terrifying sightlessness. The something which I know I am is hollow
space to its vision, offers no resistance to the tiger's looking. It can
only see of me that which it knows I am, a scent, a resistance, a
voluptuous solid, a struggling warm violence that it holds overcome, a
running of hot blood between its Jaws, a delicious pang of live flesh in
the mouth. This it sees. The rest is not.
And what is the rest, that which is-not the tiger, that which the tiger
is-not? What is this?
What is that which parted ways with the terrific eagle-like angel of the
senses at the Renaissance? The Italians said, 'We are one in the Father:
we will go back.' The Northern races said, 'We are one in Christ: we
will go on.'
What _is_ the consummation in Christ? Man knows satisfaction when he
surpasses all conditions and becomes, to himself, consummate in the
Infinite, when he reaches a state of infinity. In the supreme ecstasy
of the flesh, the Dionysic ecstasy, he reaches this state. But how does
it come to pass in Christ?
It is not the mystic ecstasy. The mystic ecstasy is a special sensual
ecstasy, it is the senses satisfying themselves with a self-created
object. It is self-projection into the self, the sensuous self satisfied
in a projected self.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for
theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
The kingdom of heaven is this Infinite into which we may be consummated,
then, if we are poor in spirit or persecuted for righteousness' sake.
Whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other
also.
Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that
hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and
persecute you.
Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is
perfect.
To be perfect, to be one with God, to be infinite and eternal, what
shall we do? We must turn the other cheek, and love our enemies.
Christ is the lamb which the eagle swoops down upon, the dove taken by
the hawk, the deer which the tiger devours.
What then, if a man come to me with a sword, to kill me, and I do not
resist him, but suffer his sword and the death from his sword, what am
I? Am I greater than he, am I stronger than he? Do I know a consummation
in the Infinite, I, the prey, beyond the tiger who devours me? By my
non-resistance I have robbed him of his consummation. For a tiger knows
no consummation unless he kill a violated and struggling prey. There is
no consummation merely for the butcher, nor for a hyena. I can rob the
tiger of his ecstasy, his consummation, his very __my non-resistance. In
my non-resistance the tiger is infinitely destroyed.
But I, what am I? 'Be ye therefore perfect.' Wherein am I perfect in
this submission? Is there an affirmation, behind my negation, other than
the tiger's affirmation of his own glorious infinity?
What is the Oneness to which I subscribe, I who offer no resistance in
the flesh?
Have I only the negative ecstasy of being devoured, of becoming thus
part of the Lord, the Great Moloch, the superb and terrible God? I have
this also, this subject ecstasy of consummation. But is there
nothing else?
The Word of the tiger is: my senses are supremely Me, and my senses are
God in me. But Christ said: God is in the others, who are not-me. In all
the multitude of the others is God, and this is the great God, greater
than the God which is Me. God is that which is Not-Me.
And this is the Christian truth, a truth complementary to the pagan
affirmation: 'God is that which is Me.'
God is that which is Not-Me. In realizing the Not-Me I am consummated, I
become infinite. In turning the other cheek I submit to God who is
greater than I am, other than I am, who is in that which is not me. This
is the supreme consummation. To achieve this consummation I love my
neighbour as myself. My neighbour is all that is not me. And if I love
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