Publisher's Note: Summa Neutra (pen name) is an independent intellectual currently writing a thesis on the so-called Black Notebooks and Heidegger's thought and writing. She shares her ideas on a variety of subjects — from the geopolitical to the mathematical, mystical, and ontological — on her own Substack, Summa Neutra. I'm delighted that Summa agreed to write a guest essay that includes an account of Loyola, whom this Substack is partially named after.

In this essay, I trace how Spanish mysticism, shaped by the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius of Loyola and the fiery asceticism of Teresa of Ávila, collides with the radical kenosis of Miguel de Molinos; a mystic whose “silent” surrender of the will leads inexorably to his condemnation by Rome. Between Jesuit discernment and Quietist disappearance, the question returns in its most austere form: can the soul truly love God by ceasing to will anything at all? And if so, what becomes of the will, that instrument of participation in divine life, when emptied to its limits, following the Pauline model: semetipsum exinanivit?¹

Asceticism and Mysticism: The Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius of Loyola

In the Jesuit tradition, mysticism is inseparable from asceticism: the path to God is not solely a matter of extraordinary visions or raptures, but rather the disciplined cultivation of an interior landscape capable of perceiving divine movement. To enter into the mystery of the soul’s longing for God, Ignatius proposes not sudden ecstasy but a meticulous schola interioris vitae, a sequential formation guiding the person from moral conversion to contemplative awareness.² Loyolism, in this framework, cannot be reduced to “pure active asceticism”; discernment itself functions as the organon contemplativo, the instrument by which the soul distinguishes subtle affections of the heart from true inspirations of the Holy Spirit.³

During the early modern period, especially in the aftermath of the Council of Trent, the Spiritual Exercises became a central instrument of Catholic renewal, training souls in examination of conscience, confession, moral rectitude, and a refined attentiveness known as discretio spirituum.⁴ This faculty navigates the tension between human freedom and divine grace, enabling the soul to recognize consolation and desolation alike as movements of the Spirit.⁵ Asceticism, in this context, is no longer merely mortification of the flesh, but a contemplative stance oriented toward God’s interior action, a disciplined receptivity in which the will is neither obliterated nor unrefined.

Spanish Asceticism and the Jesuit Mystique

Spanish asceticism in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries developed within a highly charged religious and political environment: the aftermath of the Reformation, confessional polarization across Europe, and the internal Catholic reform promoted by the Council of Trent. In this context, Iberian contemplative traditions fused Neo-Platonic and Kabbalistic influences, including the Zohar and the broader Hebrew-Andalusian spiritual legacy, with Cistercian-Benedictine emphases on oratio and lectio divina, and the affective and speculative mysticism characteristic of Franciscan and Dominican lines.

Figures such as Teresa of Ávila, John of the Cross, and Fray Luis de León exemplify an ascetical mysticism combining rigorous discipline with vivid, even erotic, imagery of union with God. Teresa writes that the soul is “nourished with the milk and sweet wine of love,” articulating a mysticism that is disciplined yet deeply affective.⁶ She insists, moreover, that “the Lord is not served only by raptures”: authentic mystical life must be grounded in obedience, discernment, and the persistence of the inner will.⁷ The Jesuit mystique fits into this landscape in a distinctive manner. Loyola’s Exercises are not merely a manual for confession and moral reform; they constitute a schola interioris that trains the soul in discernment, attentiveness, and gradual interior conversion. This procedural, ecclesial mystique is nevertheless contemplative and affective, standing in opposition to the Calvinist doctrines of sola gratia and sola fide. Here, the ascetic effort of the soul, united with grace, participates directly in its transformation without violating the primacy of divine initiative.⁸

Historical and Political Context of Spanish Mysticism

Spanish mysticism did not arise in a vacuum; it emerged in the crucible of post-Reformation Europe, where the Catholic Church, galvanized by the Council of Trent, sought both moral and doctrinal consolidation. The Iberian Peninsula became a laboratory of spiritual reform, a place where ascetic rigor was fused with intellectual subtlety. Jesuit formation, Teresa of Ávila’s reform of the Carmelite order, and John of the Cross’ mystical poetry were deeply intertwined with the political anxieties of the age: the fear of heresy, the reinforcement of hierarchical authority, and the challenge of unifying the corpus fidelium under a common, disciplined interior life.⁹ In this sense, asceticism was inseparable from ecclesial strategy: the soul’s interior training was simultaneously a defense of orthodoxy, a shaping of civic and spiritual order.¹⁰

Kenosis, Quietism, and the Condemnation of Molinos

Molinos’ Quietism is not simply a refinement of the Exercises; it is a radical leap into the void: a kenosis in which the soul ceases even to will God, on the argument that only through total surrender can divine love be received. There is a veil, a void, an unceasing contact with God; to “tear the veil” is to relinquish initiative entirely, to allow grace to descend unbidden; a crystallization that occurs without human interference.¹¹ This is a negative mystical epistemology reminiscent of neti-neti: “not this, not this,” in which the self is annulled without abandoning the doctrinal scaffolding of the Jesuit order in which Molinos was formed.¹²

Historically, the Guía Espiritual circulated widely in the 1670s and early 1680s, especially in Rome and Naples, garnering favor among aristocratic women and pious clerics who longed for a “pure,” interior prayer beyond structured exercises. Yet by 1685 suspicion hardened, and the Roman Inquisition initiated formal proceedings. Condemnation proceeded in stages: informal warnings, culminating in the 1687 bull Coelestis Pastor of Pope Innocent XI, which condemned sixty-eight propositions drawn from Molinos’ writings.¹³ Molinos reportedly remarked from prison: “The prison is perfect for the quietist,” interpreting confinement as the ultimate interior exile, a radical stripping of all attachments, including speech itself.¹⁴

The Dialectic of Jesuit Discernment and Kenotic Passivity

Molinos’ radical kenosis represents the extreme counterpoint to the structured discretio spirituum of the Jesuits. While Ignatius of Loyola trains the soul to navigate spiritual consolations and desolations, Molinos advocates a withdrawal of volition itself: cessare voluntatem becomes the path to divine union.¹⁵ This tension exemplifies a recurring dialectic in Christian mysticism: the soul as agent versus the soul as receptive vessel, the actio humana versus the gratia sola. Here, the question is not merely theological, but phenomenological: can interior passivity itself constitute authentic love of God, or does it risk dissolving the very subjectivity that allows love to be freely offered?¹⁶

Quietism Beyond Molinos: Fénelon, Guyon, and the European Trajectory

The condemnation of Molinos is only the beginning of a longer European engagement with Quietism. Figures such as Fénelon and Madame Guyon would later attempt a more moderated kenotic approach, emphasizing the passive purity of love while retaining obedience to ecclesial authority. Fénelon’s Explication des Maximes des Saints (1697) provoked new controversies and ultimately papal censure, highlighting the persistent anxiety that a mystical extreme might undermine the moral and doctrinal fabric of the Church.¹⁷ Molinos emerges as master of “dangerous passivity,” a figure whose interior liberty threatens institutional order, yet whose vision of kenotic surrender continues to fascinate mystics and philosophers alike.¹⁸

Positive Nihilism and the Politics of Condemnation

Philosophically, Molinos’ position embodies a form of positive nihilism: the soul adheres to a doctrine already deemed impossible by the institutional arbiters of theology. The spiritual subject becomes a “loser by design,” accepting with a kind of interior joy whatever judicial or ecclesiastical verdict is imposed. The Roman judgment thus operates not only as a moral correction but also as a boundary marker, demarcating a mysticism of responsible discernment from one of radical interior passivity.¹⁹ Subsequent writers, including Fénelon and Madame Guyon, attempted to navigate a similar path, emphasizing passive love, yet their work provoked further condemnations under Innocent XII and Clement XI.²⁰

Molinos emerges, in this trajectory, as a negative archetype: the mystic whose eagerness to empty the self threatens the coherence of Christian doctrine itself. Teresa of Ávila had warned against spiritualities that “lose themselves in raptures while ignoring the commandments,” a criterion that ultimately guided the Roman judgment.²¹ As one papal consultant reportedly remarked: “Where the will disappears, error enters in silence,” underscoring the fear that Quietism, in its extreme, substitutes divine action entirely for human cooperation.²²

Kenotic Desire as Philosophical and Existential Phenomenon

Molinos’ spirituality can also be read through a philosophical lens, as a form of positive nihilism: a voluntary self-emptying that simultaneously affirms and negates the subject. Here, kenosis becomes a mirror of the existential condition: the soul stripped of all initiative, yet paradoxically positioned at the threshold of infinite receptivity. Voluntas absque actione, the will without action, challenges classical notions of agency, inviting reflection on the ontological status of the soul in relation to God. In this light, Quietist mysticism anticipates later existential and phenomenological inquiries into selfhood, freedom, and surrender.²³

Molinos at the Crossroads of Spanish and Jesuit Mysticism

Molinos’ Quietism thus stands at a crossroads: a convergence of Spanish mystical tradition, Jesuit asceticism, and Tridentine theology in a single, tortured figure. The kenotic impulse, already present in Rhenish and later Protestant mysticism, is pushed to its limit, yet Rome insists that even contemplative emptiness must remain within doctrinal bounds. The condemnation is not merely theological; it is political and institutional, signaling that the post-Tridentine Church would tolerate no mysticism undermining unity of will, law, and grace.²⁴

For contemporary readers, Molinos exemplifies a tension central to Christian spirituality: the danger of reducing the soul’s response to God to mere passivity, versus the necessity of a mysticism both contemplative and volitional. True mysticism must remain faithful to the Spiritual Exercises, without surrendering to the solipsism of silence. Kenotic desire, in this sense, is not a problem to be solved but a persistent structural horizon, a measure of both the depth and the risk of interiority.

1.Philippians 2:7 (Vulgata: semetipsum exinanivit).

2.Kieran Kavanaugh, OCD, and Otilio Rodríguez, OCD, trans., The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross (Washington, DC: 3.Institute of Carmelite Studies, 1979), 65–120.

4.Ignatius of Loyola, The Spiritual Exercises, ed. David L. Fleming, SJ (Chicago: Loyola Press, 1978), rules 1–18.

5.Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism, vol. IV (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), 153–189.

6.Teresa of Ávila, The Interior Castle, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh and Otilio Rodríguez (Washington, DC: ICS Publications, 1979), 18–19.

7.Teresa of Ávila, The Way of Perfection, trans. E. Allison Peers (New York: Image, 1991), 87.

8.Louis‑César de La Brossière, Explication des Maximes des Saints (1697), in Fénelon on Quietism, ed. Donald A. Dorr (New York: Paulist Press, 1981), 15–28.

9.Miguel de Molinos, The Spiritual Guide (1685), in Quietism in the Time of Molinos, ed. J.A. John M. Balmer (London: Burns & Oates, 1957), 44–45.

10.José Ignacio Tellechea Idígoras, El Quietismo en España (Madrid: Encuentro, 1980), 12–14.

11.Ibid., 15–16.

12.Miguel de Molinos, The Spiritual Guide, 44–45.

13.Ibid.

14.Pope Innocent XI, Coelestis Pastor (1687), in Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, ed. 15.Norman P. Tanner (London: Sheed & Ward, 1990), 2:772–773.

16.José Ignacio Tellechea Idígoras, El Quietismo en España, 187.

17.Ibid., 189.

18.Ibid.

19.Louis‑César de La Brossière, Explication des Maximes des Saints, 15–28.

20.Ibid., 22–25.

21.McGinn, The Presence of God, vol. IV, 212–215.

22.Ibid., 216–218.

23.Teresa of Ávila, The Way of Perfection, 87.

Cited in Tellechea Idígoras, El Quietismo en España, 189.

24.See Molinos’ concept of kenosis as existential surrender, The Spiritual Guide, 44–46.

25. McGinn, The Presence of God, vol. IV, 215–218.

Kenotic Desire: Spanish Mysticism between…