(According to P. Keese Waaijman, O.Carm.)
Shield of Faith
The shield (scutum) was typically made of wood, covered with leather, and reinforced with metal on the edges. It was large enough to protect the warrior from head to toe and could hide the entire body behind it. The shape was either a rectangle (elongated vertically) curved to make it easier for the soldier to hide behind it, or it was shaped like an elongated oval. (In addition, the ancient soldier also used another, smaller shield called clipeus, which was used for one-on-one combat.)
To believe means: to rely on the faithfulness of another (to lean on him).1 Faith is – from my perspective – a leap into the darkness, as I cannot secure or enforce the faithfulness of another. Thus trust extends beyond all rational reasons; it is a dark night, a step into uncertainty. Trust means surrender. Not some vague surrender, but a surrender to someone – to whom I trust.
Our God is a God of faithfulness. God is faithful (Ps 31:6). The Psalms celebrate his reliability: he is faithful to his creation, faithful to his word, faithful in his actions, in his merciful love. The New Testament proclaims that God's faithfulness is greater than human unfaithfulness. “What if some were unfaithful? Will their unfaithfulness nullify the faithfulness of God? Absolutely not!” (Rom 3:3–4)
By my trust, I give the faithfulness of the other an opportunity to manifest. This way, trust represents a creative approach to life. “By faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God” (Heb 11:3) and that Jesus is the Messiah who came in the flesh. By trusting, our ability to perceive in this way grows.
Trust does not end with just contemplating God's faithfulness. “Faith works through love” (Gal 5:6). Above all, the letters of James and John emphasize love as the fruit of faith. This is the “breastplate of faith and love” (1 Thess 5:8), “with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one; for without faith it is impossible to please God” (Rule, chap. 19).
Moreover, my identity will always have cracks and gaps (even if I strive for purity and holiness, for justice and hope). Only trust can overcome the snares that bring about decay and disgust within me, into which I continually fall. If trust is lacking, the fiery dart of the “wicked one” can penetrate unobtrusively. That is why Paul encourages: “Fight the good fight of faith...” (1 Tim 6:12).
However, trust brings more than just protection from destruction. To believe in God means to touch him in his essence, in his faithfulness. We give him the opportunity to show himself and act as God. As the one who is entirely steadfast, faithful: “I am who I am” (Ex 3:14). Through my trust, the one who is truly is also in my life. I liberate myself from my fears and closedness and open up to the reason for my trust: his faithfulness. I hold on to him – the Firm One. Surely it touches him deeply when he sees that we understand him precisely in his faithfulness. “But without faith it is impossible to please God” (Heb 11:6).
Albert's rule originally contained an addition: “And this is the victory: your faith.” (Compare 1 John 5:4.) Victory in two senses: we quench the fiery darts of the tempter and overcome the destructive forces of our own distrust. Trust is absolute victory over decay from outside and within. It is a victory of love.
Helmet of Salvation
Originally, warriors protected their heads with animal hides; later, helmets made of metal began to be used. The helmet was meant to protect the nape, skull, temples, and forehead. Sometimes the helmet had a visor on the front to protect the face, and protrusions on the sides to protect the cheeks. It also extended as low as possible in the back. Eyes and ears always remained uncovered. Thus, it was supposed to protect the head as much as possible, but it must not impede the view. Just as a breastplate would not fulfill its function if it were too heavy and hindered movement, so the helmet must not be completely closed.
Salvation is part of the armor that God “wears”: “He put on righteousness as a breastplate, and (took) the helmet of salvation upon his head...” (Isa 59:17). He is “the God of salvation”. Salvation means preserving or protecting the integrity of a person or group of people. The Lord creates by his personal inclination towards us a space for freedom in which I can truly be (Ps 26 and 27). Israel has repeatedly experienced in history how God rescued and protected it from destruction (Ps 80). Often in Scripture, God's salvation is mentioned alongside his righteousness (Isa 45:8, etc.).
Complete salvation is primarily associated with the last times, with the end of days: “In that day it will be said: Behold, our God; we hoped in him to save us,... let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation...” (Isa 25:9). In the New Testament, the word salvation primarily denotes salvation in the eschatological sense: final liberation from the power of the Evil One. However, this salvation is not just a matter of the future, as with the coming of Jesus, it is already here (2 Cor 6:2). Christian communities are the firstfruits of this final salvation (2 Thess 2:13), which will fully be realized at the second coming of the Lord. The tension between the salvation that is already present and that which is yet to be expected sustains our trust. All Christian spirituality takes place within the “power field” of this tension. Western spirituality emphasizes salvation already accomplished: Jesus has redeemed us and goes before us to the Father; thus, salvation of souls (compare 1 Peter 1:9) means to follow Jesus in everything. Eastern spirituality emphasizes more the coming salvation. God's salvation thus has two poles: the Incarnation in history and the Coming at the end of times.
Our Rule connects salvation with the virtue of hope. Thus, it relates it to the future and teaches us to expect it. We have already encountered this with the prophet Isaiah: “Behold, our God; we hoped in him to save us” (Isa 25:9). Expectation and salvation belong together. Precisely the New Testament, infused with the faith that salvation is already very close, says that we can only expect salvation. The only true way to “grasp” it is to hope for it. To steadfastly trust in what lies beyond our own possibilities, what we cannot “produce” or create ourselves. Salvation and hope essentially belong together: “let us be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love and the helmet of hope for salvation.” (1 Thess 5:8).
Hope for salvation surrounds our head from all sides, deep into the nape, but must not make us deaf and blind to reality, nor bind our mouths to the many things in the world that contradict salvation. The helmet of salvation, which protects us from injury, is also the helmet of hope, because we have no illusions. We can also say: the helmet of salvation means being clothed in God's openness, expectation, patience...
When we reflect on the last three parts of the armor – the breastplate, the shield, and the helmet – a triad of theological virtues emerges: love – faith – hope. This is also rooted in Scripture. St. Paul uniquely combines this triad in the well-known text on love: “love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things... faith, hope, and love, this trinity; but the greatest of these is love” (1 Cor 13:7, 13). He lists them together in other places as well (1 Thess 1:2–3; 1 Thess 5:8–10; Col 1:4–5), and similarly in the first letter of St. Peter (1:3–9; 1:21–22).
The order of the virtues in the Rule of St. Albert is altered compared to what we are generally used to, and specific emphases are added to each virtue: love is associated with justice (justice in love); faith is highly emphasized (it repels the enemy's arrows and without it one cannot please God); hope directed towards salvation, its expectation, gives the Rule a prophetic-eschatological focus. The polar tension between justice in love and hope in salvation mediates faith as unconditional trust.
Sword of the Spirit
The sword of a Roman soldier was long, had a blunt end, and a sharp edge that inflicted cuts on the enemy. Later, the sword was pointed at the end and was also used as a stabbing weapon. In the Spanish wars, the Romans also recognized a shorter sword, almost like a dagger, and adopted it into their armory. The tactic of fighting looked like this: after the enemy was struck by arrows and (thrown) spears, he was killed with a short sword.
The last weapon shows several differences from the components of the armor mentioned above:2
- God's word here is understood as an offensive weapon;
- The Spirit and the word of God do not fit into the aforementioned series of virtues (love, faith, hope)
- and they are also not something that causes salvation in us, like, for instance, righteousness.
In Scripture, the word and the Spirit exclusively belong to God: He called everything into being by His word and gave it life by His Spirit (Gen 1–2). The psalmist aptly says: “By his word the heavens were made, and by the breath of his mouth all their host...” (Ps 33:6). The image of a sharp sword is already linked by the prophetic tradition of the Old Testament to the life-giving Word of God (Isa 49:2; Hos 6:5). It is similarly the case in the apocalyptic literature of the New Testament (Rev 1:16; 19:15, 21). While in the prophets this sword points outward, against the external enemy, the letter to the Hebrews turns its blade inward into the heart of man; it is a “scalpel” for discernment: “For the word of God is... sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart” (Heb 4:12).
More important than the direction in which this sword is aimed is its structure, which consists of both God's word and the Spirit. According to early Christian spirituality, it is precisely the Spirit that carries the meaning of God's word. The reading of Scripture was focused on enabling the reader, by penetrating multiple meanings of Scripture (as Origen distinguished), ultimately to achieve “spiritual knowledge.”
“The aim of the spiritual life is to penetrate to the veins and marrow of God's word and to gaze upon deep and hidden mysteries with the pure eye of the heart. This cannot be attained by human teaching and worldly learning, but only by a pure soul illuminated by the Holy Spirit.”3
The word of God revealed by the Holy Spirit leads us to contemplation. The comparison with a sword can be used here, because in contemplation, discernment achieves its maximum sharpness. But the path to that is long. It begins with reading the Word of God (lectio). Through our senses in reading and listening, God's word penetrates us. We repeat it, reflect on it, it resonates within us, and descends into our heart (meditatio). The flow of love, which is filled with God's word, touches our heart and makes it its source: it wells up from it – in prayer (oratio). Finally, the eyes of our spirit open in the Spirit of God, and that is contemplation (contemplatio). The word of God uncovers our inner and outer world, penetrating like a sword through all clichés, rigidities, hiding places, false defense mechanisms, masks, and illusions. And all this because the word of God “dwells richly in your mouths and hearts.” It has descended so deeply that in its full strength, it penetrates outward – through the work of the Spirit.
In later times, the Carmelites understood the words about this part of the armor as a call concerning the proclamation of the truths of faith: let God's word dwell richly in your proclamation of Christ (John Baconthorpe, Philip Ribot, Bl. John Soreth). But even then, they meant a proclamation that arises from contemplation.
The essence of this last part of the armor is thus contemplative transformation through the action of God's word. Here, too, however, the same dynamic applies as we have encountered earlier: God's attribute, which became flesh and blood in the Messiah, enters through reading, recitation, and acts into our innermost being. There it touches the core of our existence, and from there, it acts in our behavior. The power of God's word then works from within. That is why St. Albert quotes the letter to the Colossians: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly: teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (Col 3:16–17).
Summary
In the chapters on God's armor (chap. 18 and 19) the transformation concerning our practice of virtues is portrayed. We can discern three phases of this transformation:
- The first phase is characterized by the effort for purity and sanctification of thoughts. It is internally connected to the working goal of the preceding chapters (i.e., purity of heart). We have seen earlier that the basic exercises aimed to organize and purify what is within us. This purification now continues through receiving something new “from outside”: by accepting God's attributes. Thus, this first phase is aimed at internal purification and organization, opening up, and the ability to receive.
- The second phase is indicated by the three divine virtues. The Rule demands that we practice them and assimilate them as deeply as possible. We are to live by them, just as we live by bread and water. This phase is thus focused on living truly from God's attributes.
- The third phase focuses on contemplation while further building on the practice of virtues.
“Strive earnestly to attain practical knowledge, that is, the knowledge of virtues. Without them, you cannot obtain the promised purity of contemplation. Only those achieve it who have become perfect, not by being taught by others, but by the strength of their own actions; after much effort and work, they finally arrive at the reward. They achieve insight not through thinking about God's law, but through the fruits of their actions.”4
The practice of virtues is a prerequisite for contemplation. God's word in us will be able to “dwell richly” if divine virtues could bloom. Just as purity and sanctification of thoughts prepare for acceptance of virtues, so virtues prepare for the reception of contemplation. And then God's word can “dwell richly” in us – not only in our mouths and hearts but in everything we do and experience. Scripture becomes a transparent spring in us, where we see ourselves and others as we truly are: from God. Then we will know Scripture from within. Such contemplation is what the Rule speaks of in the last part of the description of the armor.
The chapters on the spiritual armor thus present another phase of the spiritual journey that the Rule lays out for us. This journey begins with acquiring what was previously introduced as the basic equipment for the Carmelite life (chap. 4–9), systematic practice (chap. 10–17), thus staying in the cell, reading Scripture, reciting prayers, gathering in the chapel, etc. The immediate (“working”) goal of this effort is purity of heart. This working goal is also the starting point for mystical transformation: being clothed with God's attributes (chap. 18–19). Because purity of heart is simultaneously the acceptance of the Lord. The first divine attribute into which we are clothed is precisely the purity of God. The ultimate goal of the entire journey lies in complete mystical transformation.
According to the notes of Sister Petra of the Risen One, OCD,
compiled by P. Gorazd, O.Carm.
Drawings by Martina Šabouková
