Sunday, December 31, 2017

TALES OF THE MYSTIC JOURNEY - PETER AND PAUL

We turn to the Christian scriptures in our examination of the mystic journey.  Paul and Peter are identifiable historical figures in Christian scriptures. We know Paul as a historical figure because he wrote letters to the early churches he helped establish.  We know Peter is a historical figure because Paul wrote about having conversed with Peter.

Both Peter and Paul have transfigurative name changes. Peter starts out as Simon and Paul starts out as Saul.  Transfigurative moments and transfigurative name changes are common in all religions in which an individual is the beneficiary of some event or events that changes the perspective of the person, how the person is seen, or both.

My interest in writing about Peter and Paul in the same post is to compare and contrast two individuals who, in my opinion, represent two separate mind types but end up sharing the same perspective about Christ and the Church.

PETER

Peter is a principal character in the formation of Christianity.  Peter is a depicted as a person who "gets" things before he understands what he has gotten.  Peter whose original name was Simon was given the name Peter by Jesus after he responds to Jesus's question, "Who am I?" When Peter replies, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God," Jesus gives him the name Peter, the rock.[1]

Peter proves to be anything but rock solid, apart from having an apparent concrete mind.  Within two verses of calling Simon, Peter, Jesus is calling him Satan.  Peter can strike one as a bumbling idiot at times, but I would suggest otherwise.  Peter is intuitive and more right brained than left.  He gets the bigger picture, but doesn't grasp its full implication until later.

Peter grows or transforms into his transfiguration.  In fact, I would say Peter has several transfigurative moments that change his perspective of things.  I find it interesting that the two later gospels Matthew and John refer to Peter as Simon Peter; whereas, Mark and Luke call him Peter.

While the reason for calling Peter, Simon Peter can be explained as there being two disciples named Simon, one who is also called Simon the Zealot, the reference to Simon Peter may have to do with there being something very "Simon" about Peter.  In other words, outwardly speaking, Peter's personality did not change.  On the surface, he remained recognizably Simon.  What changed or (perhaps more accurately put) what was exposed in his transfigurative name change was the depth of his faith-vision.

Peter intuitively knew that he was engaged with something larger than himself. What that meant for him would emerge over time.  The Simon part of his persona (as is basically true of all surface personas) wanted to control or give the impression of being in control of the events in his life, but the reality is that his Peter persona was attuned to the flow of events that were shaping who he became.

Being named Peter by Jesus aided Peter in recognizing and accepting the transfigurative moments he encountered; such as, the Transfiguration of Jesus, his denial of Jesus at Jesus’s trial as foretold by Jesus, his witnessing Jesus's empty tomb, the Pentecost event, his trance on the roof top at Joppa.[2] All such events led Simon to probe and find the solid foundation of his integrity that made him Peter. Peter's story is very similar to Jacob's story. Both were works in progress that took time to be transfigured.  Both retained their surface personas but were given a different perspective of the world around them which allowed them to embrace the journey they embodied.

PAUL

Unlike Peter, Paul impresses me as being left brained; analytical and pragmatic.  Paul's transfiguration is best described as a conversion rather than a transformation.  Both Peter and Paul experienced pause prior to transfiguration.  In Peter's case one might be able to cite several moments of pause; such as, Jesus's rebuke of him, calling him Satan after naming him Peter, his bizarre reaction to the Transfiguration of Jesus, and his denying Jesus at Jesus's trial before the Sanhedrin.

Paul's moment of pause was much shorter and was the result of his blinding vision of Christ.  Paul is both converted and transfigured in one event.  His moment of pause is the literal blindness he endured after seeing the blinding light of Christ.  While much of Simon remains with Peter, most of Saul is lost in Paul. What Paul retains is his sense of pragmatic integrity.  Paul not only gets the bigger picture in Christianity, he understands how to make it work.

Since I have discussed much of Paul's theology in other posts, I won't go into it here. [Click here, here, and here to view them.] What Paul shares with Peter is an expansive vision of the mystic journey that all of creation is on.  While Peter witnessed the metamorphosis of Jesus into the risen Christ, Paul envisioned the risen Christ as the Body of Christ in the world; the metamorphosis of us all, symbolized as the Church.[3]  Peter understood Paul's vision, but lacked the ability to convince others of its relevance in the Church at Jerusalem. In some ways, Peter and those who knew the person, Jesus, could not see the full implication of Jesus's resurrection as Paul did. Having never known and having never met Jesus as another person but only experiencing him as the risen Christ freed Paul to see the much larger implication of Jesus's resurrection.  Peter came to share that vision and, like Paul, became an apostle to gentiles and the legendary founder of the Church at Rome.

INTEGRITY AND FAITH

The mystic journey is in many ways a story of transfiguration into one's true or whole self; a person of faith and integrity.  It appears rare to find a person who has both in equal measure.  As the mystic journey is about one's transfiguration into a whole being as part of Paradise Regained, we see in these tales of well-known biblical characters that their personal faith and integrity emerge as their life stories unfold.  Peter and Paul represent such emergence.

Looking from a distance of some two millennia, it would appear that Simon had a foundation of faith upon which to build, but lacked the integrity that would be found in becoming Peter.  Likewise, Saul had plenty of religious integrity but lacked faith which he would discover in becoming Paul.  Peter and Paul became whole beings as they transfigured into their true selves; capable of seeing the bigger picture and doing their part to broaden the perspective of us all.

Until next time, stay faithful.




[1] Matthew 16:18
[2] Acts 10:10
[3] See Galatians 3:28

Friday, December 15, 2017

TALES OF THE MYSTIC JOURNEY - JOB



The Book of Job is perhaps one of the most baffling pieces of ancient literature.  It is certainly one of the most baffling pieces of Hebrew and Christian scriptures.   The only effective way, at least for me, to understand Job is to read it as a myth, but not only a myth but rather as a mythic play - perhaps one of the earliest examples of a play in Canaanite and Hebrew culture and literature.

In fact, Job is so much like a play that Archibald MacLeish wrote a modern version of it called, "JB" in 1958.  Job also fits well into the realm of mystical literature as saying something about the mystic journey on this side of life; particularly, about the pauses (transitional moments that give us pause to consider who we are and what's happening) that occur.

Job is a tragic character, whose tragedy has nothing to do with anything he's done but rather what is done to him as a result of divine challenge initiated by God to Heaven's court adversary, Satan.  As a play, we, the audience, take a seat next to God as observers of a human tragedy in need of an explanation for which no logical one exists.  

Job's suffering serves no purpose. It does not make Job a better man.  It does not make God a better god. If anything, this play validates the colloquial sentiment, "shit happens."  With this tale, we enter into deep psychological terrain as Job and his three oldest friends engage in a dialogue trying to fill in the blanks as to why Job, a righteous man, finds himself in such a miserable state; setting the mood and conditions for us to be the jury.  So, if you haven't read the Book of Job or haven't read it this way; as a play, do so now and then come back to this post.

* * * * * * * * * *

WHY?  WHY NOT?

There are many ways to interpret Job.  Many see it as an examination of suffering or as meditation on Theodicy, as to how an all-powerful, all-loving God can allow suffering.  Suffering is very much an important factor in this tale, but if one treats Job as a play, suffering serves as a catalyst or a contextual prop for a broader discussion of the ontological question, "Why" to which the play gives an answer that many might consider unsatisfactory:  "Why not?"

In fact, the play begins with the answer in the form of the challenge God gives to Satan.  It is God who brings up Job and asks if Satan has given consideration to God's blameless and upright servant, Job.  Satan implies he has but then complains that God is protecting Job and in turn challenges God to remove God's protection and watch to see Job curse God to which God basically says, "OK, you're on. I won't protect Job on the condition you spare his life."   This divine challenge deepens as it results in increased suffering for Job; from losing his children and wealth to personal physical, mental, and spiritual pain. 

Now before one thinks this a glib or trite interpretation, wait, there's more.  The answer, "Why not," serves as a contextual setting in which the dialogue between Job and his three closest friends; Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar occurs.  Of course, Job and his friends have no knowledge of the divine wager involving Job's response to his suffering.

As an audience it helps, if possible, for us to suspend any knowledge about the conversation between God and Satan as Job and friends converse in order to see the play within the play.  The writer or writers of Job do an excellent job of helping us out.  They vividly depict the loathsome state Job finds himself in and introduce us to his wife whose name we are not given.  I think this is done with purpose. It somehow casts her brief appearance as a distraction of no consequence, but try to forget her.  One can't.

What she says shakes one into a realization that Job's situation is so painful that those around him are affected by it.  Job's wife sees the problem of his pain for what it is; Job holding on to his one reason for staying alive; his sense of integrity.  Job's wife knows of no reason for his suffering other than he is cursed; abandoned by God, and she advises Job to curse God in return and die.   Job agrees that God is the cause of his suffering; accepting, in general, the answer, "Why not," but in accepting this premise, Job finds he is unable to curse God for his suffering lot.

While Job accepts "Why not," as a premise for his suffering,  his sense of integrity, which is tied to his sense of justice demands an answer as to why him.  His reasoning mind cannot wrap around the abandonment he feels with God or the void of having no explanation.   "Having " makes "not having" a matter of justice, which invokes humans to reason.

Since Job's suffering does not reveal a reason, he pleads his cause to the void of his abandoned-by-God experience. Job's deeper pain is in being cut off from God.  Job goes so far as to say he could accept God killing him because God's doing so would make God present.  The worst torment for Job is the fact that he isn't dead but living as if he were dead; living without God's presence.

It is important for the reader to grasp Job's plight as Job understands it; otherwise, one is tempted to see Job as an arrogant, stubborn, bitter man who probably deserves what he is getting, which, in essence, is the conclusion his three oldest friends have come to.  There is a sense of arrogance in his standing up for his personal integrity.  He is stubborn in his resolve to get an answer, either dead or alive, and he is bitter about his life, but unlike his suffering, there is reason for his being so.

The dialogue between these four men is an examination of the human perspective on suffering, righteousness, and God's justice.  In the end, their speculative conversation proves irrelevant.  So I won't go into it, as interesting as it is.  The meanings of their names give one an idea of the perspective they are coming from.  Eliphaz means pure gold, as in God's righteousness and implies that suffering is for the unrighteous.  Bildad means old friend and his approach, while stating Job must have done something wrong his judgment is temperate in tone.  Zophar means rising early or chirping.  He is quick to pass judgment on Job as being arrogant.

If one would hear what they say outside the context of Job's story, one might think one was hearing a reading from one of the prophets or a Psalm.  By themselves they sound very scriptural, and they are, but they're contextually wrong in application and send the message: No one should use scripture in a speculative manner for determining the cause of another human's personal suffering or the cause of tragedy, in general.

There is one other character in this play that requires attention, Elihu.  Elihu means my God is He.  Elihu stands apart from Job's oldest friends.  He is young or younger and offers a defense of God after Job and his three friends are through speaking.  If I were to stage this as a play, Elihu would have been placed up stage in dim lighting serving, for the most part, as an observer throughout the play until he speaks.

While Job states he knows his redeemer (his defender) exists and will plead his righteousness in the courts of heaven[1], it is Elihu who shows up as God's defense lawyer and makes the case for God's righteousness in the court of Job and his friends; in the court of human reason.

In the end, it is God who declares his integrity and faith in what he has created, which Job's integrity validates. Human reason cannot fathom an answer to why or why not.  They are an ontological paradox - a Yin/Yang set. 

As a play within a play, I would stage it as if it were a dream from which Job awakens in a final scene that begins in total darkness with God voice addressing Job's friends; explaining that Job's children, property, and wealth are restored. Suddenly, a spotlight focuses on Job as he sits up eyes wide open in a bed.  Job awakens from what was a nightmare to the unexplainable reality that life happens and the richness of being.

PAUSE

Treating the tale of Job as play allows one to understand what I have been referring to as Pause.  In a Jobian sense, this life is nothing more than Pause, a period of transfiguration or a period of prepping us for transfiguration.  The theme song for Job could be the nursery rhyme:  "Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream.  Merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream" - An apt description of and good advice for the mystical journey we find ourselves on.

In Job the ontological question "Why" is answered with "Why not."  It is an unsettling answer that forces us to grapple with the temporal reality that this life is.  Life is meant to be lived.  Being is meant to be.  Questioning why one lives or why one is becomes a moot point in light of the fact that one lives and one is. The only answer to why is why not.

FAITH AND INTEGRITY

The depiction of God as being capricious serves as a clever device to force us to consider the meaning of life and the frailty of human reason to fully comprehend it. What Job, the character, demonstrates is that when reason is lacking we must rely on our personal integrity to muster the will to carry on and live.  As mentioned in past posts, integrity is linked with faith.

The story of Job never mentions faith, as the Hebrew word for integrity implies a state of being blameless which is the  basis for his debate with his friends, but in the course of this debate we see something more coming from Job than a mere arrogant, stubborn bitterness about being wronged.  His acceptance of “why not” exhibits a deep seated faith beyond mere belief.

What we encounter in the person of Job is an active longing for God that infers hope. The fact that Job defends his integrity reveals an act of faith.  His addressing the void of his abandoned-by-God state belies an unconscious validation of the deep faith he possesses in God who is listening and present in absence.  This is the true righteousness of Job.

It's not what Job did, but rather who he is.  His complaint to the void is an act of faith and demonstrates who he is. It is what links him to God whose faith in creation demonstrates God's integrity.  Faith and integrity (being out true selves) is what links us all to God. 

With this post, we leave the Hebrew scriptures and take a leap into Christian scripture as we continue to explore the Tales of the Mystic Journey.

Until next time, stay faithful.




[1] Job 19:25-27 “I know that my redeemer lives…” is largely interpreted by Christians as prefacing or presaging Jesus as the Christ.  I think this is a wrong interpretation, given the context of Job.  Such an interpretation serves to distract from what is really going on in this story.  What Job’s statement reveals is what these verses state – a deep yearning for God that is rooted in the deep stream of faith that Job makes this statement from.  The bold claim of Job (spoken from excruciating pain) that he will see God with or without his flesh has been again concretized as referencing the resurrection by Christians.  Again, this is spoken from a state of hopefulness rooted in faith rather than from certainty.  The translation of “yet in my flesh” can equally be interpreted as “yet without my flesh.” 



Monday, December 4, 2017

KEEP AWAKE - A Homily


KEEP AWAKE

“And what I say to you, I say to all:  Keep Awake.”

Mark13: 37

For the past several Sundays now, the Gospel lessons from Matthew 24 and 25 have been focused on the Eschaton, the end times; what is commonly referred to as the last judgement and the Second Coming of Christ.
It seems appropriate to end the Church Year by talking about the end of time, but today is the beginning of a new Church year and we’re still talking about the end of time. The fact is every First Sunday of Advent starts with one of three versions of the same account found in Matthew 25, Mark 13, or Luke 21, depending where we’re at in the lectionary’s three-year cycle.

We hear in today’s reading from Mark 13about the Son of Man, Jesus the Christ, descending in clouds with great power and glory and the angels gathering the elect from the ends of the earth and to the ends of the heavens at the end of the age.  In fact, Mark 13 is a shorter, albeit an earlier version of Matthew 24, 25 and Luke 21in which this discussion about the Son of Man coming in power and glory is set in Holy Week, the day before or the day of Maundy Thursday with Jesus and his disciples in the Temple precincts disciples commenting on the beauty and impressive structure of the Temple to which Jesus replies that not one stone will be left standing on the other. Jesus’s disciples ask, “When will this happen?  What will be the signs?”
This was an important question for Matthew’s, Mark’s, and Luke’s audience and congregations which primarily consisted of Jewish Christians, because by the time these Gospels are written, the Temple is destroyed, Jerusalem is in ruins and the Church of Jerusalem – the geographic center of early Christianity no longer exists because in 70 CE, the Romans destroyed it all.

And the question that is burning in their minds is “Where was Christ?

Why didn’t he come?  Isn’t this the end of the age?
Because if there ever was a time for Christ to appear – NOW is that time.” 

To answer these concerns these Gospel writers comb through Jesus’s teachings and reframe their congregations’ questions as the disciples’ question and presents “Jesus’s answer” in a context that encourages faith and hope for the long haul.
If one reads these accounts thoughtfully, it becomes clear that Jesus is not offering a prophecy about the future, which unfortunately has become the way most Christians think about these particular scripture readings.

Prophecy is nothing more and nothing less than pointing out the ignored obvious that’s happening under our noses, right now, along with a pinch of hope to get us through whatever it is being addressed at the time.  As is true of all prophets, Jesus was and is a prophet of the present.  He is the one who taught us, “… do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”[1] And this approach can be illustrated by reading Jesus’ response to the disciple’s question of when that was left out of today’s reading.
This is Jesus talking:

"When you hear of hear of wars and rumours of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come.  For nation will rise up against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there ill be famines.  ...Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death; and you be hated by all because of my name[2].”

Does any of that sound familiar?  
It should.   It’s almost daily headlines today. Jesus took their concerns and takes our concerns for the future and places them squarely in the present.

And here’s the clue that Mark is referencing the destruction of the Temple to his audience in Jesus’s voice:
“But when you see the desolating sacrilege set up where it ought not to be (let the reader understand)  then those in Judea must flee to the mountains;  someone on the housetop must not go down or enter the house to take anything away;  someone in the field must not turn back to get a coat.”[3]

Mark’s original audience understood exactly what Mark meant by “let the reader understand.” The desolating sacrilege was the Roman banners flying where the Holy of Holies once was and the thousands of corpses of those trying to protect the Temple from desecration lay rotting in the open air.  This was the experience these early Christian congregations had gone through.  This is what they witnessed.
Jesus continues:  

… And if anyone says to you at that time, “Look! Here is the Messiah!” or “Look! There he is!”—do not believe it.  False messiahs and false prophets will appear and produce signs and omens, to lead astray, if possible, the elect.”[4]
Let’s be clear about what Jesus is talking about when he talks about false Messiahs: He’s talking about individuals who at the time these gospels were being written and who in every age since that time have claimed: “I alone, can save you.”

In essence, Jesus’s answer to the question when will this occur has been through the ages, “NOW!”

What emerges from that moment on is an awareness the Apostle Paul wrote about some ten to twenty years before the destruction of the Temple; that we are called into a relationship that presents Christ to the world as the Body of Christ, the Church.
As Paul states in today’s second reading from 1 Corinthians: “You are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ.  … God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship (into a relationship) of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” [5]

It can be speculated that in the two-hundred thousand years that identifiable Homo sapiens (us) have walked the earth, human behavior hasn’t changed much; which explains why the headlines haven’t changed much throughout history, but throughout the course of human history, we have been given a different perspective of who we are and who God is. 
Beginning with the Hebrew Scriptures, in Genesis, we learn that we are made in the image of God and throughout the Hebrew and Christian scriptures that understanding is deepened until we find ourselves, in Paul’s language, incorporated into the Body of Christ and find our being in the very Being of God.[6]

Advent always begins in Holy Week with Jesus telling us that “the son of Man will come again in power and glory,” but if the story of God’ incarnation in the form of Jesus should tell us anything, it is that God comes among us like a thief in the night[7] or like the midnight arrival of bridegroom[8]. 

The imagery of Jesus born in a barn and Angels announcing his birth to lowly shepherds on an isolated country hillside rather than in the palaces of kings or with trumpets blaring in the Temple precincts – should tell us something of how Christ’s coming again is revealed.
It is not likely to be seen with eyes that look for power and glory in the form of military might, swelled treasuries, gilded palaces, and lavish displays to underscore it all, but rather through the eyes of faith, because God is faithful, and God, in the form of the Son of Man, comes as one of us because he is one with us – Emmanuel.

So we start this new Church Year, as we start every new Church Year, with a reality check – that the world can indeed be a dark place in need of light, in need of a new perspective that is embedded in our faith of the Christ who came, in our love of the Christ who is, and in our hope of Christ who comes again.

Advent urges us to heed the call of John the Baptist to repent – to turn around and face the marvelous truth that God is with us. For in listening with the ears of our hearts and absorbing the stories of God’s love for us in Christ throughout the ages, we are given a new perspective of who we are in God. 
So let us keep awake, be present in the moment; be present to the moment, maintaining the perspective of who we are by God’s grace amidst any darkness we encounter by keeping lit the light of hope, faith, and love so that the Christ in us can greet the Christ who comes our way.

Nameste and Amen!



[1] See  Matthew 6:34
[2] See Mark 13: 1 through 26 for the full context of selected scriptures.  All quotations from scripture are in keeping
   with the Revised Common Lectionary as found in The New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition, the
   Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America
   © 1989, 1995
[3]  Mark 13: 14 - 17
[4]  Mark 13: 21- 22
[5] 1 Corinthians 1: 7 & 9
[6]  See Acts 17:28
[7]  See Matthew 24:43 and 1 Thessalonians 5:2
[8]  See Matthew 25:6

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

TALES OF THE MYSTIC JOURNEY - ELIJAH


ELIJAH

Elijah is a mythic figure that is a mystery in his own right.  The designation of being a Tishbite is enigmatic and possibly indicates an unknown origin as the term is used to denote a resident alien in some contexts.  The location of Tishbe is controversial as it is reported to be in the area if Gilead, but other locations are contenders. No one knows an exact location. We know nothing of Elijah's origins or his life story prior to his appearance in the first book of Kings. He enters the Hebrew Scriptures as a full-blown prophet of Yahweh (YHWH). His name means, "My God is Yahweh."  He is also the head of a school of prophets, which we know little to nothing about.   

With Elijah we return to the mythic within the historical context of the reign of Israel's King Ahab and his notorious wife, Jezebel.  As I have mentioned in another post, the mythic has applicability. This is certainly true with the tale of Elijah who rises to the level of a personage.

For example, the personage of Elijah is attached to the personage of the Messiah, as a forerunner to the Messiah. Elijah is read back into the tradition of celebrating the Passover and other Jewish holy days.  This is remarkable in that the tale of Elijah is relatively short; comprising seven chapters from 1Kings 17 through 2 Kings 2.[1]

 While the tale of Elijah is presented in the context of the ninth century BCE kingdoms of Israel and Judah, its mythical aspects represent a mystical pause in that historical narrative that is relevant to any discussion of mysticism found in Abrahamic monotheism.

FAITH AND INTEGRITY

The particularity that Elijah's tale presents in a discussion of the mystic journey revolves around the issue of maintaining faithfulness and integrity of a people chosen by the God of being, YHWH, and whose ancestors swore devotion to the same.

In this tale we pick up where we left off in the tale of Moses and the Exodus.  Centuries have passed since that time.  The Israelites are settled in the Promised Land.

What started out as a confederation of tribes became a united kingdom under Saul, David, and Solomon.  Then it became two separate kingdoms, the Kingdoms of Israel with its capital of Samaria and the kingdom of Judah with its capital in Jerusalem. The only identity they had in common was a shared theism, a shared devotion to an unnamable god of their common ancestry, the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob; YHWH, the Lord, who led them out of the land of Egypt.

In the final chapter of the Book of Joshua, we find as the Israelites finally have established themselves in the Promised Land.  Joshua their leader asks them to make a final decision as to whether they will serve the Lord or serve other God's. They choose to serve the Lord, but Joshua tells them they cannot for God is holy, but they insist and Joshua instructs them to put away their idols.

Joshua's prophecy turns out to be correct.  In the long run, they find it hard to be faithful to a god they cannot speak of or idolize.  It is hard to appeal to a power that cannot be seen, much less use to generate power, that is increasingly seen as residing in a monarchical system that derives its authority from the divine other.

The question that the monarchies of Israel and Judah beg is what happens to faithfulness and integrity when the governing powers on this earth define its appeal, use, and generation; when they ignore their original covenant with YHWH and resort to political pragmatism rather than ensuring that justice is done?   Where does that leave the average Joe and Mary?  What becomes of God?

Political pragmatism of the time dictated alliance being made through marriage.  Marrying the daughter of a powerful king allied one with that king.  This is what King Ahab did to protect his borders and ensure he had the resources to fend off his enemies.  To that end, he marries Jezebel the daughter of the King of Sidon.

Jezebel also happens to be a priestess to Asherah and Baal or the Baals.  She attempts to establish this religion as the only religion in Israel and, with Ahab's consent, goes about killing prophets of YHWH who undoubtedly are outspoken critics of a regime that has abandoned its covenantal relationship with God. Elijah is sent to inform Ahab of a devastating drought's arrival, and the whole region is affected by it which is implicitly sent by God in response to the idolatry that has become rampant in Israel. During the draught Elijah is sent to live with a widow and her son in Zarepath, which ironically is located in Jezebel's home turf of Sidon. 

This detour has a purpose.  The tale of Elijah establishes that God is not limited by geographical boundaries; that God is God and there are no others.  It also demonstrates that God is merciful to those who act from faith, as the widow did by feeding Elijah when she and her son faced certain starvation.  It is important to recognize that she did this even though she did not acknowledge the God of Elijah as her god.

As she tends to Elijah's need for food, God supplies her with what she needs to do so and she and her son are fed also.  When her son becomes ill and dies, she sees it as a result of her own sinfulness (unknown) and believes that his death is her punishment.  Elijah proves otherwise and brings her son back to life.  It isn't until that moment that she acknowledges Elijah as a true prophet of God.  She demonstrates that where faith and integrity is exercised, the imprinted image of God on humans is revealed regardless of who they are or where they live.

When the draught is about to end, Elijah returns to Israel and informs Ahab of its ending and tells Ahab to summon the prophets of Baal to Mount Carmel for what amounts to a prophet's duel.  The result is YHWH demonstrating immense power and the elimination of both the prophets of Asherah and Baal.  In response to that event, Jezebel threatens to kill Elijah who escapes to the wilderness and asks God to take his life.

God doesn't.

Instead, an angel directs Elijah to eat and retrace the steps of the earlier Israelites back into the wilderness of Sinai, to the mountain of God; the mountain Moses received the Ten Commandments, Mount Horeb.


A DEEPER SENSE OF GOD



It is on Mount Horeb that the tale of Elijah grabs my attention. Up to this point, Elijah's tale follows a fairly mythical pattern of miracles and heroic deeds, but suddenly there is a shift in gears.  The mythic hero becomes a mere mortal like the rest of us[2].  One would have thought that after the Mount Carmel experience, Elijah would have been unstoppable.

"Jezebel's threats?  Ha! Who's she trying to fool? She's nothing; a nobody!"

But that is not what we encounter.

What we encounter is a withered prophet - emptied out - a shell of a human.  We see Elijah as Elijah sees himself, and it's an interesting view.

After being instructed to go to Mount Horeb, Elijah wanders forty days and nights in the wilderness, a nod to the Israelites of the Exodus tale wandering there.  Once he arrives he spends the night in a cave. It is there in the dark night of his indwelling soul that the voice of God comes to him and asks, "What are you doing here?"  The writers of First Kings are turning up the volume on the conversation Elijah is having with himself. The voice of God speaks in Elijah's voice as if Elijah is asking the same question.

God often speaks to us in our inner conversations. The place where we can ask the questions we don't want anyone else to ask. So the voice is familiar, even if the question makes us inwardly squirm. We have no choice but to listen. Elijah bears his human soul to God, how his zeal for God seemingly led nowhere other than putting his own life at risk.  God's response is for Elijah to stand on the mountain for the Lord is about to pass by.

In this story, it is important to keep in mind the details, the setting in which this conversation with takes place. Elijah is still in the cave when he hears a great wind.  He is still in the cave when an earthquake rends the mountain. He is still on the cave when a great fire appears.  He is still in the cave when there is the "sheer sound of silence."[3] At hearing/experiencing a profound silence, Elijah, like Moses at the Burning Bush, is intuitively prompted to cover his head.  It is after this "sheer sound of silence" that Elijah exits the cave.

Then the voice of God comes to Elijah again and asks the same question as it did in the cave, "What are you doing here?"  Elijah gives the same response as he did before as if nothing happened, because "nothing" did just happen and it was God. Then the inner voice of God gives Elijah instructions to carry out his ministry and he goes back to finish his ministry.

What was that all about?

Most Christians go no further in this tale than Elijah hearing the still small voice version of this story.  There is so much more going on in this tale, if one moves to the enigmatic next verse.

For a wrinkle in time, Elijah has a totally mind blowing encounter with God that cannot be explained verbally.  It can only be felt which the writers of 1Kings give us a sense of when we are back to the question God originally asked and the same reply Elijah gave at that time. It represents a lapse in time and space – a mystical moment in which Elijah finds himself caught up in an experience that defies explanation.  It's not a transfiguring moment, in the sense that it changes who Elijah is.   Rather it affirms who Elijah is and it affirms God's being in all moments as God's peace, God’s silent but active presence. 

What it says about the mystic journey we’re all on is that God's silence is a sign of God's most intimate presence in our lives.  When our complaints remain unanswered, the answer is to continue whatever it is we're doing in the peace of God.

This tale provides one of the most profound revelations of God, and it will play itself out in story of Jesus's crucifixion in the Christian scriptures. The sense of abandonment and being spent that Elijah experienced after defeating the prophets of Asherah and Baal is the same sense of abandonment the Jesus expresses on the cross and is reflected in the Gospel of Matthew when Jesus says, "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?"[4] (Matthew 27: 46 &47)

In my opinion, the author of Matthew was employing a double entendre when he has the bystanders at Jesus’s crucifixion question whether he is calling for Elijah.  What I believe Matthew does is to connect Elijah's experience on Mount Horeb to Jesus's crucifixion on Golgotha; demonstrating that where and when God is silent, God is near.

I believe this is the primary reason mystic's seek silence. God is often found in the silence.  This should not be construed as God standing still.  God may be silent, but God is never still.  There is always something to God's doing nothing.

We are because God is

When Elijah experiences that exquisite moment of revelatory silence, he recognizes he is still here; that he, Elijah, still is; just as God always is and in this sense we see him being carried up in whirlwind of God's being at the end of his ministry.

Until next time, stay faithful.




[1] Elijah is briefly mentioned in 2Chronicles 21: 11-15 as sending a letter to Jehoram, King of Judah.
[2] If you're reading my posts for the first time, don't freak out about my choosing to call stories in the Bible myths.  I have a deep respect for both the Holy Bible and myths. Myths are not lies and they're not false. On the contrary, the intent of any myth is to convey truths that cannot be conveyed by fact.  Truths, in the sense I use the term, are akin to governing principles that hold their sense of truth but no one can adequately explain exactly why they hold true.  This is where myths become helpful; in that, they allow us to engage with them through story - sometimes fanciful and creative stories that exaggerate reality in order to highlight the truths embedded in them.  They are similar to the parables of Jesus.  There is, in my opinion, a parabolic, a mythic, feel to all Hebrew and Christian stories of people found in their scriptures.
[3] 1 Kings 19:12. I like the translation of this verse as found in the New Revised Standard Version – Anglicised, 1989, 1995, The division of Christian education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States, which is  used here, as it capture the essence of the what Elijah is reported to have experience better than the usual translation of what he hear as a “still small voice”, which is probably true to the actual Hebrew expression, but which doesn’t capture the actual meaning of the experience.
[4] Matthew 27:46 & 47

Thursday, November 16, 2017

TALES OF THE MYSTIC JOURNEY - MOSES AND THE EXODUS


TALES OF THE MYSTIC JOURNEY – MOSES AND THE EXODUS
As a whole, mysticism is about finding definition through perspective. I will discuss this further in a concluding series of posts on the mysticism of art (both aural and visual).   Mysticism offers a perspective on what it means to be, from the intimate inward to the distant outward and from the distant outward to the intimate inward; in seeing the divine cosmic at work in the chaotic quantum environment of mundane human existence.  It is very imaginative – very creative – and filled with both meanings and unanswered questions.  It’s a mindful and soulful journey of which I am only touching upon the very surface of a small but significant part of its domain in these posts.   
THE TORAH
I’ve been literally skimming through stories found in the Torah as a way of introducing basic thematic schemes found in most mystic experiences and tales.   The Torah is both central and foundational to mysticism as experienced and understood in Western civilization.  For Judaism it is central.  For Christianity it is foundational.  Neither of these two religions would exist in their present forms without it.  Attributed to Moses, the Torah was written by a variety of Judaic schools of thought.  It honors the Moses as Judaism’s greatest prophet, as all roads leading to the Moses and the Exodus event and all roads proceeding from that event. 
The Torah is an attempt to codify the human experience in relation to a divine intuition.  It does this through the establishment of laws written in response to observations by humans about the human experience and given a divine imprimatur.  When viewed from a distance one can see that they are a way to identify, differentiate, and measure the quantic, human behavior.  It is the universal nature (found in almost every ancient and primitive civilization) of these laws; particularly regarding the preservation of life and property that enables one to intuit a divine imprimatur. They (the laws) actually say very little (on the surface) about the divine cosmic, but the Torah, as a whole, reveals a great deal about the divine cosmic (God) in relation to human experience.  In fact, it is in this tale of Moses and the Exodus that the nature of God is revealed reflecting a universal understanding of the divine that emerged during the axial period in which the Torah was written.
THE ENSLAVEMENT OF ISRAEL
In the tale of Moses, Moses picks up the thread of God’s love that was discussed in the last post.  In fact, Moses acts as a threaded needle to sew together the fabric of the Chosen People, or a spindle upon which their tale is spun.   His tale picks up where Joseph’s tale ended.  Like Joseph, Moses begins as a slave, is adopted by an Egyptian princess, becomes a prince of Egypt, and then flees Egypt after murdering an Egyptian for beating a Hebrew slave.  It is in the wilderness of Midian that Moses becomes the mouth-piece of God, like Joseph became the mouth-piece of Pharaoh.  As Joseph brought Israel to Egypt, Moses will lead Israel out of Egypt.  There is a theological symmetry to the enslavement of Israel – the four hundred years Israel was in Egypt.  Unlike those before him, Moses is depicted as having face to face conversations with God.  In fact, Moses’s conversation with God at the burning bush is one of the longest direct conversation between a human and God recorded in the entire Holy Bible.  In other parts of the Torah, God speaks at length to Moses regarding laws and the construction of the Tabernacle, but the burning bush incident is a conversation unlike any other in the scriptures because in it, God reveals God’s nature. 
FIRE
The tale of Moses and the Exodus is a story of meaning.  Implicit in all of these tales is the question, “Why?”  Why Abraham?  Why Joseph?  Why the enslavement of Israel?  Why Moses?  Why forty years in the Wilderness?  Why? 
The why of any event is at its root always a mystery:  Why this?  Why that?  Why now?  Why-questions are never answered by why-answers or answers that begin with “because.”  Because-answers actually answer “what,” “who,” “when,” and “where” questions since they answer the conditions and situations in which events occur, but they never get to the root of why something happens.  If one can ask a why-question that prompts a because-answer, the questioning and answering can result an endless cycle of such questions and answers.  It is like a parent trying to answer a small child’s question about why something happened with a because-answer. To every because-answer the child intuitively and invariably asks, “But why?”   

As comedic and frustrating such questions can be, they make children of us all.  We adults find ourselves in the same place as the child as there is never a final definitive answer that begins with “because.”  We usually end a cycle of why-questions by admitting “I don’t know” or by curtly stating “because I said so,” or “that’s just the way it is." The latter response revealing an unintentional insight into mystery as it brings one to the liminal expanse of being.
Moses can’t help but examine a bush that is blazing on fire but not consumed by it in the dryness of a desert.  All his questions about what and how are immediately transfigured into who and why questions.   As he approaches the phenomenon, Moses finds himself in the presence of God, told to remove his sandals and intuitively covers his head.  Initially God introduces godself as I am the God of your fathers Abraham, etc. and goes on to tell Moses that he has been chosen to lead Israel from bondage and inform Pharaoh to let God’s people go. 

Moses objects and explains that he is not up to the job; that he cannot speak well.  Like the story of Jacob and his fight with man in the darkness, Moses is faced with his own sense of failure – and struggles with his own doubt.  This is not about trying to get out of job, but rather engaging with one’s sense of integrity – “all hearts are open” to God from whom no secrets are hid”[1]  
God’s gentleness is evident with Moses who grants Aaron to be his mouthpiece.  Like Abraham being concerned that he is too old to see God’s promise of son of his own body, Moses is concerned that walking into the Israeli communities back in Egypt to announce that God has told him to tell them that they will be set free to engage in a journey to the Promised Land won’t fly.  Egypt is land full of identifiable gods and goddesses.  It is clear from reading scripture that not only the Egyptians worshipped these gods, but so did their slaves, including the people of Israel.  Moses intuits that walking back to the Israelites, much less, the court of Pharaoh,  to say God (a god) of our fathers has told me to tell you…  won’t go over very well either, so Moses asks, “Who shall I say is sending me?’’
The answer is staring Moses in the face, but God answers, "I am that I am," which is sometimes translated as "I am what I am" or, since Hebrew does not have a future tense to express future tense, it is sometimes translated as "I will be, what I will be."  Regardless of how it is translated, the meaning is clear. God is pure creative energy, a fire that does not destroy but rather creates, recreates, and transfigures what is created.  God is a paradox, a nominal verb, who "neither slumbers nor sleeps."[2]
This one declaration in scripture is, in itself, a transfiguring moment.  God is truly holy – truly other – there are no human words that can contain the sense that God is as represented as a flame that creates, refines, consumes[3], but does not destroy. Moses has an answer that cannot be spoken, but rather that must be acted out, and so to demonstrate the presence and will of God we have the Ten Plagues. 
What is intriguing in the account of the ten plagues is the “hardening” of Pharaoh’s heart.  Exodus give two versions of Pharaoh’s hardened heart.  At first it states that Pharaoh hardens his hearts and then, as the plagues increase with intensity, it says God hardened Pharaoh’s heart.  I think what can be taken from this, mystically speaking, is that God goes to some extent where we go; that God works with, uses, the material at hand; in this case, Pharaoh’s stubbornness.  The result is that in each refusal to let Israel go, God’s power; God’s presence is increasingly revealed to the point that Pharaoh’s priests convince him that their might cannot compete, and he should acquiesce to Moses’s demands.  Even the death of Pharaoh’s firstborn and that of the Egyptians does not quell his thirst for revenge against a god who had power over life and death, as he pursues the Israelites to the Red Sea only to see his army drowned as a result. 
The path of one’s mystic journey is always forward. The past is the past and it is closed to us.  We can recall it.  We may long for it, but we can never return to it and this becomes the lesson the Children of Israel are taught in the wilderness.
 PAUSE
Up until now, the Hebrew scriptures tales of the mystic journey have focused on individual, but in the Exodus, the journey broadens out to include the whole people of Israel and from this point forward the journey must be seen and understood in the context of the Chosen People, who are chosen to represent the whole of humanity, the nations of the world – a light to them and a light on them. 
 Exodus tells us that there were shorter routes for the Israelites to take to the Promised Land, but that they would have had to face fierce foes in the Philistines.  After all they have no skill for battle, they have been slaves. They did not have the faith to deal with the grace that was thrust on them, so God directs them to the longer path, the longer journey – a journey into faith based on grace of God. 
Pause, as presented in scripture is a time to instill faith and integrity.  Integrity is impossible without an active faith.  We have seen pause used this way in the tales of Jacob and Joseph and we see it being done in the tale of Israel’s time spent in the wilderness. 
The essential point of this tale is to say that it is easier to transfigure and individual than a whole emerging nation.  We see the struggle the Israelites have with placing their faith – their trust in God and turning that faith into an active process.  They long for the certainty of the past.  They knew their lot in life as slave, but faith thrusts one into the unknown – to walk with God not by sight, but by faith, as Paul would say some fifteen hundred years later.
In fact, at the start of their journey, God is said to have led them as fire – a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night.  Later this imagery fades and the Israelites must rely on the unseen.  Even though they are sustained by water and manna in the wilderness, the results of God’s direct intervention, they complain of the condition which I suspect had more to do with having to depend on unseen that led them to question their status – who were they?  Who is God?  Can God be trusted or is God capricious?  Better to know that one is a slave to than to be a toy in the hand of a capricious god.  They long for Egypt from time to time. 
TRANSFIGURATION
It has been suggested that the forty year of wandering in the wilderness was needed for a whole new generation to arise who did know slavery in Egypt, who could not long for the certainty[4] it represented, but who grew up living with the need to trust God and live life as an act of free and willful faith rather than from the perspective of certain fear. 
There are many details given in the tale of Israel’s exodus wandering in the wilderness that are worthy of their own mystical exploration (the Passover, the receiving of the law, the creation of Ark of the Covenant and the Tabernacle).  Apart from Joshua and Caleb, none of those who originally left Egypt make it to the promise land, including Moses.  A new generation arises that is transfigured in the wilderness from being slaves to fear to being faithful servants of God – a holy nation, a people set apart.
In a broader context, the Exodus tale is about the transfiguration of not only the nation of Israel, but of theism – from a world that was largely polytheistic and exclusive in its various theistic (each  kingdom, tribe, and family having its own gods) to its narrowing as monotheism and inclusiveness – one God above all gods, one people to be a light for all people. 

The story of the exodus is a story of global transfiguration on so many levels that one could spend multiple posts on its implications, but the purpose of this series of posts to illustrate how it fits in telling the broader tale of the mystic journey. 
The concept of a Chosen People is to provide a lens into seeing ourselves as such people, to connect rather than disconnect and differentiate, which unfortunately has been more often the case than not when it comes to anti-Judaic and anti-Semitic activities and sentiments. 

We are all chosen people in the broader sense of creation, as Genesis points out and we all have histories of enslavement and release and wandering in the wilderness – moments of Pause and Transfiguration. 
We are all on the same journey of faith, even if we don’t share the same beliefs or share the same perspectives because faith is inherent in human existence.  We’re all on a blind journey of faith, guided by hope, and embraced by an active love many call God.
Until next time, stay faithful.



[1] From opening collect in the Eucharistic service from the “Book of Common Prayer.”
[2] Psalm 121:4
[3] What God consumes is not destroyed, but becomes part of God.  As Paul writes, God is that being in which we live and move and have our being.  All things are in God.  In essence all things can be said to be consumed (taken in by God, part of God) and refined, renewed and transfigured.  The burning bush is aglow with fire of God that consumes it.  It is in God, but not destroyed.
[4] We humans are prone to become addicted to certainty. When it is in the form of a concretized ideological belief, certainty becomes antithetical to faith.