Wednesday, May 23, 2007

The Pursuit of a Soul


Tonight, I am captivated by something Simone Weil once wrote, and which I was reminded of when I was browsing Casey's blog (it's his "favorite quote"):

God wears himself out through the infinite thickness of time and space in order to reach the soul and to capitvate it. If it allows a pure and utter consent (though brief as a lightning flash) to be torn from it, then God conquers that soul. And when it has become entirely his he abandons it. He leaves it completely alone and it has in its turn, but gropingly, to cross the infinite thickness of time and space in search of him whom it loves. It is thus that the soul, starting from the opposite end, makes the same journey that God made towards it. And that is the cross.
I've always loved Simone Weil, not because I agree with everything she said or did (the girl was a bit nuts, and I'm not just talking about her eating disorders), but because of how passionate and mystical she is, and because I love sensing those kinds of things in a person's language.

And Weil is particularly interesting to me because she embarked, in some sense, on a journey opposite mine. I move from Christianity to Judaism, and she converted to Christianity (she was born into an agnostic Jewish family). Sometimes I do wonder, however, whether we move not in opposite directions at all . . .

Words are . . . everything. And not always because of what they represent, or what they brazenly claim to evoke, but because of how they taste . . . feel . . . sound. I like words that get under my skin and make my heart race. I like combinations of words that leave me feeling chilled. I live for moments within language that cause me, as I sit alone late at night, to close my eyes, smile to myself, draw the palms of my hands up to my cheeks, and press inward with them.

Of course I'd read this quote before, though I can't at the moment recall in which of Weil's works I initially discovered it. But it earned my special reaction tonight as I considered it. It makes me think of Levinas's comments about atheism, and how the path to G-d often takes one through atheism before a true experience of the divine can be embraced. I want to read Weil's moment at which the soul is alone, groping its way back to G-d, as atheism. Perhaps only for this moment.

And for tonight, I think what I love about this is the vision of a god who would wear himself out in pursuit of one soul. And yet, of course, I know that this says much more about me, and the divine entity whom I would like to envision in the heavens, than it does about anything, or anyone, else.

3 comments:

Casey said...

This is such a good post, Monica. The book is Gravity and Grace, in the chapter, "The Cross."

She also has a chapter in that book called "Atheism as Purification" -- you're right on about that.

What you say about the maybe-not-oppositeness of your conversion experience and Weil's was just what I love to read... one of those moments of recognition where one mind smiles to another in passing. I think your assessment of the situation is the truest thing I've read all week.

Incidentally, your reverence for "the Word" may forever stand as testimony to your Christian past...

Now for my own conversion experience, which is apparently a journey opposite your own. As I move away from trust in the word, I find myself discovering my "Hebraic" side. I was writing this morning about an article that I'm incorporating into my chapter on Melville; it's called, "Bible Leaves! Bible Leaves! Hellenism and Hebraism in Melville's Moby-Dick."

The author, Elisa New, suggests that Melville is "Christian-Hellenism's" severest American critic, and argues that Moby-Dick, through the voice of Ishmael, tries to right the wrongs of those who would trust in the word. In her view, Melville opposes the "essentialist legacy" of Christian Hellenism with the Hebraic method of historical (rather than transcendental) knowledge.

Apparently, the Hebraists have a less static view of G-d than the Hellenists do... at least according to New. I'm not sure I understand her definition of Hebraism though...

Sorry for the length. Any thoughts? If Hebraism does not trust in the word, where/how does its trust manifest itself?

Monica said...

Casey, thanks for such a thoughtful comment. Yes, I believe you're right in the sense that Hebraism maintains a more dynamic vision of G-d than Christian Hellenism. But I suppose it's not that Hebraism does not "trust in the word" but that it is also aware of the spaces/gaps/silences, which is what prevents its notion of G-d from becoming stagnant or archaic. Truth, in this sense, is not something you arrive at by any process; rather, it is the process, always moving. Don't know if this is what you were getting at...

Casey said...

Oh, it is. It just means I need to convert to Judaism.