This is a monthly series on Francisco de Osuna’s The Third Spiritual Alphabet.1 In each post, we reflect on one letter from his Alphabet. The Alphabet was written as an aid to recollection. Recollection (being recollected in God) is both a form of prayer and a way of being in the world. This month’s letter is N.
Taste What You Understand
This Letter Speaks of Spiritual Pleasure, Saying: Do Not Think to Attain Repose by Understanding but Rather by Tasting. No entiendo; mas gustando, penses alcanzar reposo.
“Two wings were given the soul so it could fly to God and the solitude of interior recollection…Understanding and will are the two principle wings given the soul so it might seek the repose found in that solitude of the heart which God provided with everything necessary to meet our desires…In spite of this, some still presume and strive to reach the repose of contemplation by fluttering the left wing of understanding; they are alike a rower who tries to put into a quiet port with just one oar or a swimmer endeavoring to reach shore using but one arm.” (SA 315)
In Letter M, Osuna offered various forms of meditation intended to aid the understanding in awakening the desire of the heart. The idea being 1) if I meditate on divine goodness with my full attention, I will begin to desire that to which I attend, and 2) through the act of meditation, I will come to the limits of understanding. In this letter, Osuna makes clear that recollection is primarily an act of the will. The limits of understanding are inviolable when it comes to knowing the divine. It is with the desire of our heart that we “taste” (know) the divine we seek to understand.
Solitude of the Heart
“I will snatch you away and carry you to the house of my mother and to the bed where she bore me; and there you will teach me and I will give you a drink of spiced wine and the new wine of my pomegranates.” (Song of Solomon 8:2; SA322)
“The soul can seize and snatch God away with bonds of charity and love, for God does not know how to deny love…The soul’s mother, through whom the soul is meritorious, is the will, which dwells in the heart, and it is not just to the house that God is borne away but to the bed, the bed of recollection that we are expounding in this treatise. The windows of the senses are closed in this house where God, having secured his lodging in darkness, now rests in the bed, and teaches the soul many things by experience, and the bride, as she says, lulls him to sleep and enjoys many kinds of spiced wine. With all her desires united to God alone, she gives him the new wine of the pomegranates, which is her desire drawn from the intimate recesses of her inner being…” (SA 322)
In this interpretation of Song of Solomon 8:2, Osuna gives us key elements to the practice of recollection. To close the “windows of the senses” is to turn our attention away from the images, forms, and cognitions of our mind. This mental furniture, so to speak, is acquired through our sense experience of the particulars in the world. The understanding needs this mental furniture in order to function and make sense of the world. But, of course, the function of our understanding is transcended the moment we turn our attention to God since the understanding cannot form an image or conception commensurate with the divine.
Moreover, so long as our attention is turned toward this or that (as Meister Eckhart would say), our desires will be pulled in the direction of the various particulars to which we attend. To close the window of the senses, then, is to turn our attention toward God, who is neither this nor that, with the desires of our heart united into one, simple desire for Goodness/God. It is in that mental darkness, in the stillness and silence of a heart no longer distracted by multiplicity, that God “teaches the soul many things by experience.”
The Consolation of Recollection and Its Naysayers
Osuna takes note of naysayers who critique recollection and the consolation that comes with experiencing the divine presence. To wit, sometimes those who are critical of contemplation have no experience with contemplation. Instead, they tend to argue against it with reasons, e.g., it’s selfish, it’s of the devil, or one must first understand the divine in order to experience the divine. But, of course, the divine presence and the consolation of recollection can only be experienced; the understanding and its reasons have little say in the matter. The limits of understanding are precisely why mystical experiences are ineffable. Happily, those who have experienced the consolation of recollection can hardly resist praising what they now know, ineffable as it is.
“Spiritual pleasure is so excellent that it is almost impossible for a person who has experienced it not to praise it.” (SA 332)
“If you taste God, you have in your soul the greatest possible sign of God’s supreme love and so you should not let anyone frighten you by saying it is self-love. If they tell you the devil is lurking there, you tell them he can also be hiding behind the church doors, but that is no reason for you not to enter…” (SA 333)
“Contemplatives say that devotion and spiritual consolation have these qualities (i.e., desire for union with God; love and mercy toward others), so look here for your repose, as our letter says, and irrespective of what any person of great authority may say, do not think logic and metaphysics are needed to dedicate yourself to the devotion of recollection. People who just write and teach about recollection but do not practice it are probably the ones who say that.” (SA 335)
I agree with Osuna that we should never let anyone, no matter how much authority they claim, dissuade us from seeking God with the desire of our heart. It’s strange to think anyone would try to dissuade us, but it happens. The mystical and contemplative aspects of Christian faith have often been criticized by those who don’t know. And it makes sense they would not know if they have not tasted. But not all criticisms can be so easily discarded.
I think any criticism concerning selfishness or lack of love for others should be taken seriously even if it is inaccurate. Something is terribly amiss if the love and presence we experience in recollection does not translate into concrete acts of love. If that is the case, that is a problem. As far as I can tell, the consolation of recollection is the divine presence, and that consolation is never just for the one who experiences it. Invariably, the love and presence we experience in recollection will overflow and transform how we live in the world. I agree with Osuna that recollection not only enflames our desire and love for God, but it also cultivates love and mercy toward others. Still, not every criticism can be discarded as the result of ignorance.
Conclusion (And a Bit of Praise for the Consolation of Recollection)
For all its benefits, the understanding is “earthbound” and cannot transcend the limits of its own forms, images, and cognitions. The love of the heart, by contrast, is free to seek and find. I’ll be honest, I wish someone had encouraged me sooner to take up a spiritual practice of recollection. There is a distinct difference between understanding and tasting that I did not quite grasp until I began to maintain a practice. To be clear, I had the basic idea because we all have those moments when the light breaks through, but now I know that distinction in a way I did not understand. And, as Osuna says in several ways, once you have tasted the goodness of the divine presence, you can’t help but go back for more.
“From what has been said, you can conclude that our letter advises that very little repose and contentment will be found through intellectual brilliance, irrespective of how keen the human understanding may be. You ought not to plan, therefore, to realize repose unless you taste what you understand. This was Saint Augustine’s desire when he said to the Lord, “I beg you, Lord, let me taste in love what I taste in understanding and perceive in desire what I perceive in understanding.” (SA 329)
Francisco de Osuna The Third Spiritual Alphabet (Trans. Mary E. Giles; Preface Kieran Kavanaugh; Paulist Press, 1981)