Contemplation: The Movements of the Soul
Columbia University Press
2024
Paperback
160
Reviewed by: Robert Farrugia, Ph.D.
(Department of Philosophy, University of Malta)
The past century has seen a significant surge in philosophical circles focusing on the active life centred around exteriority, which comprises the other, the world, and, in general, the social dimension of the self. However, this determination to deal with exteriority, a central pursuit that has remained a significant characteristic of contemporary continental thought, can be identified in the negative perception of interiority and the contemplative self, which had previously occupied the philosophical pursuits of previous periods. To this end, throughout the past century, there has been a notable lack of serious discussion and, often, even a complete elimination of the contemplative life, which has trickled down from academic discourse to popular culture. The notion of contemplation has undergone such harsh criticisms over the last century that any awareness of an interior life often ends up being portrayed as narcissistic, solipsistic, old-fashioned, or even as an epistemological error on the part of the speaker and, hence, a mere conundrum which is overcome by either eliminating it or migrating it to exteriority. To this end, most 20th-century schools of thought glimpse at contemplation – the ‘vita contemplativa’ – in suspicion from a safe distance, with a deep sense of indifference, distrust, and ambivalence, viewed as a thing of the past, consequently relegated to a long-forgotten myth that few philosophers will dare allude to, let alone revive.
Kevin Hart’s book Contemplation: The Movements of the Soul is a much-needed philosophical work that counteracts this attitude without adopting a reactionary tone, thereby dispelling a prevailing current understanding of contemplation as “the lowest of cognitive modes, as a free-floating state close to daydreaming” (44). This work by Hart invites the reader to rethink the significance of contemplation, reopening philosophy to wonder, love, and the courage to move into the deep. His work reminds us of the numerous significant philosophers, theologians and mystics from different epochs who took contemplation very seriously, developing their oeuvres and way of life around it. For such contemplatives, this practice occupies a dominant locus point in the structure and experience of thought and truth, as the path to higher wisdom is understood as passing through the contemplative self.
In the introduction, the author immediately states his aims by first negating what this book is not: it is neither a guide to contemplation nor a survey of different contemplation methods; it is neither a philosophy nor theology of contemplation nor a contribution to mysticism or contemplative studies. The book aims to initiate its readers into a broad study of the soul’s movements by reflecting on the sacred and secular forms of dealing with issues of morality and mortality, the invisible realm, truth, and transcendence. The book explores a wide range of religious, aesthetic, and philosophical perspectives on contemplation, with a primary focus on retrieving sources from Catholic and Orthodox Christianity. It is neatly divided into five chapters: 1) First Thoughts About Contemplation, 2) Questions of Practice and Cognition, 3) Ways of Contemplating, 4) What to Contemplate, and 5) Why Contemplate? Through the smooth and flowing transition within each, a guiding spirit clarifies, without simplifying, the meaning of contemplation and how the soul is exercised through various practices. Ultimately, the overarching message found within the pages of this book is a valuable reminder of the need to contemplate whilst questioning what keeps us from doing so.
In the first chapter, Hart, aware that his reader may range from a layperson to an initiated contemplative, aims to dispel certain critical misconceptions about contemplation. It is widely assumed that contemplation is a practice exclusive to Asian religions. Hart elucidates that Judeo-Christian religions have a rich heritage of contemplation and explains with clarity the significant differences between Buddhist and Christian contemplation: the former is a quest for spiritual enlightenment which aids the one who persists with the discipline to achieve emancipation from worldly desires; the latter is a means of attaining union with the deity, whereby Christ identifies himself as the image of the Father. Significant similarities are present in both, such as the need to sit upright in a particular space and synchronise one’s breathing with one’s heartbeat. The author maintains that the diverse Eastern practices ultimately lead to a similar outcome: “clarity and quietness of mind, a higher degree of compassion and receptiveness to others, and an ability to regard everything in fresh terms” (6). Similarly, although not without significant differences, the diverse Western practices also aim to simplify the hearts and minds “to become more and more like the God they worship, whose being is held to be utterly simple: love itself” (6).
Through flipping pages, one notes that Hart’s insights into the diverse practices across cultures and religions, as well as the interwoven parallelism, are crisp, clear, and commanding. One crucial issue he sets out in the first few pages is that religion and philosophy are not to be understood as separate or, worse, at odds. This applies to both Eastern and Western faiths since it is evident in both that they are philosophically concerned with how we know things (epistemology), notions of reality and truth (metaphysics), the way we think (logic), how we ought to act (ethics); and what philosophy should and should not do (metaphilosophy). Hart references Aristotle, whose work seeks to attain happiness (the philosophical life) by examining the unmoved mover (theology). In other words, a happy person lives a contemplative life.
Even though practices firmly rooted in religious contexts, such as Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism, or Judaism, have been secularised, this does not make them more philosophical and less spiritual. Hart raises the issue of mindfulness, with its deep roots in Buddhism, which has gained traction in the Western world over the past few decades and has been adapted—and, in some cases, modified—for secular use in medical and clinical settings. Hart does not make the negatively charged remarks one would expect here. This book appears more interested in the various applications of contemplation, hence its enduring relevance even today, rather than a work of distillation.
Hart confesses that unfolding the meaning of contemplation is far from simple. For one thing, he emphasises the distinction between contemplation and meditation, which have often been understood as interchangeable. Meditation involves paying attention to sacred images to allow the soul to mature and learn how to live more closely with God, as well as asking oneself questions to see where one stands in relation to God with the intent of seeing the truth about oneself as a moral and spiritual being who is allowed to be reformed; whereas contemplation is a simple intuition of God as truth in whom one reposes perfectly secure in him as the truth, free from discursive thought. Hart concisely sums it up: “Meditation helps one to find God; contemplation is resting in him” (13). Here, the author highlights that some individuals transition from meditation to contemplation but then revert, either because meditation remains familiar and comforting or because they cannot sustain awareness of the divine for an extended period.
Another key distinction Hart provides in discussing his first chapter is between contemplation and mysticism. Mysticism revolves around the hiddenness and darkness of God, whose holiness is so overwhelming and intense that it cannot be directly encountered. Here, Hart refers to the work by Pseudo-Dionysius, known as The Mystical Theology, which begins by praying to the Trinity, asking to be guided into the ineffable divine mysteries, and plunging into the darkness of unknowing, where God exists eminently. This entails that mysticism is not merely talking about God, but also talking to God and, ultimately, living a life pleasing to God. Hart’s commanding knowledge of the mystical tradition is evident throughout. He refers to such names as Margaret Porette and Madame Guyon, along with their writings, which may be unfamiliar to the reader and, therefore, invite exploration of these intriguing works. The reader is also directed to a concept known as mystical reading, which is applied, for example, to ancient Greek methods of interpreting Homer’s epic poems or the Hebrew Scriptures. This entails reading allegorically to allow a text to convey a meaning beyond its literal interpretation, leading to the discovery of more profound truths.
Hart wishes to move meaningfully beyond the tendency to equate mysticism with a peculiar state of consciousness and paranormal events. He traces this link to the rise of modernity and its fascination with experience, whereby “the mode of awareness is feeling and it cannot be denied; it escapes all argument” (24), and how religious experience becomes a standard category with the rise of modern psychology. Awareness of psychological states invited people to become attuned to neuroses and psychoses. At the turn of the century, Hart points out that Freud and William James wrote influential works on such elusive phenomena, interpreting and theorising these experiences. Hart’s contention is to show the departure from the meaning of the mystical in the expression ‘mystical theology,’ where contemplation was emphasised as a way to enter into a loving relationship with the darkness of God, in whom one finds absolute rest.
In the concluding pages of the first chapter of his book, Hart examines the etymology of the word “contemplation,” which derives from the Greek “theoria” and the Latin word “templum,” from which the word “temple” is derived. Accordingly, contemplation is closely tied to the temple, as it involves attending to God in an ecclesiastical manner. Hart also notes that the contemplative life can be lived in various ways, for example, as a professor in a research university or within a religious order. What is indeed key here is that contemplation involves both study and prayer, the latter being essential.
The second chapter becomes weightier and more intense as Hart revisits the subject of meditation and challenges the reader to realise the reversal of the gaze, whereby, while meditating on an icon, one becomes the object of the gaze. This unnerving experience is designed to unsettle the meditator, prompting them to look more deeply within themselves and reconsider their life, with the hope of being transformed and attuned to God’s will, or even becoming encouraged and consoled to pursue their current pathways. This can also be a passage read from Scripture which allows one to move from hearing to participating, whereby one finds oneself inside the scene as one of the characters or as a bystander. One begins to imagine what it would be like to be that person in that situation. The aftermath of meditation is prolonged through one’s everyday life engagements, as one finds oneself filled with a sense of joy and understanding that can change the character of the whole day, “just as a dash of salt seasons an entire dish” (33).
Again, Hart prompts the reader to move from meditation to contemplation by shifting from focusing on an image, story, or poem to being before God and having nothing other than Him. Hart’s position is clear: “There is a time for petition, a time for meditation, and also a time for contemplation, for simply being with God. Believers hope to spend eternity with God, and contemplation is a pledge of that hope” (34). This is where he begins to unpack the practice of contemplation in more detail. At first, Hart contends that, traditionally, one would benefit from having a focal point to aid in contemplation, which could be an object such as a crucifix and a short word to murmur, such as ‘Jesus’ or ‘Father’ to keep the mind, breath, and heart harmonised, as one slowly begins to approach one’s centre, where God dwells, with loving trust. Exterior and interior distractions are gently brushed away through concentration and unbroken utterance of the chosen word. As Hart accentuates, ultimately, in contemplation, one does not converse using words but rests confident in God’s truth, mercy, and love with deep gratitude.
Before all this, however, there is also the need for preparation, which, as Hart reminds believers, entails curating the room’s space, such as dimming the light and eliminating any sensory distractions, whilst shutting off contact with the external world. Following this initial stage, one prepares to enter a sacred inward space by making the sign of the cross as a reminder that they are a faithful follower of Jesus and accept His teaching, as well as all trials and tribulations that come their way. This entry must be made with a profound sense of respect and openness, knowing that one is in the presence of another person, the Lord. Almost anyone practising meditation or contemplation in any religion will acknowledge most of this and have additional insights to share.
In his second chapter, Hart makes a curious reference to the medieval Scottish philosopher and theologian Richard of St. Victor and his work, The Ark of Moses, to highlight our uncritical stance towards the supremacy of thinking as an act mainly prized in our educational system. What is striking is that Richard sets both meditation and contemplation above thinking, remarking that the latter is slow and tends to lead to distractions. In turn, Richard compares the movements of the soul with the movements of birds in the skies as we hold ourselves aloft before God with nothing particular to do, moving around and placing ourselves before God. Hart lyrically formulates it: “When contemplating God, we are like birds flying in the sunlit air, wholly secure and yet enjoying our freedom” (40).
Hart’s work does so many valuable things simultaneously. He revitalises the reader’s need for contemplation and meditation while narrating the saga of this tradition without overdoing it. Without paying much attention to how this tradition develops chronologically, Hart introduces the reader to such spiritual giants as St. Benedict, known for his Rule written for monks living communally under the authority of an abbot to pursue a Christocentric life. Hart explicitly refers to his Lectio Divina, providing the reader with an understanding of what such a reading entails: the first stage involves reading a very short passage of Scripture, followed by the second stage, which is meditating on it. Then, the third stage is applying that meditation to one’s own life by asking questions such as: “What can I learn from the Scriptures? How can I fold what I have learned into my everyday life? What graces do I need in order to grow in life on the basis of what has been put before me?” (41). Hart then proceeds to a final stage, contemplation, where one rests in the confidence of divine truth, mercy, and love. He warns that it may be a great temptation to turn lectio into a scholarly exercise, with the consequence that one will never progress from the first to the second stage and will remain stuck at that point. To this end, God appears as a problem to be solved, not as someone with whom one is deeply connected.
Hart’s close affinity to phenomenology is helpful here, as he highlights Husserl’s reference to the limits of the natural attitude and the need to recover the personalistic attitude. Meditation and contemplation allow us to move beyond the natural attitude and towards a momentous term Hart formulates in this work: the ‘Kingdom attitude,’ which is taught and embodied by Jesus and sought for its own sake. In this attitude, one is attuned to a spiritual space where God is King and Father, in which power is manifested in weakness, rejecting the logic and patterns of the world. Through this attitude, one does not become more enlightened. Instead, one embodies the Christian virtues of faith, hope, and love. In this attitude, as Hart patiently explains, we encounter God on His terms, as He comes to us, not in the ordinary way other humans approach us. God comes to us and departs from us in a manner that does not fit our worldly categories. In truth, God is absolutely singular since there is no genus of divinity.
In his third chapter, Hart reiterates the need to recuperate something left behind after the turn to modernity. He returns to the Middle Ages, this time to Thomas Aquinas and his celebrated Summa theologiæ. Here, Hart reminds us of the need to consult the Latin version to retrace the exact meaning of the words used accurately. An example is the word ‘speculative,’ which, in the Latin word, speculationem refers to reflection and inquiry. In this sense, Scripture offers us wisdom through its revealed knowledge. In turn, we respond to this knowledge by acknowledging it through our words and actions. Hart beautifully and consistently balances his work between the extraordinary lives of visionaries such as Julian of Norwich and Hildegard of Bingen and the ordinary life of everyone who, through contemplation, is slowly brought to a degree of blessedness. His main point is that contemplation is meant “to bring one to union with God without any peculiar experiences taking place” (63). Moreover, this union encompasses both the intellectual and affective dimensions, which are seen as mutually indispensable.
Hart points out that Aquinas describes God, at the beginning of the Summa, as simple, good, perfect, immutable, eternal, one, and so on, but does not use the word ‘transcendent.’ Instead, it is with Kant that the word ‘transcend’ becomes more apparent, used to denote something beyond the world of sense. Following Kant, especially in the Romantic era, it became commonplace to describe God as transcending the world. What becomes clear is the dichotomy between transcendence and immanence, which arises with Kant. Hart invites the reader to set aside the word ‘transcendence’ and, like the ancients who practised spiritual exercises, focus more on being transformed.
Not staying in the same space for too long, Hart swiftly moves from one era to another, from one religion to another, and from one spiritual guru to another, leaving the reader with a sense of wonder and the courage to follow their example and delve deeper. This allows the reader to be introduced to various concepts that can be further explored, making it consistently accessible and flowing, even though such themes are anything but easy to absorb. Hart devotes several pages to exploring the issues of presence, divine will, and providence, and with simplicity, he establishes significant connections across religions. For many, the idea of being utterly abandoned to a dark divine will runs counter to the desire to live well in this world. This requires a deep trust in God and His overflowing ‘dark love’ – His mysterious love.
Without losing track of the previous sketches, Hart reflects on Richard of St. Victor’s treatise, The Ark of Moses, and his triad of imagination, reason, and understanding, which consists of three groups of two in an ascending hierarchy of being. This ‘ladder’ is intended to illustrate the progression from the sensory world to the invisible or intellectual world and then to what lies beyond the intellect. Hart explains this path using the example of a daffodil: we start from the sensual world of how the flower can be represented, moving then to the invisible or intellectual world via reason to understand the universality of the flower, and then become elevated, by grace and divine aid, to grasp the flower as God’s creation until we reach the highest level of beholding the triune nature of the creator, i.e. God. The move towards the highest level is centred around the idea that a finite mind cannot contain an infinite God. Yet, this does not stop God from revealing his nature to a person. It only means this person cannot hope to encapsulate God in the intellect. In Hart’s words, “We do not bring God into the presence of our minds; we hope to be brought into the presence of God” (82). In light of this, Hart then moves on to (re)consider Aquinas’ views on contemplation, who critically inspects Richard’s spiritual chart. Aquinas maintains that the first levels proposed by Richard are modes of consideration in a quest for certitude. Instead, it is only when one reaches the final steps that one indeed enters the proper realm of contemplation. For Aquinas, it is the intellect that ultimately communicates with God.
In chapter four, Hart examines whether God is the sole legitimate object of human contemplation. In other words, can we behold things other than God? Again, the author reminds us to resist the modern temptation of distinguishing between the secular and the religious. Intriguingly, Hart notes that just as Plato’s idea of philosophy entails those who seek knowledge of the Forms, St. Paul, somewhat similarly, describes the Christian as one who beholds the glory of the Lord and becomes transformed into His likeness by the Spirit. Nonetheless, unlike the philosophical way, Christians do not have to engage in discussions to become like the Lord. One must only repent, believe, live up to the message of the Gospel, and pray. However, this is not an anti-philosophical stance either. Here, Hart reminds us of Justin Martyr, who proclaimed that faith in Jesus is the true philosophy. Hence, the Christian is the genuine philosopher (friend of wisdom) since Christ is Wisdom incarnate.
In this chapter, Hart examines classical philosophy and the reception of Plato and Aristotle, then delves into the Neoplatonist tradition, with a particular focus on Plotinus, providing numerous quotes from his Enneads. This work serves as a testament to the living contemplative tradition of philosophy, which nearly disappeared with the advent of the modern period. In fact, unlike the image of galleons departing from the known world to explore new lands on the cover of Francis Bacon’s Novum Organum, it was thought that the philosopher did not need to travel, as he could practice right where he was. Augustine, highly influenced by this tradition, writes in De Vera Religione, “Noli foras ire, in te redi, in interior homine habitat veritas” – a phrase famously expressed by Husserl at the end of his Cartesian Meditations. This entails that the Truth is an inward quest and, hence, it is through prayer that one can hope to encounter it.
Hart continually takes the reader on a philosophical and theological excursion through the ages. From his intellectual depth, he effortlessly transitions from the Classical and Middle Ages into the Modern period by probing Kant’s criticism and Schopenhauer’s pessimism. Both philosophers primarily support a new mode of cognition in the West: aesthetic contemplation, which alleviates mental pain and grants intellectual gratification. Hart, however, ends this chapter with significant remarks on Wittgenstein and Husserl concerning what they could contribute to the question of contemplation.
Hart points out that Wittgenstein did not treat philosophy as an exercise to educate us in virtue and dialectic, nor as a system that can provide a comprehensive vision of life and thought, nor as a means to draw us back to the One or God. Famously, in the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (1922), we find a distinction between ‘what can be said’ and ‘what cannot’ without rejecting the latter as insignificant, so much so that it affirms a mystical sense of the world which invites us to come to terms with intuitions that cannot be voiced. Hart notes that this work is like “a ladder that rises to a moment of enlightenment and is then kicked away at the very end. To that extent, one might regard it as a spiritual exercise” (107). Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations (1953) is also therapeutical, directing the reader to work on themselves and resist being lured by the standard philosophical problems.
Husserl, who was concerned with philosophical description rather than argumentation, seeks to describe phenomena as they appear in pure consciousness. Again, like Wittgenstein, Husserl’s view of philosophy is not a means to return to the One, nor does it provide a critique or a system-building approach. Instead, it is a meditative exercise that allows us to understand how beings are and how we come to know them. Here, Hart creates a beautiful bridge between attending to the experience of a pear sitting on the table and attending Mass and receiving Communion, whereby “the wafer is received not simply as bread to be perceived but as something holy. The liturgy refers me to the past (the Passion of Christ, the creation of the elements), my possible moral and spiritual transformation in the present, and to the future (the banquet of heaven). I am overwhelmed by the economy of creation and salvation. I overflow with many modes of awareness, most of which I suppress at the time” (110). In adopting the phenomenological attitude, I move away from the theoretical attitude to contemplate reality by beholding it in wonder as poets and artists do. As Hart concludes in his fourth chapter, “We must learn to let the poetry release us from our mental constraints so that we can hear the holy song” (114).
In his final chapter, “Why Contemplate?” Hart considers oppositions to contemplation and the contemplative life, offering reasons why it remains a worthwhile pursuit. Hart presents four main criticisms: a waste of life, unnatural, leading to heresy, and draining those who support such lifestyles. As Hart insists, if one is called to such a life, where the mind and heart act as one, one will eventually follow it, regardless of criticism. And how would one know of such a calling? Hart maintains that “an unavoidable part of the process of discernment as to whether one has a genuine vocation to the contemplative life is heartfelt evidence of the love of neighbor” (118). Loving God and others are one and inseparable. Beholding God entails practicing being virtuous. The works of love that spring from a life of prayer are invisible. It is incalculable to even think of how much evil the prayers of contemplatives deflect from the world and intercede for both the living and the dead. It is unreasonable to hold that contemplatives are not profoundly interested in others.
Those engaged in spiritual exercises, meditation, or contemplation are often accused of being self-absorbed or exclusive. Is there any merit to this type of charge? As Hart rightfully points out, today, we spend a significant part of our day watching TV, playing video games, browsing the Internet, gossiping, checking apps on our iPhones, and engaging in other ways to take breaks from tasks. But could it be that those who pursue contemplation are better off than others in terms of education and leisure, meaning it can be an activity reserved for the middle classes? Lower classes will struggle to find the time, resources, and tranquillity to study, practice mental prayer, and engage in spiritual exercises. Others might believe they are involved in sufficient good works and, therefore, find no need to engage in this practice.
Hart aims to show that cultivating a spiritual life is hardly self-centred or promotes exclusivity. For example, practitioners of aesthetic contemplation seek to train and refine their feelings, whereas, in philosophical contemplation, one aims to find new ways of responding to challenges and gaining new perspectives on the world whilst remaining open to its beauty. Those who follow the Abrahamic religions seek a more intimate relationship with God, whilst Buddhists seek enlightenment. Generally, it can be said that contemplation helps individuals gain a deeper understanding of life and achieve eudaimonia.
However, Hart insists: “Are there pressing reasons, though, to attempt contemplation at a higher level than to improve one’s mental health?” (123). Intriguingly, he attempts to answer this question by bringing Nietzsche on board, zooming in on the latter’s infamous passage of the madman declaring that God is dead in The Gay Science (1882). Hart invites us to reread this passage to consider whether such a dramatic claim holds more significance than it initially appears to have. What is meant by ‘God’ in this context? Is it a rejection of an entire metaphysical reality? It unquestionably points to a situation of disaster. Hart provides the etymology of this word, derived from the Latin dis (away from) + astrum (star), implying a lack of guidance from the stars above. The wiping away of the horizon suggests that the earth and sky cannot be kept apart, disturbing our planet’s orbit around the sun and leaving us wandering through space, soaked in a deepening sense of guilt and mistrust of this new modern situation in which we find ourselves misplaced within it.
The inquiry remains: “Has God died because it is impossible to conceive a Creator and Redeemer being at all interested in our speck of a planet? Can the Abrahamic God even be squared with a cosmic reality of vast empty spaces, megacomets, wandering black holes, catastrophic solar flares, and complete indifference to life? Or is God immeasurably greater than we once thought because of the scale of creation?” (125). As Hart rightfully points out, we are overwhelmed not only by the universe out there but, perhaps more so, by our world down here, bombarded with too much information (and misinformation), ideas, news, and views. We feel abandoned in a post-truth world of preferences and individual choices, which takes an immense psychic toll on us before we know it.
Ingeniously, Hart then takes the reader back to a passage from The Divine Names, written by Pseudo-Dionysius sometime around the 6th century, which he intends to read alongside the previous one by Nietzsche. Pseudo-Dionysius most likely lived during disastrous times of great turmoil in a land ravaged by plagues, war, and famine. However, unlike Nietzsche’s diagnoses of our modern situation, Pseudo-Dionysius offers inner movements that lead from experiences of brokenness to oneness with God, advocating contemplation. Hart directs us to the soul’s circular, spiral, and linear movements: “The soul performs a circular motion when it passes from the external world to its own spiritual reality, and, on reflecting on itself, as we have seen time and again in earlier chapters, it curves upward to God. If the soul engages in discursive reasoning about God, as happens when one reads philosophy or theology, it enacts a spiral movement, since time is involved. One slowly winds upwards to the deity. Finally, if the soul looks to phenomena, reflects on them, and so rises above them to God, it traces out a straight line” (127).
Finally, Hart concludes his final chapter with an insightful and straightforward reflection on three essential aspects of contemplation: penetrating, free, and extended everywhere. The former enables us to delve deeper into things, gaining more insight and training us to become more attentive. The second stresses the freedom to adopt this attentive attitude, navigating around the object we choose to pay attention to, allowing ourselves to be drawn by it and filled with wonder. The latter aspect implies that contemplation opens us onto infinite, always fresh horizons. Hart leaves us with this good instruction: “The important thing is to ensure that the exercise is undertaken with all due concentration and to do it each day and not yield when periods of flatness and spiritual dryness come, as they surely will. The movements of the soul are at least as essential to life as the motions of the body” (133).
