GB V Reflection: Among the Stars

As I sat, thinking about how best to describe my honors experience, I turned my head toward my window and gazed above into the devouring murk of the night. While I watched, a powerful winter gale began to pull on the cloud cover above with its cold fingers, separating each puff into a million balls of cotton. Pinpricks of starlight began to emerge from behind the dispersing wisps. As the stars above gathered together, they illuminated the dusky sky and the black shadows beneath it.    

Beneath the light of the stars, even the ground itself seemed to shine. Beneath the light of the stars, the sky itself radiated with a light so pure that only Heaven could surpass it. The stars turned the utter darkness of night into a premier wonder of creation. The answer to my question waited in the sky above me: my journey through the honors program was Great, not because of the books I read or the papers I wrote, but because of the stars among whom I traveled. 

In Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations, he encourages readers to elevate their level of thought by "observ[ing] the movement of the stars as if you were running their courses with them" (7.47). As my classmates and I have dwelt on the nature of beauty throughout Burke’s Philosophical Enquiry, wrestled with Aquinas’s Summa Theologica, and laughed during the GB V retreat, I’ve unwittingly found myself doing exactly what Aurelius writes about: running among the stars.   

As I’ve run among the stars... 

1) The darkness of space was transformed into an artistic wonder.     

Each time I look up into the sky on a clear night, I am inevitably struck by how individual stars that vary in size, position, and brightness can connect to form beautiful constellations. Like the individual unique stars that transform the cold, empty blackness of space into artistic masterpieces, each of my unique classmates has come together and transformed the daunting task of probing the depths of difficult books into a Great experience. The power within oneself to change the overall story of an experience cannot be underestimated. For instance, consider the Prodigal Son. While the father turns the story into a beautiful tale of “forgiveness, reconciliation, and healing” (Nouwen 96), the older brother’s resentment casts a shadow on the joy of the younger son's return (Nouwen 74).   

Like the Prodigal’s father, my classmates and professors have made the end of my journey truly Great. To my classmates: thank you for lighting up my experience with each joke, laugh, playful dig, smile, encouraging note, and joyful greeting. To Dr. Jacobs and Dr. Shirley: thank you for being our guiding lights, our North Stars, as we ran. 

(2) The darkest corners of the universe were illuminated.    

On nights when the stars are hidden behind thick clouds, the universe above appears as a stretch of inky blackness without beginning or end. When the stars inevitably begin to emerge from behind the clouds, though, they light up the darkness and reveal new depths to space. The light of individual stars appears relatively insignificant to the human eye, but when combined with the light of other stars, they form a blanket of fire that reveals the heavens.   

In Paradise, Beatrice’s words give Dante the strength to see where he could not see before: "As soon as [her] brief words found their place within my understanding," Dante writes, "I became / aware I had surpassed my former might: / and a new power of vision burst aflame" (30.56-58). Dante may have been able to see partially without Beatrice, but her aid lets him see a full picture of Heaven. My classmates have become my Beatrice, elevating my vision to new heights. Reading each Great book in the sequence has grown my ability to interpret literature. However, my experiences and personality have limited my perception of the space around me; my star can only shine in the place where it currently is. Luckily, though, my Great classmates were different than I and could understand concepts that I was unable to grasp. Over the years, they’ve lit up the darkness in my mind by pointing out flaws in my logic and challenging presuppositions I didn’t even know I had. With their aid, I’ve seen a fuller picture of reality, truth, and God Himself than I could hope to see alone.   

(3) Even the earth below shone anew.   

Here’s the kicker: the wondrous beauty of the stars can only be realized among people who can observe, appreciate, and learn from it. Without people to see it, the potential hidden among the starlight would have never been realized. Sailors recognized the hidden patterns in the stars and used them for navigation. Van Gogh had to see A Starry Night before he could paint one, and even then, the purpose of his painting was for other people to admire it. What use is light if there are no eyes to see it? What is the purpose of beauty if there is no one to behold it?   

Having absorbed the light of knowledge from the Great Books and having shone upon one another, we now have the responsibility to shine our rekindled lights upon the people around us. Now that we understand that “pain [can] lead to repentance” (Lewis 122), we can encourage the suffering to look for the blessings in their pain! We can inspire others to live life as it comes to them without too much seriousness. After all, “angels can [only] fly because they take themselves lightly” (Chesterton 117). Having realized that “lust ... is unbelief” (Bonhoeffer 132), we can teach others to defeat lust by drawing nearer to God.   

Conclusion 

In Matthew 5:15, Jesus says, “Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house.” Let’s not hide our lights! Throughout the Great Books program, we’ve poured enough oil over each other's lamps that they've begun to burn with a new intensity. We’ve handed one another the light. Now, let’s illuminate the world.  

Formal Paper: The Divine Interplay Between Light and Darkness

Humanity possesses the unique ability to see both physical and spiritual realities. Thomas Aquinas describes this phenomenon in Summa of the Summa, stating, “The sense of sight, as being altogether material, cannot be raised up to immateriality. But our intellect, or the angelic intellect, inasmuch as it is elevated above matter in its own nature, can be raised up above its own nature to a higher level by grace” (ST, 3. Q11. A4. arg. 3). While a man can see with his physical eyes like any other animal, he can also use his intellect and reason to discover spiritual truths. However, man’s physical body prevents him from fully exercising his intellect to perceive spiritual truths, so he needs divine aid to look up to the nature of God. Throughout Inferno and Paradiso, Dante Alighieri attempts to harness man’s physical sight to carry his understanding up to God's nature by linking God's spiritual presence and absence to physical darkness and light. While he utilizes figurative darkness to indicate the aimlessness, suffering, and isolation that arises in God’s absence, he describes the overwhelming presence of God as a dazzling light.   

In Inferno, Dante explores the implications of straying away from God’s light.   

In the beginning of the poem, Dante states that his journey away from God leads him off a straight, lit path into dark woods. The darkness of Dante’s woods is an excellent metaphor for God’s absence for several reasons. For instance, like darkness, the absence of God prevents one from seeing where he is going. Dante begins, “Midway upon the journey of our life / I found myself in a dark wilderness, / for I had wandered from the straight and true [path]” (Inf. 1.1-3). Here he refers to the “straight and true” as the path of righteousness leading to eternal life with God that Jesus mentions in Matthew 7:14, saying, “Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.” (King James Version, Matt. 7:13-14).  Dante uses a figurative wilderness to describe his directionless path away from God, while the darkness within it refers to his inability to see his destination. Essentially, in wandering away from the path to God, Dante foolishly forfeits his original path toward Heaven to wander about in intellectual and spiritual darkness.  

While he uses darkness to communicate aimlessness, Dante also uses it to indicate the dark suffering that ensues in God’s absence. Eventually, Virgil joins Dante and leads him down the “deep and savage-wooded path” away from God” to Hell (Inf. 2.142). Upon reaching Hell, they see the words, 

I AM THE WAY INTO THE CITY OF WOE,  

I AM THE WAY INTO ETERNAL PAIN,  

I AM THE WAY TO GO AMONG THE LOST 

.............................................................................. 

ABANDON ALL HOPE YOU WHO ENTER HERE [etched with] dark and harsh intent [on the archway of a gate]. (Inf. 3.1-10) 

The entry sign to Hell, the ultimate destination of one who journeys away from God, declares the dark message that the souls within it are doomed to eternal woe, pain, and hopelessness. After journeying through the gate, Dante immediately hears the cries of the suffering souls and writes that their “sighs and moans and utter wailing swept / resounding through the dark and starless air” (Inf. 3.22-23). Often, people who flee from God have no ultimate destination in mind, and only want to separate themselves from Him. The farther one travels into the dark absence of God, though, the closer he draws to Hell, a place of dark suffering for those who stray from God through sin.   

Darkness also mirrors the absence of God in the sense that spending time in the darkness away from God prepares people to appreciate the light of His presence better. One whose eyes have adjusted to darkness will be overwhelmed by the light of day, while one whose eyes are accustomed to light will experience no change. Likewise, the miserable darkness of Dante’s journey from God in the wilderness grants him a new sense of gratefulness for the light of Heaven. As he reaches a valley in the wilderness, he says,  

I raised my eyes and saw its shoulders robed  

with the rays of that wandering light of Heaven  

that leads all men aright on every road.  

That quieted a bit the dread that stirred  

trembling within the waters of my heart  

all through that night of misery I endured. (Inf. 1.16-21).  

In the beginning of Inferno, Dante allows himself to be distracted away from the "straight and true,” Heavenly-lit road toward God (Inf. 1.3). If Dante had appreciated the light of God’s presence in the beginning of the poem, he would have never allowed himself to be distracted from following God. Now, though, after having spent some time in the dark, terrible wilderness away from God, he revels in the light of God’s presence again as it calms his terrified heart.   

Spiritual darkness does not always refer to blindness or pain, though. Dante draws a connection between a state of separation from the warmth of God’s love and the cold that accompanies darkness. Poets often describe love as a fiery passion, and light carries heat. As the human body suffers without heat, the soul languishes when separated from the love of God. Accordingly, Dante uses darkness and cold to depict the absence of the heated light of God’s love. Dante views the torment that stems from being separated from the love of God while in the ninth and final ring of Hell, the farthest place from God. He describes the region as a "gloomy,” or dark, well that is far away from the presence of God and the warm light of His love (Inf. 32.16). Here he sees several spirits frozen by the cold absence of God’s love. He writes that the spirits have been frozen in ice up to their waists (Inf. 32.34-35), that their eyelids were locked shut with frozen tears (Inf. 32.46-48), and he describes one man as having had his ears frostbitten off (Inf. 32.52) while Dante himself “tremble[s] in the everlasting chill” (Inf. 32.76). As light carries the heat of love, darkness implies cold, or the absence of the warmth of God’s love. Dante metaphorically illustrates the effects of being separated from God’s love using the frozen torture of the spirits in Hell.   

In Inferno, Dante utilizes figurative darkness to describe the various terrors that a state separation from God holds. In Paradiso, Dante instead chooses to focus on what the presence of God might be like. He depicts God’s presence as an overwhelming spiritual light during his discussions with Beatrice and St. Bernard to indicate that man needs aid to understand God. First, Beatrice's conversation with Dante demonstrates that he cannot perceive God’s light fully without heavenly intervention. When Beatrice leads Dante to the Empyrean, the highest and purest level of Heaven, the realm of the mind of God, Heavenly light blinds him until God opens his eyes. Speaking to Dante, Beatrice says,  

We're [now] on the outside of 

the highest body, in the purest light,  

In intellectual light, light filled with love,  

love of the true good, filled with happiness,  

happiness that surpasses all things sweet. (Par. 30.38-42)  

God's intellect, filled with love and joy, is so pure and delightful that it manifests as light–the purest and most delightful of physical substances. Dante then says,  

Just as a sudden lightning flash will scare  

away the power of vision and deprive  

one's sight of things made brilliant in the glare,  

So I was now enveloped in a live 

gleaming of light that veiled me in a veil  

so vivid all around, I lost all sight (Par. 30.46-52). 

Sight is the primary sense by which humans gather information from the world around them, so without sight, one would be practically blind to much of reality. Healthy human eyes are struck blind when faced with a sight too intense to register, such as a nearby flash of lightning. St. Thomas Aquinas shares a similar sentiment in Summa of the Summa. “What is supremely knowable in itself,” he says, “may not be knowable to a particular intellect, on account of the excess of the intelligible object above the intellect… the blessed see the essence of God” (Aquinas ST, 3. Q12. A1. co. 3). Though one may be able to know God when it is mediated by scripture, the magnitude of the “purest light” (Par. 30.38-42) of God’s direct presence is so much greater than man’s capacity to see that it strikes him blind.   

Only one whom God blesses can see Him in His full capacity. Likewise, the overwhelmingly pure light of God's mind blinds Dante's inferior human sight and intellect. He remains blind to his surroundings until God's love operates on him to lift his vision. Beatrice says,  

The love that soothes this heaven has the power to heal  

the souls it takes unto itself, with grace  

to make the little candle fit to feel  

His flame. (Par. 30.52-54) 

Beatrice reveals to Dante that God's love and grace can remove his natural blindness, readying him to experience the Empyrean. Immediately after Dante hears her words, he finds the strength to see. "As soon as these brief words found their place within my understanding," Dante writes, "I became / aware I had surpassed my former might: / and a new power of vision burst aflame" (Par. 30.56-58). Dante only gains the ability to see Empyrean after Beatrice declares that God can grant him sight, implying that God intervenes to elevate his sight. Beatrice would have granted Dante the ability to see if she could. However, she entreats God to help him see because God alone can prepare Dante for the light of His mind.   

Saint Bernard's prayer to Mary also underscores Dante's need for her help to overcome the limited range of his intellect and his inability to wield it capably as he experiences God. Dante narrates, "Then [St. Bernard and Dante] turned to the eternal Light, / wherein, we trust, no creature else can send / created vision with such perfect sight" (Par. 33.43-45). Logic dictates that one can only create something less complex and powerful than himself. Otherwise, the creator would be unable to conceptualize a design for His creation and harness enough power to implement it. God created humanity, so humanity is less complex and powerful than He. Humanity’s natural sight is not powerful enough to plumb the depths of God’s uncreated nature, so humanity cannot fully comprehend Him without aid. 

Humanity, however, does have some limited capability to look up to God, though it typically fails to utilize the capability that it has. Saint Bernard encourages Dante to "penetrate / His rays, as far as human sight complies" (Par. 32.143-144), indicating that Dante can perceive some of God but not all of Him. Humanity’s physical passions limit its ability to understand God by distracting its efforts. Saint Bernard describes humanity's physical passions as a mist that clouds the intellect and asks Mary, the Mother of God, to  

[M]elt the mist away  

that clouds the intellects of mortal men,  

in order that the highest bliss display  

Himself to Him …  

[and] let human passions yield to your protection. (Par. 33.31-37)  

The physical and spiritual eyes, representing humanity's ability to perceive physical and spiritual realities, become ineffectual when their wielder is distracted by human passions. For example, a student distracted by hunger during an exam cannot perform optimally. Accordingly, for a human to muster the strength to understand God, he must free himself from all physical passions. As Dante says, “And I who now was drawing near the end / of all desires, as it behooved me, to / the summit let my leaping flames [of passion] ascend” (Par. 33.46-48). The desire for God is the summit, or the highest object, of human desire. One can only satisfy his desire for God after leaving behind all other desires that would distract his aim. Since humans live in physical bodies, they cannot rid themselves of physical passions alone. Dante, likewise, needs all his mental faculties to comprehend God, but his human nature prevents him from harnessing his already limited sight. As the Mother of God, Mary possesses a unique ability to address God directly on behalf of those who pray to her. Therefore, Saint Bernard asks Mary to intercede on Dante’s behalf by asking God to subdue Dante's distracting passions as he approaches the Trinity.    

Throughout both Inferno and Paradiso, Dante uses figurative light and darkness to describe the presence and absence of God and explores the various implications of each. Since man is a primarily physical creature, he often fails to perceive difficult spiritual realities, such as the nature of God. Though he struggles to see spiritual truths, man possesses excellent physical sight and has utilized it to plumb the depths of physical reality. Throughout the Divine Comedy, Dante links God’s nature, which man struggles to comprehend, to the physical interplay between light and darkness, which man easily understands. By linking the obscure nature of God to familiar physical concepts, Dante allows readers to harness both their strong physical senses of sight as well as their weaker intellects to delve into the nature of God, and ultimately grants them a much greater understanding than they could obtain with the intellect alone. Like Dante, Christians often wander away from God and into sin because they fail to understand the terrible implications of life away from Him. Dante encourages readers to stay vigilant and remain on the road to Heaven, for the farther one strays from God, the deeper he journeys into the dark confusion, pain, and loneliness of Inferno. When Dante finally reaches Heaven, though, his physical eyes are overwhelmed by the pure, joyous light of God’s presence. In Paradiso, Dante encourages his readers to seek God until they pass onto the spiritual realm in death, for if they do, He will raise them out of the darkness to bask joyously in the brilliance of His pure, surpassing love.   

 

 

Works Cited        

Aquinas, Thomas. Summa of the Summa, edited and annotated by Peter Kreeft, Ignatius Press, 1990. 

Dante. Inferno. Translated by Anthony Esolen, The Modern Library, 2004.   

---. Paradiso. Translated by Anthony Esolen, The Modern Library, 2004.