The Big Book of Christian Mysticism: The Essential Guide to Contemplative Spirituality

by Carl McColman

  Of course, this declaration of love can take different forms. Many seek God simply by following the program laid out for them by their church: they read the Bible, they worship every Sunday, they tithe, they volunteer in programs to care for the needy or otherwise make the world a better place. These are all worthy pursuits, and mysticism is not opposed to any of them. But for some, ordinary religious observance often represents only the beginning of the search. A variety of contemplative practices are available to those who feel called to enter into the deeper mysteries of faith.

  For mystics, seeking God is a lifelong, and pretty much full-time, pursuit that proceeds even in the midst of down-to-earth activities like working or cleaning the house. For the contemplative, this quest for divine love is a daily concern. But God, being the shy and polite God that he is, never just pops up in your life merely because you say a lot of prayers or meditate for a half-hour a day. God is God, not a formula, not the sum of an equation that will always behave predictably. So the experience of seeking God is always open-ended, uncertain, and mysterious. What will happen if you devote your life to prayer? Who knows? Pray and see.

  Augustine once said that you can seek God only because God has already found you. The point is that, even your seeking which seems and feels as if you are taking the initiative is actually already, on a very deep level, a response to God. The seeking may, paradoxically, be evidence of the finding or, should I say, the having been found. I once had a boss who was fond of quoting a rather cliched phrase: "Success is not a destination, it's a journey." Seeking God is pretty much the same.

  Mysticism is about experience.

  Mysticism cannot be limited to experience.

  Missouri is called the "Show-Me" state, a curious and obscure nickname that, according to legend, originated when Missouri congressman Willard Duncan Vandiver declared: "Frothy eloquence neither convinces nor satisfies me. I am from Missouri. You have got to show me." Mystics would be at home in Missouri.

  It may be only a short jump from "seeing is believing" to "experiencing is believing," but that jump takes us to the heart of the mystical approach to spirituality. Most mystics may not be as skeptical as Vandiver, but neither are they credulous. Mystics want their faith to be born out of firsthand knowledge. They want their relationship with God to be grounded in their own experience and awareness, and not be just a by-product of what they have been told. When theologian Karl Rahner mused that the Christian of the future must be a mystic, he was referring to precisely this deeply felt encounter with God that transcends mere ideas or ideology.

  Religion without experience is abstract and overly mental what in popular jargon is known as "being stuck in your head." Not only is such an attitude a religion of ideas rather than intuition, it's also a religion built around submission, for, without direct experience, religion must rely on its ability to keep people in line through threats: "If you disobey, you will go to hell." Religion without an experiential dimension is religion without spirituality, whose purpose is little more than moralistic control of people's lives. This is what Karl Marx rightly derided as the opiate of the people religion as a set of teachings designed to make people docile and submissive, while keeping them locked in fear-based beliefs.

  By contrast, mysticism argues that only experienced religion is authentic. There's a difference between knowing about God and knowing God, and this distinction is the key to understanding the difference between stuck-in-your-head religion and truly mystical spirituality. Think about the difference between knowing that you have grandparents and actually taking the time to relate to them, interact with them, and become intimate with them. Ours is an age that recognizes that experience matters more than just abstract ideology. That is why evangelical theologians like J. I. Packer and John Piper, who would probably never describe themselves as mystics, nevertheless argue that experiencing God is at the heart of the Christian way.

  But if religion divorced from personal experience is inauthentic, an entirely different set of problems arises when we focus too much on experience the most obvious being the sheer unreliability of human understanding. We are just as good at deceiving ourselves as we are at hoodwinking one another. Having an "experience" whether feeling one-with-God or seeing a LIFO in and of itself proves nothing. The experience may be a self-created illusion, or perhaps merely the result of not having enough sleep. It could be drug-induced, the product of wishful thinking, or evidence of mental illness. If we insist that unusual or supernatural phenomena can be instigated by angels, logic demands that we also at least consider that unfriendly spirits with an interest in fooling us could just as likely be responsible. A vision of God that comes from a heavenly messenger sounds like a bona fide mystical experience, but such a vision could just as easily come from a less benevolent source and be little more than an egotistical excuse to feel proud of our own spiritual "advancement."

  Not only are experiences subject to a wide variety of interpretations, there is no consistency in what a "mystical experience" looks like. In the annals of Christian history, mystics have had visions, heard angelic voices, been caught up in ecstatic consciousness, and experienced flashes of insight or intricately detailed dreams. No two mystics have walked the same path as they forged their relationship with God. How, then, can we define mysticism as experience, when it is based on such a wide variety of phenomena? And what about the experience that never happens? Many sincere and wellmeaning people, including dedicated practitioners of meditation and contemplation, have no sense of ever "experiencing" God at all, or perhaps have only the subtlest intuition or a vaguely comforting sense that God is present in their lives. Can we really say that such people are not mystics? Is mysticism only for the elite? Do some people receive mystical gifts, but other, "lesser" folks do not?This flies in the face of the teachings of Christ, who consistently tells us that the life of faith is not about who is the greater or more powerful, but rather about who is most willing to love, care for, and serve others. So, while it appears that experience, in some form, is central to the mystical life, it is also true that mysticism is bigger than mere experience.

  God is immanent.

  God is transcendent.

  When we ask whether mysticism is fundamentally about experience or about something beyond experience, we are looking at the God/human love story from the human point of view. Let's turn this around and try, as best we can, to think about this from God's perspective.

  God is greater and more vast than the entire cosmos. But God is also present in the smallest of places intimately involved in the dynamics of the entities that make up particle physics and string theory. So, while God is infinite, in the words of author John Ortberg, he is closer than you think. Paul tells us that, in God, "we live and move and have our being" (Acts 17:28). God is in us, and we are in God. This is the doctrine of immanence which declares the indwelling or inherence of God. God is closer than you think; God is closer to you than you are to yourself.

  A generation ago, the English writer J. B. Phillips penned a book called Your God Is Too Small, warning his readers not to pigeonhole God or box him in, and pointing out the psychological distortion possible when we see God as immanent. The problem with seeing God as immanent, Phillips claims, is that, by doing so, we can too easily reduce him to some sort of cosmic butler who is there to serve our needs. Indeed, when we consider the purity of God and set his divinity beside the sufferings and imperfections of the cosmos as we know it, we can see why Christianity has always insisted that there is a fundamental "otherness" to God. While immanent, God is so much greater than all things and so far removed from the cosmos that it's silly to talk about him in human terms at all. God has no limits, God has no duality, God has no imperfection. This is the doctrine of transcendence, which confirms that God surpasses the realm of matter, energy, and human consciousness.

  So which is it? Is God immanent and personal, or transcendent and infinitely far away? Can we touch the face of God, or must we remain blinded by a veil th
at separates us from the Ultimate Mystery? Is spirituality about finding intimacy with the God who is present, or standing in awe of the God who is so vast that we cannot consciously know him?

  The answer is yes.

  Mysticism involves significant, life-transforming events and changes in consciousness.

  A mystical experience may seem as insignificant as the Butterfly Effect.

  Why are some lovers of God granted truly earth-shattering encounters with the divine presence, while these awe-inspiring experiences seem beyond the reach of so many others? Why do some people have gifts for spiritual healing, and some not? What are we to make of stories about how some mystics did extraordinary things Teresa of Avila levitating, orTher- ese Neumann thriving for extended periods of time eating nothing other than her daily Communion?

  I suppose I am like most in that I find stories of truly extraordinary mystical experiences both thrilling and inspiring and maybe even just a bit intimidating. Even if I never have visions as vivid as those of Julian of Norwich, or perform charismatic miracles like those attributed to Teresa, it enlivens my faith to believe that these phenomena are possible. But is it accurate to equate Christian mysticism only with rare, extraordinary events? Must a spiritual experience be truly supernatural before it can be regarded as mystical?

  Many people of faith have said to me: "I'll never be a mystic." When I hear this, I usually find that they see mysticism in terms of miraculous or extraordinary events, and assume that they themselves will never have such awe-inspiring experiences. Many of those who feel this way are truly humble and down-to-earth people just the kind of people that Jesus praised as being close to the kingdom of heaven. This strikes me as a pretty strong criticism of mysticism. If a person has to choose between being holy and being a mystic, I for one certainly hope that holiness wins the day.

  The idea that mysticism involves only supernatural experiences is, in fact, as limited as saying that God is only transcendent. In fact, some of the most renowned mystics are those who have few, if any, extraordinary or supernatural experiences. Take Thomas Merton for example. Merton had some powerful experiences of God's presence in his life, but a skeptic could explain most of them away as little more than profound insights. The same can be said about Caryll Houselander, or Brother Lawrence, or Therese of Lisieux. The truth is that, sometimes, great mystics are marked, not by the supernatural light that illuminates their minds, but by a combination of very simple, almost ordinary, experiences of God's presence in their lives. These encounters, in turn, can inspire a profound and passionate commitment to holiness, or to a life devoted to serving the poor, or to some other significant calling that embodies the subtle insights and experiences received from God. In other words, mysticism incorporates humble as well as exalted encounters with the Ultimate Mystery.

  The Butterfly Effect is a concept related to chaos theory, which holds that seemingly insignificant phenomena can have amazing consequences. The classic way of illustrating this is to suggest that a butterfly in Brazil can, by the disturbance in the atmosphere caused by its wings, set into motion a chain of events that results in a tornado in Texas. We do not know how to measure the relationships between such tiny causes and huge effects. This is also true of mysticism. A single act of compassion or forgiveness can help prevent a terrible crime or a suicide. The decision to say a prayer or spend an hour reading the Bible can lead to an insight that can literally change a person's life.

  With this in mind, consider God as a force for "holy chaos."A subtle, gentle, if-you-blink-you'll-miss-it sensation of God's presence may be all the mystical experience you need (or can handle). Perhaps most mystical encounters with God operate under the principle that less is more. Perhaps those who have dramatic mystical experiences are simply less well attuned to God's presence to begin with. Unlike those who can quietly discern God's voice in the midst of mundane life, some people need to have their minds blown in order for God to get through. If we can accept that mystical experience comes in all shapes and sizes, then we must also recognize that mystical gifts touch far more people than any of us realize.

  You can do nothing to "earn" the mystical life.

  If you are passive, you will be thwarting the action of the Holy Spirit.

  Christian mysticism is all about grace. In other words, the experience of, or encounter with, or awareness of God that constitutes the heart of mysticism is always given, never earned.

  From a quiet sense of God's presence, to an awe-inspiring shift in consciousness, to a dramatic dream or vision in which Christ comes to you with specific information about your vocation whatever may transpire in your unique relationship with God, one thing is certain: it's not your doing.

  Grace is a free gift.You cannot earn grace any more than you can earn God's love. Accepting Christ as your savior or being baptized or going to Communion or reading the Bible or doing good works or refraining from sinning none of these can earn God's favor and love.You enjoy the blessing of God's grace because he gives it to you, not because you deserve it.

  The same holds true for the nature of your relationship with God. Whether you are clearly conscious of God, or continually search for him as if lost in a fog; whether you have amazing moments of joyful union with God, or seem to be forever lost in the dark night of the soul it doesn't matter. God is the architect of every person's unique journey into him. You cannot force God into giving you an extraordinary experience of his presence, any more than you can force God into loving you more than he already does.

  God relates to each of us in the manner that is best for us. Those who enjoy mystical wonders need them, on some level. Likewise, those who only experience God through a sense of absence are receiving from him exactly what they need. So it makes sense simply to recognize that God is in charge, not you.Your job is to sit back and see what he has in store for you. Right?

  Wrong.

  When the Apostle James said "Faith without works is dead," he wasn't just suggesting that you can't grow in your faith if you don't take responsibility for your actions. That's part of what he was saying, but it goes beyond that. The "works" that keep faith alive aren't the things you do to try to earn God's love and respect (or mystical presence). They are rather all the things you do in response to the grace and love that God has freely given to you, even if you aren't consciously aware of it. Mysticism is not about making God love you, or making God give you his grace or blessings. God's gift is always freely given. But once that gift has been given to you, it's up to you whether you unwrap it, whether you accept it. Your actions, your efforts to live a contemplative life are what make the grace of God come alive within you. What kinds of actions are essential to the mystical life? Spiritual practices that dispose you to receiving God's presence. Not spiritual practices that summon or mandate God's presence, but rather practices that create within you the ability to receive the gift. Contemplative spiritual practices do not change God; they change only you. Just as it takes exercise and a healthy diet to stay fit, it takes spiritual exercises like lectio divina, daily prayer, meditation, contemplation, participation in a faith community, and serving those who are in need to dispose yourself to the mystical life. If you don't do these things, God can still overwhelm you with the mystery of his presence. But when you engage in a spiritual practice, you clear a space within yourself where God can act in whatever way he sees fit.

  Mysticism is the "flight of the alone to the Alone."

  Christ is present "where two or three are gathered" in his name.

  Plotinus described mysticism as the "flight of the alone to the Alone." Although he wasn't a Christian, Plotinus' philosophy had a strong influence on early Christians. Augustine, arguably the greatest theologian of the first millennium, was well versed in his thought.

  Plotinus was a student of Plato who interpreted Plato's teachings in the light of the philosophy of his day. His deeply mystical philosophy spoke of the cosmos as an "emanation" from the One, and saw the goal of all creaturely existence as a ret
urn to that primal unity. Human existence originated in the One and our destiny, according to Plotinus, lay entirely in returning to that source.

  While this is not the message of the gospel, Plotinus' shadow has loomed large over the history of Christian mysticism. Ever since Plotinus, mysticism has been, in large part, the province of individuals who renounced worldly wealth, social standing, and other material benefits in their quest for union with God. Many of the earliest Christian mystics lived as hermits in the deserts of Egypt and the Middle East. The ideal of the hermita person living in solitude, for God alone is found in Christian writings throughout the ages, and is exemplified by mystics like Julian of Norwich, Richard Rolle,Thomas Merton, Henri LeSaux, and Matthew the Poor. In solitude in a flight of the alone to the Alone these contemplatives found union with God.

  There's an entirely different, and more distinctively Christian, way of looking at mysticism that stresses not solitude, but community. This paradox has its roots in the mystery of the Holy Trinity, one God in Three Persons God who is both divine unity and divine community. Part of the nature of God is thus the web of relationships between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This understanding of Divinity as Trinity makes a difference in how mysticism is expressed within Christianity.

  The key teaching here comes from the Bible, where Christ says: "For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them" (Matthew 18:20). Although Christ encourages his followers to pray alone (Matthew 6:6), he promises his presence when Christians gather together. In other words, the Christian life is not some sort of cozy cocoon where "God and I" can snuggle together in holy privacy. Rather, the flow of love between the human and the Divine is meant to spill over in an essential flow of love between believers. This is spelled out clearly in the Gospel of John, when Jesus bluntly instructs his disciples: "If you love me, you will keep my commandments... this is my commandment, that you love one another" (John 14:15; 15:12).