We Are All Mystics

There are three scenes in the Bible which I find particularly touching.

The first one comes in Genesis 7. Noah and his family have gone into the ark with all the animals. And God shuts the door behind them. Don’t you love that? I imagine God checking them all off – two tarantulas, two bumble bees, and finally two ground squirrels – that’s the lot – and then closing the door gently behind them as the storm darkens and the flood waters rise.

The second one comes from the life of Moses. He’s up the mountain with God – this is in Exodus chapter 33 – he’s up the mountain and he asks to see God’s face. But God says that he is too bright – Moses cannot see him and live. So God puts Moses into a cleft in the rock and covers him with his hand as he passes by. Then he moves his hand and Moses can see his back. Isn’t that wonderful? God gently protects Moses and lets him see his back.

The third scene is from today’s gospel reading. These two disciples don’t recognize Jesus until he breaks the bread, and just as he blesses it and breaks it their eyes and opened and… he disappears.
And isn’t that just like God? Whenever we think we are finally in touch with the living God she turns a corner and all that is left is the scent of her perfume.

Callie shared with me yesterday that she went to meet with a wise monk and, having  carefully laid out for him everything that she was concerned about, she expected him to give her some wisdom that would move her forward. He sat silently for a few minutes and then said, “It is a mystery…”

Darn.

God is so intimately connected with us that he closes the door of the ark and he covers Moses eyes but lets him see his back, and he is known in the simple act of breaking a loaf of bread two thousand years ago and again today in our Eucharist, and yet at the same time God is the ultimate mystery.

Over this past year I have offered a number of workshops on different topics – this last week we talked about the cross, a conversation that was postponed from Lent – and each time we have been groping together towards deeper understanding because God is both intimately knowable and ultimately unknowable - and we approach the things of God through metaphor and symbol and lived experience.

We are all mystics.

The Holy Spirit teaches us and guides us and dances ahead of us always pulling us forward but whenever we think we have arrived, or whenever we think we have grasped a truth there is always more. Our questions and our doubts take us deeper. God reveals Godself to us as we ask the questions, as we wonder and ponder and listen for the answers which themselves lead to more questions.

I have always wished that I could have been on the road to Emmaus that evening. Luke tells us that “beginning with Moses and all the prophets, [Jesus] interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.” But I was not there and so I am left with my questions.

In today’s New York Times an elderly nun, Mary Kay, is quoted as saying, “I hear people talk about this beautiful relationship with Jesus… mine is not like that. It is a little more questioning and mystery. That is why it is called faith.”

I think that is true for most of us. We may have experiences of God’s presence, we may have dreams or see visions or just have a deep knowing, but those moments are fleeting. More often we are like the disciples walking along the road dealing with the sadness of life, the grief of friends dying, of hearts broken and we don’t realize that God is walking beside us. We don’t recognize the presence of the Spirit until we invite him in to stay for a while.

And that invitation is important. Jesus would have continued along the road until he was out of sight, and the disciples would never have recognized him. But that’s not what happened because they did invite him in.

My friends, we cannot force the Holy Spirit to reveal God to us but we can invite. We can create the possibility for a deeper knowing of God by our own actions, by our own attention and intention; by taking time to intentionally open ourselves to God, whether in meditation or prayer or by allowing the beauty of nature to touch us and quiet our thoughts.

When we are expecting guests for dinner we prepare; we make food, we set the table. When we are hoping that Jesus will accept the invitation and come in from the road, we set the table of our hearts and we open the door. We sit down and open our inner selves to something and someone bigger, to the God who is always there walking beside us, making sure the door is closed against the storm and our eyes are not hurt by the light.

The mystical experience of God is a gift of grace. It Is not something we can earn or something we can buy. But it is something we can invite. It is something we can prepare ourselves for.

And what an honor when God reveals Godself among us.

That is what leads to deep transformation of life and that is what life everlasting truly is, a life lived in the knowledge of the presence of God. Like the nun, Mary Kay, we may not experience a beautiful life with Jesus – it may be more questioning and mystery, but it was draws us forward. It is what gives us hope and joy and peace.

So today as we come to the Eucharist together, let us consciously invite the presence of the Christ. Let us open ourselves to the possibility that today Jesus will be known to us in the breaking and taking of the bread. Let us allow ourselves to be filled with the Christ and renewed for the work of transformation.

And even if we feel nothing. Even if the bread stubbornly remains just a dry wafer, let us remember that even in the questioning and the mystery, Jesus is still present. That is why it is called faith.

the Rev. Dr. Caroline Hall