The life of David of Wales (Dewi), written by Rhygyfarch in the late 11th century, describes a beautiful triad of gifts depicting the saint’s life: a honeycomb, a fish, and a stag. In a previous essay, which you can find HERE, I explored the nature of symbolism itself, jumping off from Rhygyfarch’s brief explanation of what the honeycomb represents. This essay is a continuation of the previous one, focusing on the fish as the outer dimension of human life.
Since the first of Dewi’s three gifts is an invitation to see the spiritual meaning in a literal statement, it follows the other two gifts should be interpreted symbolically. There is an ancient teaching conveyed in the relationship between the fish and the stag. This teaching is inspired by Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians, “Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.” Monastic spiritual formation traditionally begins with the outer person (the fish) before progressing to the inner person (the stag).
Of course, there isn’t a neat and clear distinction between matters of the inner and outer person. They mingle together and at times are inseparable. They also need each other. They are two ends of a single spectrum, each always manifesting in relationship to the other, forming a generative dynamic tension, ever deepening and widening the scope of our being. They are opposed to one another in the same way as your finger and thumb, allowing you to grasp things more easily.
Just as our two eyes produce a singular visual experience, adding the nuance of depth to our perception, our inner and outer selves are the best of friends. They are each beautiful on their own, but they are even more beautiful when they dance. By identifying the inner and outer person and differentiating between them, we are better able to avoid fascination with superficial things on the one hand, and getting lost in our own heads on the other. We are fully alive when every aspect of our being sings together in joyful harmony.
The English word monk comes from the Greek word monos. It means “one” and is usually understood more precisely as “alone” or “solitary.” This is because the earliest monks were hermits who spent most of their time by themselves. But there are many ways to interpret the simple concept of “one.” While solitude is important, the primary way a contemplative life is aligned with the number one is through unity. Jesus said, “As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be one in us.”
There is both an outer and an inner meaning to the name monk. The outer meaning refers to a physical state, being alone in the desert. The inner meaning refers to the oneness we all share in God through Christ. Evagrius described this beautifully when he said, “a monk is a man who is separated from all and who is in harmony with all” and also “a monk is a man who considers himself one with all men because he seems constantly to see himself in every man.” (Trans by Bamberger)
John Cassian, a later follower of Evagrius, wrote a handbook for new monks called Institutes that was highly influential in the formation of western monasticism, including the early Celtic monks. He begins the book saying, “As we start to speak of the institutes and rules of monasteries, where could we better begin, with God’s help, than with the very garb of the monks? After having exposed their outward appearance to view we shall then be able to discuss, in logical sequence, their inner worship.” (Trans by Ramsey)
Cassian includes more than just monastic attire under the heading of outer person. He also describes all the intricate details of life in a monastery. When the daily and nightly prayers are sung, how the guest house works, why you aren’t allowed to keep any of your possessions, and what sort of food they consider delicious. All of this happens in a community of people united by their common vocation and way of life. Contemplative solitude should be situated within a larger system of accountability, tradition, and mutual support.
People bring out the best and the worst in us, like a mirror reflecting our unexamined habits. Solitude is a wise teacher, a powerful tool in the pursuit of wisdom, but few people are called to be completely alone. Most of us need someone else, at least some of the time. Therefore, friendship is an essential virtue of the outer person. Monasticism expresses itself outwardly in a rule of life as well as participation in a religious community. Rhygyfarch includes both aspects of the outer self in his explanation of the fish symbol.
“The fish declares his life of self-denial, for as the fish lives by water, he rejected wine and cider and everything intoxicating, and led a blessed life for God on bread and water only; for which reason he has been called ‘David the water drinker’.” (Trans by Davies)
Dewi’s sober lifestyle implies a rule of life and the nickname given to him by others implies community life. Whether or not we have the exact same outward expression of our contemplative vocation as Dewi or Cassian, our spiritual formation should still begin with the outward garb of the monk before moving, in logical sequence, to her inner worship.
If you would like to learn more about animal symbolism in the lives of Celtic saints, I will be presenting on the topic at this year’s Contemplative Summit, Oct 24-27 2024. My new friend Ken Hood will be interviewing me to discuss the way these symbols relate to Internal Family Systems (IFS), a therapeutic model Ken practices. Click HERE to sign up for free.
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