Animal spirits

Bob Ward reflects on John Milton and John Woolman

At one point in John Milton’s epic poem Paradise Lost (1667) Satan creeps up on Adam and Eve while they are asleep with a view to upsetting God’s handiwork. In the guise of a toad he seeks to infiltrate Eve’s ear with a venom that ‘might taint th’ animal spirits, that from pure blood arise like gentle breaths from rivers pure…’ and corrupt her thoughts with discontent. Fortunately, angels intervened that time, if not later.

In the following century John Woolman had this to confide to his journal: ‘If I go to a religious meeting it puts me on thinking whether I go in sincerity and in a clear sense of duty, or whether it is not partly in conformity to custom, or partly from a sensible delight which my animal spirits feel in the company of other people, and whether to support my reputation as a religious man has no share in it.’

Although John Woolman was a genuine saintly Friend, I suspect that on this occasion his conscience gave him too hard a time. He does not deny his possession of ‘animal spirits’, but why should he feel that their delights were alien to a pious demeanour? In his time it was widely believed that there existed a chain of being that stretched down from God via angels to humankind and then to creatures of lesser powers.

Thus, humans held an intermediate place in the system of the world, having an awareness of God but sharing much of their nature with the animals. John Woolman did express a tender concern for the creatures into which God had breathed ‘the flame of life’ (Quaker faith & practice 25.05). However, that may have fallen short of recognising a kinship with animals that allowed some commonality of behaviour to be accepted with a chuckle rather than be suppressed.

Where does that lead us? I find it worth reflecting on the experience of Jesus’ disciples as he passed through Galilee teaching and healing. They were a disparate lot of young men, surely robust in their attitudes and behaviour. As they wandered about, attracting crowds, relying on hospitality where it might be offered, sometimes hungry – why else would they have been picking ears of corn on the Sabbath?

Surely ‘animal spirits’ would have come into play among such a bunch of blokes. There would have been banter, arguments and jostling for attention from their witty leader – but Jesus had chosen them because he had discerned that each possessed the capacity to respond to his message, to bear fruit and to become a Child of Light. For all but one this proved to be the case.

Self-denial is fitting when the ‘self’ to be rejected is the selfishness that tends to be part of the human package; but, fortunately, it is far from being the whole self, as acknowledged by our Quaker insistence on speaking to that of God in other people.

In our Local Meeting we often share simple meals together, whether following a period of worship or at a Sunday breakfast for open discussion. These are special occasions; we enjoy being together. The tone may be light-hearted at times (those ‘animal spirits’ emerging); yet, bonds are being formed between us that engender the confidence and respect to be honest about matters of real weight. The pious need not be unduly solemn. Even at funerals, in the midst of grief, we can still honour the deceased by recalling joyfully their sense of humour, their former flame of life.

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Comments

Humans are naturally gregarious.  Thanks for the reminder that the Gospels give us a vivid picture of the fellowship of the disciples.

By frankem51 on 16th August 2018 - 23:03

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