In 1907, the small work titled L’Apostolat des Catechismes et de la Vie Intérieure (“The Apostolate of Catechism and the Interior Life”) was published by the French Trappist monk, Jean-Baptiste Chautard (1858-1935). While the famous Institutions liturgiques by the French Benedictine monk Prosper Louis Pascal Guéranger (1805-1875) represented the stronghold of liturgical theology, providentially raised to preserve the treasures of sacred rituals and sacraments, Father Chautard’s work, usually known as The Soul of the Apostolate, was perhaps the last great manual of spiritual theology truly faithful to the classical doctrine of the Church.
Essentially, the work is built around the postulate of the absolute necessity of interior life based on the mystical presence of the Lord Jesus Christ in the souls of those dedicated to any form of apostolate. In other words, the supernatural life of divine grace, which is as vital for the soul as the existence of the soul itself is for the whole person, represents both the heart and the entire ‘circulatory system’ meant to provide vital strength to Christians. This teaching is grounded in the Revelation transmitted to us by St. John the Apostle, who teaches us in his Gospel—as Dom Chautard points out—that “God the Father does nothing except through His Son: All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made” (John 1:3). The proposed symbolic image is that of the vine stock, Jesus Christ, in which all the shoots—that is, baptized Christians—must be firmly rooted to partake in the supernatural life of grace, in order to transmit it to others. The small treatise Soul of the Apostolate details the ways in which divine grace can be multiplied in the souls of Christians—this being the sole source of that supernatural life.
Here, we can recall the warning of St. Bonaventure, that the one who primarily relies on his own intellect, on his own ‘natural light of reason’ in the development of a philosophy, may lose sight of the fact that understanding the sacred mysteries of the Church cannot be solely grounded in our reason, which after all is deeply affected by the consequences of original sin. If we include in the discussion the definition of faith proposed by St. Thomas Aquinas, who teaches us that faith “is an act of the intellect adhering to the Divine truth at the command of the will moved by the grace of God” (Summa Theologiae, II-II, q.2, 9), we realize that, in fact, we do not rely decisively on our own intellect but on the divine Intellect. The mind of the true Christian is subordinated to the mind of God. This subordination alone can grant us the grace of understanding the supernatural world, as well as an understanding of the natural world different from that of the modern sciences.
To grow in holiness and knowledge is to become mature and become fully human—“in the image and likeness of God” (Gen 1:26-27). The Apostle Paul refers to this maturation process when he admonishes the Christians in Corinth that they have not advanced in their understanding of divine matters. Such an understanding requires patient pedagogical efforts to be transformed from ‘children’ into perfect ‘men,’ capable of being nourished with the ‘substantial food’ of Holy Scripture. Such spiritual growth requires a pedagogy different from anything we can conceive without the guidance of the Holy Spirit. For He is—as demonstrated by Saints Augustine and Thomas Aquinas in their works titled De Magistro—the ‘inner teacher’ who guides us according to the Savior’s promise, who says that “the Paraclete, the Holy Ghost … will teach you all things, and bring all things to your mind, whatsoever I shall have said to you” (John 14: 26). What exactly this pedagogical program of the Christian community looks like in practice, we know from St. Dionysius the Areopagite’s work, On the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy.
First of all, before receiving Holy Baptism (which at that time, in most cases, was conferred mostly to adults), those who showed a serious intention to become Christians were encouraged to lead a virtuous life by observing the Ten Commandments. At the same time, fundamental catechesis began, in which these ‘catechumens’ were taught the Credo and provided with simple and clear explanations of the foundations of the Christian faith. In this period, catechesis could last up to three or even four years. Only after being ‘illuminated’ through the sacrament of Baptism did Christians receive the type of formation that has almost completely disappeared from religious practice today: mystagogical catechesis. Here, we have reached the first decisive point of any potential project for the recovery of the normative Christian mystical life.
Mystagogical catechesis involves initiation into the symbolic language of the biblical texts, then that of the sacraments and rituals of the Church, as well as those of the created cosmos itself. This type of initiation primarily focuses on the symbols in the sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation, and Holy Communion. Of course, the other sacraments can also be explained in the same manner.
Essentially, there are two axes of mystagogical formation for those who are already baptized. The first is the allegorical axis, in which the meaning of certain episodes from the Old Testament that find fulfillment in the New Testament and are found in the Christian Sacraments is explained. For example, the passage of the Jewish people guided by Moses through the miraculous division of the Red Sea allegorically symbolizes the baptism of those who are saved, pursued by the armies of darkness that will ultimately meet their end in the unleashed waters. Similarly, those saved from the flood on Noah’s Ark allegorically symbolize all the Christians who are saved through the Church from the deluge that engulfs a world steeped in sin. The second axis of mystagogical formation involves the mystical interpretation and depiction of the effects of the holy Sacraments.
For example, the blessed baptismal water symbolizes the water at the beginning of creation over which the Holy Spirit soared (Gen 1:2). This interpretation, carefully meditated upon, reveals that all the baptized, in a mysterious yet no less true manner, are re-created (re-born) in a moral and even ontological condition that, from the perspective of purity, is similar to the ‘original justice/righteousness’ in which Adam and Eve were before committing the original sin. This is clearly taught by the Council of Trent in the Fifth Session when it affirms that “in those who are born again, God hates nothing, because ‘there is no condemnation, to those who are truly buried together with Christ by baptism unto death” (Rom 8:1), who do not “walk according to the flesh” (Rom 8:1), but putting off the old man and putting on the “new, who is created according to God” (Eph 4:22 ff.; Col 3:9 ff.), are made innocent, immaculate, pure, guiltless and beloved sons of God, ‘heirs indeed of God, but co-heirs with Christ’ (Rom 8:17), so that there is nothing whatever to retard their entrance into heaven.” (Denzinger 792).
From the perspective of the abundance of the graces offered to us by our Lord, Jesus Christ, and our adoption as ‘co-heirs with Christ,’ we can conclude that the state of Christians can be conceived as superior to that of the first parents. And this is despite the presence within us of the so-called ‘penalties’–i.e. evils like concupiscence, suffering, illness, and death, which are nothing more than ‘tests’ through which God tests our faithfulness.
Potentially ‘healed’ from all the consequences of original sin, a baptized person becomes present in the Kingdom of God, capable of nourishing himself—through the means offered by the Church—with the fruits of Paradise that multiply supernatural graces within their spiritual being. In this regard, the supreme model for all Christians is the Blessed Virgin Mary, “full of grace” (Luke 1:28).
Here we come to the most important part of what I want to convey: how Christian meditation became neglected, ignored, and disregarded due to the excessive rationalization of Catholic theology. Have you ever heard of Christian meditation? If yes, you are among very few. The majority of Christians have never heard of such a thing. The practice of meditation has been eliminated even from seminaries and theological institutes. This disappearance of the practice has occurred in parallel with the destruction of the Holy Liturgy (by replacing the Mass of the Roman Rite with a counterfeit version crafted by ‘experts’), as well as the exclusion of significant parts of other sacramental rituals (for example, the almost complete elimination of exorcisms from the rite of baptism). In the name of alleged clarity, coupled with a purported return to the ‘primitive’ forms of prayers and sacraments, not only has the mystical character of the Church’s rituals been undermined, but we have lost sight of the theology developed by saintly authors such as Dionysius the Areopagite, Gregory the Great, Bonaventure, and John of the Cross.
Over more than ten years, I have delivered mystagogical catechesis in parishes and courses of sacred biblical exegesis. I have asked dozens of Catholics if they have heard of meditation. The majority have responded by speaking of various forms of so-called Eastern meditation: Zen, Zazen, Tai Chi, or other similar practices. The notion of ‘meditation’ was, for them, synonymous with such practices. Almost no one has associated the concept of meditation with the Christian life. This fact points to one of the most serious deficiencies in the formation of modern-day Catholics. Not only do they not know the symbolic language of sacred texts, rites, and sacraments, but they know very little about the concrete practice of mental prayer or lectio divina. This is all the more disappointing considering that saints from past eras, from Dionysius the Areopagite, John Chrysostom, and Augustine, to Louis de Granada, Peter of Alcantara, Ignatius of Loyola, and Alphonsus Maria de Liguori, have emphasized the primacy of meditation in the life of the Christian. Dom Chautard also does the same in the book I mentioned at the beginning of this article.
The practice of meditation, which is a form of prayer associated with understanding sacred texts under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, is the most important way by which the baptized, by graces, unite more deeply with their Creator. It is from here that true theology begins. This is why St. Alphonsus insisted that all his priests ought to practice daily meditation. This imperative, though, is one from which the laity are not exempt.
The practice of Christian meditation, which we encounter, for example, when reading St. Augustine’s Confessions, begins with mystagogical catechesis, inviting all those who are ‘initiated’ to engage in meditation on sacred symbols. Furthermore, the Holy Liturgy is the most appropriate environment for the practice of meditation. This is what St. Francis de Sales, in his Introduction to the Devout Life—a book written specifically for the spiritual instruction of the laity—teaches about how to meditate during the Holy Liturgy:
In the beginning, and before the priest goes up to the Altar, make your preparation with his—placing yourself in God’s Presence, confessing your unworthiness, and asking forgiveness. Until the Gospel, dwell simply and generally upon the Coming and the Life of our Lord in this world. From the Gospel to the end of the Creed, dwell upon our Dear Lord’s teaching, and renew your resolution to live and die in the faith of the Holy Catholic Church. From thence, fix your heart on the mysteries of the Word, and unite yourself to the Death and Passion of our Redeemer, now actually and essentially set forth in this holy Sacrifice, which, together with the priest and the entire congregation, you offer to God the Father, to His Glory and your own salvation. Up to the moment of communicating, offer all the longings and desires of your heart, above all desiring most earnestly to be united forever to our Savior by His Eternal Love. From the time of Communion to the end, thank His Gracious Majesty for His Incarnation, His Life, Death, Passion, and the Love which He sets forth in this holy Sacrifice, entreating through it His favor for yourself, your relations and friends, and the whole Church; and humbling yourself sincerely, devoutly receive the blessing which our Dear Lord gives you through the channel of His minister.
This is the practice of Christian meditation applied to the Holy Liturgy. However, the most powerful form of meditation in the lives of saints from all eras is based on reading the Holy Scriptures. Among all the great masters, I will appeal to the one who conveyed the most severe warnings about the consequences of a rational-speculative theology that forgets the illuminating power of divine grace: St. Bonaventure.
In Collationes in Hexaemeron, the Seraphic Doctor explains some of the most important aspects of Christian meditation. But above all, the point I can never emphasize enough is that he clarifies with astonishing force the framework in which this formation of the mind of any Christian is possible: specifically, it is Paradise.
St. Bonaventure insists that through Baptism, we are placed in the Paradise from which Adam and Eve were expelled after the original sin. The biblical texts upon which we may meditate are the trees from which Adam and Eve were invited to eat in Eden. Spiritually speaking, after baptism, our souls are found in a comparable state, through the power of sanctifying grace, to that of the first parents before the Fall. What’s more, despite the persistence of the inclination towards evil (‘concupiscence’) even in the baptized, which they must resist until their last breath, Christians are “adoptive children” in God the Son Himself—a condition certainly superior to that in which Adam and Eve were before the first sin.
This is because our souls are already transformed through the power of baptismal grace, allowing us to regain the innocence and graces of the original state, and even more than that. Eventually, even the bodies of Christians will be transformed into “celestial bodies” (1 Cor 15:40). However, this will only happen after the second coming of Christ and the final judgment (the incorruptible bodies of certain saints are—very probably—signs of this future reality).
Moreover, starting with Augustine and up to Thomas Aquinas, an interesting interpretation has been developed that precisely tells us when the gates of Paradise were reopened: when the side of the Savior Christ was pierced, from which blood and water flowed. These are symbols of the vital Sacraments of the Church—Holy Baptism and the Holy Eucharist—which we can gather from the Tree of Life, which is none other than the Cross on which our Lord was crucified. So, in concrete terms, through Baptism, we are reintroduced to Paradise, while through the worthy reception of the Holy Eucharist, we nourish ourselves from the Tree of Life. But there is also the terrible possibility, as St. Paul tells us, of eating “judgment”—when a Christian receives communion unworthily, that is to say, sacrilegiously: “He that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh judgment to himself, not discerning the body of the Lord” (1 Cor 11:29). But how is such a dreadful thing possible?
Many saints and Doctors say that those who do not meditate on the profound meanings of the Holy Mysteries—especially the Holy Eucharist—can easily fall into temptation. For if they were to meditate, the graces they would receive would prevent the sin that will ultimately lead to sacrilegious communion. If the body participates in worship through the sacred gestures corresponding to the various moments of the holy liturgy, our minds must ‘sacrifice’ all thoughts—through meditation—to God.
One of the masters who revealed such teachings to us is the incomparable saint of the Eastern Roman Empire, Maximus the Confessor (580-662). In Mystagogy, a small liturgical treatise, St. Maximus affirms that mystical, supra-rational knowledge is acquired when the faithful Christian
… through the altar of the mind … summons the silence abounding in song in the innermost recesses of the unseen and unknown utterance of divinity by another silence, rich in speech and tone. And as far as man is capable, he dwells familiarly within mystical theology and becomes such as is fitting for one made worthy of his indwelling, and he is marked with his dazzling splendor.
This is the mystical way that will help us escape the arid wasteland of that kind of ‘rationality’ at odds with deep spirituality. Everything begins and ends with the school of prayer. Towards the end of his life, the great Italian Doctor, St. Alphonsus de Liguori, reproached himself for having done too little to awaken the love for prayer in the souls of the faithful. Indeed, nothing is more important than prayer. We must begin lives of prayer and having begun we ought to persevere with all diligence, following the advice of the desert fathers: “Pray as you can, until you pray as you should.” As St. Alphonsus noted, no baptized Christian will be saved if he does not pray. Only from this point can the discussion about overcoming the current crisis of the Church begin.
