink of an eye.”76 Both God and the human person, in whom God dwells, are infinite and thus not exhaustively knowable. Sermon 139 (St. Petrus ad cathedra) elaborates on the bottomless aspect of the ground of the person: Thus one should know, that this sinking into the bottomless nothingness is nothing else than a bottomless release of everything that is not God, and that should and has to happen, not only once, but so often and ceaselessly, that one is not able to stay in anything that is not God for even one moment without sinking, that is, without release. Thus the ground of the

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person should feel like being ceaselessly drawn by God in that which is the most bottomless, like a stone that is thrown in a bottomless sea, which constantly has to fall by necessity, because it cannot find ground. . . . Coming into the bottomlessness of God should happen through a bottomless, plain, naked sinking away and release of the self, and of everything that is, and without any help. So he will be lifted up by God ceaselessly and without intermediary, through the bottomless darkness of himself, into the bottomlessness of God. . . . One may only undergo being drawn through the abyss of his failing into the abyss of [God] Himself, how and in which manner and when He [God] wants.77 This sermon describes how the ground of the person “cannot find ground” because it sinks into God’s abyss. The concepts of bottomlessness, abyss and nothingness illustrate that God cannot be understood by human categories. In order to reach this unknown God, the ground has to sink into God ceaselessly, thereby leaving behind everything that is not God. Because the ground is the place in which God’s groundless depths dwell, the ground is abyssal and always sinking into God. Although it does not respond to God with active love as the spirit does, it has a dynamic aspect as well, which is its constant sinking into God. In describing the “abyssal dimensions” of the human person, the author stands in the tradition of various mystical authors. In the Middle Dutch region, we find it in various works, for example in the writings of Hadewijch. According to her, God is an “abyss” of “unfathomable depth” in which “the souls who love” will “lose themselves.”78 The soul can be lost in God and God in her, for “the soul is a bottomless abyss in which God suffices to Himself; and his own self-sufficiency ever finds fruition to the full in this soul, as the soul, for its part, ever does in Him. . . . [God’s] inmost depths  . . . cannot be touched except by the soul’s abyss.”79 The fourteenth-century mystics of the Rhineland, like Eckhart and Tauler, used ground and comparable nouns and derivations like abyss and groundlessness frequently to describe the mutual indwelling of God and the person, and they clearly influenced the author of the Arnhem Mystical Sermons.80

Conclusion In defining the human person and the inner ascent, the Arnhem Mystical Sermons frequently use concepts from the liturgy in a way that is similar to Tauler, the Pearl and the Temple. The mystical ascent is described as an inner liturgy in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons, and consequently, all elements of the outer liturgy are applied to the human person and the spirit’s union with God. One example is the sermon on Church Dedication (128) that illustrates important theological concepts of the sermon collection with metaphors from the liturgy: the soul as God’s temple; the inner ascent that encompasses purification, illumination and union with God; the coming to passivity and enjoyment; the central role

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of the Eucharist; the mutual indwelling of the human person and Christ; and the transformation of the human person flowing forth from union with God. The mystical interpretation of the liturgy, particularly of the readings from the Missal, also colours the concepts for the innermost person. Both the spirit and the ground are often described with biblical and liturgical metaphors, such as altar, sancta sanctorum and abyss. The spirit is the most frequently used concept for the innermost being of the human person. The spirit consists in the unity of the faculties, and is the locus of God’s indwelling, which is similar to Ruusbroec’s thought. This ontological union is the basis of the experiential and loving union with God that may take place in the spirit. The unity of the spirit with God can be reached through detachment, which enables one to experience God who is beyond comprehension. The spirit’s is-ness denotes the unbreakable union between God and the human spirit in which God dwells in a way similar to Eckhart. Like the spirit, the ground also functions as the unity of the faculties. Unlike the spirit, the ground is neither combined with active verbs such as loving or experiencing God nor unity with God. The ground denotes the ceaseless in-God-sinking dimension of the human person, and at times the place in which the human spirit sinks. The concepts of bottomlessness, abyss and nothingness are applied both to God’s and the human’s ground, expressing that the human ground is bottomless precisely because the infinite and incomprehensible God dwells there. These concepts from negative theology also clearly show the influence of the Rhineland mystics. The anthropological concepts used by the author of the Arnhem Mystical Sermons are thus proven to display the influence of a broad tradition, including Ps. Augustine, Ruusbroec, Eckhart and Tauler, while also being similar to the contemporaneous Pearl and the Temple. Yet, the author combines this into a unique concept of the human person, which is characterized by the synthesis of different traditions and the systematic integration of liturgy into the inner ascent and the structure of the human person.

Notes 1 AMS, Sermon 85, fol. 177rb–va. 2 AMS, Sermon 83, fol. 165ra. 3 “The Evangelical Pearl, Part III,” translated by Helen Rolfson, in Van Nieuwenhove, Faesen & Rolfson (2008), p. 222 (hereinafter: Pearl). 4 Pearl, pp. 222–223. 5 “The Temple of Our Soul (extracts),” translated by Rob Faesen, in Van Nieuwenhove, Faesen & Rolfson (2008), p. 328. 6 Sermon 19, Tauler, Sermons (1929), p. 219. 7 Sermon 8, ibid., p. 86. 8 Benz (1991), Bowen (1941), Horie (2006), pp. 2–10,Verheul (1968). 9 Bowen (1941), pp. 469–470; Horie (2006), pp. 92–96. 10 AMS, Sermon 128, fol. 286rb. 11 Ibid., fol. 286rb–287rb. 12 Ibid., fol. 286rb–287rb 13 Ibid., fol. 287ra.

150  Ineke Cornet 14 AMS, Sermon 11, fol. 20rb–va. 15 AMS, Sermon 128, fol. 287va. 16 Ibid., fol. 287rb. 17 Ibid., fol. 287rb. 18 This distinction has been pointed out by Schepers (2012), pp. 140–148. 19 AMS, Sermon 128, fol. 287va. 20 Ibid., fol. 287va–vb. 21 Ibid., fol. 288va–289ra. 22 Ibid., fol. 289ra. 23 The centrality of the altar is also outlined in Horie (2006), p. 8. 24 AMS, Sermon 128, fol. 289ra–rb. 25 Ibid., fol. 289va–vb. 26 Ibid., fol. 289va. 27 Ibid., fol. 289vb–290ra. 28 Ibid., fol. 289vb. 29 Ibid. fol. 290ra. 30 Ibid., fol. 290ra–rb. 31 Ibid., fol. 290ra-rb. 32 Ibid., fol. 290va. 33 Ibid., fol. 291ra–rb 34 Sermon 4, Tauler, Sermons (1924), pp. 68–78. 35 See Ruusbroec, Espousals (1988), pp. 287–289, ll. b36–49. Sermon 111 is based on Ruusbroec’s Spiritual Espousals. See the introduction to the sermons in this book. 36 AMS, Sermon 61, fol. 117va. 37 AMS, Sermon 11, fol. 21vb. 38 AMS, Sermon 103, fol. 228ra-228rb. 39 AMS, Sermon 11, fol. 21va. 40 AMS, Sermon 26, fol. 54rb. 41 AMS, Sermon 85, fol. 175vb–176ra. 42 AMS, Sermon 103, fol. 229ra. 43 AMS, Sermon 104, fol. 231rb. 44 AMS, Sermon 85, fol. 178rb–va. 45 AMS, Sermon 28, fol. 64ra–rb. 46 AMS, Sermon 97, fol. 211ra–rb. 47 Ibid., fol. 215va. Cf. Jn 12, 32. 48 On this, see Cornet (2013). 49 AMS, Sermon 32, fol. 72ra–rb. 50 AMS, Sermon 1, fol. 1rb. 51 AMS, Sermon 61, fol. 117va. 52 AMS, Sermon 11, fol. 21vb–22rb. 53 AMS, Sermon 121, fol. 272va. 54 AMS, Sermon 90, fol. 190va–vb. 55 On Eckhart, see Morard (1956). 56 Eckhart, Sermon 83 (1976). Translation from Walshe (1987–1989), vol 2, pp. 331–336. 57 Eckhart, Sermon 64 (1976), pp. 31–33. 58 AMS, Sermon 78, fol. 147rb. 59 AMS, Sermon 83, fol. 165vb–166ra. 60 Ibid., fol. 163ra. 61 Ibid., fol. 163ra. 62 AMS, Sermon 85, fol. 177ra. 63 Ibid., fol. 177ra–vb. 64 Ibid., fol. 178rb–va. 65 AMS, Sermon 9, fol. 15vb. 66 AMS, Sermon 99, fol. 226va–vb.

Arnhem Sermons: inner ascent  151 67 AMS, Sermon 103, fol. 226vb–227ra. 68 Ibid., fol. 226vb. 69 On the mirror metaphor, see Oechslin (1971), c. 1458. 70 AMS, Sermon 103, fol. 227ra. 71 Ibid., fol. 227rb. 72 Ibid., fol. 228ra–rb 73 Ibid., fol. 226vb. 74 Cf. Is. 45:15. 75 AMS, Sermon 103, fol. 229ra-rb. Cf. Ps 42, 7. 76 Ibid., fol. 229va–vb. 77 AMS, Sermon 139, fol. 310ra–vb. 78 Hadewijch, Vision 11 (1924), ll. 1–27 (Hart 1980, p. 289). 79 Hadewijch, Letter 18 (1947), ll. 63–79 (Hart 1980, p. 86). 80 McGinn’s handbook provides a useful account on the occurrence of ground in Eckhart and Tauler: McGinn, 2005. De Vooys referred to the concepts of bottomlessness, nothingness and is-ness as typical for Eckhart: de Vooys (1905), pp. 55–57.

10 Multilayeredness of the highest faculties in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons Kees Schepers

The Arnhem Mystical Sermons attest to the belief that the essential being of God can be perceived and experienced by men and women. The mysticalanthropological underpinning for this belief lies in an understanding of the highest faculties of the spirit, which accredits those faculties with the ability to perceive and experience the divine essence. On closer inspection, we find that in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons the highest faculties of the spirit exhibit a certain multilayeredness. This multilayeredness does not so much indicate separate levels within or parts of those faculties, but rather different aspects or functions attributed to them. In order to enhance our understanding of this multilayeredness, it is useful to consider parallel philosophical concepts regarding the soul. The Arnhem Mystical Sermons reflect positions held by philosophers and theologians from the late Middle Ages that trickled down into the mystical culture that generated these sermons. In this contribution, I will analyse sections of some Arnhem Mystical Sermons that manifest the multilayeredness of the highest faculties. Furthermore, I want to stress the crucial importance of concepts developed by Aristotle, particularly in his De anima, transmitted through medieval adaptations, that underlie the Arnhem Mystical Sermons.

Introduction: observations and objectives A preliminary remark regarding the anonymous authorship of the Arnhem Mystical Sermons is necessary. At this point, it is impossible to say whether the author of the sermons was a man or a woman. This uncertainty is linked to our lack of information on the actual function of the sermons. It is certain that they do not reflect actual preaching. Some sermons explicitly look ahead to the liturgical occasion of the day. Therefore, the sermons can best be seen as preparatory meditations. The sermons help the users of the texts to prepare for the interiorised mystical reliving of the events connected with the liturgical feasts. Since the sermons are meditative texts, there is no reason why the author could not have been a woman. A problematic issue regarding the gender of the author is the apparent level of the author’s philosophical knowledge. A woman could not have had university training and therefore could not have obtained systematic philosophical

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knowledge. However, it is possible that a woman would have acquired a certain level of philosophical knowledge, either from access to philosophical texts or through close contact with a man who did study at a university. At any rate, the intellectual level of a female author of the sermons would have been exceptional, befitting an author who clearly manifests an exceptional knowledge and understanding of mysticism. Even though the level of education of the author of the Arnhem sermons remains unknown, he or she confidently applies several philosophical concepts. One of the more striking is the concept of “form” in its philosophical meaning of “essence” instead of the simpler “outer outline.” The author also speaks of “being” or “being-ness” in the same way as Eckhart uses istigkeit in his vernacular sermons. The multilayeredness of the highest faculties is not explicitly identified and thematised in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons. This multilayeredness exists de facto, but it can only be recognised as the result of a strictly inductive analysis of the sermons.1 The sermons use different terms for the higher faculties when they seek to emphasize specific aspects or functions of the highest faculties. The sermons, however, do not identify or discuss those different aspects or functions, nor do they attempt to organise them in overarching, abstract categories. Through a prior inductive analysis the following results could be achieved: (1) the identification and gathering of all the terms in the sermons used in connection with the highest faculties; (2) the construction of categories to accommodate the entire range of terms; (3) the organization of the terms in those categories.2 Since my aim has previously been a purely descriptive analysis of mystical anthropology in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons, I consciously refrained from pursuing possible correspondences between terminology in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons and late-medieval philosophical concepts. In this way, the descriptive analysis did not risk being influenced, and possibly distorted, by the interpretative application of terminology from a parallel, in this case philosophical, domain. Having evaluated the resulting description, however, and devising appropriate categories in which to place the pertinent terms, two fundamental concepts prove to be particularly useful: actuality and especially potentiality. One cannot help but be struck by the significant correspondences that appear to exist between the terminology in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons and the apparent underlying philosophical concepts – among which potentiality and actuality feature prominently. These concepts are essential both to Aristotle’s exploration of the cognitive functions of the soul in De anima and to the medieval theological-philosophical development of a Christian concept of cognition – based on Aristotelianism – by Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274).3 Consequently, it seems imperative to pursue and evaluate these correspondences. The multilayeredness of the higher faculties in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons can only be understood if we view these faculties and their properties in light of the pertinent philosophical theories of the soul. If there is a belief in the possibility of mystical experience and perception, then there must be

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philosophical concepts providing the basis for such mystical cognition and experience. I will demonstrate that the mystical-anthropological concepts in late-medieval Aristotelianism provide the conceptual foundation for the specific belief in mystical experience found in the Arnhem sermons.

Preliminary remarks and suppositions Subject matter and concepts

In analyzing theories of the mind underlying Christian mystical-religious discourse, it is important to distinguish between the elements of the mind that are the subject of such theories and the theoretical concepts used to describe and evaluate the function of those elements. In other words, it is important to distinguish between the elements of the mind and the concepts or views thereof. The distinction is important because the elements – being the faculties of the mind – derive from a different tradition than the concepts used to discuss them. In the case at hand, the Arnhem Mystical Sermons, the elements derive from Augustine (354–430) while the concepts ultimately derive from Aristotle (384 bc–322 bc). The elements stem from a tradition of Christian theological thinking whereas the concepts stem from a purely philosophical tradition. Attempts to reconcile theological and philosophical thinking in a systematic manner were made with the adoption and integration of Aristotelian thought into religious discourse from the late twelfth century onward. The twelfth- and thirteenth-century translations gave rise to the Aristotelianism of the thirteenth century, primarily through the works of Albertus Magnus (1200–1280) and Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274).4 Aristotelianism then became pervasive through countless scholastic commentaries.5 One can only imagine the excitement it must have caused when philosophers and theologians began to integrate a purely philosophical and non-religious type of thinking – that was already 1,600 years old at the time – into a system of theological thinking that had hitherto not been connected to a systematic philosophy. In this contribution, I will take the higher faculties of the mind – memory, intellect and will – as a given. My focus will be on philosophical concepts that seem fundamental for the supposed functions and properties of those faculties. Another caveat is that Aristotle did not share the later Christian notion that the spirit contains the three highest faculties of memory, intellect and will. Therefore, we must take into account that there was always an incongruity between Aristotelian thinking on the mind, which focused on intellect and memory, and Christian thinking for which the three highest faculties were the starting point. The common division of the higher faculties into memory, intellect and will ultimately goes back to Augustine in his De trinitate (“On the Trinity”).6 He devised this threepartite structure of the mind in response to the pivotal phrase

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from Genesis: faciamus hominem ad imaginem et similitudinem nostram (Gen. 1:26: “Let us make man to our image and likeness” [Douay-Rheims]). Augustine identified a series of trinities on different levels with regard to the process of knowing. Ranging from knowledge dependent on sensory input to knowledge absolutely independent of sensory input, he described a process of knowing that in each instance involved three elements. When sensory input is involved, one would, for example, have sight, an object and the will that directs the sight toward the object. In an absolutely non-sensory process, one has selfreflective thought, self-knowledge and the love that is involved in knowing oneself. Augustine thus arrives at a concept of the highest part of the human soul, consisting of the mind (memory), the knowledge by which it knows itself (intellect) and the love by which it loves itself.These three faculties are a reflection, an analogy, of the three persons of the Trinity. Thus, every person can be called an image of God. Augustine’s structure of the soul became the commonly accepted concept used in religious discourse, both in spiritual and mystical literature. Every Christian thinker was also bound to these elements of the mind that were the subject of Christian anthropology. In the twelfth-century environment, when universities replaced monasteries as the central loci in the development of religious thought, a need for a systematic, philosophical foundation of religious belief was increasingly felt. Notwithstanding the enormous achievements of great Christian thinkers like Augustine, Christian religion was in need of a philosophical system, and it gradually found a useful tool in Aristotelianism. Late-medieval Christian thinkers discussed the properties and functions of the highest faculties of the spirit: memory, intellect and will. Even though Aristotelian thinking on the functions of the spirit is not based on the distinction of these three faculties, the concepts Aristotle used, particularly with regard to intellect, could still be linked in a meaningful way to the three faculties. This linkage between faculties and concepts reemerges in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons, albeit rather subterraneanly. Although it is possible that the conceptual connections between the sermons and the Aristotelian concepts are the result of direct influence from scholastic Aristotelian theology and philosophy on the author of the sermons, nothing can be said with certainty regarding the apparent link. What is certain is that Aristotelian texts and ideas were not readily available in the Northern Low Countries in the early sixteenth century. Few manuscripts of Aristotle’s pivotal work De anima are still extant in Dutch libraries, and none are from the Northern Low Countries. Aristotelianism was likely completely absent in the vernacular.7 In case the author was directly influenced by Aristotelianism, he would need to have studied at a university, and that would have been either in Paris or Cologne. Only one extant manuscript contains the type of texts connected to such a university environment. The manuscript contains a series of lecture notes on Aristotle and Albertus Magnus from a Dutch theology professor at the University of Cologne.8

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What I intend to present are irrefutable connections between anthropological concepts in Aristotelianism and concepts that clearly underlie the Arnhem Mystical Sermons. Identifying those connections should not be confused with suggesting that the author of the sermons knew and consciously accepted those concepts. The connections do not necessarily stem from direct influence. In such a case, an author chooses to adopt and apply certain concepts. This is not likely to have happened with the sermons author vis-à-vis Aristotelian concepts of cognition. On the other hand, the connections are more than mere similarities (such as one might find, for example, between Christian and Buddhist mysticism). They are rooted in a real and causal link between Aristotelian concepts and the sermons. The pertinent concepts have somehow become part of the “operating system,” one might say, of the author, irrespective of whether he or she consciously reflected on and adopted those notions.This assessment is based on an unprejudiced analysis of some Arnhem Mystical Sermons.

The highest faculties in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons The highest faculties are frequently mentioned in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons. The sermons go much further than merely to name those faculties and identify their traditional properties. In fact, the sophistication in analysing the epistemological aspects of the highest faculties in connection with mystical experience seems unparallelled in Middle Dutch literature.9 The sermons themselves make numerous distinctions regarding aspects and functions of the highest faculties, thus establishing a multilayeredness that cannot be ignored. Now let us turn to the four sermons in which the multilayeredness of the highest faculties in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons is most evident, namely in sermons 10, 12, 23 and 88. After identifying the instances of apparent multilayeredness, I will introduce the Aristotelian concepts of “potentiality” and “actuality.” They seem to be helpful in understanding the multilayeredness of the highest faculties. These concepts only come into play with regard to the higher faculties. The Arnhem Mystical Sermons carefully distinguish between the categories of highest faculties (die hoechste crachten) and lowest faculties (die ­nederste crachten). Since multilayeredness is not an aspect of the lower faculties, they will not be discussed in this contribution. Sermon 10

Sermon 10 contains the most meticulous description of the properties of the higher faculties in the entire collection. It goes beyond common practice in spiritual literature – or mystical literature, for that matter. Sermon 10 is part of a Christmas cycle, composed of five sermons, which has been carefully and deliberately designed. Sermon 9 introduces three types of divine birth in each individual person.The birth of Christ is interpreted allegorically as representing

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every one of those divine births in each person. First, God is born in the spirit of each God-loving spirit; second, God is born in the soul; third, God is born in the entire person. The three divine births are discussed separately and extensively in sermons 10 to 12. Sermon 13 is a concluding meditation. A rubric opens sermon 10, discussing the birth in the spirit: “How these three births are celebrated in today’s three masses. The first mass on Christmas eve.”10 This first mass discussing the first divine birth is celebrated in the dark of the night, since it represents the darkness of the spirit.The theme of the sermon is Is. 9:2, 6: “The people that walked in darkness, see a great light; over those who live in a land of darkness, a light shines. For a child was born to us, a son was given to us; and the government will rest on his shoulders.”11 The theme is then given a mystical interpretation. The people that walk in the dark are interpreted as the highest faculties. They receive the light that is “the uncreated Wisdom of God.” Hence, the highest faculties of the soul are truly the people that see the light. Not the distractible faculty of recollection, nor the impressionable12 faculty of knowing, nor the obstructed, attached will; these are the darknesses, that do not comprehend. Note that here “soul” is understood in its broad sense, referring to the combination of “spirit” (geest) and “soul” (ziel), since these highest faculties are always part of the “spirit.” Note also that these unidentified “highest faculties,” being the people that see the light, are surprisingly distinguished from “memory,” “knowing” and “will,” which are used in an inappropriate way. Even though they are normally thought of as the highest faculties, they are here presented as turned away from the light, and are therefore called darknesses. If “memory,” “knowledge” and “will” can be presented as something other than the highest faculties, then what are the highest faculties? This becomes clear in the following paragraphs of the sermon. Next, the sermon introduces the higher faculties individually; they are now identified and defined. The sermons use strikingly rich vocabulary to evoke the essence and qualities of these faculties. Here we find the uncommon multilayeredness of the higher faculties that seems characteristic of the Arnhem sermons. Memory

The first faculty (or potency) receives the complex descriptive designation “highest consciousness and awareness of the spirit.” I quote in translation the definition of the first highest faculty: Rather, this people is the highest consciousness and awareness of the spirit, with which the soul can only perceive God and [with which it] has him

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essentially inside of it. And from this consciousness springs forth memory, that is, the recollective faculty. This definition distinguishes between a pure, passive potency that does not have a proper name and can only be described, and a faculty that derives from and depends on this potency. Both aspects are closely connected, with the potency being receptive and the faculty active. The sermon tells us what the potency is: it is the ability of this “consciousness” to perceive and receive God in itself.13 The sermon gives the name “memory” to the actual faculty. This faculty is presented as the ability to retain multiple, undefined content. Intellect

The same distinction between the ultimate “potency” and faculty can again be observed with regard to the second higher faculty: And it [this people] is also the highest intellectual capacity, that is the supreme part of the spirit, and it is unimpededly being enlightened by the sapid wisdom of the Father, and it [the highest intellectual capacity] can see unmediated therein [in the light of Wisdom] the uncreated light in its own essence. And out of it flows intellect, with which one understands all natural and created things. The “potency” is again described rather than named: it is the “highest intellectual capacity.” It is situated in a position that is hierarchical rather than spatial: “the supreme part of the spirit.” The potency is the ability to receive without intermediary the wisdom of the Father. In and through the light of wisdom this “highest intellectual capacity” can perceive the uncreated light in its own essence. It is the ability to understand things in a manner that transcends the strictly rational. Out of it – that is, from the “highest intellectual capacity” – comes forth the second faculty: “intellect.” Will

The author makes the same effort to describe the third potency and identify the faculty that emanates from it: And it [this people] is also the free, plain, pure loving capacity, that by a plain, pure inclination towards God becomes one spirit with God,14 and sees through her own strength and essence what God is, as God in God. Out of it flows the will that with loving can be attached to everything and be one with it. The third potency is again described and not named: it is “the free, plain, pure loving capacity.” It is able to lean toward God and unite with him. From

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this merging, it gains the ability to see what God is in himself, as God in God. This is analogous to what the “highest intellectual capacity” was capable of: to understand God in his essence in and through the light received from him. Analogous to what we saw with “memory” and “intellect,” the name of the faculty – “will” – is used for the potency applied actively. This will is able to lovingly attach itself to everything. “Multilayeredness” of the higher faculties

What exactly is the relation between the potency and the actual faculty, and how is the latter connected to the former? This difficult issue is precisely addressed in the following section of the sermon, as it turns to the question of how these people – the higher faculties – are exposed and connected to the light – the uncreated Wisdom of God – that shines over them. Whereas the potency is pure receptivity directed toward God, the corresponding faculty turns out to be two-sided. It has an “optimum mode,” which is the pure being of the faculty, turned toward God, while on the other hand it can be turned toward the other levels of the human person, and thus to multiplicity. The optimum mode is seemlessly connected to the corresponding potency. The connection between potency and faculty lies in the intentionality of the pure being of the faculty. The process of the light shining over the faculties is a three-phase process that starts with the intentionality being directed toward God. The intentionality of the optimum mode of the faculty is in each case expressed by a verb: When the plain, pure perceptive capacity of the spirit turns with the highest consciousness entirely into God . . . Similarly, when the purified intellect turns entirely with the pure intellectual capacity into God . . . And similarly, when the unhampered free will turns with undivided love toward God . . . We can think of potency, optimum mode of the faculty and applied faculty as different layers of glass that function as one if and when intentionality is directed toward God. If the pure being of the faculty is intentionally directed toward God, it opens up the potency and allows for the relevant attribute of God to be given to the faculty. We can see this happen with each of the pure faculties. . . . then a bright light shines on it [the pure perceptive capacity] from the highest consciousness, that perceives God in itself. . . . then it [the purified intellect] is shone upon by the clear, omniscient wisdom of God, that shines unmediated into the intellectual capacity and is itself the light.

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. . . then it [the unhampered free will] is immediately shone upon by God’s clarity, that has fully transformed the highest loving capacity, and has become love in love and one spirit with God. The third aspect or phase of the process is when the light has its specific salutary effect on the actual, individual faculty. God provides the pertinent gift to the faculty. And this light, that is God himself in the highest consciousness, gives to the memory a clarity, and this clarity is its fruit and fruitfulness in all good deeds and good thoughts. And the eternal Wisdom provides intellect with its own clarity, so that therein it can know and comprehend all good and all truth. and (the highest loving capacity) has become love in love and one spirit with God, and (God’s radiance) gives to the free will the ability to completely love God and all that is good. We can list these three aspects of the highest faculties in a diagram. It is important to note that the potency is not something that exists in itself, separate from the faculty, but rather the potency is an aspect of which the optimum mode of the faculty can ideally make use. Potency

Faculty in optimum mode

Faculty

• the highest consciousness and awareness of the spirit •  the highest consciousness •  the highest intellectual capacity • the pure intellectual capacity • the free, plain, pure loving capacity •  undivided love

plain, pure perceptive capacity

memory

the purified intellect

intellect

the unhampered free will

will

Only after the identification of different aspects of the highest faculties in sermon 10, does it become possible to recognise the same layeredness of the highest faculties in sermons 88, 23 and 12. Sermon 88

The Gospel for the fourth day after Easter on the “Miraculous Catch of Fish,” not only provides the theme for sermon 88, it also explains the use of terminology related to fishery. After the analysis of sermon 10, we are able to appreciate the highly uncommon references used in sermon 88 in connection with “the highest faculties.” These references denote the specific aspect of their potentiality or potency.

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The highest faculties themselves, corresponding with these potencies (memory, intellect and will), are not immediately mentioned in this sermon. First, the potency connected to “memory” is mentioned: The welling ground of the fatherly omnipotence reciprocates to the net of your spirit – through his own wisdom and love – the immeasurable fish of his fatherly might, and makes the deiform, highest consciousness and highest awareness so fruitful and strong, that the fatherly might immediately produces in it a host of fish of his eternal benefactions. Followed by the potency connected to “intellect”: The rejoycing, welling ground of the eternal wisdom of the Son gives to the highest intellectual capacity – through his own might and pleasure – the big, incomprehensible fish of his eternal clarity, and makes the un-imaginability of the highest intellectual capacity so informed and wise, that it is immediately filled with all the fish of the lucid notions of Christ. Ultimately, the potency connected to “will” is identified: The incomprehensible, welling ground of God’s love gives to the highest loving capacity – through his own love and goodness – the most magnificent fish of his love, and fills the highest loving capacity of the spirit with such abundance, strength and vigor, that the holy spirit has to flow in and out with an endless stream of fish of his eternal love and loyalty. An identical phenomenon takes place with regard to each of these potencies: they receive without intermediary the divine gift associated with the respective divine person on the one hand and the receptive potency on the other. The potencies receive his “fatherly might” from the Father, “eternal clarity” from the Son and “love” from the Holy Spirit. No immediate connection between the potencies and the activity of the actual faculties is mentioned. Only much later in the sermon, these faculties are named and with their common names of memory, intellect and will. The context, however, is different. This only underscores that the complex terminology used earlier in the sermon denotes the potencies as an aspect of the faculties, not the faculties themselves. Sermon 23

Sermon 23 is the third in a series of four sermons discussing the renewal of the human person, consecutively in body (Sermon 21), in soul (Sermon 22) and in spirit. The series ends with a summarizing sermon (Sermon 24). The author fittingly presents this comprehensive program for renewal on the first four days of January. Both the programmatic character and the content make the series comparable to that of the Christmas cycle discussed earlier.

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Sermon 23 is another case where the text itself calls for a distinction between the potency and the actual faculty. The fact that in this sermon the potencies identified are those in the spirit of Christ emphatically confirms the distinction between potencies and faculties, as the text shows that even in Christ such distinction can be made – obviously in line with the doctrine that Christ was both truly human and truly divine. The sermon admonishes its readers to follow the example of Christ to be transformed, like he was, into the imageless divinity. The transformation of Christ’s spirit occurs when it is raised toward its divine origin, implicating: . . . his highest, exalted consciousness and deiform awareness – that constantly contemplated his imageless divinity . . . his clear, God-imaged intellectual capacity, that constantly stood raised in the light of his eternal wisdom, . . . the highest loving capacity of his spirit [which] was ceaselessly one in the uncreated love of his divinity. Following Christ’s example man can achieve the same transformation of the spirit into the divine nature through the optimum use of the potencies of the highest faculties. The sermon does not mention the faculties of memory, intellect and will. Sermon 12

Only after the identification of different aspects of the highest faculties, particularly in sermon 10, with additional evidence from sermons 23 and 88, does it become possible to recognise the same layeredness in sermon 12. Here this implicit concept of layeredness is hidden and would go undetected without the extensive analysis of aspects of the highest faculties as presented in sermon 10. Hear now, o inner, fervent soul, what God the Father says to you: My people shall now know my name. Now go in and ask the people of God, that is your consciousness, intellectual capacity and love, your memory, intellect and will whether they indeed know the sublime, unspeakable name of God, . . .15 All six terms refer to the same three highest faculties. The earlier analysis made clear that the first series of three terms (“consciousness,” “intellectual capacity” and “love”) refers to the pure potencies of the faculties, and the second series of three to the faculties themselves. Without the analysis of sermon 10, this distinction would have been incomprehensible.

Potentiality and actuality Potentiality and actuality in Aristotle

Potentiality and actuality are discussed extensively in De anima (“On the Soul”)16 and the Metaphysica (“Methaphysics”)17.With regard to the potentiality

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of thought – which is highly significant for Aristotle’s concept of knowing that is central to his philosophy – the main discussion is found in De anima. Aristotle first explores perception through the sense organs. He then distinguishes between perceiving/perception and thinking/thought. The difference is that thought does not have a clear sense organ as the senses have. Nevertheless, thought can be compared with perception because both activities involve a potentiality and an actuality. Therefore, Aristotle can seemlessly move on to an analysis of thought after his discussion of the operation of the senses. It seems best to let Aristotle speak for himself, and quote from his De anima: Turning now to the part of the soul with which the soul knows . . . , we have to inquire what differentiates this part, and how thinking can take place. If thinking is like perceiving, it must be a process in which the soul is acted upon by what is capable of being thought, or a process different from but analogous to that. The thinking part of the soul must therefore be, while impassible, capable of receiving the form of an object; that is must be potentially identical in character with its object without being the object. Thought must be related to what is thinkable . . . 18 In his exploration of thought, Aristotle subsequently examines the concepts of potency and actuality. With Aristotle, the actuality of anything is connected to its ultimate aim, the causa finalis or final cause. Hence, the ultimate aim of the intellect is to know. As to the hierarchy of potency and actuality with regard to knowing, Aristotle states: “[P]otential knowledge is in time prior to actual knowledge, but absolutely it has no priority even in time; for all things that come into being arise from what actually is.”19 Three elements in the previous passage could easily find a place in scholastic thinking on human ability to know and understand God. First, Aristotle reflects on the “part of the soul with which the soul knows”; second, the process of thinking is compared with that of “perceiving”: the perceiving part must be “acted upon” by what is perceived; finally, the perceiving part of the soul must be both impassible and related to what is thinkable. Scholastics and mystics alike ponder the ability of the highest part of the spirit to perceive God, which entails God acting upon the soul. For this to happen, the highest part of the soul must be “like” God. Obviously, the potentiality of thought or the intellect, or, more broadly, the potentiality of the highest aspects of the spirit, is also the issue that most concerns the Arnhem Mystical Sermons. If we transfer Aristotle’s concept of actual knowledge to the mystical knowledge of God, then the actual knowledge related to the potential knowledge of the highest part of the spirit would indeed be the being of God. Potentiality (dunamis) is a superbly simple concept with Aristotle. It refers to any “possibility” a thing might have. There is a hierarchy of possibilities, however, so it is important that those possibilities become reality that are most closely connected with the ultimate objective, the final cause of the potentiality. The conditions must be right for this to happen. Aristotle says that the “mind,

164  Kees Schepers

in order to . . . know, must be pure from all admixture, for the co-presence of what is alien to its nature is a hindrance and a block: it follows that it can have no nature of its own, other than that of having a certain capacity.”20 This idea has, conceptually, more than a little resemblance with what the Arnhem sermons say about the intellect in its optimum mode. Arnhem sermon 10, discussed previously, says of each of the highest faculties that they can be applied wrongly (namely as “the distractible faculty of recollection, . . . the impressionable faculty of knowing,  . . . the obstructed, attached will”),21 that is, as faculties turned toward what gives immediate, multiform satisfaction, but at the same time makes one turn away from the preferable simpleness of God. We have seen that there is an optimum mode of the highest faculties in the Arnhem sermons. In this optimum mode, the highest faculties are completely pure and unhindered, ready to receive the influx of the divine being. For each faculty, the sermon defines what this optimum mode should be like. For example, the optimum mode or potency connected to the faculty of intellect is called “the highest intellectual capacity, that is the supreme part of the spirit, and it is unimpededly being enlightened by the sapid wisdom of the Father.” In Aristotle’s terms, this would be that thought is “acted upon” by God.The Arnhem sermon not only identifies the optimum mode of the potentiality, it also identifies the causa finalis, which is to be enlightened by the Wisdom of the Father, which is the Son. To state the equation between Aristotle and the Arnhem sermons most clearly: with Aristotle the causa finalis is simply to actualise the optimum potentiality of anything, the specific mystical transformation of that principle in the Arnhem sermons is that the optimum actuality is cognizance of God. The definition of actuality (entelecheia or energeia) by Aristotle is again splendidly simple. Actuality represents the fulfillment of a possibility – that is, when a possibility becomes real. When actuality has to do with the highest potentiality of the mind, being thought, then the actuality has to do with knowledge. Aristotle adds: “Actual knowledge is identical with its object.”22 And again, what Aristotle says on this subject can with the greatest of ease be applied to mystical knowledge. As the optimum actualization of a potentiality, it “becomes” what it perceives. And this was recognised clearly by the Arnhem sermons, particularly sermon 10: in such case the actualization that is in the highest part of the spirit is God the Father himself, it is the wisdom of the Father, it is the love of the Holy Spirit. Potentiality and actuality in Aristotle vis-à-vis the Arnhem Mystical Sermons

The startling complexity of the multilayeredness of the highest faculties in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons calls for an explanation. Where does it come from? What philosophical school provided the conceptual tools on which to base these views on mystical cognition? Where do we find analogous concepts for the categories of “potentiality and actuality” that could be generated from a purely inductive analysis of some of the most telling Arnhem sermons? The

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probable answer to these questions seems to be that some strand of Aristotelianism accounts for these concepts. The strength of the analogies is too great; the concepts are too fundamental for them to have arisen by chance. Furthermore, it is also likely that these concepts prevalent in academic theology, trickled down into mystical literature, where they found their place more than in any other genre of spiritual literature. Apart from correspondences, there is also a difference in the use of actuality in the Arnhem sermons vis-à-vis the foundational Aristotelian concept. The Arnhem sermons are concerned with the double orientation and applicability of the highest faculties – a double actuality, one might say. On the one hand, the highest faculties are receptive to the gifts from God (and in those cases the “potentialities” are described in the complex terms discussed earlier), and on the other hand, they function as spiritual tools to guide the mystic through the manifoldness of each individual’s (spiritual) life. This double-edgedness of the highest faculties is useful in light of the mystagogical objective of the sermons. The sermons naturally seek to stress the salutary role of the faculties in striving to attain salvation. This more “utilitarian” aspect of the highest faculties is, of course, not mirrored by a similar concern with regard to the operation of thought by Aristotle. The Arnhem Mystical Sermons seem to be a clear case in point for the long trajectory of influence derived from Aristotelian concepts: from Aristotle to scholastic theologians; from scholasticism to contemporaneous mystics; from thirteenth-century mystics to the late-medieval, early modern Arnhem sermons.

Notes 1 Definition of inductive analysis: “immersion in the details and specifics of the data to discover important patterns, themes, and interrelationships; begins by exploring, then confirming, guided by analytical principles,” Johnson & Christensen (2004), p. 362. 2 Schepers (2012). 3 Thomas Aquinas’ evaluation of Aristotle’s De anima is found in his Sentencia libri De anima (Thomas Aquina, De anima 1984). Especially important is Aquinas’s Treatise on Human Nature (Summa theologiae I.75–89), transl. in Pasnau (2002). 4 Van Steenberghen (1970); also Moraux (1957), which includes some of the most reliable studies on the subject. On the interplay of Aristotelian methodology and dogma, see Chenu (1957). 5 Basic for Aristotelianism at universities and schools: Rashdall (1936). 6 Augustine, De Trinitate (1968). English translation: Hill (1991). 7 No manuscripts exist. 8 Ms. Groningen, Universiteitsbibliotheek, 101, Johannes Alberti: lecture notes taken from classes by Jacobus Thymaeus (or Van Amersfoort, theology professor in Cologne). Cf. Jacobus van Amersfoort, edition with commentary of books 1–3 of Aristotle’s Meteorologica, Köln, Heinrich Quentell, 1497. 9 A good example of thoughtful epistemological reflection is found in sermon 14: “For as it is impossible to know anything one sees unless one first conceives what one sees – because the perceptive capacity first needs to cogitate on something before reason can perceive it – likewise, it is with sight that is internal: it knows the exterior things interiorly.” 10 AMS, Sermon 10, fol. 17r-20r.

166  Kees Schepers 11 Ibid., fol. 17r-20r. 12 The Middle Dutch verbeeltelicke is hard to translate in one word; it means “having the tendency to get filled with images.” 13 Comparable to what Eckhart says about the “ground”: “This [ground] is by nature receptive to nothing save only the divine essence, without mediation. Here God enters the soul with his all, not merely with a part. Here God enters the ground of the soul.” Eckhart, Sermon 101 (2003), p. 417. 14 Cf. 1 Cor. 6:17: Qui autem adhæret Domino, unus spiritus est. 15 AMS, Sermon 12, fol. 22va. 16 De anima, 430a10–26 (cf. Barnes [1984a], pp. 641–692). 17 Aristotle, Metaphysica, book 12, ch. 7–10 (Barnes [1984b], pp. 1694–1700). 18 Aristotle, De anima, book 3, ch. 4, 429a10–18 (Barnes [1984a], p. 682). 19 Aristotle, De anima, book 3, ch. 7, 431a1–3 (Barnes [1984a], p. 685). 20 Aristotle, De anima, book 3, ch. 4, 429a18–21 (Barnes [1984a], p. 683). 21 Supra p. 5. 22 Aristotle, De anima, book 3, ch. 5, 430a20 (Barnes [1984a], p. 684).

Conclusion Anthropological lessons for the twentyfirst century from Middle Dutch mystical literature? John Arblaster and Rob Faesen We began our exploration with the question that Ambroise Gardeil asked in 1926, namely how one might comprehend – i.e. take serious intellectually – that mystical authors claim to have a “direct experience of the divinity in the ground of their soul.” Gardeil wondered how “such an experience is possible?” In other words, his question did not concern so much the content of such an experience, but its very possibility. This question is certainly understandable, especially since over a century earlier, in 1793, Immanuel Kant had affirmed: A delusion is called enthusiastic (schwärmerisch) when the imagined means themselves, being supersensible, are not within the human being’s power, even without considering the unattainability of the supersensible end intended through them; for this feeling of the immediate presence of the highest being, and distinguishing of it from any other . . . would constitute the receptivity of an intuition (Anschauung) for which there is no sense (Sinn, i.e. faculty) in human nature.1 Kant’s position is clear: it is simply impossible for people to have a “direct experience of the divinity in the ground of their soul.” Gardeil, an erudite Dominican and one of the best theologians of his day, was acutely aware of his philosophical-anthropological context, in which this Kantian conviction was accepted as self-evident. The intellectual culture of the twenty-first century is certainly no less influenced by the Enlightenment, and from this perspective, Gardeil’s question is still relevant today. It is also interesting to note that to answer his question, Gardeil analysed the history of Christian thought on the “structure of the soul.” His perspective was thus that one must understand the human person to take the claims of the mystics seriously. The Kantian view rejects all mystical literature that makes any kind of claim to a “direct experience of the divinity in the ground of [the] soul” as excessively enthusiastic delusion, based on a specific understanding of the human person. What, by contrast, is the anthropology of mystical literature that makes claims about the encounter with God? The contributions to this volume each attempt to address this question from the perspective of various mystical authors from the Low Countries.

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The responses to this question from the various authors represented in this volume, ranging from the twelfth century (William of Saint-Thierry) to the sixteenth century (Arnhem Mystical Sermons), are by no means identical, and there is clearly much divergence of opinion on many points. Nevertheless, there appears to be general agreement concerning one issue, namely the relational conception of the human person – and precisely in its most fundamental aspect, or “ground.” This ontological relationality finds its fulfillment in a real participation in the relationality of God. Let us briefly summarise the key insights of each of the contributions in this volume before examining the ways in which they may contribute to our understanding of the fundamental issue Kant raised and Gardiel questioned. Based on a discussion of crucial passages in the works of William of SaintThierry, Paul Verdeyen’s contribution sketches several important insights that were of fundamental importance to the later mystical tradition in the Low Countries. Analyzing William’s Meditations,Verdeyen demonstrates that “essence” and “nature” are not closed concepts in William’s theology. Far from endangering it, love can encounter and enrich nature. Indeed, relationality entails both unity and otherness. Paul Verdeyen then discusses how William later applied this fundamental insight to the encounter with God in his Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, his Commentary on the Song of Songs and his Golden Epistle. This encounter is fundamentally personal and does not imply a loss of human nature. On the contrary, human nature is enriched by the encounter. Paul Verdeyen demonstrates that William’s bold claim that the communion between God and the human person is identical to the communion between the divine Persons is to be understood in this sense. Both unity and otherness are constitutive elements of this loving communion. Veerle Fraeters’s contribution situates Hadewijch’s visions in light of a frequent (but controversial) distinction between “intellectual” and “affective” contemplation. It has been argued that the latter obscures the distinction between the “interior” and “exterior” senses in the encounter with God. Fraeters argues that Hadewijch presents a more nuanced and distinctive approach. The majority of her visions describe “ecstatic” contact with God. She describes that she “is taken up in the spirit” (wart getrect in de geest) – a trancelike state in which the soul has temporarily left the body. There, she “sees” and “hears” (terms referring to taste and touch are absent), and what she has seen and heard must thereafter be clarified and interpreted (the intellectual component). In some cases, Hadewijch also refers to a second moment, namely that she “falls out of the spirit” and “falls in Him.” She employs no sensorial terms to define this experience; it is an ineffable mode of knowing God, which is more transformative than the other type. Finally, she also wrote the famous seventh vision, which describes a non-ecstatic encounter with God, in which the body plays an important part. In the following chapter, John Arblaster and Rob Faesen focus on a littleknown but influential Middle Dutch mystical poem cycle, which in the past was misattributed to Hadewijch and whose author is therefore commonly known

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as “Pseudo-Hadewijch” or “Hadewijch II.”The article discusses the anonymous author’s dynamic conception of the “ground” of the soul. In the poems, this dynamism is a process of becoming “simple” and “groundless.”The “ground” of the soul is led back into God, and God enters the soul in the form of light. In this manner, the soul is united to its “origin.” This clarifies two anthropological themes: the theme of “poverty of spirit” and the specific terminology of “knowing God,” which is both apophatic and kataphatic precisely because of its relational character, and the theme of the total self-gift (with the image of the tavern where one pays with one’s blood). In another contribution, Rob Faesen treats the fundamentally relational character of John of Ruusbroec’s thought, specifically concerning the indwelling and non-identity of wesen and overwesen. At a cursory glance, this might appear to be a highly technical point, but the texts clearly illustrate that this is a question with far-reaching consequences. A number of expressions in the texts of Meister Eckhart might (incorrectly) suggest that the ground of the soul and the ground of God are identical. Ruusbroec’s analysis is clarifying in this regard. He provides a phenomenological account of why the experience of the person united with God might be misconstrued as a transformation into the divine essence. God’s presence in the wesen does not imply that the wesen itself is God. Therefore, it is evident that Ruusbroec fully recognises and upholds the ontological difference between the Creator and the creature – without this difference, such an indwelling would evidently be impossible – highlighting that from his perspective, the union is a relational union. The following two contributions question how Ruusbroec’s mystical anthropology might be relevant to contemporary thought. Rik Van Nieuwenhove demonstrates that Ruusbroec beautifully describes the excessus of intellect and will, which need to transcend themselves in modelessness. He shows that there is no similar excessus or self-transcendence of mind (memoria), and that this has implications for the way we understand Ruusbroec’s descriptions of the contemplative life and specifically what he says about the coming of Christ in “the unity of the spirit” in The Spiritual Espousals. He also shows that Ruusbroec’s understanding of the human person is deeply relational and is based on a profound theology of the image – a Christian exemplarism, which allows grace to build on nature. As human beings who have been created in the image of God we have a natural orientation toward fulfillment in God. Thus, Ruusbroec would be deeply skeptical of postmodern attempts to construct a self. In his article, Patrick Cooper demonstrates how relevant Ruusbroec’s specific anthropology is in light of Jean-Luc Marion’s critique of modernity’s enclosed, autonomous subject. The premise of this contribution is the misconception (which is prevalent among theologians) that mysticism is extraneous to Christian faith and something that is related to “experience.” From Marion’s perspective, this only reinforces the autonomous subject, as well as implying the objectification of the alterity of God. Marion therefore returns to Augustine, who conceived of the foundation of the human person as radical gift. Indeed, the intimior intimo meo is incommensurable and foreign, and is thus – from

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the side of the human person – not personal property. This foundation of the human person is the act of creation, which occurs without a why. For Marion, it is essential to emphasize that this gift (of being and especially also of love) is immeasurably greater than the receptivity for the gift. From this perspective, there is a radical asymmetry between God and the human person. Ruusbroec goes even further, however. He likewise defends a non-foundational view of the human person, but he argues that the human person is created precisely for this receptivity. The human person undergoes God’s measureless love, which is God itself, and this awakens a desire within the soul. Although Jan van Leeuwen’s thought is closely aligned with that of Ruusbroec, Satoshi Kikuchi’s article discusses how van Leeuwen specifically emphasizes “the innermost” of Christ – an expression that is almost entirely absent from Ruusbroec’s works. According to Jan van Leeuwen, Christ is the person who integrates the “common life” in a unique way (even though Jan van Leeuwen does not use this term). Christ’s deepest abandonment and poverty on the cross are the highest expression of love. Jan van Leeuwen develops his conception of the union of the human person with Christ from this perspective. He discusses the birth of Christ in the soul, but to him this does not result in the soul becoming the only-begotten son (as is the case in Eckhart), but rather in the experience of the innermost of Christ. This experience of Christ’s suffering – i.e. the innermost of Christ – implies the self-revelation of the Godhead. Jan van Leeuwen thus aims to express the moment of the interiorization of the exemplar, which is beyond a mere imitation of the exemplar which exists extrinsically, while rejecting also the transformation of the human person into the exemplar itself. Although it is true, as mentioned previously, that Ruusbroec provided the most comprehensive synthesis of the insights concerning the soul and the encounter with God in the soul, to which later centuries contributed surprisingly little, Hendrik Herp systematised Middle Dutch mysticism far more than Ruusbroec had done. His works were also an important conduit for the diffusion of Ruusbroec’s thought, since they were circulated widely. Thom Mertens provides a clear overview of Herp’s systematization and highlights how Hendrik Herp used certain terms and sketched the structure of the soul as a kind of “playground” or substrate on which the actual encounter between God and the human person takes place. The two final articles, by Ineke Cornet and Kees Schepers respectively, discuss a little-known but deeply interesting Middle Dutch sermon collection, the Arnhem Mystical Sermons. Because these texts have not been studied extensively, Ineke Cornet first provides a general description of the corpus and then discusses the specifically liturgical metaphors. Indeed, this striking aspect of these sermons is found in only a few other mystical texts, namely the anonymous Evangelical Pearl and the Temple of our Soul, and Tauler’s German sermons. The mystical interpretation of the liturgy also colours the concepts of the innermost person. Both the spirit and the ground are often described with biblical and liturgical metaphors, such as altar, sancta sanctorum and abyss. The “spirit” is the

Conclusion 171

most frequently used concept for the innermost being of the human person. This consists in the unity of the faculties, and is the locus of God’s indwelling. This ontological union is the basis of the experiential union with God, a concept exclusively reserved for the human spirit. The spirit’s “is-ness,” a term based on Eckhart’s sermons, denotes the unbreakable union between God and the human spirit in which God dwells. Like the spirit, the “ground” also functions as the unity of the faculties. However, the concept of “ground” denotes the ceaseless in-God-sinking dimension of the human person, and at times the place in which the human spirit sinks. The concepts of bottomlessness, abyss and nothingness are applied both to God’s and the human’s ground, which express that the human ground is abyssal precisely because the infinite and incomprehensible God dwells there. In conjunction, Kees Schepers examines the frequent references to the highest faculties in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons and the detailed analysis of the soul’s faculties that we find in these sermons. Kees Schepers argues that these sermons employ insights from Aristotle, which were presumably generally known thanks to scholastic theology. The analysis in the sermons concerns the receptivity and potentiality of the faculties, and their actuality. This actuality presupposes direct contact with God, and this is precisely how the faculty becomes itself.The latter position is closely aligned to Paul Verdeyen’s interpretation of the texts of William of Saint-Thierry, namely that the encounter between the human person and God enriches human reality rather than endangering it. The authors from the Low Countries built on the anthropological insights of earlier centuries, which are summarised in the introduction to this volume. As Hugh of Saint-Victor, basing himself on Augustine’s anthropology, made clear, the most essential characteristic of being human, the “deepest” core of humanity, that which is most “human,” is precisely the openness to the Other, the possibility of not remaining isolated within oneself, but rather to relate to the Other, who transcends the human person absolutely. In other words, when mystical authors claim to have a “direct experience of the divinity in the ground of their soul,” and when we question the possibility of such an occurrence, it is imperative that they assume the fundamental structure of the human person is an ontological openness and relationality, not an isloated individuality. They would thus radically reject claims such as Kant’s there is no faculty in human nature capable of receiving God. To our authors, human nature is itself open to such an encounter, which is not conceived as any kind of “addition” to nature, but its fulfillment. Having established this ontological relationality as a presuposition of the anthropology of these authors, many other elements of their thought process become clearer and more coherent. The notion of “experience” in this context need not presupose modernity’s enclosed, autonomous subject (see also Cooper’s contribution), and these authors do not describe a form of “self-transcendence” that is an excessus outside themselves and effected by the “self ” (see also Van Nieuwenhove’s contribution). The texts of Pseudo-Hadewijch and Ruusbroec frequently refer to relational ontology and the mutual indwelling of

172  John Arblaster and Rob Faesen

God and the human person (see also the contribution by Arblaster and Faesen). Althought the visions of Hadewijch do not refer to this indwelling explicitly (see also Fraeters’ contribution), her references to experiences “out of the spirit” appear to imply precisely this insight. The liturgical metaphors for the ground of the soul in the Arnhem Mystical Sermons (see also the contributions by Cornet and Schepers) are likewise telling in this regard, precisely because the liturgy expresses and constitutes the relationship between humanity and God. It is also telling that these Sermons refer to the potentiality of the faculties, which are only actualised in the encounter with the Other (see also the contribution by Schepers): from the perspective of ontological relationality, this is an entirely logical position. As Verdeyen’s contribution illustrates, William of Saint-Thierry was of immense importance in the history of these ideas.The abbot understood the structure of the encounter of the human person and God in Trinitarian terms. God is himself a relationship of love – Trinity – which is not an “addition” to the one divine nature, but is this nature in itself. Finally, it is of particular importance that Jan van Leeuwen’s refined anthropology emphasizes so strongly the indwelling of Christ in the human soul as the key to understanding humanity. The surrender of the Crucified consists in his radical abandonment to the Father and in this his deepest union with the Father. From the perspective of the enclosed, autonomous subject such surrender constitutes an insurmountalble contradiction, but from the perspective of human relationality, it is entirely coherent.

Note 1 Kant, Religion within the Boundaries (2001), p. 194.

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176  Bibliography Pearl (2008) = The Evangelical Pearl, Part III, translated by Helen Rolfson, in: Late Medieval Mysticism of the Low Countries, ed. Rik Van Nieuwenhove, Robert Faesen and Helen Rolfson, The Classics of Western Spirituality, New York and Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2008, pp. 215–322. Pope John XXII, “In agro dominico” (2006) = “In agro dominico,” in: Meister Eckhart: Die lateinischen Werke 5, ed. Albert Zimmermann and Loris Sturlese, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2006, pp. 601–605. Porete, Mirror (1986) = Marguerite Porete, Le mirouer des simples ames, ed. Romana Guarnieri and Paul Verdeyen, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 69, Turnhout: Brepols, 1986. Richard of St. Victor, Benjamin major (1855) = Richardus de S. Victore, De gratia contemplationis libri quinque, Patrologia Latina 196, pp. 63–202. Richard of St. Victor, Benjamin minor (1855) = Richardus de S.Victore, De praeparatione animi ad contemplationem, Patrologia Latina 196, pp. 1–64. Ruusbroec, Beguines (2000) = Jan van Ruusbroec, Vanden XII beghinen, ed. Mikel M. Kors, Opera omnia 7/7A, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 107/107a, Turnhout: Brepols, 2000. Ruusbroec, Enclosures (1981) = Jan van Ruusbroec, Vanden seven sloten, ed. Guido De Baere, Opera omnia 2, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 102, Turnhout: Brepols, 1981. Ruusbroec, Espousals (1988) = Jan van Ruusbroec, Die geestelike brulocht, ed. J. Alaerts, Opera omnia 3, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 103, Turnhout: Brepols, 1988. Ruusbroec, Letters (1991) = Jan van Ruusbroec, Brieven, ed. Th. Mertens, Opera omnia 10, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 110,Turnhout: Brepols, 199, pp. 469–642. Ruusbroec, Little Book (1989) = Jan van Ruusbroec, Boecsken der verclaringhe, ed. Guido De Baere, Opera omnia 1, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 101, Brepols: Turnhout, 1989. Ruusbroec, Mirror (2001) = Jan van Ruusbroec, Een spieghel der eeuwigher salicheit, ed. Guido De Baere, Opera omnia 8, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 108, Brepols: Turnhout, 2001. Ruusbroec, Ornatus (2004) = Ioannis Rusbroechii De ornatu spiritualium nuptiarum Wilhelmo Iordani interprete, ed. Kees Schepers, Corpus Christianorum: Continuatio Mediaevalis 207, Turnout: Brepols, 2004. Ruusbroec, Realm (2002) = Jan van Ruusbroec, Dat rike der ghelieven, Opera omnia 4, ed. Joseph Alaerts, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 104, Brepols: Turnhout, 2002. Ruusbroec, Stone (1991) = Jan van Ruusbroec, Vanden blinkenden steen, ed. Hilde Noë, Opera omnia 10, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 110, Turnhout: Brepols, 1991, pp. 6–216. Ruusbroec, Tabernacle (2006) = Jan van Ruusbroec, Vanden geesteliken tabernakel, ed. Thom Mertens, Opera omnia 5–6, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 105–106, Turnhout: Brepols, 2006. Ruusbroec, Temptations (1991) = Jan van Ruusbroec, Vanden vier becoringhen, ed. Hilde Noë, Opera omnia 10, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 110,Turnhout: Brepols, 1991, pp. 256–317. Silesius, Wanderer (1960) = Angelus Silesius, Der Cherubinische Wandersmann, Augsburg: Presse Druck und Verlags GmbH, 1960. Tauler, Sermons (1910) = Johannes Tauler, Die Predigten Taulers, ed. Ferdinand Vetter, Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1910.

Bibliography 177 Tauler, Sermons (1924) = Johannes Tauler, Sermons de J. Tauler et autres écrits mystiques 1: Le Codex Vindobonensis 2744, ed. A.L. Corin, Liège:Vaillant-Carmanne, 1924. Tauler, Sermons (1929) = Johannes Tauler, Sermons de J. Tauler et autres écrits mystiques 2: Le Codex Vindobonensis 2739, ed. A.L. Corin, Liège:Vaillant-Carmanne, 1929. Temple (2008) = “The Temple of Our Soul (extracts),” translated by Robert Faesen, in: Late Medieval Mysticism of the Low Countries, ed. Rik Van Nieuwenhove, Robert Faesen and Helen Rolfson, The Classics of Western Spirituality, New York and Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2008. Vita Beatricis (1964) = Vita Beatricis: De autobiografie van de Z. Beatrijs van Tienen O.Cist. 1200–1268, ed. L. Reypens, Antwerpen: Ruusbroec-genootschap, 1964. Votum (2006) = “Votum theologorum Avenionensium,” in: Acta Eckhardiana, ed. Loris Sturlese, Lateinische Werke V, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2006, pp. 568–590. William of Saint-Thierry, Adv. Abael. (2007) = Guilielmus a Sancto Theoderico, Disputatio adversus Petrum Abaelardum, ed. Paul Verdeyen, Opera omnia 5, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 89A, Turnhout: Brepols, 2007. William of Saint-Thierry, Epistola (2003) = Guilielmus a Sancto Theoderico, Epistola ad Fratres de Monte Dei, ed. Paul Verdeyen, Opera omnia 3, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 89, Turnhout: Brepols, 2003, pp. 225–289. William of Saint-Thierry, Exp. Cant. (1997) = Guilielmus a Sancto Theoderico, Expositio super cantica canticorum, ed. Paul Verdeyen, Opera omnia 2, Corpus christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 87, Turnhout: Brepols, 1997, pp. 17–133. William of Saint-Thierry, Exp. Rom. (1989) = Guilielmus a Sancto Theoderico, Expositio super Epistolam ad Romanos, ed. Paul Verdeyen, Opera omnia 1, Corpus Christianorum continuatio mediaevalis 86, Turnhout: Brepols, 1989. William of Saint-Thierry, Meditationes (2005) = Guilielmus a Sancto Theoderico, Meditationes devotissimae, ed. Paul Verdeyen, Opera omnia 4, Corpus Christianorum continuatio mediaevalis 89, Turnhout: Brepols, 2005. William of Saint-Thierry, Speculum (2007) = Guilielmus a Sancto Theoderico, Speculum fidei, in: Opuscula adversus Petrum Abaelardum et de fide, ed. Paul Verdeyen, Opera omnia 5, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 87, Turnhout: Brepols, 2007, pp. 80–127.

Studies and translations Alaerts 1973 = Joseph Alaerts, La terminologie «essentielle» dans l’oeuvre de Jan van Ruusbroec 1293–1381 (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Université de Sciences Humaines de Strasbourg, Strasbourg, 1973). Andriessen 2014 = Jos Andriessen, “Ruusbroec’s Influence Until c.1800,” in: A Companion to John of Ruusbroec, ed. John Arblaster and Rob Faesen, Brill’s Companions to the Christian Tradition 51, Leiden: Brill, 2014, pp. 286–302. Arblaster & Faesen 2012 = John Arblaster and Rob Faesen, “ ‘Commune à tous par largesse de pure charité’: Common Love in Beatrice of Nazareth and Marguerite Porete,” Ons Geestelijk Erf 83 (2012), pp. 297–323. Arblaster & Faesen 2014 = John Arblaster and Rob Faesen, A Companion to John of Ruusbroec, ed. John Arblaster and Rob Faesen, Brill’s Companions to the Christian Tradition 51, Leiden: Brill, 2014. Autore 1921 = S. Autore, “Hugues de Balma,” in: Dictionnaire de théologie catholique 7 (1921), pp. 215–220.

178  Bibliography Axters 1937 = Stephanus Axters, Scholastiek Lexicon, Antwerpen: Geloofsverdediging, 1937. Axters 1943 = Stephanus Axters, Jan van Leeuwen: een bloemlezing uit zijn werken. Antwerp: De Sikkel, 1943. Axters 1950–1960 = Stephanus Axters, Geschiedenis van de vroomheid in de Nederlanden. 4 vols., Antwerpen: De Sikkel, 1950–1960. Barbet & Ruello 1995 = Francis Ruello and Jeanne Barbet, “Introduction,” in: Hughes de Balma, Théologie mystique, t. 1: Introduction, texte Latin, traduction, notes et index de Francis Ruello; introduction et apparat critiques de Jeanne Barbet, Sources Chrétiennes 408, Paris: Cerf, 1995, pp. 11–120. Barnes 1984a = Aristotle, “On the Soul,” in: The Complete Works of Aristotle, Revised Oxford Translation, vol. 1, ed. Jonathan Barnes, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984, pp. 641–692. Barnes 1984b = Aristotle, “Metaphysics,” in: The Complete Works of Aristotle, Revised Oxford Translation, vol. 2, ed. Jonathan Barnes, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984, pp. 1552–1728. Benz 1991 = K.J. Benz, “Kirchweihe,” in: Lexikon des Mittelalters 5 (1991), pp. 1186–1187. Berkeley 1971 = William of Saint-Thierry, The Golden Epistle, Cistercian Fathers Series 12, transl. Theodore Berkeley, introd. J.M. Déchanet, Trappist, Kentucky: Cistercian Publications, 1971. Blamires 1995 = Alcuin Blamires, “Women and Preaching in Medieval Orthodoxy, Heresy, and Saints’ Lives,” Viator 26 (1995), pp. 135–152. Boas 1985 = The Mind’s Road to God, translated with an introduction by George Boas, New York: Macmillan; London: Collier Macmillan, 1985. Bonny 1988 = Johan Bonny, Het ‘ghemeyne leven’ in de werken van Jan van Ruusbroec (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Pontificia Università Gregoriana, Roma, 1988). Boulding 1997 = The Confessions, transl. and notes by Maria Boulding, Hyde Park NY: New City Press, 1997. Boulding 2000 = Expositions of the Psalms 1–32, transl. and notes by Maria Boulding, New York: New City Press, 2000. Boulding 2004 = Expositions of the Psalms 121–150, transl. and notes by Maria Boulding, Hyde Park NY: New City Press, 2004. Bourke 1974 = Vernon J. Bourke, The Essential Augustine, Indianapolis: Hackett, 1974. Bowen 1941 = Lee Bowen, “The Tropology of Mediaeval Dedication Rites,” Speculum 16, no. 4 (1941), pp. 469–479. Bynum 2007 = Caroline Walker Bynum, Wonderful Blood: Theology and Practice in Late Medieval Northern Germany and Beyond, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007. Carruthers 2013 = Mary Carruthers, The Experience of Beauty in the Middle Ages, London: London University Press, 2013. Casey 1985 = Michael Casey, “In Pursuit of Ecstasy: Reflections on Bernard of Clairvaux’s De diligendo Deo,” Monastic Studies 16 (1985), pp. 139–156. Chenu 1957 = Marie-Dominique Chenu, La théologie comme science au XIIIe siècle, Bibliothèque thomiste 33, Paris:Vrin, 1957. Cooper 2014 = Patrick Ryan Cooper, Abiding in Minne’s Demands. A Theological Retrieval of Jan van Ruusbroec and Its Interdiscipilinary Encounter with Jean-Luc Marion (unpublished doctoral dissertation, KU Leuven, Leuven, 2014). Cornet 2010 = Ineke Cornet, “The Incorporation of Ruusbroec’s Spiritual Espousals into the Sixteenth-Century Arnhem Mystical Sermons. A Comparative Textual Analysis,” Church History and Religious Culture 90 (2010), pp. 547–578.

Bibliography 179 Cornet 2011 = Ineke Cornet, The Sixteenth-Century Arnhem Mystical Sermons – Ko­ninklijke Bibliotheek, The Hague, Ms. 133 H 13. Context, Sources, and Aspects of Mystical Theology (unpublished doctoral dissertation, KU Leuven, Leuven, 2011). Cornet 2013 = Ineke Cornet, “A Textual Parallel between the Arnhem Mystical Sermons and the Temple of Our Soul. Comparing their Incorporation of the Liber de Spiritu et Anima and Jordanus of Quedlinburg’s Sermons,” Ons Geestelijk Erf 84, no. 4 (2013), pp. 341–370. Dailey 2012 = Patricia Dailey, “The Body and its Senses,” in: Cambridge Companion to Christian Mysticism, ed. Amy Hollywood and Patricia Z. Beckman, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012, pp. 264–276. Dailey 2013 = Patricia Dailey, Promised Bodies. Time, Language, and Corporeality in Medieval Women’s Mystical Texts, New York: Columbia University Press, 2013. Davis 1979 = William of Saint-Thierry, The Mirror of Faith, transl. Thomas X. Davis, Cistercian Fathers Series 15, Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, 1979. De Baere 1981 = Guido De Baere, “Explanation of Technical Terms,” in: Jan van Ruusbroec, Vanden seven sloten, ed. Guido De Baere, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 102, Turnhout: Brepols, 1981, pp. 263–278. de Guibert 1931 = Josephus de Guibert (ed.), Documenta ecclesiastica christianae perfectionis studium spectantia. Rome: Pontificia Universitas Gregoriana, 1931. de Lubac 1988 = Henri de Lubac, Catholicism: Christ and the Common Destiny of Man, trans. Lancelot C. Sheppard and Sr. Elizabeth Englund, OCD, San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1988. de Lubac 2000 = Henri de Lubac, Augustinianism and Modern Theology, New York: Crossroad, 2000. de Lubac 2012 = Henri de Lubac, The Mystery of the Supernatural, New York: Herder & Herder, 2012. De Troeyer 1974 = Benjamin De Troeyer, Bio-Bibliographia Franciscana Neerlandica ante saeculum xvi, Nieuwkoop: de Graaf, 1974. De Troeyer 1981 = Benjamin De Troeyer, “Herp, Hendrik,” in: Verfasserlexikon III (1981), cc. 1127–1135. De Vooys 1905 = C.G.N. De Vooys, “Meister Eckart en de Nederlandse mystiek,” Nederlandsch Archief voor Kerkgeschiedenis 3 (1905), pp. 50–92, 176–194, 265–290. Deblaere 2004 = Albert Deblaere, Essays on Mystical Literature – Essais sur la littérature mystique – Saggi sulla letteratura mistica, ed. Rob Faesen, Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium 177, Leuven: Peeters & University Press, 2004. Déchanet 1957 = Jean Déchanet, “Le Pseudo-Prologue du De Contemplando Deo,” Cîteaux in de Nederlanden 8 (1957), pp. 5–12. Delteijk 1947 = Jacobus Delteijk, Jan van Leeuwen en zijn tractaat:Van vijf manieren broederliker minnen, Utrecht: Dekker, 1947. Denzinger & Schönmetzer 1963 = Enchiridion symbolorum: definitionum et declarationum de rebus fidei et morum, ed. Heinrich Denzinger and Adolf Schönmetzer (32nd ed.), Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1963. Desplenter 2010 = Youri Desplenter, “Huis-tuin-en-keukenmoraal? Jan van Leeuwen en De tien geboden,” Spiegel der Letteren 52 (2010), pp. 1–29. Desplenter & Vandemeulebroucke 2016 = Youri Desplenter and Eva Vandemeulebroucke, “How Jan van Leeuwen († 1378) Was Made an Author: Opera Omnia and Authority,” in: Shaping Authority: How Did a Person Become an Authority in Antiquity, the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, ed. Johan Leemans, Brigitte Meijns and S. Boodts,Turnhout: Brepols, 2016. Dietrich 1997 = Paul A. Dietrich, “The Wilderness of God in Hadewijch II and Meister Eckhart and His Circle,” in: Meister Eckhart and the Beguine Mystics: Hadewijch of Brabant,

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Index

Abelard see Peter Abelard Abrams, Marieke 131 Acarie (Madame) 16 Alaerts, Joseph 117 Alberti, Johannes 165 Albert the Great 65, 116, 154, 155 Alcher of Clairvaux 8, 14 Alcuin 14 Alphanus, Archbishop of Salerno 25 Andrew (apostle) 114 Angelus Silesius (Johannes Scheffer) 95, 104 Anselm 1, 14 Aquinas see Thomas Aquinas Arblaster, John 42, 56, 116, 117, 168, 172 Aristotle 38, 152 – 66, 171 Athanasius 3, 14 Augustine 3 – 5, 6, 9, 14, 19, 21, 28, 38, 73, 74, 75, 76, 82, 85, 87, 93, 94, 95, 104, 112, 118, 134, 143, 149, 154, 155, 165, 169, 171 Autore, S. 14 Avicenna 38 Axters, Stephanus 41, 42, 54, 56, 58, 106, 116, 117, 118 Barth, Karl 1 Beatrice of Nazareth 44, 50, 117 Beeck, Frans Jozef van 99 Benedict XVI (pope) 103 Benz, K. J. 149 Bernard of Clairvaux 5, 14, 22, 25, 26, 27, 38, 50, 82 Blamires, Alcuin 136 Blomevenna, Petrus 120, 123, 126, 127, 132, 133, 135 Bonaventure 8, 9, 10, 14, 74 Bonny, Johan 117 Bourke,Vernon J. 133 Bowen, Lee 149

Brugman, Johannes 119 Bynum, Caroline Walker 55 Calhoun, Alison 39 Carruthers, Mary 40 Casey, Michael 39 Chenu, Marie-Dominique 165 Christensen, Larry 165 Claudianus Mamertius 26 Clement of Alexandria 3 Coakley, Sarah 39 Congar,Yves  1 Constantinus Africanus 25 Cooper, Patrick 2, 87, 169, 171 Cornet, Ineke 135, 136, 150, 170, 172 Cusanus, Nicolaus 91 Dailey, Patricia 28, 39 De Baere, Guido 72 Deblaere, Albert 59, 71 Déchanet, Jean 58 de Guibert, Josephus 72, 116, 118 Delteijk, Jacobus 106, 111, 116, 117, 118 de Lubac, Henri 75, 87, 92, 103 de Molinos, Miguel 70 Denzinger, Heinrich 116 Descartes, René 94 Desplenter,Youri 116, 118 De Troeyer, Benjamin 131, 132 De Vooys, C.G.N. 116, 117, 118, 151 Dickens, Charles 83 Dietrich, Paul 48, 56, 57, 58 Dinzelbacher, Peter 29 Dlabacˇová, Anna 131 Dorresteijn, H. 116, 117 Dudash, Susan 55 Dupré, Louis 117

190 Index Eckhart, Meister 15, 41, 42, 45, 47, 50, 56, 57, 59, 61, 65, 66, 70, 71, 72, 85, 105, 108, 111, 113, 114, 116, 117, 118, 134, 136, 144, 145, 148, 149, 150, 151, 153, 166, 169, 170, 171 Elisabeth of Dijon (of the Holy Trinity) 16 Elliott, Dyan 39 Épiney-Burgard, Georgette 116, 131 Evagrius Ponticus 16 Faesen, Rob 2, 39, 56, 72, 88, 104, 116, 117, 132, 136, 149, 168, 169, 172 Fischer, Héribert 56 Fitzegerald, Allan D. 133 Fraeters,Veerle 39, 58, 168, 172 Fraling, Bernhard 117 Francis (pope) 103 Freienhagen-Baumgardt, Kristina 131 Galen 38 Gardeil, Ambroise 1, 167 Garrigou-Lagrange, Réginald 93 Gauchet, Marcel 66, 67 Gavrilyuk, Paul 39 Geirnaert, Dirk 116, 118 Gerson, Jean 67 Gilson, Étienne 93 Gregory of Nyssa 22, 25, 38 Gregory the Great 52, 58, 86, 92, 101, 103 Guarnieri, Romana 58, 72 Guyon (Madame) 70 Hadewijch 28 – 40, 41, 48, 52, 53, 54, 57, 58, 69, 105, 116, 148, 151, 168, 172 Hadewijch II see Pseudo-Hadewijch Hanawalt, Barbara 54 Harvey, Ruth 39 Heidegger, Martin 93, 95 Herp, Hendrik 119 – 33, 170 Herxen, Dirc van 119 Heszler, Esther 39 Hollywood, Amy 39, 40 Horie, Ruth 149, 150 Hourlier, Jacques 58 Howells, Edward 103 Hugh of Balma 10, 14, 15 Hugh of Saint-Victor 6, 14, 171 Ignatius of Loyola 16 Isaac of Stella 7, 8, 9, 14 Isidore of Seville 40 Jahae, Raymond 39, 40 John of the Cross 16

John Scotus Eriugena 25 Johnson, R. Burke 165 Jordaens, Willem  133 Kablitz, Andreas 39 Kalverkamp, Desiderius 132 Kant, Immanuel 167, 168, 171 Kienhorst, Hans 135 Kienzle, Beverly M. 136 Kikuchi, Satoshi 71, 116, 117, 118, 170 Kok, Th.B.W. 116, 117 Kwakkel, Erik 56 Largier, Niklaus 38, 39 Lerner, Robert 116 Loher, Dirc (Dietrich) 120, 132 Louth, Andrew 38 Marguerite Porete see Porete, Marguerite Marion, Jean-Luc 89 – 104, 169, 170 Mary (mother of Jesus) 32, 96, 97, 113 McGinn, Bernard 14, 27, 28, 29, 38, 39, 71, 87, 109, 116, 117, 118, 132, 151 Mens, Alcantara 57 Mersch, Émile 104, 118 Mertens, Thom 132, 170 Milhaven, John Giles 39 Moereels, Lode 77, 133 Mommaers, Paul 40, 88 Moraux, Paul 165 Murk Jansen, Saskia 39, 41, 56 Nemeth, Czaba 39 Nichols, Stephen 39 Oechslin, Raphaël-Louis 151 Orcibal, Jean 132 Origen 3, 13, 16, 19, 20, 38 Ozment, Steven E. 133 Paul (apostle) 3, 18, 108, 109 Pépin, Jean 72 Peter (apostle) 114 Peter Abelard 25 Peter Lombard 117 Plotinus 3 Porete, Marguerite 41, 45, 57, 59, 70, 71, 117 Porion, Jean-Baptiste 42 Pseudo-Augustine 134, 143, 149 Pseudo-Dionysius 5, 16, 48, 56, 57, 58 Pseudo-Hadewijch 41 – 58, 169, 171

Index  191 Raciti, Gaetano 14 Rahner, Hugo 19, 57, 118 Rahner, Karl 16 Rashdall, Hastings 165 Reinhardt, Klaus 118 Reynaert, Joris 116, 118 Reypens, Leonce 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10, 14, 15, 118, 132 Richard of Saint-Victor 6, 39, 83 Rolfson, Helen 86, 88, 116, 132, 149 Rousselot, Pierre 92, 103 Rudy, Gordon 28 Ruh, Kurt 41, 56, 116, 131, 132 Ruusbroec, John of 2, 3, 10, 11, 13, 15, 16, 22, 24, 26, 42, 44, 47, 52, 59 – 104, 105, 106, 108, 109, 112, 113, 115, 116, 117, 118, 133, 134, 142, 149, 150, 169, 170, 171 Schepers, Kees 135, 136, 150, 170, 171, 172 Schönmetzer, Adolf 116 Segers, Bruno 72 Seuse, Heinrich 15 Severus (Bishop of Milev) 82 Stoelen, Anselme 14 Surius, Laurentius 87 Tanner, Norman 57 Tauler, Johannes 15, 42, 113, 118, 126, 134, 136, 138, 142, 148, 149, 151, 170 Teresa of Avila 44 Thiers, Johan 118 Thomas Aquinas 8, 9, 14, 58, 92, 103, 153, 154, 165

Thymaeus, Jacobus 165 Turner, Denys 83 Ubbink, R. A. 116 Ueda, Shizuteru 118 Uyttenhove, Lieve 87 Vallarsa, Alessia 42, 58 Valléjo, Rémy 118 Vandemeulebroucke, Eva 116, 118 van Hildegaersberch, Willem 116 van Leeuwen, Jan 42, 105 – 18, 170, 172 Van Mierlo, Jozef 39, 41, 42, 47, 48, 54, 56, 57, 58 Van Nieuwenhove, Rik 2, 72, 87, 88, 116, 121, 132, 133, 169, 171 van Schoonhoven, Jan 116 Van Steenberghen, Fernand 165 Verdam, Jacob 42, 57, 72 Verdeyen, Paul 5, 41, 71, 168, 171, 172 Verheul, Ambroos 149 Verschueren, Lucidius 123, 131, 132 Verwijs, Eelco 42, 57, 72 Warnar, Geert 115 Wéber, Édouard-Henri 117 Wiethaus, Ulrike 39 Willaert, Frank 39 William of Conches 25 William of Saint-Thierry 5, 16 – 27, 50, 52, 58, 103, 117, 168, 171, 172 Zachariah (priest) 142