The Beauty and Poetry of Labour（２）　Simone Weil /English

Continued from the previous article

The Beauty and Poetry of Labour（１）　Simone Weil　/English

Ⅶ. The Labourer and Poetry: Jesus Christ, ed

In this context, it seems reasonable to conclude that Weil is referring to the Catholic Eucharist, or Eucharistia hostia. This is, of course, an intuitive conjecture, yet it remains plausible to suggest that Weil maintained a critical perspective towards the monotonous and arduous nature of factory labour. Moreover, she implies that the hostia has been reduced to a mere habit—an observation aligned with her critique of the increasing materialism and secularisation of the Church. I argue that this insight emerged from her personal experience as a labourer, leading her to realise that the act of consuming food and drink, devoid of the accompanying physical effort, could be seen as a more materialistic pursuit.

My preference for Weil, over many other philosophers and theologians, lies in her focused exploration of the condition of the ‘labourer’. Furthermore, her spiritual ‘turns’, which many find challenging to interpret, are consistently anchored in the figure of Jesus Christ. The issue of poverty tied to labour remains a pervasive and universal challenge, even in modern contexts. It is also worth noting that Jesus himself had a profound connection to labour, given that Joseph, his foster father, was a carpenter.

＊＊＊

・Travail manuel. Pourquoi n’y a-t-il jamais eu un mystique ouvrier ou paysan qui ait écrit sur l’usage du dégoût du travail ?　La pesanteur et la grâce

・（Manual labour. Why has there never been a labourer or peasant mystic who wrote about the experience of disgust towards work?）

・Travail manuel. Le temps qui entre dans le corps. Par le travail l’homme se fait matière comme le Christ par l’Eucharistie. Le travail est comme une mort.

（Manual labour. Time enters the body through labour. Through work, man becomes matter, just as Christ becomes matter through the Eucharist. Labour is akin to death.）

＊＊＊

This assertion appears in Gravity and Grace (La pesanteur et la grâce), where Weil reflects on the mystery of labour, drawing a parallel between work and the transformation that Christ undergoes in the Eucharist. This connection evokes Christ’s anguished cry from the cross: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”—an expression of divine abandonment. Christ suffered fully as a human being, and conveying the meaning behind these beliefs can be profoundly challenging. Faith is often deeply intuitive and internal, making it difficult to articulate through rational discourse alone. From a Catholic perspective, reflecting on why one might embrace Catholicism involves recognising the inherent contradictions within the institution, which may serve as part of its appeal.

In early Christianity, the teachings of Jesus were transmitted orally and through personal encounters, embodying a distinctly spiritual and individual approach to faith. As the Church’s influence expanded within the Roman Empire, however, faith became increasingly institutionalised, with doctrines and rituals formalised over time. This evolution established faith as an entity rooted in institutional authority, often intertwined with political power. Catholicism continues to value mystery and intuition, yet these elements have also been absorbed into its institutional framework. Although Weil’s exact reasons for embracing Catholicism remain unknown, I believe it was the very contradictions within the faith that captivated her. Amidst the materialism and corruption that taints some members of the clergy, she found solace in her connection with the humanitarian Fr Perrin. When I challenged Fr Perrin on the Church’s practice of excommunication, he replied in writing, comparing it to an act of weeping. Regrettably, this letter never reached Weil.

Weil recounts three significant encounters with Catholicism following her factory experience. The first occurred in a small Portuguese village, where she witnessed fishermen’s wives singing sorrowful hymns. This encounter led her to perceive Christianity as a “religion of slaves,” realising that those who suffer need faith for solace—and that she, too, was one of these “slaves.” The second encounter took place in Assisi in 1937, where, for the first time, she knelt in a small chapel associated with St Francis, experiencing a profound reverence for God. She also immersed herself in the liturgy at Solesmes, enduring severe headaches but finding comfort in the beauty of the hymns and words. These experiences offered her a glimpse into the possibility of understanding divine love beyond human suffering, etching the Passion of Christ deeply into her spiritual consciousness.

For her third encounter, Weil committed to reciting the Lord’s Prayer (Pater) in Greek each morning with complete focus. During these prayers, she often experienced a profound silence, sometimes feeling as though her thoughts transcended her physical body, enabling her to sense the loving presence of Christ. This practice of prayer became a vital means of direct contact with the divine for her. Her engagement with Catholicism left a significant imprint on her thoughts and beliefs.

The term “Catholicism” in this context encompasses the formal doctrines, rituals, and institutions of the Catholic Church, along with its social and cultural impact. The Pope is viewed as the supreme authority, and Catholicism emphasises the institutional and public dimensions of tradition-based education and social action. It can be described as an “outward-looking” phenomenon, centred on the officially recognised doctrines and institutions of the Roman Catholic Church. Although personal “intuition” remains vital for practising Catholics, it is noteworthy that Weil—despite her deep involvement—never received baptism, or passed away before she could do so, suggesting that her spirituality transcended institutional boundaries.

Weil’s factory experience allowed her to empathise with the suffering of others and to recognise herself as a “slave.” This realisation profoundly shaped her spirit, leading her to see herself as an anonymous figure within society, much like Christ, who bore the weight of human suffering.

The Psalms of the Old Testament offer a poetic connection between God and humanity, expressing a spectrum of emotions through praise, prayer, and lament. Other biblical texts, such as the Song of Solomon, Job, Proverbs, Lamentations, and sections of Jeremiah and Isaiah, also contain poetic elements. However, the New Testament does not portray Jesus Christ in poetic form.

Why, then, is Jesus not praised through poetry? This absence may reflect the early Christian focus on spreading the faith and establishing communities within the material world. The practical need to communicate teachings clearly and accessibly took precedence over poetic expression, leaving any poetic sentiment about Jesus to the reader’s interpretation. The narrative structure and instructive parables used in the Gospels were essential for conveying the message to diverse audiences across different cultures and languages.

In this context, Weil’s concept of the ‘labourer’ serves as a symbolic connection to Jesus. It is not merely physical sustenance that labourers require, but rather the nourishment of the soul and imagination.

Even today, the issues surrounding poverty and labour are not easily categorised as either social problems or matters of personal responsibility; they remain deeply intertwined, presenting challenges without clear solutions. Viewing poetry solely as an act of creative expression reflects a subjective perspective, reminiscent of Plato’s theories. However, my focus has been on Weil’s engagement with Catholicism, despite her not being baptised.

Can we view labourers not as mere material beings but as individuals who share in Christ’s suffering?

While the hostia, representing Christ’s flesh, may exist within sacred rituals, it is undeniable that institutional corruption often reduces it to mere bread. Labourers need more than this—they require a poetic sentiment capable of inspiring and enriching their lives. Historically, poetry has expressed devotion and reverence towards God, articulating moral and ethical ideals. To what extent, though, can humanity embrace such ideals today?

Weil does not deny the necessity of bread in addressing physical hunger; rather, she distinguishes between this and the spiritual nourishment she seeks. Her writings call for a deeper exploration of suffering and the human experience, frequently referencing Jesus Christ as a guiding figure. In doing so, she reveals a profound religious intuition that underpins her perspectives on contradiction and transformation.

Ⅷ. Reflections　

Perhaps you may glimpse poetic sentiment in the theme of ‘light and shadow.’ I wonder what thoughts stir within you as you observe the shadows cast by trees and the way light dances upon an outdoor wall. The delicate interplay between light and shadow conjures countless associations. Shadows, it could be said, are ephemeral—born from the presence of light, yet perpetually shifting and fleeting. If we draw upon Plato’s allegory of the cave, we might surmise that what we perceive as reality is but a shadow of the true essence, a projection on the wall that we mistake for the real. This enchanting scene offers only a fragment of truth, revealing but a glimpse of a larger whole.

In Japanese thought, this interplay evokes the concept of mujo—impermanence—capturing the transient meeting and parting of light and shadow. In Japanese literature, cherishing such seemingly insignificant moments is, in itself, a literary act. Gaston Bachelard, for his part, refrained from naming such experiences, instead drawing profound meaning from the essence of the fleeting moment.

While some may interpret this view as offering solace to labourers, my perspective has been shaped by Christian evangelism. Light and shadow, deeply symbolic throughout tradition, reveal beauty wherever the heart is open to see it. Yet if we are to embrace the full scope of Weil’s reflections on ‘labour,’ we must look beyond the mere interplay of light and shadow. We are called to confront the very symbol of ‘labour’ itself, not in its economic sense, but as a representation of poverty. Symbols, which merge the tangible with the abstract, demand both conceptual understanding and authentic engagement with reality.

One might say that while poetic sentiment grants us a certain freedom, we must also tread the path of poverty that Jesus embodies.

In Matthew 25:40, Jesus offers a parable that illuminates his royal worthiness: “Whatever you did for one of the least of my brethren, you did for me.” Conversely, he warns, “What you did not do for one of these least, you did not do for me.” These words convey that service to the most vulnerable is, in essence, service to Jesus himself. Yet bound within this message are daunting challenges, tangled with complexity, leading us away from the realm of poetry and heartfelt inspiration.

Indeed, those who place their faith in Jesus Christ may encounter moments of profound intuition, a deep sense of spiritual insight. Yet to articulate the poverty that Jesus embraced, and to share its meaning with others, is no easy task. The human heart, it seems, is caught in tension—yearning to draw nearer to the divine mystery, while fearing to lose itself within it. In recognising my own impermanence, I discover within myself a compassion tinged with humility—a challenge that mirrors my understanding of Jesus. This reflection becomes the essence of my redemption: not a pursuit of abstract beauty, but of a beauty that longs to take tangible form.

Amid the complexities of doctrine and the mysteries of faith, I have anchored my thoughts in the figure of the ‘labourer.’ Honouring Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus, I pay tribute to Simone Weil, whose words resonate with this enduring theme. Through her eloquence, Jesus walks the landscape of the heart, emerging as a poetic sentiment. Though the New Testament does not portray Jesus in the language of poetry, it was perhaps Weil who most profoundly conveyed that the journey to discover this poetic truth lies within us.

Lastly, I have chosen to translate “Work” consistently as “Labour.” In English, “Labour” encompasses not only work but also the pains of childbirth, whereas French distinguishes between these meanings with different words. For Weil, however, the shared Latin root may have embodied a deeper connection. She left us with these poignant words in her notebooks: “Writing is akin to childbirth. One cannot help but strive to the point of feeling limits.” This is an experience familiar to anyone who has engaged deeply in writing, regardless of their grasp of Latin. Yet knowing Weil, it is likely she uncovered within this act a profound mystery.

In this light, perhaps she was indeed a ‘teacher’ in the truest and most profound sense.

Comments:

＊Although this work does not engage with Kantian thought, it is possible to reflect elements of Kant’s philosophy.

＊Les travailleurs ont besoin de poésie plus que de pain is part of the “Workers and Mysteries” chapter in Gravity and Grace, and it continues with Seule la religion peut être la source de cette poésie. (Only religion can be the source of this poetry).

＊I hope you will accept this critique, even though it references literature. While it does not mention Kantian thought, it can reflect it as well.

＊Les travailleurs ont besoin de poésie plus que de pain appears in the “Workers and Mysteries” chapter of Gravity and Grace, followed by Seule la religion peut être la source de cette poésie. (Only religion can be the source of this poetry).

References:

• Simone Weil 『La pesanteur et la grâce』『La Condition ouvrière』『Attente de Dieu』『La pesanteur et la grâce』

• Tome VI, volume 2, Cahiers 2 (septembre 1941- février 1942), Paris, Gallimard, 1997.

• George G. Humphreys, Taylorism in France, 1904-1920: The Impact of Scientific Management on Factory Relations and Society

• Plato / Allen, R. (TRN), 『The Republic』

• 暗い時代の三人の女性, 晃洋書房

• シモーヌヴェイユアンソロジー, 河出出版

Please note that, as of now, this paper does not provide references to literature specifically addressing Catholic sacraments. The relevant details will be submitted at a later date.

2024年10月18日 1

Sacred and Secular phenomenology.

Why is it beautiful?
While I keep on chasing it,
My heart knows better than I do. Where to go for it.

A Sacred and B Secular.　Chris Kyogetu

１Artwork with a phenomenological gaze.

Have you ever thought about sketching a building on a street you pass every day, just once? It is a building you should see every day. You may be able to describe the features of the building, but you cannot spontaneously say how many windows it has. If you were to draw it, you would start by counting them.

It is difficult to find a place for sensitivity to live. Sensitivity cannot be used as a simple form of communication: living in the 20th-21st century, we are exposed to works of ‘expressionism’ and ‘artistic supremacy’, we are taught that we have ‘freedom’ (freedom by breaking away from religion) in our hands. We will see famous works of art as if they had been chosen by the freedom and good will of man.

But on the contrary, many questions will arise in front of the painting as to why a single painting is so expensive. Few people can explain why this one painting is worth so much, and its magical survival strategy as a business strategy. Apart from the fact that the Church commissioned the painting, there are many lies about how the demand for it was created. We accept the world vaguely, without subdividing it, like a building that does not know how many windows it has, but always exists.

A building has a role to play. But when I, as an outsider, try to sketch it, when I try to mix the external time of the building with the mental image of the building, when I start to count the windows, I have an inner world of my own.

When religions chose paintings, the criteria were simple. All that had to be painted was a saint, even if there was no understanding on the part of the church. Once people were painted, the subjects became endless. It is not known how many people have synaesthesia, so why are they chosen? How can one person’s ‘dream’ cost hundreds of millions of dollars? Some people can choose one or the other: manifestation through recognition by others, or manifestation of a value that only they know. Some people cannot choose. I am one who could not choose. The reason is that it is not as simple as the dichotomy between the sacred and the secular.

That is why we can no longer distinguish between them and the ‘sacred’. That is why the first thing to be baptised, as a sublimation from sensitivity to sensibility, is to learn ‘interdit’ in the body.　

A misunderstanding of Bataille’s ‘transgression’ by many irreligious people is that they assume that transgression into prohibition is the abolition or removal of the ‘sacred’, thereby confusing it with evolution – freedom. (Erotisme coll 10/18, p. 68,69)　

The eroticism of Bataille and Baudelaire, the fetishism of Roland Barthes, are not new discoveries. They were philosophies of the original state of nature that broke taboos. They understood Catholic sanctity and were oppressed by it, but did not seek to abolish it. We must not think of them only and by the authority of religion.

＊Interdit is the French word for Catholic prohibition…Because Bataille is French.

２The Death of the Author

Hans Bellmer (Surrealist) His dolls represent ‘love and death’ and death has a gender. As a German, death (Tod) is a masculine noun, but death and women are linked, as in his use of the French feminine noun. He also illustrated Georges Bataille.

There are differences between the production processes of spherical-joint dolls and statues of the Virgin Mary. The statue of the Virgin Mary is dug out of a regular rectangle and does not show her nakedness (the skeleton and the flesh are conscious at the sculpting stage), but the spherically articulated doll is made out of material and is conscious of its nakedness.By associating the exposed genitals with the naked body and the mutilated corpse, it is even more related to the sexuality and death of the Battle philosophy.What is the entity confronting the spherically articulated doll? The answer is saints. Remember that St Bernadette is beautifully preserved as a mummy. She became not only a corpse, but a transcendent being, but does the doll qualify?

　　At the intersection of the sacred and the profane in an A∩ B relationship lies the sacred part of art-humanity. Art in the Christian world is often like this. In literature, even in ‘Undine’, a Catholic priest creates the necessary conditions for the water nymph to become human.

But she dies because of human folly. What was the most beautiful thing in this story? It was the ‘love’ of the water nymph, who tried to approach the ‘human image’ defined by priests and Christian values. The tragedy of Undine having to kill the man who broke the contract is more love. Again, we can speak of a Bataillean transgression and interdit.

Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué：Undine　
by Arthur Rackham

Hans Bellmeer’s doll is said to have left traces of secrets. It has a spherical belly, an artificial daughter, and it does not tell the story of its life. Dolls were toys, but this doll plays with the human psyche. Abstract works are often not judged by visual information alone and require a thesis from the painter, as in the case of Malevich. Nevertheless, what is always required is a work of sensitivity towards the reader or viewer. Whatever the author’s background, he or she emerges as a signifier. This is exactly what can be said of Roland Barthes’s ‘The Death of the Author’: the work and the author are two different ‘Ones’, and the work is not a manifestation of the author. However, an intuitive (synaesthetic) viewer may find fragments of the author. It is impossible to say when the effect of the symbols will be felt after a long period of time, but the role of symbolisation is to give form to ‘pain’ which is often overlooked in the world of war, racial oppression, ideas and writing.

One of the things that has left a painful legacy is the cross-holes left in the Auschwitz camps, but it is impossible for us to experience the same pain. So is a place like Auschwitz enough to document the ‘tragedy’? War cannot be documented in many other ways. In times of catastrophe, we revisit the catastrophic past. But puppets can be applied to war and other contemporary tragedies. Artworks are prepared to be applied to many different positions.

In a sketch, the external value of existence is like counting the number of windows. You don’t need to know the number to have everyday problems. But when you start counting, it shows your humanity.

…… For example, you are a teacher. When you ask your students to draw, they all draw different pictures.

Is this pure work the same as an unjust or immoral mind? Unfortunately, as human functions, they are the same. If we were to assign superiority or inferiority to them, it would depend on the moral ethics of the time. As proof of this, we remember that Gauguin’s paintings were treated as pornography in modern times.

３Sacred and Secular Phenomenology

What should be Epoché (phenomenological suspension) regarding the sacred and the profane is ‘happiness’. Today, happiness is divided into happiness that can be communicated to others and happiness as the value of one’s own existence. People always live in search of happiness and do not want their happiness to be violated. If they are uncomfortable with religious talk, it is because their own sense of the value of happiness is shaken. Therefore, you must suspend the urge to be happy. Phenomena are not driven solely by happiness. We must recognise that reality. Are you under the impression that works of art make you happy? Well, that is a mistake to begin with. One’s own sense of happiness interferes with the perception of the sacred. This is also true for religious people, whose awareness of true happiness can become a word unto itself and lead to unaccountable injustice.

It is not to denigrate faith that phenomenology is concerned with phenomena. Religion has also become an obstacle for those who associate philosophy with happiness, but that is exactly what must be done to Epoché. It is tantamount to not even understanding actual existence. For they have stopped thinking about where in the world they have been dropped by the values of happiness: ‘I could be happy with philosophy without religion.’ Today, just as the poet Baudelaire defined God and the secular not as a dualism but as a vertically equal position from the human point of view, I see the relationship between the sacred and the secular not as a dualism but as a set theory, like A∩B. As a world event, the sacred does not ‘attachment’ but ‘includes’.

Oscar Wilde’s Salome example will be the last. John the Baptist, who was executed, was located at A-B. Oscar Wilde was an adaptation of the Bible but understood it well. Had he not attempted to convert to Catholicism, he would not have turned his attention to this ‘Interdit’.（prohibition）

Oscar Wilde’s Salome is not a simple indulgence. If he had chosen to tell an unregulated story, using only his imagination, he could have come up with an ending in which Jokanaan was not executed and Salome was not killed. He was well versed in freedom and law (Interdit) as to why Salome had to be killed. The evidence for this is that Oscar Wilde converted to Catholicism in his later years.

Jesus Christ crossed over to the people with his own feet, but Joan the Baptist (Jokanaan) obstinately refused to forgive King Herod’s unfaithfulness. In the Bible, Salome’s original book, John appeared to testify to the light (Gospel according to John, chapter 1) and to say that Jesus was the Son of God. John the Baptist was so righteous that he even advised against religious leaders. (Matthew 3:7-12)

I don’t know why Wilde understood this, however, it was biblically correct for him not to answer Salome’s love. Jesus can move from justice to love. It also makes sense to explain the Holy Spirit’s involvement in the events of this world that the Trinity has its own persona and that the Holy Spirit comes and goes.

Oscar Wilde: ‘Salome’.
Painting by Aubrey Beardsley.

The creator of a work of art dies, but we make a mistake if we see this death as just ‘death’. We must not forget that this ‘death’ is typical of Jesus. John the Baptist did not come back to life, Lazarus was a reanimation. Nor did Jesus’ resurrection give him another life, as in reincarnation. Even Mary, weeping at the tomb, did not recognise Jesus after the resurrection. Hans Bellmeer and other writers have also not been analysed and resurrected. They have only assumed their Creator, whom we have analysed from their writings and works.

It is banal for the transformation of the artist to be an observation only in the museum (and books). If it is to be a phenomenological reduction, it is to try to make the transformation everyday. Phenomenology is the philosophy of the everyday.

Last　ständig vorangent

Jesus Christ, the number corresponding to the Hebrew letters, adds up to (Jesus 888 + Christ 1480 = 2368) These three together are a golden ratio of 3:5:8, but the Hans Bellmer doll is not St Bernadette, but the woman who modelled it lived while hiding the fact that she was a Jew There was a woman.

The golden section is already calculated and present before we recognise it. What you do for others, you will do for yourself, is the golden ratio in modern biblical interpretation (Matthew: 7, Luke: 6). What you do for others will come back to you, so much so that it’s even been written about in business books, and we don’t need the noun Christian to hold this idea in our hands. It is an undeniable fact that events are not driven by happiness alone, but if you are looking for happiness yourself, it is a wonder that you are attracted to ‘work’, even if you do not know the Golden Rule. People pray to the miracle of the saint, to the presence of Bernadette, but not to this doll that represents pain. What it imitates is the love of the artist. Because of love, there was anger in the world. And it represented the liberation of the soul. That is the meaning of free creation.

If you begin to look at the mystery of being, why you ‘exist’, rather than the glory of being recognised in life, you will experience communion with the sacred and the profane. Jesus Christ found the pain and sickness of the people. For this age, these were things that the world had rejected. Is there a difference between this act and the reflections and mere observations of philosophy?

Like Jesus, who was aware of his poor existence. It’s banal that a life ends just before someone’s authority is spread throughout the world. During the war, when it was common to see corpses lying around, there were artists who made dolls of the women they loved. Waiting for the war to end is the time of the mundane. The passage of time makes cities without the scars of war. It is a sacred time to look at the reality that hides the pain so that there is no pain, and to look at what is hidden.

In the original title of this article, ‘Sacred and Secular’, M. Eliade says that sacred time is time that can be repeated many times. The two types of time experienced by religious people and the phenomenological time scale are very similar. Chronos (outer time) or Kairos (inner time). Inner time has its own time axis. When the sacred and the religious (sacramental) come close together, it is a different story because it requires ‘faith’. Consciousness is at the door of faith. When we are in front of it this time, we are happy. Belief and faith are two different things, I will not go any further.

Faith and susceptibility are closely connected. It has euphoria and tragedy, as if it were a soul. To be a creator and to want to ‘manifest’, whether this is a mere performance of the brain or a gift from God, becomes from here an inseparable belief in philosophy, but I wish to be given new ‘eyes’ on the ‘happiness’ that I have kept hidden until now.

This article is a series of articles. It and a recounting of Salome and Undine, which I dealt with in my book Iconograph.
The Phenomenology of the Bird’s Nest, which is also my theme.
I drew inspiration from Simone Weil’s philosophy lectures, On Between Instinct and Function.

Birds form nests out of parts of their lives.
Is it the Word of God, as in Matthew 13, or inorganic parts?

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