The Divine Mercy and Self-Compassion

This Sunday, Catholics celebrate the Feast of the Divine Mercy. If you're a Catholic, you already know all about this feast. If not, a brief summary is in order: the Divine Mercy is a traditional Christian feast which had fallen into disuse, but during the earlier part of the 20th Century a Polish nun, Sister Faustina, was asked by Jesus to revive it, and to have a special picture painted which would illustrate the way that Jesus's mercy and compassion radiate to the whole world. The Feast of the Divine Mercy always takes place on the first Sunday after Easter Sunday. It therefore falls on the Octave of Easter, and emphasizes the central meaning of the whole festival of Easter - the loving kindness of God towards us, the God who would rather go through the agony of death than lose a single soul to sin. That face of God is that of the father of the prodigal son; when we turn to him he runs towards us and celebrates our return. You may have seen the Divine Mercy image in a Catholic church or bookshop. It shows Jesus standing with His right arm raised in blessing, with two rays - one red and one white - radiating from His Sacred Heart, sending compassion to all. Jesus told Sister Faustina, now canonized as St. Faustina, that He longed for the whole world to trust in His Divine Mercy. He wished everyone not only to trust in His Mercy, but also to show mercy towards others in thought, word and deed. The reason for wishing this Feast to be re-established today, He told St. Faustina, was that we are now much closer to His Second Coming, and when He arrives He will administer the final judgement. Anyone may obtain mercy now, but if they fail to trust in Him they will face His judgement when He comes again. Clearly, we all wish to obtain Mercy, and now is the era in which Jesus wishes Mercy to spread throughout the world, Mercy towards others but also towards ourselves; in this aspect, the Divine Mercy has much in common with the self compassion movement. Self compassion is a school of thought which emphasizes being compassionate and merciful towards ourselves. It's not an excuse for selfish behaviour, but is an antidote to all the harsh, critical, harmful I's in us that are ready to step in and condemn us every time we make a mistake. Self compassion is being recognized as a helpful approach in counselling, and while in itself it is not a spiritual discipline, it's certainly a healthy way of seeing oneself as one truly is. As such, it can help us in our work efforts. From working on ourselves we've seen how critical and judgmental we often are towards ourselves, how we often stop ourselves from making accurate observations because we're afraid to look. That fear comes from the feeling that we are unworthy and constantly fail, which is quite true; but we also know that the critical, judging I's which bedevil our attempts to know ourselves are completely useless, and so far from helping us to progress, they actually hinder us and involve us in a vicious circle. We see something, some I, which another I rushes in and judges. The result is a war of separate, small I's, getting nowhere and sabotaging our personal work. We are all taught that these attitudes are useless, and that we need to dis-identify from these critical, condemnatory I's so that we may see ourselves as we really are. But - for some types more than others - these critical I's are very strong. They clamp down on our attempts at self-observation and cause mayhem. For intellectual centre types, especially, they can pose a very serious threat to personal work. And people who judge themselves harshly also judge others, and can be difficult companions, so that their relationships suffer and family life is problematic. The antidote is self compassion, although it is not necessarily expressed in those terms. A Work teacher, a Work group, can be models of self compassion and compassion towards one another. We observe ourselves as accurately as we can, without self-justifying, and report on our observations to the group. We see that we are all in the same state, all too often falling far short of the aims we set ourselves, and that this is simply how we are. Our teachers don't condemn us for it, and neither do our fellow students. This process is similar to the Little Way of St Therese and fosters true humility and self acceptance. And as for identifying with the critical I's, this is simply futile. It perpetuates the inner conflicts which stop us from seeing ourselves and from giving ourselves the First Conscious Shock. In the Work, therefore, we have to learn to let go of these I's and their negative, harmful companions, the harsh thoughts, the condemnations, even - at time - the despair. I think we Catholics may have an easier time in some respects. If we regularly go to Confession, we acknowledge our faults and receive assurance from the priest, who represents Christ to us, that we are forgiven, absolved, given a fresh start. If we are particularly prone to judgementalism, either towards ourselves or towards others, our confessor may remind us of the words of Christ to the woman taken in adultery. She was about to be stoned to death, surrounded by a crowd who all condemned her for her wickedness. Jesus stops them from killing her by saying, "Let him who is without sin cast the first stone". Of course, nobody is without sin, and so the crowd disperses and spares the woman's life. Jesus asks her, "Does anyone now condemn you?" "No," she replies. "Neither do I condemn you," Jesus tells her. "Go and sin no more." We may take this as a literal story or as an allegory. The crowds of condemning I's are those which rail against us, in our own False Personality, condemning us to death for our perceived sins. None of them have the right to kill; all are guilty of some sort of sin, because they are in error and cannot see the truth, the whole picture. In such a state, we may fear that Jesus - our Real I - will also condemn us. But this doesn't happen. Instead, He tells her to go - and also, which is very important, to sin no more. The whole story shows us how to have compassion on ourselves, and compassion towards others. It's important that we admit our shortcomings, our sins, the many ways in which we fall short; and if we honestly do so, we have the chance to try again, to continue our life, our personal work, free of condemnation and with the aim of "sinning no more". To be told that one is granted absolution in the Confessional is a very important part of life as a Catholic. We hear those words, we understand them as coming from Christ, from our Real I if we are in the Work, and we experience release and mercy. We go on our way lighter in heart and with a new energy to use in our efforts. We are loved in our littleness, in our imperfection, as long as we are humble enough to admit our faults and to try again. Compassion towards ourselves includes the acknowledgment that we have fallen short of our aims, and the wish to do better; it sees that we do indeed fall short, but, like St. Therese, uses that understanding for self-acceptance. At the same time, we see that we harm ourselves when we miss the mark, or sin. So real self compassion includes the determination to avoid sin and to live according to our Real Conscience. If we do this, then no matter how many times we may fail, we are not condemned. We are picked up, consoled, loved and set on our feet once more with a new chance. That is real self compassion. Note: The description I have given of the Divine Mercy Feast is very abbreviated. It is a truly inspiring devotion, and if you want to know more you could visit the Divine Mercy Message website, and also - if you are really interested, as I am - read the Diary of Saint Faustina. It's very long, but also very rewarding.

Holy Week in the Work

Since the autumn, we've been looking at the way the Christian year has been arranged. We've seen that for two thousand years the church's liturgical cycle has taken advantage of cosmic variations in the positions of the planets and stars, which can help us in our inner work. Other festivals before Christianity had also made use of these times, because various Messengers had known of the changes in the position of the Earth, the planets and our Sun which could be used to encourage an increase in consciousness. The Egyptian and Greek religions, in particular, which preceded our Christian era, gave their followers feasts and fasts which corresponded to the energies available for initiates. But here I'm looking at Christianity, because that is the religion which today, I believe, embodies the most conscious planning by learned men and women so that even now we may study the Christian year and learn which type of inner work best corresponds to each festival. Now we've arrived at Holy Week, the most important time of the entire Christian year and the period when much understanding and an increase in Being may be obtained if we make the right efforts. On the largest possible scale of understanding, Dr. Nicoll told his students that "The sacrifice of Christ was to decrease entropy for humanity". And he explained that every time we make some small sacrifice, every time we accept a small death on our own level, which is what we've been attempting to do throughout Lent, we increase the possibility of becoming more and more alive in the most real part of ourselves. We increase our inner order, and work against entropy. Mrs. Pogson pointed out that while Adam in the Garden of Eden acted from self-will and disobeyed God, thereby losing his right to live in Paradise, Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane lay down his self-will and obeyed the Will of His Father. His choice demanded conscious suffering, but from that suffering came the great and holy triumph of Easter Sunday. He came to show us the way which we may all follow, which leads to eternal life. On a physical level, too, everything changed after the Crucifixion. The drops of blood and water which flowed from the wounds of Jesus fell upon the Earth and purified it, reaching backwards and forwards in time simultaneously so that all of mankind now had the chance to become conscious. The festival of Easter is almost always celebrated at the same time as the Passover of the Jews. The very few exceptions occur when the Jewish year, which is lunar, has to insert an extra month so that the solar and lunar calendars agree. Both festivals are, at root, festivals of freedom. As the Israelites were led out of Egypt and out of bondage to their material desires and mental addictions, so at Easter all mankind is shown how to be free from the slavery of the multitude of I's within us and to reach that point in ourselves which alone is real. How does the Earth's position in space relate to the timing of Easter? If you remember our previous discussions of cosmic time, you'll recall that a period of concentrated work began for us in early autumn, when we focused more on internal tasks after the summer holidays. In September, the Earth starts to move closer to the energies which come from the highest level of the cosmos, from far away, which are better able to reach us at this time. The Earth revolves around the Sun, of course, but we recollect that the Sun also revolves around its own "Sun", the star Sirius. And all Suns, all stars, revolve around the central Sun of the galaxy. There is much to ponder here. The special position of our planetary journey which began in the autumn takes us within the Sun's own orbit of Sirius, and in direct alignment with the forces of the Ray of Creation. The moon also plays a part in reflecting light to us here on Earth, and increasing the powers of the different energies that reach us. By the time the Earth has come to the spring equinox, it is beginning to move away from the alignment with Sirius and the further reaches of the universe; it then begins a new phase of the annual journey which focuses more on working in the world, in Life. Before the Earth leaves the elliptical orbit of the Sun around Sirius, a final Full Moon at this stage of the pilgrimage reflects back increased energies to us on Earth, and this Full Moon is what is important at the festivals of Passover and Easter. From time to time suggestions have been made that we should fix a date for Easter, to be the same every year just as Christmas always falls right after the Winter Solstice. As we can see, this would be a huge mistake as far as our inner work is concerned. We would no longer receive the extra boost which now benefits our Work life, and this would make our transformation even more difficult than it currently is. We need all the help we can get from the cosmos, and Easter shows us that harmony between inner and outer worlds is actually made more possible when we align ourselves with those special energies. For us in the Work, Holy Week is the most concentrated phase of this whole annual cycle. What is conceived now, at Easter, may be born at Christmas in Essence. What we now sacrifice will enable new life to rise from our most real part. The Gospel narratives of Easter are extremely interesting, and one of the most fruitful tasks for this time is to see all the different I's at work around the events of Holy Week. The Pharisees, Pilate, the crowds which first acclaim Jesus and then reject Him, the Roman soldiers, the disciples who simply can't stay awake - all these I's are within us. Most interesting of all is Judas, who plays the part of the betrayer in this cosmic drama. Gurdjieff says that Judas is actually a great saint because he understands the need for his action - to bring about the events that lead to the death of Jesus - and also that he would be hated and reviled for what he had done, until the very end of time. Such a person needs courage and equanimity, together with real devotion to the Master, and his part could only be played by a conscious man far above the level of Being of the crowds. We might ponder on the meaning of this role, and whether we ourselves would have been prepared to play it. Which of our I's take the uppermost role in the drama of Holy Week? Do we have the courage of Judas and Jesus Himself, as we draw closer to the crucifixion? Do we watch and pray, as Christ asks us to do, or do we fall asleep along with the other disciples? Do we give up any attempt to understand and to work on ourselves, like Pontius Pilate? Or do we accept the Will of the Father, and steadily set our face towards Jerusalem, unwavering in our knowledge of what is to come, and our acceptance of the conscious suffering that will be our task?

Dark NIght - or Depression?

As a counsellor, I've often worked with clients suffering from depression. A combination of therapies usually works best, by which I mean anti-depressant medication together with psychotherapy. The client's mood first has to be stabilized with medication before the "talking cure" can be effective, and we're fortunate today in having many different anti-depressants for doctors to prescribe. Often it's a matter of trial and error, but eventually the medication begins to kick in and the client is able to look at the reasons behind the depression and work on improving his mood - and, if necessary, making beneficial changes in his life. We talk about endogenous depression (the kind that originates in a brain disorder, so that insufficient endorphins are manufactured, or they are dissipated too fast to be of help). Anti-depressants relieve this type of depression, but psychotherapy is also very helpful in encouraging the client to look at factors in his life which may be contributing to the mood disorder. The second type of depression is called reactive, because it's brought on by disturbing and difficult life events. The client is reacting to something that has happened, possibly after a long period of stress. Here, too, anti-depressants can be useful, because whatever the cause of the depression the client must be in a stable and rational state of mind to benefit from counselling or psychoanalysis. Of course, in real life it's very difficult to distinguish between the two, because usually both types are present, with one or the other predominant. Long-term stress affects the brain's chemistry; endogenous depression leads to more stress, as the client withdraws more and more from life and fails to tackle his problems. You can't really separate the two forms in reality, so anyone with severe depression also needs to see a doctor for an assessment as to suitability for anti-depressant medication. But recently my attention has been drawn to a third type of psychological disturbance, one that often mimics depression but which is not identical to it. I'm talking about the so-called "dark night of the soul", described by St John of the Cross and other mystical writers, in which Christians who are following the Way of Illumination can suddenly be plunged into seeming darkness. I'm referring to Christians, but followers of other religions may also face similar experiences; I'm not familiar with the forms they would take, however, and am not qualified to write about them. Here, I'm talking about a specifically Christian experience which many devout followers of Jesus face in their walk towards closer union with God. The pilgrim is actually moving closer to God in the so-called dark night of the soul, but it seems quite otherwise. He becomes intensely aware of his own sinful nature and the great difference between his own being and that of God. The individual feels that God is further away from him than ever, and with this perception (which is erroneous) comes a sense of great sadness. Previously, he had enjoyed his prayer times and participating in the Eucharist; now, he is deprived of these consolations and feels abandoned. In this sense of sadness the dark night imitates depression. Inexperienced counsellors, especially if they are not from a background of faith, may mistake one for the other. And the situation is further confused by the fact that both may coexist. A depressed client may be undergoing the dark night as well as depression - and the person who knows, from his or her spiritual director, that he is in the dark night may also be depressed. The most helpful way to distinguish between them, and to give the client the maximum psychological and spiritual help, is for a counsellor and parish priest to work closely together when faced with someone in this situation. I have been doing this recently with a middle-aged woman whom I'll call Julie. Obviously, this is not her real name, and I've altered other personal details to preserve her anonymity. She gave permission for me to tell her story, because she thought it might be useful to others, and I agree. Julie, at 55, was experiencing a state of depression brought on by a quarrel with one of her adult children. Her son, whose marriage was breaking up, accused Julie of bringing him up unwisely so that he could not relate well to women; he implied that his own problems were all Julie's fault. As a single mother, deserted by her partner after the birth of their son, Julie had always worried that she was an inadequate mother, and her son's accusations triggered an acute sense of guilt, of total uselessness and failure as a parent and as a human being. No wonder she was depressed. Her parish priest, however, thought that something else might be going on, and with Julie's permission we talked about her situation and what might be happening to her. He knew Julie to be a devout Christian, and felt that she was in a process of deeper enlightenment that could emerge after she had lived through the dark night. Julie's depressed mood was stabilized by anti-depressant medication, but she still felt deeply unworthy. As a practicing Christian who regularly attended Mass and prayed and meditated every day, Julie began to feel increasingly cut off from God. Her sense of God's absence was different from depression. She did not feel the self-loathing that had assaulted her during her depression, but she did feel her own sinfulness, and wondered what had gone wrong in her relationship with God. Nothing was wrong, her parish priest told her: her situation was typical of what is experienced by every pilgrim and would-be saint, and would come to an end when it had run its course. It was, he said, a form of purification that is necessary to enjoy greater union with God, and this is what would happen as long as Julie stayed faithful to her prayer life. The dark night of the soul was, said the priest, actually a case of being blinded by the light! The tremendous love and light of God so overwhelm the seeker's soul that it feels like darkness at first, but the pilgrim who persists will find at last that he is enjoying a closeness to God that he has never before been able to attain. One state - depression or dark night - does not exclude the other. If anyone feels that he might be going through either of these processes, it's really important to discuss it with a priest as well as a doctor. In Julie's case she found that she did indeed feel closer to God in the end, but if she had not sought treatment for depression she might never have realized the underlying, beneficial process taking place in her soul. Gurdjieff describes the dark night experience in "All and Everything". The souls approaching most closely to God feel deeply their own sinfulness, and their separation from their Creator. Even their very existence as individuals can come to seem painful. They want to dissolve into unity with God, but cannot do so by their own efforts. This story is very illuminating and deserves serious study by all Work students, but especially by anyone who thinks they may be experiencing a dark night. May all who undergo this darkness come through it stronger, wiser and closer to their goal.