We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time. T. S. Eliot, The Four Quartets
Dear Timothy,
Please excuse the odd formatting of this letter. My typewriter has been acting
up on me lately!
I hope you are well, but the real reason I write is because Dante's Vita Nuova
had a profound effect on me this week, and although I haven't shared literary
and spiritual observations for a while via the "public" letter arena, I opt
to now, before the effect of a "new life" has completely worn off.
I picked up this little book when I was in Oxford this past summer, in the
the Oxford University Press bookstore. I had to buy something there, I thought, but I
didn't want to get anything cumbersome... I started reading Vita Nuova on
the trains in England, and the first thing that struck me was how well
Dante had captured what it is like to be young, in love, AND aware of that
word's (love's) connection to Calvary. My response to him was emotional
and spiritual. He "reads" into actions and words, into signs and symbols,
just as lovers wish to see divine appointment in their comings and goings.
There is part of me that feels cynical towards this aspect of
relationships, but another part that acknowledges the fact that Dante's ability
to see "signs," numbers, "confirmations" and so on, leads him into the
very heart of Love. It is his openness to the miraculous which leads him
to the One who performs genuine miracles.
The image of Beatrice consuming the heart of the narrator reminds me of
one of the visions of St. Margaret Mary Alacoque: Jesus appeared to her,
took St. Mary's heart out of her chest, and held it beside his own, which was
inflamed with love for her and humanity. He then dropped her heart into
the flames of his love, and her heart was consumed... he then put his
heart into her chest. This image is central with regards to the Catholic
devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, but it occurred to me today that
either, 1. the Lord uses human convention to speak of his love for
humanity, ie, he meets us in our humanity, or 2. Conventions, even poetic
and literary ones, are often conventions because they speak of our inner
fabric, of the inner natural law. Or perhaps both things are happening
here. How interesting to think that the Lord could be said to be riding
the wave of the Courtly Love tradition! And yet, the Song of Songs has
been read, for centuries, as a book that speaks of God's love for his
people. It is most likely a chicken or egg question, but the important
thing is that I saw these two realms come closer together this week.
The image of the circle, with love in the centre, comes again in Paradiso,
and in Eliot's Four Quartets, right at the end, in Little Gidding. How
accurately this capture's Dante's experience! That radiant inner core of love
(Sayers' translation) is like the inner castle of St. Theresa, and like the
inner place where Augustine found God:
Hence, towards that essence, where abides such store
Of goodness, that all goodness elsewhere found
Derives its splendour from that radiant core,
The loving mind is, as it must be, bound
To move […]. (Par.XXVI.31-35)
At first, in Vita Nuova, the god of Love says to Dante that he is not in this
"centre" spot: "Lord of all virtues," says Dante, "why do you weep?" "I am like
the centre of a circle," says he, "equidistant from all points on the
circumference, but you are not." As Professor M. said yesterday, his central
position gives the god of Love an awareness of love in all seasons and times.
Dante "then" is trapped in time and "only" experiences the now. But formally
Vita Nuova is not stuck in the moment of this vision, for it is written in
retrospect. Dante "now" is wiser than Dante "then," as Professor M. says. But
the more enmeshed in Love Dante becomes, the more he gains the "eternal
perspective." He sees all versions of love in their order. He is closer and
closer to the spot that is "equidistant from all points on the circumference."
He moves from a mere earthly conception of love, from an engagement with the
Courtly Love tradition, to a conception of his place in the chain of love, the
chain of being.
How exciting these images, Timothy, considering CCO's tools, and considering
the fact I have been excited by the simplicity of the Gospel of Love for so
long now. I see that many of their tools involve this image (the circle) and
this entire tradition. It is not that the parcel, the gift of grace, is
different, but only that different times require re-presentations of that
parcel, and it only seems as though it has been opened for the first time,
or that it is new... The end of our exploring will only happen when we arrive
at the centre of that circle, towards which, says Dante, the loving mind is
bound to move!
ANYWAY, so much for those personal ramblings. It is so exciting to me when
literature and real come close together. Talk to you soon, dear Timothy,
Robin
ps. Have you heard of /read any Bernard Lonergan? I took a whole
philosophy seminar on him last year, and it strikes me that his
generalized empirical method also approximates the circle / gyre imagery
so prominent in Yeats, Dante, Eliot. Again, someone "explores" from their
little corner, and finds himself in the territory of the great saints and
of the great writers. But perhaps that is the subject of another letter, at
another time.
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