The Roots of Christian Mysticism Session 25
Summary of Rebecca Brewin's "Simone Weil" talk, The London Christian Meditation Centre, St Mark's, Clerkenwell, 06 June 2006

 

 

 

Simone Weil’s particular offering is as “Patron Saint” of outsiders

She has something to say to us about the outsider. She might almost be the Patron Saint of Outsiders, (both the outsider who is another and the outsider in ourselves.) The insights of Simone Weil into the Cross and the suffering of Christ enable us to come to understand that the love of God is beyond even our own self-rejection.

She has a particular relevance in the modern world. Mankind’s biggest problem is disorientation in a chaotically busy world. It is important for us to have points of reference. She had a very painful life in many ways.

She was a teacher and a philosopher. She was revered as a mystic of genius proportions. She most identified herself with the margins. There is a collection of her private letters to a friend who was a priest. These letters reveal a strong sense of vocation. In one of her letters she writes:

It is the sign of a vocation to remain in a sense anonymous, ever ready to be mixed into the paste of common humanity.

She used the word “Dangerous” to describe herself.”

It was with a sense of sadness and regret, a kind of death, a letting go of what she most valued that she pursued what she felt was true. She considered it unwise for anyone to get close to her. She did not want to belong to the church:

It seems to me that the will of God is that I should not enter the church at present. The reason for this I have told you already and it is still true. It is because the inhibition which holds me back is no less strongly to be felt in the moments of attention, love and prayer than at other times. And yet I was filled with a very great joy when you said that the thoughts which I confided to you were not incompatible with membership of the Church, and that, in consequence, I was not outside it in spirit.

I cannot help wondering whether in these days when so large a proportion of humanity is sunk in materialism, God does not want there to be some men and women who have given themselves to him and to Christ and yet remain outside the Church.

There is something toxic about her writing. It gets under your skin and pins you down to a harsh reality. Her own uncompromising desire was to fulfil the two commandments:

Every time I think of the crucifixion of Christ I commit the sin of envy.

In Jesus the Teacher Within Laurence Freeman says that Simone Weil is his favourite mystic:

More conventional Christians however cannot sidestep her prophetic witness merely by pointing to her eccentricity. The very oddity of her outsidership sheds light on the essential outsidership of all Christian identity. Like any saint her uniqueness shows that Christian identity incorporates the solitude of each individual created and loved by God.

Background

She was born in Paris on 3rd February 1909. Her brother Andre was very advanced in literature and science from a young age. She fell into a deep night of the soul at 14 years old because she felt that her gifts were so mediocre in comparison to her brother. This horror of mediocrity fuelled her search for truth. She refers a lot to “attention.” She brings out the idea of “the one thing necessary.” This longing defined her journey and her writing. She was interrupted by the war. She developed an interest in Hinduism and in Sanskrit but her intellectual endeavours did not take her away from her sense of vocation to the outsider. So she worked in the Renault factory and she picked grapes in addition to being a teacher of philosophy.

In 1941 she was introduced to a Dominican Father Perrin. This friendship fired her pursuit of the mystical life and her life as a manual worker. Waiting on God is a collection of essays and letters sent to Father Perrin. Her thought can be summed up as waiting with attention.

She suffered with acute headaches and other physical ailments. She refused extra provisions that were prescribed for her insisting only on eating what was available to other people. Eventually her health deteriorated so much she was admitted to the Middlesex hospital in London then transferred to a sanatorium in Ashford Kent where she died on 29th August 1943 at the age of 34. It seems that she could hardly bear the insights she had been gifted with and her constitution deteriorated as a result.

She helps us to see that the degree to which we can bear the gravity of our cross is exactly proportional to the degree we are open to receive God’s grace. Throughout her life she demonstrated the degree to which she was open to the sufferings of Christ. She takes us into the place where what it means to be human is to live with a divine purpose.

She had the mind of a mathematician and saw maths as a way to enlightenment because of the attention that was required to work out a problem to find the correct answer.

The degree to which we can experience joy is the degree to which we can take on suffering and on our ability not to have a preference for one or the other:

Through joy the beauty of the world penetrates our soul through suffering it penetrates our body.

A and B are good friends. They normally experience joy and suffering at the same issues. But it is a difficult time of year for B whereas A is full of joy. B starts to resent A being so happy. There is a distance between the two created by these different emotional states. It is as if B is looking at A over a great void. What A and B assumed to be a connection between them has turned into a chasm, a breakdown in their relationship. At this point of disjuncture A’s joy and B’s sadness seem meaningless. Both are caught in a plight of emptiness and meaninglessness. This is the plight that the mystics recognise that separates us from God. It stems from A and B’s inability to share each other’s feelings. The Gospel imperative is to weep with those who weep and laugh with those who laugh. This is the transcendence that can take place when a person gets out of the cycle of expectation and disappointment and can see that there is no difference between joy and sadness. The pursuit of holiness comes from a willingness to be open to both. This ability cannot come about from our own understanding. Our ability to transcend is given to us by grace. The moment of grace is our ability to share in the joy and sadness of the other regardless of how we are feeling:

We live in a world of unreality and dreams. To give up our imaginary position at the centre, to renounce it, not only intellectually but in the imaginative part of our soul, that means to see the true light and hear the true silence. A transformation then takes place at the very roots of our sensibility, in our immediate reception of sense impressions and psychological impressions. It is a transformation analogous to that of which takes place in the dusk of an evening on a road, where we suddenly discern as a tree what we had first seen as a stooping man; or where we suddenly recognise as a rustling of leaves what we thought at first was whispering voices. We see the same colours, we hear the same sounds, but not in the same way.

Affliction

This is a central theme in Waiting on God. How in the place of affliction can we still discover this thing called love. Affliction is not what we would normally consider suffering. It is the total disintegration of a person. It is practically impossible to love someone experiencing affliction. If we can then we come to what she would consider the centre of the cross:

When we hit a nail with a hammer, the whole of the shock received by the large head of the nail passes onto the point without any of it being lost, although it is only a point. If the hammer and the head of the nail were infinitely big it would be just the same. The shock of the nail would transmit this infinite shock at the point to which it was applied.

Extreme affliction, which means physical pain, distress of soul and social degradation, all at the same time, constitutes the nail. The point is applied at the very centre of the soul. The head of the nail is all the necessity which spreads throughout the totality of space and time.

Affliction is a marvel of divine technique. It is a simple and ingenious device which introduces into the soul of a finite creature the immensity of force, blind, brutal and cold. The infinite distance which separates God from the creature is entirely concentrated into one point to pierce the soul in its centre.

The man to whom such a thing happens has no part in the operation. He struggles like a butterfly which he’s pinned alive into any album. But through all the horror he can continue to want to love..For the greatest suffering, so long as it does not cause fainting, does not touch the part of the soul which consents to a right direction.

It is only necessary to know that love is a direction not a state of the soul.