Discussing mysticism in the season of Epiphany seems fitting. I suggest epiphanies are mystical experiences. Experiences usually something simple and striking, mediated through our senses that give us an intuitive sense of reality. When we have a “mystical” experience it is as though we perceive the essential nature or meaning of something. (I will offer a few illustrations in a moment.)
To Bind Together
I think our innate and compelling hunger for meaning and our need to bring witness to our human condition in the world — our experiences of wonder and glory, mortality and death, resilience and fragility, ambiguity and transcendence — is at the heart of the religious impulse. I have a positive association with the word religion. The Latin religare means “to bind together.” We might prefer coherence, but failing that we attempt to bring together into some cohesive whole or narrative our experiences amidst unsolvable and unfathomable mystery. The Latin religere has a different nuance. It means “to go over again.” I suggest we can put it this way: “to pay particular attention.” To notice.
Religion is not static nor conclusive
Our impulse for meaning making in the midst of all we don’t know and never will, and our capacity to pay attention and insatiable curiosity to do so, is deep in our human nature. And always will be. Religion then is not static nor conclusive. But by necessity must employ the poetic, symbolic, metaphoric. Religion can become dark and controlling when it absolutizes. Whether for good or ill, I think we are homo religiosus. (Others argue we are homo faber, “the working man,” or homo politicus, “the political animal,” or homo sapien, “the wise man,” or homo ludens, “man the player…”).
I suggest our innate hunger for meaning and our capacity and need “to pay particular attention” are ingredients that make us receptive to what is called “the mystical.” Such epiphanic or disclosing experiences, influenced or interpreted by language, image, imagination, serve as apprehensions of “what is real.” Often “the mystical” seems more “real” than what was experienced before. I dare claim everyone, regardless of their participation in any particular “Religion” or none at all, has epiphanic or “mystical” experiences that shape their perceptions and actions. The only problem is, as Thomas Merton said, “we do not see it.” Or perhaps, culturally, we are not skilled in describing it.
It is interesting to note how Google defines mysticism, since many might go there to get a glimpse of what is being talked about. According to Google, Mysticism is:
1. Belief that union with or absorption into the Deity or the absolute, or the spiritual apprehension of knowledge inaccessible to the intellect, may be attained through contemplation and self-surrender.
I take exception to words like “Deity” and “absolute” (both are misleading) and I suggest “contemplation and self-surrender” are not pre-requisite. They may become by-products of a mystical experience. But I think mystical experiences are graces, freely “given” or received, not rewards or accomplishments.
The second definition is either humor or simply pejorative.
2. Belief characterized by self-delusion or dreamy confusion of thought, especially when based on the assumption of occult qualities or mysterious agencies.
Reinhold Niehbuhr (I think it was Reinhold and not his also influential brother H. Richard) who summarized (and then critiqued) the pejorative criticism of mysticism this way: Mysticism starts in the mist, has “I” in the middle, and ends in schism. (!)
I suggest we dislodge mysticism from navel gazing or esoteric realms of a privileged few and affirm with poet Mary Oliver (1935-2019) what is more honest and true:
“I don’t know exactly what prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention…”
In two short lines she affirms that we don’t know much [the quest is unquenchable] and a tenet I suggest is intrinsic and central to our being. Together they are the open door to mystical experience.
My friend and colleague who co-facilitates our second Saturday conversations in Bend, (retired Episcopal priest, The Very Rev. Bill Ellis), shared a number of citations from Sue Monk Kidd’s The Secret Life of Bees (2002) as part of our reflection on mysticism. They illustrate that what once may have been passed by as ordinary has become epiphanic, that is, important, meaningful, of value in analogical ways. Perhaps that is a fair definition of mystical.
I share snippets of the quotes from Sue Monk Kidd:
“I realized it for the first time in my life: there is nothing but mystery in the world, how it hides behind the fabric of our poor, browbeat days, shining brightly, and we don’t even know it.” pg. 63
“I was wondering what my body knew that I didn’t.” pg. 69
“Really, spirit is everywhere… just everywhere. Inside rocks and trees and even people, but sometimes it will get concentrated in certain places and just beam out at you in a special way.” Pg. 141
“If you have the right kind of ears, you can listen to a hive and hear the Christmas story somewhere inside yourself. You can hear silent things on the other side of the everyday world that nobody else can.”
“I looked down at the picture, then closed my eyes… [this was] the sign I wanted. The one that would let me know I was loved.” Pg. 256
“Our Lady [you might imagine any figure of devotion] is not some magical being out there somewhere like a fairy godmother. She’s not the statue in the parlor. She’s something inside of you… You don’t have to put your hand on Mary’s heart to get strength and consolation and rescue, and all the other things we need to get through this life… You can place it right here on your own heart. Your own heart… And whatever it is that keeps widening your heart, that’s Mary, too, not only the power inside you but the love. And when you get down to it, that’s the only purpose grand enough for a human life. Not just to love — but to persist in love.” Pg. 28-289.
Mystical experiences are more than ideas. They become embodied. They move you to act. And yes, persist in love.
And from Thomas Merton, albeit a contemplative, but his observation I am convinced would be ours if we only had the eyes to see:
“In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world…
The sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud… I have the immense joy of being a member of a race in which God became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now that I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.
Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, nor more hatred, nor more cruelty, no more greed…”
Mystical experience. We all have them. Share one of yours.
Hi, Marianne, Scott Stewart here. I was part of SG21 at Trinity Cathedral several years ago. Am in the midst of moving to Bend this year and noticed you had an event here yesterday. To my regret I was in Portland. But, it prompted me to find the website, and your piece on mysticism brought to mind a number of conversations we had on this and related topics. I’ll keep an eye out for future events and perhaps will see you sometime. In response to your request for mystical experiences, below is a recent take.
I have fond memories of SG21 and hope things are well with you,
Scott
HOMILY ZAZEN
Former things pass away…everything becomes new.
This is true for all things, especially the ones you long to keep.
Because the synaptic flash of a holy moment —fire from heaven—
conducts lightning to ground and is gone.
What you feel now is only your body’s fading memory of that moment, so desirable to
hang onto! No one would blame you if you do; feeling good is good.
But when you hang on, notice as a gently curving off-ramp slows down to an echoed infatuation,
narrowing. While the highway’s perfect velocity glides unabated across the hill above,
gravity slowly brings you to a graveled stop on the side of the road.
It’s ok. Relax. When you’re ready, get up to speed and merge back in.
Refocus your vision out past distance, beyond depth of field.
Hear the full movement of sound rushing by all at once, an ensemble playing
disintegration’s rapture, each part joyfully surrendering its particular tale.
Let acceleration disappear into the endless wheels whirling beneath you.
Watch each instant tear off the notepad and sail in the wind rolling over and past. If you
don’t look back at those pages, they’ll teach you how to let the off-ramps slide by
unneeded, like peripheral wisps of moisture disappearing in warm desert air.
You were made to move like this. Keep going. Maybe it ends, maybe it doesn’t,
but either way it’s still your best bet as your birth-breath reaches across the road-inlaid landscape:
Stay on it.
There’s no need for thinking now. If you didn’t feel love it means now you can.
The gaze —waiting— draws lightly on the cord of moonlit blinds, slats opening toward you from above the horizon.
-Scott Stewart -Draft- 3/1/19
Thank you so much for writing this. I’m an Anglican priest in the UK, and two years ago I had a deep mystical encounter, that has been completely life-transforming. In a time of silent prayer one night, I seemed to go beyond time, with a deep awareness of presence and light within. After a lifetime of prayer, there was in that moment such a sense of peace beyond anything I have ever known, and the connectedness of all things. Suddenly the story of searching for the pearl of great price made such deep sense, and I laughed so much. Having studied, read so much, been to churches and universities, travelled the world… and there, as I let go of my need to control, as I was truly present, lying in my ordinary bed, in my ordinary house, there was such a sense of encounter with the divine… having searched high and low, there, within, in that moment, was sacred space. Your post has been the encouragement I need to start being willing to share from my story, thank you.
Rachel, After reading your message, there are two things that struck me. There’s been a thread in your life, or probably the whole of your life, that’s been concerned with connecting with the divine. The mystical encounter was a part of all those previous experiences. The second part is that there was nothing special about the time or the place. It happened in a very ordinary place – in your own bed in your own house at a routine time of silent prayer. Both the serious search and the everyday combined for the mystical encounter. That’s how I interpret what you wrote. I’m sure mystical experiences happen in many different ways for different people. But I did receive a personal message from your post. I have always found prayer to be very confusing. The message I got was, Pray anyways. Prayer is part of something greater. Thank you.
Rachel. Thank you for opening to us this moment of grace and poignancy that, to borrow for, John Donne, “made one small room an everywhere.” And the sense of peace…that all is well at some deep, silent profound level amidst it all. And you were in that peace. That kind of experience you will never forget. And even if you don’t have one quite like it again it doesn’t matter. This one is for life. I am so stuck by your comment that for all your travel, study and church going (I am one of those too) it was this moment, unbidden even if sought after, that changed everything, Grace. Wonder. Mystery. And there it is.
For many years my husband didn’t feel comfortable sharing his “mystical” experiences. I think for concern that it would sound too narcissistic. But before his death he did share some of them. His sense, and mine too, these events in our lives are beyond our ego and it’s control or contrivance. And become an experience more real than anything we have experienced before. I honor your sharing this. And hope it will encourage others to know there is a way of seeing that we can experience that is our hope. For many of us it still eludes us. But once we glimpse it it will change the way we see everything. Thanks Rachel. Stay in touch with us . And thank you for your own work and ministry.
Thomas Merton wrote about his sudden realization that he and total strangers “could not be alien to one another.” I do have some sort of intellectual grasp of this. But unfortunately, for me, if it were to become a realization as he described it, I sense it would suddenly end when someone pushed my buttons or otherwise threatened me. I don’t want to take the focus away from others responding to the thoughtful essay which Marianne wrote. At the same time, I’m also curious as to whether or not others can relate at all to what I wrote. Undoubtedly, there’s something I’m missing. Admittedly, I have a hard time understanding mysticism.
I think the “mystical” experience is available to all of us. And we are capable of having them. But there is no forumula. Please push back. Also I am very intrigued with your comment that mysticism is somehow to “encompass the cross. “ I would love to hear you say more!!! For me mysticism does not deny nor short circuit the reality of death. And if that is a hoped for result we have missed the point entirely. Either this life is “worth the candle” as my mother used to say, or it isn’t. I suggest epiphanies help us recognize that this is indeed a one wild and precious life even though we will all be slayed. And this play is worth the candle. Please say more.
One way I think of mysticism is a “sense of connection with everything. So I said mystical experiences need to somehow include the crucifixion because if we’re only connected to that which feels loving and good, then that falls short. But now I’d add that this connection also needs to include the crucifier. It needs to include everything. Hopefully as we mature, we grow in our ability to empathize with others. Then perhaps our experience of the mystical also expands. The poem by Thich Nhat Hanh “Please Call Me By My True Names” spoke to me deeply and it also speaks of this kind of connection. Lest anyone think differently, I don’t identify with either the crucifixion or the crucifier. If I were to have a mystical experience, it would be much more limited than if I were able to allow myself to feel these kinds of connections. Marianne, I may be saying basically the same things that you said in a different way, but I’m not yet sure.
https://www.brookes.ac.uk/poetry-centre/national-poetry-day/thich-nhat-hanh–please-call-me-by-my-true-names/
Please Call Me By My True Names. Pt.1
by Thich Nhat Hanh
Do not say that I’ll depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive.
Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and
death of all that are alive.
I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time
to eat the mayfly.
I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,
and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,
feeds itself on the frog.
https://www.brookes.ac.uk/poetry-centre/national-poetry-day/thich-nhat-hanh–please-call-me-by-my-true-names/
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones, (Pt2/3)
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to
Uganda.
I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea
pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and
loving.
I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my
hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his “debt of blood” to, my
people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.
Thich Nhat Hanh
Please Call Me by My True Name (Pt 3/3)
My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all
walks of life.
My pain if like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.
Thich Nhat Hanh
Becky. Here is part two. Yes, mysticism for most of us I think is a vague notion and the experience itself perhaps thought of more as a nice fiction than a reality. I do hope others chime in on this. Concerning Merton’s experience. I don’t think this experience made him a saint if we think of saints as somehow having overcome being human. At best I think an experience like Merton’s shakes loose our empathy. That does not mean we are all in accord. It means we can understand where someone else is coming from, to some extent, whether we agree with their behavior or not.
The hope is, that slows or nullifies our typical reactive responses to for instance someone pushing our buttons. I actually think it takes real skill building and discipline to change our reactivity. I am a very slow learner in this regard. Epiphanies may not change our patterns immediately or maybe at all but they do open our awareness to another way of seeing…and that in itself is important. Grist for the mill. Real food for our soul. And the stuff of humane imagination. I don’t think you are missing anything. Your questions and curiosity is terrific and engaging. Thanks Becky for taking the time to share your reflections and adding to my own.
Marianne, I appreciate you writing this and giving us the space to respond.
I am both envious of those who claim mystical experiences and I also relate in part to the first part of Google’s second definition of mysticism. “Belief characterized by self-delusion or dreamy confusion fo thought.” When I think of Christian mysticism, I think it somehow has to encompass the cross and I have a real hard time with that. I think of having the right kind of ears just as you quoted Sue Monk Kidd as having written. But I’d change it to “If you have the right kind of ears, you can listen as the hungry bees buzz around you and hear the Christmas story somewhere inside yourself.”
Becky. I am responding in two steps. First I think your comments are really important. One reason I value them so is because they don’t just passively accept my premise. And your challenge that we don’t all have the “ears to hear.” Or “the eyes to see.” The statistics seem to be in your favor! hope others will respond to your comments as well. My own experience and why I hold a democratic view of mysticism. If I can “see” and “hear” then it is possible for anyone, everyone. There is a caveat and it is paradoxical: it is not because of my seeing or my hearing that I saw and heard. I am not sure I had the right ears or eyes either. But that became irrelevant in the moment of awareness. Now this might sound like some sort of self delusion or dreamy confusion!!
Thank you, Marianne, for your welcome reflections on myticism and epiphanies.
They remind me of some of my frequent readings from Emanuel Swedenborg, in “Divine Love and Wisdom”:
“It is obvious from actual experience that love generates warmth and wisdom generates light. When we feel love, we become warmer, and when we think from wisdom, it is like seeing things in the light. We can see from this that the first thing that eminates from love is warmth and the first thing that eminates from wisdom is light.” (#95)
“This much must be grasped in an earthly image, though — love and wisdom, or in other words the Lord who is divine love and wisdom, cannot move through space but is with every one of us depending on our acceptance. The Lord teaches in Matthew 28:20 that he is with every one; and in John 14:21 (14:23) he says that he makes his home with those who love him.”(#111)
Forster. So good to hear from you! And I appreciate your reference to Swedenborg whose work I know you have studied and embodied as well. I think it is fair to say Jesus was a wisdom teacher of love and light as well. Not as abstractions but as effective qualities we bring to the world. And these qualities are native to us. We have other qualities too! But I hold hope with these. Thanks for responding Forster.
I couldn’t agree more!
All I Remember Is . . .
wind over lake water,
sunlight’s path,
where dragonflies played,
and longing to walk
on water like Jesus.
There rose
a quiet still breath,
suns warm rayed arms
inviting me,
come, step, risk,
believe you can.
All I remember is . . .
sunlight setting,
wind casing,
shadows folding,
water painted a color,
of flamingo wings.
Gene I assume this is your poem. All I remember is…..ah, what lasts…thank you for this lovely view. Now we see it too.