(According to P. Keese Waaijman, O.Carm.)
Conclusion (chapter 24)
The conclusion of the letter (in general) can also be brief. Compared to the greeting, its main goal is to bid farewell to the recipient of the letter and wish them well. In addition, the conclusion may serve some secondary purpose: to summarize the contents of the letter, to stylistically close the letter, to show the credibility of the letter with the author's signature or seal.
The conclusion of Albert's writing has two parts: the first summarizes the entire letter both literarily and content-wise, while the second looks forward to the future.
This is your way of life…
First, St. Albert summarizes: “This we have briefly written to you…” He uses the past tense: written.
He – the writer – concludes his letter, meaning he steps back and makes space for the readers, thus creating space for spirituality. The fact that he concludes his writing is only seemingly a “shame”; the “orphaned” text in the hands of the one who reads it represents a kind of spiritual space, and that for everyone who will read it – including us.
“This we have briefly written to you…” – the word “this” can be understood in two senses.
- Regarding the letter as a literary whole, it means: this, what I have just written, these lines of mine, this my letter. And it really is a letter. That the letter should be short (brevis) was significantly part of writing letters at that time, “to write briefly” was basically synonymous with “to write a letter.” The masters of writing reminded their students not to forget that. This is still etymologically evident: from the Latin brevis (short) comes, for example, the German term for a letter: der Brief.
Albert's letter is quantitatively short, significantly shorter than other rules written for other communities. And it is also “short” qualitatively: it respects that not everything can be predicted, does not want to specify everything down to details, seeks only what is essential and refrains from discussing secondary matters, avoiding them. - With regard to the content of the letter that Albert has just written to the brothers, the word: “This (we have briefly written to you)…,” denotes the content of the letter, namely the described lifestyle of the Carmelites. So says Albert himself in the very next sentence: “We have established your rules of community life, according to which you are to live.” (From these words it is also evident: although it formally concerns a letter, in content Albert actually establishes a rule, a rule of life.) In this context, let us compare the introduction to the interpretation of Albert's letter and this conclusion of his:
| Interpretation (chapter 3) | Conclusion (chapter 24) | ||
| A | that we may give you rules for life according to your intention, | A | and thus established the rules of your community, |
| B | which you are to observe in the future | B | according to which you are to live |
In both cases, the form is first established (A), which gives the lives of the brothers and their actions a shape. This form is understood here in its full breadth: not only the basic equipment of the community but also the armor of God and the Messiah (as it is anticipated in the petition). And then in both cases, it concerns (B) the process of internalizing this form: basic training (chap. 10-17), being clothed with God's attributes, and increasingly internalizing them (chap. 18-21). “This” is what Albert wanted to write and give to the Carmelites: rules for action that will help transform life externally and internally so that it may permanently take on the form of God, which is love.
This proposed form of behavior is not some stark invention, but it arises from the experiences of the hermits themselves: “However, since you ask us to give you rules for life according to your intention…“ (chap. 3). The rule arises from actual experience and itself will lead to new experience and already counts on it – as will be evident further.
If someone wants to do more...
Albert's words are directed towards future experience: “If someone wants to do more,…“ What is this “more” referring to? It cannot be understood in a quantitative sense, because the way of life established by Albert does not settle for certain limits (up to this point – and now: more). Consider, for example, the requirements: to meditate on Scripture “day and night,” to be “always” engaged in some work, to avoid much speaking “at other times” (aside from the time of explicit silence)… In the same way, the armor of God should not be put on by the Carmelites only for a limited time (purity, discipline of thoughts, faith, etc.).
Thus, could the “more” have a qualitative significance: to live what has been established even more intensely, with zeal? Yet much of what the rule prescribes already inherently assumes that it will be done with zeal. Furthermore, zeal itself must have healthy boundaries – the rule itself warns against excessive rigidity (chap. 16), and any potential exaggeration should be moderated by the chapter of the brothers. Consequently, even this significance of Albert's “more” does not seem correct to me.
A tool for understanding Albert's instruction is the parable of the Good Samaritan, where it is said: “(Take care of him) and whatever more you spend, I will repay you when I return” (Lk 10:35). Let’s compare this with the sentence in the rule: “If someone wants to do more, the Lord Himself will reward him when He comes.” While in St. Luke's account the business perspective is highlighted: something more than two denarii in advance, in St. Albert's formulation the emphasis shifts to the persons: someone does more and the Lord Himself will reward him. To give more here means to give oneself. This has been touched upon several times in the rule (e.g., by quoting the command to love God with all one’s heart). I believe that the rule guides us through this act of self-giving, the entire described process of internal transformation, that prophetic expectation of the coming of the Messiah leads us into a space that is beyond everything that is describable in words and delineable by any prescriptions.
To describe this space, it will be best to adhere to the writing of Jan Ruusbroec "On the Shining Star."
Ruusbroec uses the image of four relationships for the process of gradual transformation in God. A person can stand towards God as:
- a hired worker (whose only concern is profit, therefore his own benefit)
- a faithful servant (not turned only to himself, here for the other; but with a focus only on the work he does for the other and the satisfaction this service brings him)
- a friend (only this one transcends the satisfaction sought in oneself; he acts out of love and thus unites himself with his friend, who – just as someone else, as “you” – is the center of his attention; yet also in this lies his limitation: the friend remains aware of the love he spreads)
- a son1 (only here is all “imprisonment in oneself” transcended, we can speak of “forgetting oneself”; but the ability to act this way can only be accepted as a gift from God; to forget oneself transcends our human abilities; the hidden son lives entirely from the Father, lost in divine love, and does not “experience” self-awareness or his motives).2
This is the “more” to which the Rule refers. “More” here represents everything that can no longer be specified, that is above form, that cannot be confined within limits: the wilderness of love, where there are no paths; the night of faith that leads me outside myself. It is the hiddenness of giving that does not even know that it gives.
“If someone wants to do more,…“ the form of the Latin verb makes me envision that the individual might be surprised at how much they have given. While in the New Testament parable the difference between two denarii and the “more” is entirely clear, in the case of our rule it is different. Albert's rule offers a form of behavior that in its content, intensity, and personal commitment is already immeasurable, incalculable. How then can a person know that they are giving more? No, it is not possible to know that. This son-like “more” is boundless, infinite, transcending every measure as such. It is lost in the vastness of God's love, which never counts, which gives itself “without thought” to its creatures. The model for this “more” is God's very own love.
While in the parable the traveling Samaritan stops again on his way back and pays the incurred costs, the Carmelites anticipate the second coming of the Lord at the end of times. And that will transcend all our perspectives, our horizons, our rules.
We learn from the innkeeper in this regard. The innkeeper (his Greek designation literally translates as: “one who receives all”; such is the ideal Carmelite!) does “more,” he does it professionally, he does not ask: “Why?” One day, an unexpected pilgrim brings a humble, half-dead person to his inn and leaves him there. The innkeeper has to take care of someone he does not know and whom a stranger left there. He himself does not have as much compassion as the Samaritan... As the owner of the inn, he is completely bewildered; he lets the guest assign him the task of caring for the poor man; he must decide without affection, without emotions. He is left alone with himself, expending effort and resources – in mere hope that the guest will return. He is a hostage of his guest. The rule places us in the role of the innkeeper: Christ, the traveler, who briefly stayed with us as a guest and then left, has drawn us out of our ways and entrusted us with the care of our neighbors, a legacy we did not ask for. And we – in his “absence” – take pity on the one who belongs to him (Christ), without having in sight Christ's emotion, his great compassion. We take care of the poor, suffering world just because we want to be obedient to Christ. We find ourselves as such an innkeeper who fulfills the task entrusted to him by his divine Guest. Our giving here loses every support and control. It no longer springs from my sentiment or my decision, nor from my disposition or my conviction. The only guide here is the darkness of selfless giving. The Father – Abba sees what is hidden.3 He sees this hiddenness of giving. This is the “more” of the innkeeper, who does not think of himself at all. And as a guide for this “more” Albert places discernment upon our hearts.
“If someone wants to do more, the Lord himself will reward him when he comes. However, let him discern correctly, for discernment directs the virtues.” What significance can discernment have where God's love leads us into selflessness, into detachment from ourselves? Behind such a question lies a narrowed understanding of discernment.
At the beginning of the spiritual journey, discernment helps choose the correct basic means; later, it helps find the middle way, not to overdo it. Further still, it helps recognize when we should give up our own activity and let God act within us. Discernment accompanies us at every step, and as we progress on our journey, it grows. It is not merely a piece of equipment for the journey, nor an ascetic exercise, nor a virtue. It is, in a particular way, constantly present. And what is ultimately in the wilderness of love, in the night of trust and in that “more” beyond all rules? There discernment repeatedly brings to mind the painful awareness that my love – despite all its nobility and selflessness – is still my love. That leads me to the desire for that which is entirely from You. To quiet waiting, to hope for a hint from Your side. With this painful awareness, discernment leads me to the edge of the wilderness. And there I am no longer led, but received. It has become night, which leads me, a wilderness, which is the way. A night that unites those who love in love.
“O night, you have united
The Beloved with the beloved,
the dear transformed into the Beloved!”4
According to the notes of Sister Petra of the Risen One, OCD, processed by P. Gorazd, O.Carm.
(Thus we have gone through the text of Sister Petra's notes to the end. The book by Kees Waajiman, which he wrote on the rule and in which he elaborated his commentary on the rule in detail, contains one more, final chapter, presenting an overview of the spiritual journey outlined in Albert's rule. If possible, we would gladly prepare a summary of the main ideas from it for our magazine. This would conclude this series of articles lasting several years.)
