Share your reflections on our reading, attention practices, and daily exercises for Week 5 here.
Sorry I am always so far behind on these. I have a disturbing thought on the beginning reading of the week, while everyone else is probably thinking about Bach. [And I’m not kidding about the fact that it is disturbing. Trigger warning for thoughts of suicidality–though I will mention the people involved are all fine now.]
I was very bothered by this passage:
Revisit the difficult passage on p. 122 about our “automatic” revulsion towards affliction, and despising of those who are themselves afflicted. Where have you experienced this? What was your reaction to your own inner response?
“Men have the same carnal nature as animals. If a hen is hurt, the others rush upon it, attacking it with their beaks. This phenomenon is as automatic as gravitation. Our senses attach all the scorn, all the revulsion, all the hatred that our reason attaches to crime, to affliction. Except for those whose whole soul is inhabited by Christ, everybody despises the afflicted to some extent, although practically no one is conscious of it” (122).
Could this really be true? I wasn’t conscious of it. But that is as Simone Weil predicted. Had I ever known someone in affliction? And how would one know if someone else is in affliction? And why did I keep thinking about it?
After several days of ruminating on this, I realized that I had, in fact, done exactly what she described. Through most of my life, I’ve had relationships with people who suffered from severe depression. At two points, I had partners who reached the point where they were starting to make plans/preparations. I reacted not with compassion or concern, but with anger. I remember fear too, but the anger overshadowed it. I think even at the time it felt very wrong, but I did it anyway–“as automatic as gravity.” That I repressed these feelings from my conscious mind it perhaps not too surprising. That it happened twice is evidence for how ultimately harmful that repression was. I’m now very much appreciating that we have the Sacrament of Reconciliation.
I’ll go listen to Bach now.
Thanks for sharing this, David. I also had the feeling of being shocked by my own insensitivity this week. Someone came to our door in the early night last night and tried to let themselves in the house, seeking a blanket but confused about how we worked. This person was struggling with mental illness of some kind, alternating between making hyper-specific requests and telling me that this was her house, and generally scolding me for my apparent incompetence. I felt extremely bad about how quickly resentment surfaced in me, how easily scrambled my attention was. The “”charitable”” path that tantalizingly presented itself to me was trying to help and love her “for Christ” — to “rise above” the situation in a false humility disguised as Midwestern “nice” that would actually have been hubris, as if I was actually “above” her. It felt my options were to turn to that, become the hen and verbally parry with her, or to cut the interaction short. The final option is the one I took, much to my regret. It turns out 5 weeks isn’t long enough for a true attention intensive!
There is so much in these readings. I’m both consoled and challenged by Weil’s claim that affliction does not take away our ability to gaze upon God or love. Connecting this to ‘the afflicted’ and compassion – especially given our previous meditations on our resistance (e.g. emotional) – is really insightful. My point of reflection and prayer for the week has been: affliction, compassion, acceptance, and my soul’s God-ward gaze.
I think back upon experiences of God’s compassion toward me, through people and things but also directly. (I’ve experienced God’s compassion in some profound ways in Eucharistic adoration [as well as Confession]. Not to take anything away from gazing upon God in the Eucharist, which has been a training ground for me, but I’m also trying to learn to adore God in my day-to-day life, at least during my end-of-day prayer time.])
There’s also so much here: “As one has to learn to read or to practice a trade, so one must learn to feel in all things, first and almost solely, the obedience of the universe to God. It is really an apprenticeship. Like every apprenticeship, it requires time and effort” (131). I want to apprentice well. “…If we consent [to God’s outreach], God puts a little seed in us and he goes away again. From that moment God has no more to do; neither have we, except to wait” (133). Brilliant, and so challenging.
Peace.