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There’s a fundamental contrast in Letter X between the idea of the universe as a closed circle, symbolized as a snake swallowing its own tail, and the idea that the universe is open, that it admits freedom and creativity, that the energy of the Logos, of Christ, entering from outside breaks the cycle of cause and effect.
Here’s how the study guide for this letter characterizes these over-arching views of reality:
“[I]f the universe is ultimately a closed circle, then everything we experience is, in a similar way, ultimately absurd. For this reason, the author’s insight that Christ represents the opening up of the circle of the universe is profoundly inspiring.”
Writers like Don Cupitt (of England’s Sea of Faith group) talk about our world as being “outsideless” so that we need to give up the Platonic notion of a perfect, changeless, transcendent reality beyond the contingency, temporality, and finiteness that characterize this realm, because the Enlightenment and post-modern thought have made any other way of thinking increasingly difficult. It seems to me that our author would put Cupitt’s views squarely in the snake-eating-its-tail camp, along with the views of Koheleth (Ecclesiastes), Nietzsche, and the rest of the transcendent reality skeptics and deniers.
I’m really struggling with this: toward better understanding our author’s claims and the reasons he advances to support them, but also as a matter of my own faith journey. I find that for me at least, Cupitt is correct: believing in transcendent realities is becoming more and more difficult. He’s not at all troubled by the idea of giving them up, and maybe I shouldn’t be either. But I’m sure our author would have the same evaluation of Cupitt’s views that he has of Nietzsche’s: “How monstrous!”
I’d be grateful for anything anyone can offer toward clarifying what’s at issue here and helping to resolve it, although I realize that’s a lot to ask!
Carl, reflection on your experiment leads me into difficult territory in epistemology and the philosophy of literature. So I’ll be meandering here even though I’d prefer to be clear, direct, and concise. I’m probably way off base, and it’s not really a direct answer to your question, but here’s an attempt at starting to think this through.
First arcanum: intuition, in the old sense of unmediated, effortless apprehension of an object. Second arcanum: the word, comprehension, fashioning a container for that which is intuited. Third arcanum: manifestation through embodied action, aligning human will with the divine will. And yes, “sacred activism” and “contemplation in action” both fit, and both enlighten.
What nags at me, though, is the kind of thing our author himself points to when he says in the next chapter: “[I]t is rarely that one lets the symbol, the image of the symbol as such, say all that it has to say through its unique context. One lets it say a little, and one is suddenly more interested in one’s own thoughts, i.e., in what one has to say oneself, rather than what the symbol has to say” (p.87).
In general, how should we interpret an author’s words? Do they have an objective meaning and intention that it’s our task as readers to apprehend? Or is allowing the author’s words to evoke our own ideas, images, and experiences, arriving at an approximation or analogue of the author’s original meaning, the best the reader can do?
If we substitute, say, “contemplation in action” for our author’s “sacred magic,” we may find that we like the new term better—that it seems more comfortable, more intelligible, more…well, meaningful. And that may be a step along the way, even a necessary step, as we strive to grasp the author’s meaning, especially if the framework of magic is unfamiliar and forbidding. But is it OK to stop there?
Mystical experience is said to be ineffable—and then mystics write volumes about their experience. Capturing anything of inner experience requires poetry, image, metaphor, analogy to point toward the nature of that experience, contain it in a way and always only partially, allow it to be shared. It’s a very different kind of communication than, at the opposite extreme, mathematical expressions that convey meaning objectively, precisely, and exhaustively.
Why does our author choose this particular container to convey the meaning of the third arcanum? Why a species of the genus “magic”? What conceptual framework does this belong to? What do we gain and what do we lose by introducing instead another term of art that brings along its own conceptual framework?
It’s an arduous journey, but I think truly honoring the author’s work, fully responding to his attempt to contain and share meaning, requires that we follow the path he lays out. For me, that will require at least that I understand the Hermetic tradition more fully, by reading in and about that tradition.
I suspect it makes a crucial difference, finally, that the author has chosen *this* means of expression, not *that*, to convey his meaning.
Some thoughts on miracles vs. magic and on this chapter generally:
My instinct is to regard magic as a technology for manipulating events through mysterious or supernatural means, with the negative connotation that meaning generally carries. I understand that the author wants to define a type or level of magic, “sacred magic,” based on but transcending the general meaning of the term. I take it that the essence of sacred magic is action aligned with the divine will: as Jesus prays in the Garden of Gethsemane, “Not my will, but yours,” or in the Lord’s Prayer, “your will be done on earth as in heaven.”
There’s sometimes a sense of a kind of arbitrariness in the use of words here and elsewhere in the book so far, as if the author is appropriating words to fit his ideas. I suppose authors must be allowed some latitude to define terms as they wish, within reason, as long as they make the meanings of their terms of art clear. It’s likely, too, that the sense of arbitrariness is amplified by my own ignorance of the author’s sources and my inability to follow the course of his thought completely.
That said, there is a compelling logic to the progression of the author’s focus in the first three chapters, from an inner or divine intuition, to the embodiment of intuition in language, to the expression of the word in the act aligned with the divine will.
Jesus’ miracles should be the paradigm of sacred magic, but the author of MOTT seems to regard Jesus in his divine rather than human person in the account of the healing of Aeneas (pp.55–57). Regarding Jesus instead in his human person, I would think that according to the author’s distinction between a miracle and sacred magic, his miracles are more properly termed sacred magic.
Is it really true that when it’s a matter of confronting bricks and baseball bats and guns and tanks, the subtle rules the dense? I suppose it’s one of those cases where you need to add the qualifier, “ultimately.” The Russian invasion of Ukraine is a prime example of the need for faith that this is so.
Thank you, Jane.
Mom was morphined up pretty good on Saturday and she seemed to be floating in a semi-conscious state. But it was clear that she had visits from her long-dead pet Irish Setter, Mikki, and from her Great Uncle Lewie who was a poet, playwright, and arts critic for the Philadelphia Bulletin. Those are some fine guides for the trip away from this earthly realm.
She is at last at peace, enfolded in God’s wings.
My mother died yesterday evening. Wrapped in God’s wings, she’s now found the peace that had been so sadly absent during her final years. My wife and I, along with one of my three brothers, are grateful to have been with her for a few hours just before her death. Please pray for the repose of her soul and for family.
Therese, thank you so much for your prayers, and for the beautiful stanza from Sarton’s poem. Yes, to accept and embrace what we feel, to sink into it and feel it fully and intensely—then to release it all and be guided by the Spirit which is love!
Carl, I’m always shocked when someone grants a point I’ve made—which actually means I’m not shocked that often because it happens so infrequently!
I was perfectly ready to accept that tah-ROH is a Deep South thing. Y’all have some odd ways of doing things down there—odd to us Yankees anyway! I wouldn’t even be that surprised if you folks say poh-TAT-oh. 🙂
David, I love it! Both pronunciations equally right and equally wrong sounds perfectly right to me! Point well-taken about the French origin and French pronunciation.
Carl, thank you so much for your encouraging and sympathetic reply!
Whether Budd was justly convicted remains a point of contention. The documentary “Honest Man” paints a fair picture of the situation, I think, and it tends to evoke some degree of sympathy for him in most viewers. But it stops short of drawing any definite conclusions.
It’s not hard to see how a felony conviction could evoke depression whether there’s genuine wrongdoing or not. As the rambling diatribe he distributed at the press conference suggests, Budd was not in a good mental state after the conviction. But the odd thing about his suicide is how calculated and deliberate it seemed. It was motivated at least in part by wanting to make sure his pension wouldn’t be lost and his wife and two children would be taken care of. In that he decided on the best course of action in the circumstances and followed through with his decision resolutely, his actions were entirely rational.
Not that they were morally justifiable: his death wreaked horrible damage on those close to him, and the alleged corruption and political persecution he meant to draw attention to were largely dismissed without serious consideration.
After all these years, the attempt to arrive at any firm understanding or evaluation of Budd’s actions, or of the morality of suicide generally, remains difficult and confusing. So they continue as engaging and troubling matters for reflection.
There’s an interesting Reddit thread about this here (and I guess I’ll find out whether links are allowed in forum posts!): https://www.reddit.com/r/tarot/comments/c6zluu/tarot_pronunciation/
Does anyone really say po-TAH-to? 🙂 Anyway, point taken. Thanks, Carl!
1—
I’ve been sensing a need for more structure in what I do with my time, especially in my reading. At this time I’m drawn to the idea of studying a mystical text with a spiritual teacher in a group, over a relatively long period. And my fascination with the symbolism in the Tarot from an early age adds to the attraction. Before reading about the book in the lead-up to this course, I was entirely unfamiliar with Meditations on the Tarot as far as I can recall (which isn’t as far as it used to be, as I approach my 70th birthday!).2—
I’ve practiced various forms of meditation since my high school years. I began studying the teachings of Thomas Keating some 35 years ago. Around that time, I started to attend retreats, workshops, and prayer groups, and I started working with a spiritual director. That led to an affiliation with Oasis Ministries for Spiritual Development, a local organization whose leaders were graduates of Shalem Institute’s programs. A few years ago I developed a format for my Episcopal Church parish incorporating silent prayer and lectio divina for a group that meets weekly. I have a prayer discipline that includes Centering Prayer, but it’s been a struggle lately as responsibility for elderly parents and other roles demand more of my time.3—
I really don’t have a specific goal for the course, except to follow where the Holy Spirit leads, to consent to the Spirit’s transforming work in my life, and to deepen my awareness of the movement of the Spirit around and within. I hope Meditations on the Tarot will help guide and support that journey.4—
I posted a question in the Community Discussion forum (with apologies if that’s not in accord with the intended use of that forum): What’s the correct pronunciation of the word “Tarot” (acknowledging that there are likely more than one)?Following the guidelines, I should add a “fun fact”!
Although it’s really not fun at all, I hope it’s forgivable on this anniversary of the public suicide of Pennsylvania Treasurer R. Budd Dwyer in 1987 to recall that I was at work in my role as his IT director at the time it happened. It was a dark, confusing time. I’m thankful not to have been in his office where the press conference took place, as some of my friends and colleagues were.
For those unfamiliar with the event: there’s an informative Wikipedia article, also a documentary available on Amazon Prime Video, “Honest Man: The Life of R. Budd Dwyer.”
RIP, Budd. May God have mercy on you, and on those who live in the aftermath of this horrible event.
