patradallmann

Shame and the Mixed Blessing (Part 1)

As is often the case in worship at Seekers’ Haven, Evan Knappenberger’s ministry last week (12/22/24) was insightful and evocative. Frequently the half hour following worship allows for discussion that centers on the ministry that’s occurred, but this day Evan had brought forward a Bible passage that was less familiar and contained complex ideas that we did not feel ready to discuss, though I had a very strong sense that the topic was important and needed to be understood. Within the next couple of days, I had emailed Evan and asked him “to identify the passage in Ezekiel [that the ministry had rested upon] and paraphrase [his] ministry and the thoughts on the topic that [he’d] had since.” Within another couple of days, Evan had sent me the information and his thoughts on chapter 36 of Ezekiel, and so began our email discussion.

At Evan’s suggestion, I intend to post the significant parts of this discussion here at Abiding Quaker. I expect to do so over a few days, as both his and my emails are too lengthy to be included in one post alone. From Evan Knappenberger comes Part 1 of this short series titled “Shame and the Mixed Blessing.”

Evan wrote:

As I was sitting in meeting this last first day, the verse came to me which is from Ezekiel Ch. 36, viz v. 26, “I will give you a new heart and a new mind. I will take away your stubborn heart of stone and give you an obedient heart” (GNT) or, if you prefer, King James Version: “A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh.”

As it has been some years since I read that passage, I was led to open a Bible and find it. As is my usual practice of opening the scriptures during meeting, I was led to look for context and for the spirit to reveal itself in the text just a little bit. Re-reading the entire 36th Chapter of Ezekiel was instructive.

Clearly God is telling the prophet that he plans to bless the exilic people of Israel, to bring them back together in their own land, and to multiply them and their flocks, to reinstate them as nation in a holy tradition. It would have been easy enough for the prophets of the exile to foretell this happy and most welcome reversal of their misfortune; for who does not readily cheer such good news that confirms us in all our patriotic and ethnocentric splendor? Many a post-nationalistic modern Friend might glance at Ezekiel (or Nehemiah or Ezra, for that matter) [and] might thus be put off by this seeming promise of fundamentalist resurgence: the sureness of political and tribal domination over the “heathen” (vv. 3, 5), for example, which the prophet delivers excitedly with repetitions of “Thus saith the Lord!” Has Thee heard? We are to be shamed no more but will prosper against all our neighbors!

And here precisely is where Ezekiel cuts short the celebratory self-congratulation. “I am not,” saith the Lord God of Israel, “doing this for your sake!” What’s that? How can this be? It is not our intrinsic virtue, our ethnic heritage, our cultural superiority, our pure cultus, our direct back line to David, our insistence on the Mosaic Law which has promised to deliver us. What then, how did we earn our salvation? By what virtue have we enticed Yahweh to heed our pleas? By none! “But for my name’s sake, which you have profaned among the heathen!” (v. 22)

Yahweh’s blessing upon those exiled Israelites is not contingent upon their own goodness, works, or purity. In fact, God is telling them plainly, you have failed even in exile—you have profaned my name; you have made me another idol among many; you have polluted the world with more filth (v. 25) rather than fulfilling your purpose of being a blessing to all the nations of the earth (recall God’s promise to Abraham). The Lord is going to do all these good things to you in spite of your failure and not for the sake of your pleasure, power, or plenitude, but in verses 26 and 27, the promise is much deeper: I will cleanse you from all this and give you new hearts of flesh.

Typically, Quakers might understand tenderheartedness and “hearts of flesh” in terms of conscientiousness, responsiveness to the tender mercies and leadings of the Lord who saved Jacob and Joseph and Abraham, who we also understand to be even He who saved George Fox and Margaret Fell and Friends of His down through the current day. This verse is the golden capstone of the pinnacle of God’s promise of restoration, by which we can understand the entire purpose of Yahweh’s setting apart of the people of Jacob: namely, to establish a politics of godliness and mercy and conscience on Earth as it is in Heaven. There is indeed much to wonder at in this passage.

But the chapter, the prophecy, [and] the story do not end there. Ezekiel reiterates God’s promises of plenitude and blessing to Israel. And then [there’s] something incredible. In verses 31 and 32, we hear:

Then shall ye remember your own evil ways, and your doings that were not good, and shall lothe yourselves in your own sight for your iniquities and for your abominations. Not for your sakes do I this, saith the Lord GOD, be it known unto you: be ashamed and confounded for your own ways, O house of Israel.

What is this? Shame? What kind of blessing includes shame? Old Testament notions of blessing have never included this in their notional purview before: when Jacob steals the paternal blessing, for example, there is no explicit shame laid on him and his descendants for it. There has to this point in the Hebrew Bible been no such thing as a “mixed blessing.”

In effect, [with] the inclusion in the text of these two verses, the introduction of a complication to the notion of blessing itself within the narrative of the fulfillment of the primal Blessing, we are forced to reckon [that along] with the psychological reality of plenitude and restoration [comes] a hard and unrelenting feeling of Shame. Not just shame, but confoundedness and even loathing!

This warning of shame is to be the result of God’s blessing, not directly but as a byproduct of the plenitude of God’s goodness. It is there, surely, in the filthy abomination of idolatry in which the exiles have been struggling but has heretofore been unacknowledged among them by reason of their stoneheartedness.

When I was a soldier in the war in Iraq, we did some shameful things and justified them out of necessity: Yes, we killed those civilians, but we had to. Yes, we entrapped those people to their deaths, but it was necessary if not good. Yes, we mistreated detainees, and so on. It was only later, when we returned to the land of plenty, and went out to spend our pay on various vices that we began to comprehend the darkness of our own actions, and then only with encouragement and in the absence of other means of immoral coping.

We in America have been the recipients of much plenitude. Do we connect it with the shame of its origins? I don’t mean land acknowledgments, which have become rather formulaic recently, or even really any form of activism. There is no set form of tenderheartedness. The human conscience is responsive to God’s call and is as varied in content as God’s voice to each person. The real shame is not in how we acquired our wealth, our land, or whatever, but in how we have failed to perform God’s mission in the world; how we have failed to bring about the Kingdom of Conscience on Earth; how we have put various idols—church, politics, belief—in place of the immediate conscientiousness demanded of us.

I have no answers here, and I did not deliver all this long of a message in meeting. But for the sake of the Friends, sister Patricia Dallmann has asked me to elaborate, and this is for all Friends. Yes, there will be moments of inevitable shame and confoundedness, and that is okay. To be expected. But that is not the end of the story, and though we are given many good things and though we are washed clean by the Spirit again and again, we must wrestle with Yahweh for a mixed blessing.

E.K. Knappenberger

Ezekiel in the Valley of the Dry Bones, 1956, Benno Elkan (1877–1960)

A Hero Made from God and Man

Now come, Saviour of the heathen / Renowned child of the Virgin;

Let all the world be amazed / That God ordained him such a birth.

Not from man’s blood nor flesh / But only from the Holy Ghost.

Has God’s Word become human and blood / A fruit of woman’s flesh.

The virgin body became pregnant / Yet her chastity remained pure.

Such virtue shines forth here / Where God is enthroned.

He went forth from his chamber / That kingly hall so pure

A hero made from God and man / He hastens to walk his path.

These words are from a Christmas carol titled “Now Come, Saviour of the Heathen” written by Kaspar Othmayr (1515–1553). The lyrics were copied from the liner notes on a CD titled Ther is no Rose (London, England: Virgin Classics Limited, 1997).

Over half a millenium ago, our humankind was making music to accompany sound theology, and today, thankfully, we can hear their language and add not only our affirmation but our own voice and substance to the great work that has been ever before us. We, too, must “hasten[s] to walk his path.”

Madonna and Child Gerard David c. 1460–1523

Some Observations on Prayer

^{Prayer is wholly out of the will of the creature, wholly out of the time of the creature, wholly out of the power of the creature, in the Spirit of the Father, who is the fountain of life, and giveth forth breathings of life to his child at his pleasure. –Isaac Penington}

^{This past week I received an email from someone who had recently discovered this blog and, as a result, also had visited the YouTube channel where there are recorded sessions of our Isaac Penington Study Group.1 He had listened to the 24th session in which our small group had discussed “prayer.” In his email, this reader had offered some of his thoughts on prayer, describing it as “a state of being. . . . a living in the Life,” and he went on to summarize: “prayer is receptivity to the operations of the Spirit on our being.”}

^{I felt}^{hesitant to accept his thoughts}^{unconditionally}^and^proceeded^to^identify^{the reason}^{behind my hesitation}^:

^Although^r^eceptiv^ity^to^the^Spirit^{is one element occurring in}^prayer^,^{it does}^not^{follow that}^{all receptivity to the Spirit}^{’s work on our being}^is^prayer^{. P}^{rayer is}^{a heightened state of communion with}^God^where^one’s^{inward being is}^{filled with}^the^Light^{of Christ.}^This^state^{is distinct from}^{our normal day-to-day consciousness}^{in which we may live with}^a^{fear of God, meaning a knowledge and}^{reliance upon}^Christ,^{the sure foundation of our life.}^If^the^transcendent^state^and^daily^{consciousness}^{are run together}^—^as^if^there^were^{no distinction between them}^—^then^{a problem may develop:}^{the transcendent}^{may be reduced}^to^something^{less than it is and normal consciousness}^{conflated with and raised}^up^into^{something more than}^can^be^{legitimately claim}^ed^{, which}^{was t}^{he first}^and^{is the}^ever-present^temptation.

^I^{ntending to}^ex^plain^{and support}^{my reason}^{in my response to this person,}^I^c^opied^{a passage from Fox’s}^Journal^{in which he describes his}^“veiled”^{consciousness}^,^{that is,}^{when he doesn’t}^{see Christ present yet}^nevertheless^feels^{firmly grounded}^{in him}^.^{Fox writes:}

^{And when at any time my condition was veiled, my secret belief was stayed firm, and hope underneath held me as an anchor in the bottom of the sea; and anchored my immortal soul to its Bishop, causing it to swim above the sea, the world where all the raging waves, foul weather, tempests, and temptations are.2}

^{(My response continued.)}^{How this state that Fox describes here differs from prayer is that a person can sense (have a “secret belief”) that he is grounded and preserved by Christ and therefore feel hope, while yet attending to all the various distractions and requirements necessitated by daily existence. In prayer, however, one’s eye is single, and, as a result, one’s whole body is full of light (Matt. 6:22). Prayer is a very focused (single-eyed) activity that brings one into an exalted (Light-filled) state. Jesus often goes to a mountain to pray (Mt. 14:23; Lk. 6:12; Mk. 6:46), and this is a way of saying he ascends into a different space spiritually as well as literally. The}^{Transfiguaration}^{occurs following Jesus’s and the disciples’ ascent up the mountain; it is there that Jesus appears full of light, which is different from the state Fox describes as his}^“veiled”^{condition. So, you see I distinguish between my daily condition where I must attend to many things}^(distracted^{, veiled)}^{while still feeling}^constantly^{undergirded by the Bishop of my soul, on the one hand, and, on the other, the high, focused,}^unveiled,^{Light-filled state of prayer.}

^{The following is a transcript of a portion of the Penington Study Group’s discussion on prayer, Session #24. This segment of the discussion (31:10) looks at the Lord’s Prayer as a means to prepare one to be lifted from regular consciousness into spiritual awareness. The transcript has been edited lightly for clarity. The complete discussion can be heard here:}

^{I think it’s significant that Jesus gives us a prayer to say in the Lord’s Prayer, and how this can be a transition or a fulcrum for moving into that wordless waiting upon the Lord. Those few verses function as a pathway, and what I find is}^that^they^{allow me—as I focus on the words—to concentrate my attention in a way that is the state the mind needs to be in, in order to be in that open}^,^{waiting state. I think I’ve said this before here, but I find that}^I^{intensely focus upon each phrase and proceed}^through^{the prayer phrase by phrase. My intent is to}^{feel that}^{each phrase}^{has been incorporated into my mind, so that my mind is focused and has made meaning of that phrase:}^that^{I’ve come into contact with the meaning of it. You know how you can say words, and there isn’t meaning, but sometimes when you say words, there is meaning. So what we’re looking for in that process is to get a strong sense of meaning in the words that we are saying.}

^{One time my family was visiting a Quaker up in Maine}^,^{a Quaker family up in Maine}^,^{and there wasn’t any meeting nearby so}^when^{Sunday came}^,^{we went to a Baptist}^c^hurch^,^{and in that service the}^m^{inister led the congregation}ⁱⁿ^{reciting the Lord’s Prayer in unison}^.^W^{e all stood up}^,^{and we all began to say the Lord’s Praye}^{r. M}^{y daughter}^,^{who was about seven at that time}^,^{pulled me down so that she could whisper in my ear}^,^{and she said}^{, “T}^{hey sound like zombies}^.”^A^{nd they did}^,^{because there was there was no life in in those words that were being said}^{; t}^{here was no}^meaning^;^{it was just a recitation of words that everybody was familiar with and nobody was putting any meaning into them}^.

^{I think how this Lord’s Prayer can help us is that if we take each phrase and just focus on it so intensely}^,^{the meaning comes to us}^.^A^{nd when each phrase has had that happen}^,^{then we move to the next phrase}^;^{and we proceed through that prayer one phrase at a time}^,^{allowing it to gather meaning for us}^.^{I find}^that^{by the time I get to the end of that prayer}^,^{it’s like I am lifted off from the world into a spiritual realm where there are no words}^,^{but there’s just}^S^pirit^:^{it’s almost like being launched into a spiritual place}^.^T^{hose words in that prayer are arranged to help us move from our normal frame of mind into a place that we can receive God}^,^{that we’re prepared to receive God}^.^A^{ll we can do is prepare}^,^{and that prayer does do that}^.

^A^{nother part of that process for me is if I lose my concentration in any of those verses}^,^{I feel morally obligated to go back to the beginning and start over}^.^T^{here needs to be a sustained concentration}^,^{because at the end of it what we are is just focused concentration waiting}^,^{and what works against us is our distractions}^:^our^{tendency to become distracted}^.^So^{what we want to do is concentrate and focus}^,^{and the difficulty is that we’re not focusing on a particular object or a particular thing}^;^{we’re focused on waiting}^,^{so it becomes}^that^{we’re focused on an absence of object}^.

Epigraph. Penington, Works, 2:345. Isaac Penington Study Group, 9/18/24, YouTube.
Nickalls, Journal, 14.

St. Francis Receiving the Stigmata, Jan Van Eyck, c. 1438

Good or Bad Government

This post includes an email exchange with Evan Knappenberger, a Friend with whom I regularly worship at the Seekers’ Haven Worship Group, a Conservative Friends online group that meets each First-day morning for worship. Evan is a graduate student, an Iraq war veteran, and has two degrees in theology. He often ministers in our worship sessions, and I am always led to listen closely, because he speaks with sincerity and a sense of the faith. Evan’s contribution to this post is a story about two Trump canvassers who appear on the protagonist’s doorstep one October afternoon and the response given to them. Evan sent the story to a local newspaper and to me, asking for my response, which is copied after the story.

Evan’s writing begins:

Dealing With Fascism at Your Door: A Friendly City Primer

By E.K. Knappenberger

for the Harrisonburg Citizen, 10/24/2024

It was 4:30 on a warm October Harrisonburg afternoon, and I was just sitting down to my 900-level university creative writing workshop on zoom, when the doorbell rang. The dogs immediately went nuts. Annoyed, I got up thinking that some important business was at hand. I was right, but not in the way I expected.

When I opened the door and stepped outside, two pasty, rotund old ladies were standing there with Trump literature. “Hello!” they tried to sound cheerful but they looked exhausted, “I’m Betty and this is Linda. We want you to vote republican.” They pushed some glitzy propaganda in my face.

My first reaction, which I suppressed successfully, was to hiss, to rant, or to confront. Like many people who are not in the cult of the spray tan Mammon, I find the presence of the (somewhat more rare than last time) Trump signs and stickers to be a threat to everything that I hold dear as an American and as a Christian. Because of their convict-idol’s rhetoric of violence, which has explicitly called for the imprisonment and execution of those of us who helped the democratic party, it is not unreasonable to feel threatened by the mere presence of trumpian hate speech. The little old ladies walking around our town, who are by many reputable press accounts paid by shadowy post-Citizens United billionaire cash contributions, represent something much more sinister than appearances suggest.

Precisely because the self-described wannabe dictator has said repeatedly that anyone who stands in the way of his “extreme power” will face violent “bloody” consequences, I myself (along with the majority of my fellow Harrisonburgians who refuse to consent to authoritarian takeover of the federal government) have been forced to grapple with the hard truth that, like many countries on the brink of massive political violence in the past, one third of America would likely exterminate another third of America, while the last third did nothing to stop it from happening. Betty and Linda, despite their benign-seeming presence on our Harrisonburg front porches, whether they know it or not, are harbingers of death. I can say this as a historian, but also as a combat veteran and former intelligence analyst who witnessed a genocide up close. Every moral fiber in me revolts in disgust from watching such people advocate their death cult among the good people in our land of putative freedom.

My friend Sofia Samatar, in her beautiful meditations perambulating the Friendly City, recently wrote in her column describing the reactionary violence of a deranged diner at Capital Ale House, who verbally assaulted her children for purely political reasons. What does one do in such situations? What can one do against such pernicious, deep seated evil? As a Christian and as a thinking person I offer the following template, a Friendly City primer on telling off those trumpian idolaters who spread their evil in our little corner of the world. A template of certain terms and theological language that no true Christian can deny. Let me also add that one needn’t be a believing Christian to engage in the kind of theological argumentation below — Lord knows, there are scant few believing Christians among the Trump idolaters. But of course, it helps to be familiar with the New Testament to make a convincing argument as I have suggested below.

“Betty, Linda,” you can say with some practice, “I am glad that God has led you here for us to learn something today. Pray with me.” You can take their hands if you want, bow your head, and screw your eyes up tight. Before they can start talking, continue in a tone approaching prayerfulness.

“Lord, we know that you sent your only begotten Son, Jesus, so that we might not perish but have eternal life. We know this from the Gospel of John, chapter three, Lord. You told us that Christ Was, in the beginning, before the creation of the world, that he Was and Is and always Will Be your holy Word. We know that from John chapter one.”

Take a deep breath but don’t wait too long. Continue.

“Almighty God, we know that your Living Word Jesus Christ is the Truth, by whom alone we are sanctified (John chapter 17 verse 17); and that the Truth alone can set us free in body and in spirit (John chapter 8, verse 32). Heavenly father, we know that Jesus left us the Holy Spirit, who is an Advocate of God’s Truth (John 14:16) who alone can defend us and whom alone we should trust.”

Here you can begin to build your prayer louder so that all your neighbors can hear. Continue in power with conviction if possible.

“We also know that to blaspheme this Holy Spirit of Truth is an unpardonable sin. (Mark 3:28, Matt 12:31, Luke 12:10). Lord, we know that lies alone such as Trump makes every day, are a sin; but we confess to you Lord that when we blaspheme the spirit of Truth itself, as Trump also does daily, we are assaulting the very nature of our God’s goodness, freedom and aid. We are bothered, Lord, when worldly leaders like Trump lie openly, and even moreso when they expect the Truth to conform to their unholy word.”

“We are perplexed when trumpian apologists ask, like Pontius Pilate, “what even is truth?” (John 18:38). But Lord, we are utterly confounded when the idolaters of Trump, like the pharisees who sought to murder your Word made Flesh, act in order to destroy every notion of what is true and what is false. (John 7 through 9). Help us to repent, Lord, of the blasphemous notion that Trump’s satanic lies are little white ones! Help us recant the diabolical assertion that while Trump is often factually incorrect, that he is still somehow correct in spirit, or in orientation. This, we confess to you, all-knowing God, is the blasphemy of placing Satan’s lies on the altar of your Truth.”

“In the name of Christ, we renounce the demons in Betty and in Linda and in all those possessed by the spirit of lies. We repent their worship of a false idol on their TV screens. Almighty one, save us, drive the lie-loving power-hungry exploitative ones who mislead these little old ladies into a lake of fire (Rev. 20:10) as you have promised. Father, do not wait to save us from the falseness of those who blaspheme and who seek the death of your servants (Psalm 38).

“How long, Adonai, will you suffer your Truth to be trampled and devoured by lying, unclean hypocrites? (Matt 7:6). But save us, let your Truth set these deceived ones free, and deliver us from the evil of Trump and his satanic snares, as you have promised. Take these two women, God. Turn their rotten hearts toward you, O Lord! Open their scaly eyes and teach them to stop causing others to stumble! Force them to unbind their deformed consciences, Lord! Chastise them that they might be saved from the evil they think they want to commit in the name of Trump!”

Let go of Betty’s and Linda’s hands, but before they can respond, say quickly “Go and sin no more! ” and be sure not to slam the door too hard in their faces.

Patricia wrote:

Thanks for this, Evan. I think you have zeroed in on the main issue: the avalanche of deceit that has been the mainstay of Trump’s public performance these past eight years. There are plenty of other behaviors that make him offensive, but the continual violation of truth is—as you have written—to “blaspheme the spirit of Truth itself . . . [is to] assault[ing] the very nature of our God’s goodness, freedom and aid.” And in Matthew 12:32, Jesus confirms the condemnation resulting from this assault. To speak against the Holy Ghost, the spirit of Truth, is to nullify in oneself the true standard and power by which one is guided to righteousness. Though lying about particulars is damaging to one’s soul, to deface the living law in the heart by which we discern truth is to render oneself incapable of functioning as a human being, i.e., a creature made in God’s image. This denial of Truth is the nature and beginning point of all evil words and actions, and is why the devil is called the father of lies. This is a problem that has plagued individuals throughout history, but it becomes exponentially terrible when social groups given to this blasphemy gain political power, as in Europe in the ’30s.

It’s been particularly galling that Trump is getting support from so-called Christians. People need no further goad to despise Christians, as it’s been a mainstay of the entertainment industry for the past 60 years to see Christians as deceitful, hypocritical, and the contempt for Christians now permeates the psyches of most of the educated and spiritually immature. I keep my mind focused on the work of presenting sound understanding of the Way to those who love the Truth, as I do. I have no expectation that those who have given over their God-given capacity to seek and love the Truth would be nudged to change their ways, nor that the spiritually immature might be transformed by my writing. That said, I think the deceitful can be shamed by having their behavior brought to light: their conscience might be pricked or their fear of social ostracization might influence them to take a new stance. I think your writing here is undergirded by that expectation: Who would want to see himself in unity with these two unthinking, buffaloed Trump supporters? I also used the technique of shaming bad behavior in my essay “The Ubiquitous War of the Lamb,” which was also anti-trump. Neither does Jesus hold back from calling out others (Matt. 11:21, 23:23).

I am glad that you wrote this piece and sent it into the Harrisonburg paper. Please let me know if you hear of any response.

Your friend,

Pat

Allegory and Effects of Good and Bad Government (detail), Ambrogio Lorenzetti, 1338-39, Siena’s Palazzo Pubblico frescos

Concerning Joy: Isaac Penington Study Group #22

The Isaac Penington Study Group (IPSG) began meeting last fall to examine and discuss the tract “Some of the Mysteries of God’s Kingdom Glanced At.”¹ Over the summer, our group reduced the frequency of our meetings to once a month. In the last session on Eighth month, the 21st, just a few of us showed up for the Zoom meeting where we read and discussed Penington’s description of the nature and cause of joy.² It turned out to be an especially appropriate topic for our small group of three, as our exchanges during the evening were heart-felt and gracious, thus making for joyful conversation, with Penington having first set the tone with his exuberant telling of the love given by and received from God.

Beginning with recognition of Penington’s references to Scripture (Psalm 42 and Luke 1:47-48) in this passage, we soon focused our discussion on his extended use of the metaphor of earthly love to describe and illustrate heavenly love, which is bestowed by God upon the soul, as can be seen in this excerpt from the passage:

I, who long have been desolate and forsaken, have now found favor in the eyes of my beloved, and my heart feeleth (in measure) that I am his, and he mine, who hath touched me, won my heart, undertaken for me, and what can separate?

Midway through the hour, our discussion turned to the qualities and benefits of the Church in Christ. Comparisons were set forth between the composition and effects of the Church in its healthy state as opposed to “faith” communities that harbor corruption. Comparisons were also made between the Church whose essence is knowledge and worship of Christ, the Truth, on the one hand, and, on the other, the empty pretence of man-made religion; and further differences were noted between the essential practice of gathered obedience to Christ, and the extraneous, inessential concerns and activities that occupy false religion.

A recording of this session (as well as each of the earlier 21 sessions) can be found on the YouTube channel titled “Isaac Penington Study Group.”

Works of Isaac Penington, Quaker Heritage Press: Farmington, ME 1999, 332–353. ↩︎
Penington, Works, 344-5. ↩︎

Sacro Amor Profano (detail), Titian, 1514, Borghese Gallery in Rome

The Light That Is Given: Prophetic Quaker Faith

I am pleased to announce the publication of my new book, The Light That Is Given: Prophetic Quaker Faith. It is now available for purchase at three web locations (listed and linked in the “About” page of this blog) and can be found in Quaker bookstores in the United States. The book is comprised of essays that have been posted on this blog over the years, as well as some new additions. There will be reviews in Quaker journals: Friends Journal, Quaker Religious Thought, and Western Friend, the first two expected within coming months and the third requiring longer. I am including a description of the book that is taken from the web pages of the publisher and the other two online distributors, as well as the editorial reviews presently featured on all three sites. And finally, I’ve included a picture of the cover whose design by Wipf and Stock pleased me very much, as I’ve always enjoyed seeing sunlight through trees. Not only is it beautiful, but it also suggests to me a metaphor for Christ the Light as seen through the Cross (the “tree” referred to in Acts 5:30; 10:39; and 13:29), which ancient Christians knew to be the tree of life.

* * * * *

Description of the book follows:

Speaking from the traditional Quaker claim of inward knowledge of Christ the Light, the author shows her accord with early Friends’ writings and the Scriptures they affirmed. Promptings arising from daily readings and personal interactions provide the starting point for many of the book’s essays. Other genres, including interviews and dialogues, also present a perspective that largely has been lost to modern-day forms of the faith. Though not allowing authoritative texts to displace the prerogative of Spirit, the author often cites both Scriptures and seventeenth-century Friends to support her themes with their good sense and authority, and thus she demonstrates the unity of the faith from century to century, from millennium to millennium.

Editorial reviews from three prominent Quakers follow:

“In The Light That Is Given, Patricia Dallmann assembles a great cloud of witnesses, ranging from the Old and New Testaments, Quaker tradition, and many other sources–Christian and non-Christian. Dallmann’s short essays arise from various times and occasions in her life, in a manner akin to the long tradition of Quaker spiritual autobiography. This practice grounds her witness in a fresh sense of life in the Light.”–Douglas Gwyn, author of A Sustainable Life: Quaker Faith and Practice in the Renewal of Creation

“In this fascinating and wide-ranging collection of essays, Patricia Dallmann applies a distinctly Quaker approach to exploring matters of biblical, theological, and social concern, allowing the inward Light of Christ to speak in and through her. Using this prophetic method, rooted in the faith and practice of early Friends, she offers a faithful testimony, enabling us to mine a rich seam of insight and illumination.” –Stuart Masters, program coordinator for history and theology, Woodbrooke

“Patricia Dallmann brings a modern prophetic voice to Scripture and ancient Friends’ texts. She carefully examines the language of these stories and brings new life to their teachings, but this is no exercise in mimicry. Dallmann shares her own experiences and shows us how traditional Quaker beliefs have guided her. This is an invaluable resource for those wanting to explore how traditional Friends’ faith and practice can be lived out by spiritual seekers today.” –Martin Kelley, senior editor, Friends Journal

Faith in Life Itself

Man as he came from God, and was by especial favor formed in his image, so it pleased God to place in him a principle of his own life to govern him. . . . [Man] must know what of himself is ready to betray him, that he may watch against it, and turn from it; and what in himself is given him of God . . . that he may hearken thereto, and be made happy thereby.—Isaac Penington

For three generations, the women in the Murphy family—daughters, granddaughters, and great-granddaughters—had agreed that Grandma Bessie’s home was as close to earthly paradise as could be asked. Abounding with flower beds; herb and vegetable gardens, for summer bounty and winter storage; a grape arbor; raspberries; and an apple orchard, her home offered with each visit new growth, beauty, and good things to eat. Beatrice Elizabeth Murphy (Grandma Bessie to us) had filled her home and life with a wealth that was uniquely hers, such as the 18-inch in diameter geode that leaned against the step to the entry porch and announced her fascination with rocks and gems, a topic that filled the bookcase just inside the door. The wealth the geode intimated was not the kind recorded in bank statements but was instead the inner wealth of largesse, wisdom, and beauty, and this the geode’s crystalline center aptly symbolized.

It was the abundance of the place that made it a paradise for us all. In the kitchen, the largest room in the house, was a massive wood-burning oven where all the baking had been done for decades. A hand pump stood just outside the back door ready to bring up a cool drink of water from deep in the earth. Alongside the east-facing wall was an outdoor shower enclosed by a screen of morning glories that protected our modesty early each day. A rain barrel stood at one corner of the house, and a privy was a ways down the path past the hollyhocks. Summer mornings, there was sparkling dew on the grass and always the Zen-flute call of a mourning dove that drew forth our stillness and wonder. Throughout our childhood, my sister (three years my junior) and my aunt (two years my senior) had long summer days outside playing endless games of imagination and croquet and taking turns on the tire swing. When twilight came with the glow of lightening bugs and the rise of the moon, there was hide-and-seek until the sky turned dark, the air cool, the stars sharp and clear, and the call was heard to come inside.

Some afternoons, though, when the heat of the Iowa summer became too much for us, we chose the indoors and would entertain ourselves with board games on the living room floor. It is here that I will introduce my great-grandfather T. Edward Murphy, Grandma Bessie’s husband. My memory of him is just one thing: he sat in a rocking chair—not three feet from our game on the floor—and said nothing: not a word to us children, ever. I was but four years old when he died in 1955, but even at four, I realized his total silence was strange, and so privately in the kitchen, I asked my grandmother why he never spoke. Her answer implanted itself in my memory when she said, “He was betrayed by a friend.” I don’t remember her explaining more than that, but I do recall the sorrow I felt as I heard her words and realized that my grandfather had been hurt so deeply by another that he had stopped talking altogether.

I am surprised but very grateful that my grandmother answered my question honestly. I am also surprised and grateful that at an early age I was given the intimation that the condition of one’s soul dramatically affects one’s life and that there was an invisible vulnerability in everyone, even grown-ups.

One sick of the palsy

Like the man “sick of the palsy” in the second chapter of Mark, my grandfather was unable to move forward with his life; he was paralyzed into silence and a rocking chair. With my grandfather, the cause of the debility was attributed directly to another: a betraying friend. While no such direct correlation is made to an offending party in the Mark 2 story, there are subtle indications that the man’s suffering was precipitated by another.

Four of the man’s friends bear him and his bed to Jesus, and they go to great lengths to see that he receives attention: they break up the roof and lower his bed (4). It is the friends’ faith that Jesus sees, and as a result of that faith, he pronounces the debilitated man’s sins forgiven (5). In bringing the friends and their faith into this story (singular for a gospel healing story) and making them the precipitating factor in the healing, the point is made that we humans are social beings: sin in one can spread to sin in another; the betrayal of one can lead to the paralysis or diminishment of life in another. We are being told that fact in this story when we see the social dynamic in reverse: the faith of these four friends leads to the forgiveness of, or absence of, sin in another.

Please note that I did not say that the care and concern of these friends effected the man’s recovery. In this Bible story, it is Jesus’s work to discern—i.e., to judge—faith to be present and sin to be past. And the outward events of the story, as always, parallel the inward event: Jesus Christ appears within to announce faith is present and sin is past and forgiven.

We might ask, however, wasn’t it another’s sin and not the paralytic’s—or my grandfather’s? Why is it the victim is specified as having sin? For that is what Jesus does when he says: “Son, thy sins be forgiven thee” (5). In this world, there is and will be endless provocation and victimization,¹ but it is we ourselves who allow the sinful behavior of others to diminish our own souls. In allowing that, we take on sin ourselves, for the soul’s death or diminishment is an affront to God from whom our souls are descended and by whom they are to be sustained. I say this not to shame victims but to outline the process by which we become entangled in life-diminishing social stumblings and to strengthen the soul that it not fall into fatal injury but find its way clear to health and wholeness.

The paralyzed man in chapter 2 is a figure for the immobilized condition of the soul suffering the sickness of despair, and the friends who bear the man to Jesus are likewise a figurative allusion to the foursquare honoring of the virtue of life itself when the soul is sick. It is not any particular quality in the paralytic’s life that the friends honor, for no such quality is mentioned, and the man is completely inactive and silent. Rather the friends honor and respect the man’s life for itself alone, devoid as it is of utility or advantage.

In like manner, a person must retain faith in life itself when his soul is under such extreme duress that he finds no ability to function or move forward in life. At this low, seemingly forsaken state, when there appears no way forward and no incentive in the world to carry on, it is too often the case that faith in the virtue of life is set aside, and the self yields to the demonic. That is to say, faith in life is replaced by faith in death: honoring truth and life is replaced by succumbing to death and deceit.

In refusing the demonic entry to occupy and sinfully energize or “enliven” the soul, however, the lifeless, depleted self nobly endures without expectation or hope. Enduring unto the end is the faith required and seen by God in his Son on the cross; it is likewise required and seen by God in us as we undergo the inward cross. It is that faith—called in Quaker tradition “dying to the self”—that allows the Son of God, the Son of man, to say to us, his new brethren, “Son, thy sins be forgiven thee” (5). Risen and again moving forward, newly restored and resurrected to life from death-like despair, we are thus empowered to go our way to our true home as sons of God: “Arise, and take up thy bed, and go thy way into thine house” (11).

The skillful Physician²

It is appropriate that this presentation of Christ’s healing of the soul should open the second chapter of Mark’s Gospel. We learned in the first chapter that Jesus heals both the possessed and the diseased (1:32), and immediately following in this second chapter, we’ve been given more detailed information on the particulars of the diseased soul and the steps needed for its restoration to health.

Just as the scribes assert their shallow apprehension of religion in the segment following Jesus’s healing pronouncement, there will be those today who cling to their idea that this story should be taken at face value as the healing of a physical ailment. Jesus, according to this perspective, is one who differs from us and wields magical, divine, healing power bestowed by God upon him alone (just as the scribes attributed the power to forgive sins to God alone [7]). Both of these faulty interpretations mistakenly presume to revere God and Jesus but instead exhibit a failure to know and understand the inward movement toward salvation that God has ordained and Jesus taught and exemplified. This false faith rests upon doctrines that have been taught, learned, and taught again, as surely was the “faith” of the scribes: “Why doth this man thus speak blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God only?” (7)

Life Itself

My family offered beauty, opportunity, and strong values to us children growing up, but it offered little guidance on the true path of salvation. There was no mention of my great-grandfather Murphy after he was gone—at least that I ever heard—and I assume the reason was the adults had an unspoken understanding that life had pitfalls and tragedies that were best kept hidden, ignored, and forgotten. Getting on and moving forward with life was the goal, as well as the means.

Perhaps there will be more of us in the future who, while recognizing the goodness of a plentiful life, will yet hold to the belief in the virtue of life itself when despondency arrives to strip away our capacity to move forward. We will let faith in life itself carry us for a time, which, like the four friends in the story, will go to great lengths to bring us into the presence of Christ Within. It is there in Christ’s presence that we will come to know his healing, and to have bestowed upon us—at last—the gift of Life Itself.

Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you: But rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ’s sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy (1 Peter 4:12-13).

Epigraph. Penington, Works, 3:190. “Then said he unto the disciples, It is impossible but that offences will come: but woe unto him, through whom they come!” (Luke 17:1) The King James Version was used throughout this essay.
“Christ is the skillful Physician; he cures the disease, by removing the cause” (Penington, Works, 1:128).

June 1955

Mark 16: Taking In and Giving Out

When we read the parables of the Good Samaritan or the Prodigal Son, our first question is not, did this really happen? Rather we ask, is this true? Or even better, we ask, in what way is this true for me? Does this correspond to my own experience? [George] Fox seemed to read not just the parables but the entire Bible as a parable, constantly asking how it applied to his own condition.1 –Tom Gates

No consideration of Mark’s Gospel is complete without an attempt to explain the seeming rupture between the first and second halves of its last chapter. The first eight verses of the chapter follow the women to the tomb, and from there, we see them leave, amazed and afraid. Though instructed to “tell his [Jesus’s] disciples and Peter” that he will show himself to them in Galilee (7), the women said nothing to anyone (8). The second half of the chapter then begins afresh with a completely different narrative. Jesus is present, active, and appearing to Mary Magdalene: the same Mary who visited the tomb with two other women in the first half of the chapter, in which none of them saw or received instruction from Jesus. The explicit ending of the first half in which the women are silent about their experience is contradicted in the second half, where Mary Magdalene “went and told [the disciples] that [she] had been with [Jesus] . . . that he was alive, and had been seen of her” (10–11).

This disjointed post-crucifixion narrative can be most usefully examined, I believe, in the way that George Fox and other early Friends would have examined it: the way described by Friend Tom Gates in the epigraph. A careful look at the text brings to mind the inward experience that reconciles the discordant halves into coherent spiritual knowledge and teaching. One realizes the writer’s intent could not have been better accomplished by a conventional realistic narrative, and one finishes the reading amazed and full of gratitude.

Part One: verses 1–8

The first two verses of part one set forth its theme: the old is past and the new is begun. The first verse tells of custom and tradition, the old guides of the past: “And when the sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome, had bought sweet spices, that they might come and anoint him.” Tradition directs and orders the attending women’s thoughts and actions: they’ve waited until “the sabbath was past,” for in the tradition, all are commanded “to keep the sabbath”;2 they’ve brought spices to anoint the body, for it is the custom to honor and care for the dead.3

In contrast with the first verse’s focus on the old, verse 2 refers solely to the new: “And very early in the morning the first day of the week, they came unto the sepulchre at the rising of the sun.” It is a new day (“very early in the morning”); it is a new week (“the first day of the week”). They arrive at the tomb “at the rising of the sun” (2).

Carrying the theme of old and new into the next two verses, we learn that the women have come with their customary expectations and reasoning: a great stone will be blocking the entry to the tomb; they haven’t enough strength to move it themselves; they’ll need to find help from others (3). Expectation and reasoning block their way, like a great stone; they operate by the old human way of assessing, calculating, and petitioning. In the new way of things, however, their old nature with its reliance on tradition, reason, and assumption is transcended: the stone is removed, and the entranceway is clear.

The young man

And they all forsook him, and fled. And there followed him a certain young man, having a linen cloth cast about his naked body; and the young men laid hold on him: And he left the linen cloth, and fled from them naked (14:50–52).

And entering into the sepulchre, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, clothed in a long white garment (16:5b).

The mysterious character of the young man functions as the spirit or angel in each of these two very different situations found in chapters 14 and 16 respectively.4 The old worldly way is evident in the young man’s first appearance at Jesus’s arrest. At that time, Jesus was abandoned by all and overcome by violent, worldly force. The spirit of the event was fear and disorder, and so the young man fled, naked and vulnerable. In his later appearance in the tomb, the young man is no longer naked but “clothed in a long white garment”; he is no longer running away in panic but “sitting on the right side” (5), calmly informing the women of Jesus’s resurrection. The spirit of the new situation is now “right,” and the young man speaks as only an angel or benevolent supernatural messenger could: he tells the women Jesus is risen, instructs them of his whereabouts, and where the disciples are to find him in Galilee; he even knows that Jesus has already told them as much (7).

The women’s response

Verse 8, the final verse of the first half of Mark’s sixteenth chapter, describes the impact the new has upon the women: they are amazed and fearful, and so they tell no one of their encounter. It is the women’s reaction that evokes a recollection of my own inward experience and, in part, allows me to interpret this narrative, for my response to my first encounter with the transcendent was as theirs. Amazed at the unanticipated dimension of existence, I was nevertheless convinced of its truth, as the epiphany was irrefutable. Like the women in this story, I felt constrained to tell no one of it; nor did I, for more than a year: my old suppositions and reasoning were so utterly upended by my new experience that I needed time to integrate all parts of my life into a new understanding that was coherent; responsive to God; and dwelt, at last, in peace. It took time for the radical metaphysical shift to settle in my mind and heart, and I was prevented from revealing my inward state until I felt sufficient stability to withstand whatever the world in its confusion and contrariness would cast in my direction, for I knew its nature as a refugee knows her escaped country.

Part Two: verses 9–20

Reciprocality

As the first half of this chapter was about taking in the new reality of resurrection, the second half is about giving out one’s testimony to that resurrection; that is, it is about the telling and presenting to others the new reality that has formed within oneself. The coherence in chapter 16 is provided through the dynamic of reciprocality: the “taking in” and the “giving out” of the gospel, for the text is arranged to teach the reader this first axiom of the new and living way. Once the gospel is received (the first half), it must be ministered to the world (the second half). It cannot be stated too strongly that it is inappropriate to attempt to force a literal interpretation or scholarly explanation upon the seeming vagaries of this text.5

The second half of the chapter begins by referring to the power himself: “Now when Jesus was risen early the first day of the week,6 he appeared first to Mary Magdalene” (9). Unlike Mary’s response in the first half of the chapter, in the second half, she “went and told them that had been with him” (10). For from verse 9 on, the focus is no longer upon taking in the new but upon giving or revealing it to others. Mary appears in both the first and second halves, not to show continuity in the plot (in fact, her appearance shows the discontinuity!) but to stand as an example or prototype of the individual who first receives and then transmits the gospel to others. That it is a woman who is the first to minister the gospel underscores the need—first of all—for inward receptivity.7 In that she tells the men who are in a weakened state of mourning and weeping for what has passed (10), she carries the message of the power of God that heals the broken-hearted; resurrects to life; and imbues and fills with power, even “the weaker vessel,” as the most prominent disciple among them has designated her sex to be (1 Pet. 3:7).

Lesson on receptivity 11–14

Are all as receptive to the gospel as Mary Magdalene was in the second half of this chapter? Verses 11 through 14 answer this question and thus prepare ministers who routinely will encounter lack of receptivity in those to whom they witness. “And they, when they had heard that he was alive, and had been seen of her, believed not” (11). The lesson ministers are to learn prior to beginning their work is that there will be a lack of receptivity on the part of those who hear their witness. No minister should see this as a personal failure, for lack of receptivity typically occurs whenever the gospel is preached, a fact conveyed in this passage by the repetition of yet another example of unbelief (12). Jesus appears to two disciples, who, like Mary, tell the others of their encounter, and again the remainder of the disciples are unreceptive: “neither believed they them” (13). Only after Jesus appears directly to the eleven is there an intimation the remaining disciples have believed; that is to say, there’s no further mention of their “unbelief.” What in this passage is certain, however, is that the responsibility for unbelief is squarely placed on the hearers and not upon the ministers of the gospel. The minister must learn that most will not receive the testimony of “them which had seen him after he was risen” (within themselves), and they must continue their work undeterred by that reaction. Jesus assigns responsibility for this lack when he pronounces judgement and upbraids the unreceptive for “hardness of heart” (14).

Commission and signs (15–18)

Having been warned of the lack of receptivity that awaits them, the disciples/ministers are then commissioned to go out to “preach the gospel”: to give out the Word, everywhere, far and wide (15). Once again, they are reminded of this essential fact: a lack of acceptance faults the hearer, not the speaker: “He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned” (16). The stakes are high: it is the salvation of the world through the transformation—the convincement/conviction—of each person in it.

Verses 17 and 18 list signs that indicate belief has occurred: that is to say, that the ministered gospel, the knowledge of God, has been received and taken in. Those who have taken in, that is, been transformed by the inward knowledge of God will be given power that is indicated by certain signs. In Christ’s power, “name,” they shall “cast out devils,” i.e., rid their own and others’ souls of foundational, existential error (17). They will know and “speak with new tongues,” i.e., they will be given to speak/minister the Word of God, who is Christ (17). They shall be able to withstand worldly, demonic (serpent-like) assault without incurring harm to their souls, even though, unwittingly, they have taken in the venom, as though having drunk “a deadly thing” (18). And at their hand, the spiritually sick and debilitated will be restored to life (18). An attempt to literally interpret verses 17 and 18 indicates belief has not yet occurred.

Reciprocality in heaven

The final two verses of this chapter complete the theme of reciprocality: the taking in and the giving forth the gospel. After the Lord had instructed the disciples of the particulars of their mission (15–18), he is “received up into heaven, and sat on the right hand of God.” Just as earlier, the young man also sat “on the right side” (5) and gave the women information about Jesus, Jesus as Lord now sits at God’s “right hand” and gives forth his Substance, the gospel power. To whom is he giving his Light and Word? With whom does he work throughout time from within eternity? The final verse of Mark’s Gospel answers our questions and sends us forth:

And they went forth, and preached every where, the Lord working with them, and confirming the word with signs following. Amen.

1. Epigraph: “George Fox and the Bible: A Dual Legacy,” Tom Gates. Friends Journal, June/July ’24.

2. “. . . therefore the Lord thy God commanded thee to keep the sabbath day” (Deut. 5:15b).

3. K’vod-hameit is a term meaning “[l]iterally, ‘respect/honor for the dead.’ In Jewish tradition, preparing a body and holding a prompt funeral are important ways to honor the deceased.” ReformJudaism.org https://reformjudaism.org/glossary/kvod-hameit

4. Similar to the spirits or angels that personify the corporate character of each of the seven churches that Christ addresses in the book of Revelation, the young man represents the character or nature of each of the two situations in which he appears, showing the great contrast between the old and the new.

5. Verses 9–20 are present in 99 percent of manuscripts, yet two codices from the fourth century end with verse 8 (Sinaiticus and Vaticanus). Earlier in the late second century, Irenaeus had quoted Mark 16:19 in Against Heresies, indicating the passage’s composition preceded its omission.

6. Again, we see the newness conveyed by the words “early the first day of the week.”

7. That Jesus “cast seven devils” from Mary Magdalene is interpreted to mean (1) that spiritual restoration is required to minister the gospel, and (2) that the severity of the initial inward state matters not; everyone can be restored. In fact, it is only those who are aware of the need to be healed who are prepared to be healed, as Jesus ironically tells the scribes and Pharisees earlier: “They that are whole have no need of the physician, but they that are sick: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Mark 2:17).

The Three Marys at the Tomb (detail), Fra Angelico, 1439–1443, Florence, Italy

Isaac Penington Study Group

None but Christ, none but Christ, saith my soul, from the sense of my continual need of him, and from the deep love of my heart unto him. –Isaac Penington

Last autumn, Madeleine Vaché and I began inviting some Friends to a discussion group on the writing of early Friend Isaac Penington. “Some of the Mysteries of God’s Kingdom Glanced At” is the tract that we chose to study. It can be found in volume 2, page 332, of the four-volume set published by Quaker Heritage Press (QHP), titled The Works of Isaac Penington. It can also be found online at QHP’s website here. This tract uses a question-and-answer format to examine the meaning of words that we most frequently use when speaking of matters of faith: Christ, repentance, faith, hope, love, obedience, peace, joy, liberty, prayer, justification, and sanctification are some of the many topics that Penington delves into in this tract.

It is the preface to the writing, though, that provides the context for this study. It is there that Penington distinguishes between the “two-fold way of knowing Christ”: the “literal” and the “spiritual.” The literal, he writes, “is according to a description of him received into the understanding; the other [the spiritual] is according to the revelation or unveiling of him in the heart,” which, Penington goes on to say, entails “spiritual submission and obedience of the gospel.” Though not entirely dismissing the literal way, Penington (Quaker that he is) firmly asserts “the main thing now to be minded is the heavenly birth, with God’s dispensation of life to it, and its separation from the earthly birth, and its way of feeding on the heavenly things.” To that end, Penington’s descriptive answers throughout this writing convey his inward, experiential (“spiritual”) knowledge of whatever topic is in question.

Our discussion group meets every other Wednesday evening for an hour, and attendance has settled into six or seven regulars. We read each question and answer out loud, and then we offer our thoughts and experience in response. We move slowly: both through the reading material and in our discussions. Perhaps some may attribute the ponderous pace to the fact that most of us are “of retirement age,” but it is, I believe, our accessing deep, personal understanding that has taken decades to form that sets and regulates that pace, inhibiting the talk that trots “trippingly on the tongue.”

As a result, I have taken the liberty of reducing some of the longer stretches of silence before making discussions public on our YouTube channel, Isaac Penington Study Group (here linked). There you can find the sixteen discussions that we have had since beginning in November, moving through questions, such as “What is Christ”? “What hinders union with Christ”? “How is faith received”? We are now considering Penington’s words on “hope,” which can be seen in the fifteenth and sixteenth sessions. Please feel welcome to leave a comment below any session’s recording.

The image that I’ve chosen for both the YouTube channel and this post is Rembrandt’s The Apostle Paul in Prison, painted in 1627. I find this painting appropriate for a channel featuring a study of Penington, because he spent time in prison where he thought and wrote, as Paul is shown to be doing in this painting. Each of these men’s lives were devoted to witnessing to the great inward illumination Christ had provided them, and Rembrandt, too, must be included among them, for his work also tells of the Light that is given.

The Inward Eclipse

[Here is a short essay from the last time North America witnessed a total solar eclipse: August 2017.]

This past Monday, the 21st, was the day of the solar eclipse, and verses from Mark came to mind:

But in those days, after that distress, the sun will be darkened, the moon will not give her light; the stars will come falling from the sky, the celestial powers will be shaken. Then they will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory, and he will send out the angels and gather his chosen from the four winds, from the farthest bounds of earth to the farthest bounds of heaven (13: 24-27).

The words are from Jesus to his disciples. Prompted by their admiration of impressive temple (and temporal) buildings, Jesus informs them that “Not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down” (2). The theme throughout this discourse in Mark 13 is great destruction precedes the coming of the Lord, and Jesus drives the idea home with metaphor after metaphor.

Of course, as always, Jesus is talking about the inward condition/nature of human beings, not about the outward condition of nature.

What is it that must be eclipsed within? What inward light of nature must be witnessed as dark futility, as death, before the new creation, the Son of Man, comes and replaces that old creation of human nature?

I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

==from “Journey of the Magi” by T.S. Eliot

The truth of our limitations is “hard and bitter agony for us” mortals, but choosing it over self-delusion leads to eternal life. It is the way, and when allowed daily to prevail, it will diminish us until the light of our nature—our hope and trust in our natural powers—is all but gone: “the celestial powers . . . shaken.” It is not the end, but only the end of the alienated condition: our nature eclipsed by the coming of the Son of Man. “And what I say unto you, I say unto all. Watch” (37).

Watch the light of nature undergo the eclipse . . . within.

The image is Albrecht Durer’s Adoration of the Lamb, created in 1498.