BOOKS
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withdrawn, as though the tension of waiting and hungering were more
tolerable than delight. To say nothing of love, even friendship (it is
"the one legitimate exception to the duty of loving only universally")
"is not really pure unless . . . surrounded by a compact envelope of
indifference which preserves a distance." And so she says nothing of her
experience of the divine, except that it generally comes over her during
the Lord's Prayer. She suffered from migraines and these, raging during
the moment of possession, enabled her to share in Christ's Passion. But
exactly what happens, what the sensation and the images are, is not
revealed. She passes over the experience and for the rest writes quietly, as
though no crucial issue affecting the validity of mystical union, not
to speak of life and death, salvation and damnation or even sanity, were
involved. Even languidly; she is entirely passive and "waiting" is the
essential expression of her faith . Her
only
striving is to hold herself
in perpetual obedience to the will of God. But it does not appear to
be
a heroic struggle. Whatever its undisclosed fervor may have been, the
contradictions and inconsistencies, the
guilt
trammeling both sides
of the decision, and tormenting her, whose allegiances had ranged
over natural science and revolutionary politics-by the time she comes
to faith, she seems pale and fatigued, at most, convalescent. This is dis–
appointing. One has a right to expect more of this woman whose
credentials for religious struggle were of the most dramatic kind-"the
Outsider as Saint in an age of alienation," as Leslie Fiedler says of her
in
his
introduction, and in virtue of which he calls her, "our kind of
saint."
Were it not for this, that she stands or is said to stand in a special
relation to "our world," Simone Weil's case, and whatever claim to
sanctity
it
may contain, would rest entirely with the Church. What is of
concern to our world-at least to myself-is the precise nature of this
relationship, and whether it is at all possible. I believe no such relation–
ship is possible, and that it is said to exist only because the half- or
quasi-religious would like to make an illegitimate use of Simone Weil's
case-its withholding of final commitment to the Church-to create a
middle ground on which their own religiosity can be safely supported.
It seems to me that an either-or is involved, much more drastic than a
good part of our generation would like to recognize, that the relation
of "our world" to religion can only be all or none, and that Simone Weil,
in
any event, does not belong in any compromise "our" side may
try
to
make with "theirs."
To begin with, there is no such thing as "our kind of saint."
The fact that Simone Weil comes from our world is not significant,
