To Be Near Unto God

As in everything that risks itself in the depth of mysticism, so in the preparation of these Meditations lurked undeniable danger. The soul that seeks God involuntarily inclines to step across the boundary appointed of God, defined by the word "near," and to force an entrance into His Being. From the first I was on guard against this danger, and I believe I have escaped it. On the other hand, fear of this danger could not be allowed to repress that fervor and that spiritual warmth, which refreshes the soul only when the feelings are aroused and the imagination awakened. Mere thinking is not meditation, this is something quite different, and, in view of the wide-awake preparedness necessary to withstand the constant onslaught waged from the gates of hell against the Church of the living God, with a fierceness that neither respects nor spares, this other something, is an undeniable need of the soul. This onslaught puts one on his mettle to present counter arguments, philosophical refutation and keen-edged anti-criticism. But this, unless counter-balanced, confines our spirit to the world of thought, and thereby threatens to externalize our creed, our faith and our piety. Intellectualism produces, as it were, beautifully shaped, finely cornered and dazzlingly transparent ice-crystals. But underneath that ice the stream of the living water so easily runs dry. There may be gain in doctrinal abstractions, but true religion, as shown in the warm piety of the heart, suffers loss.

This is not necessary. The Fathers of the Church have set us an example. With them we find a virile gift of argument; but it is always permeated with ardent mysticism.

Contemplative thought, reflections and meditations on the soul's nearness unto God tend merely to correct the above-named error; tend to draw the soul away from the abstract in doctrine and life, back to the reality of religion; tend, with all due appreciation of "chemical" analysis of the spiritual waters, to lead the soul back to the living Fountain itself, from whence these waters flow.

Stress in creedal confession, without drinking of these waters, runs dry in barren orthodoxy, just as truly as spiritual emotion, without clearness in confessional standards, makes one sink in the hog of sickly mysticism.