When scientists in the 1950’s were attempting to identify the structure of DNA, there was considerable competition between universities in the United States and Europe, mainly CalTech, Cambridge [UK], and King’s College, London.
At Cambridge, a model of the supposed appearance of DNA had been built in the labs and placed on display as if it were a large sculpture. It was from that clunky mess that the scientists were basing their research, and it was against which James Watson, an American on the Cambridge team, reacted.
When rejecting the working model, Watson is claimed to have said, “That’s not right. It’s not beautiful. This is about life itself. Whatever it looks like, it will be beautiful.”1
He turned out to be correct. The structure of DNA does have a liminal artistry to it, so much so that even the most baleful junior college socialist can admit that life, at least at this level, has beauty.
In fact, realizing that life is beautiful is perhaps the best summation of the mystical experience.
Before we continue we should deal with the word “mysticism” itself. It is largely misunderstood and encourages dismissal and closed-mindedness from those who are either unaware of its definition or are of a rigid belief system.2
Mysticism is not about tarot cards or crystal balls or seances or levitation or astral projection or any of that other gibberish. That is the occult, and that can be very different.
If you ever met a nun, you have met a mystic.
If you have ever attended a prayer service, perhaps for an individual in distress or for a community trauma, you have participated in the mystic.
If you have ever been seated in a church, chapel, or other sacred space by yourself and enjoyed the meditative quiet, congrats. You just became a mystic.
The word "mysticism" finds its origin in the Greek word mystikos [μυστικός], which means "secret,” sometimes “hidden.”
As the mystical experience can be strongly introspective and involves our quest for deeper meaning in our spiritual experience and in our mutual communication with God, it is often a secret or hidden pursuit.
Secret, as the experience is so internalized that it is beyond words of description or explanation. Hidden, in that it is a deeply personal experience and one based on our spiritual yearning and the symbols, words, and forms that are meaningful to us, but perhaps not to another.
Regardless of how we view our spirituality, from the casual to the intensive to the lackadaisical to the pious, all of us have known moments that have given us metaphysical questions to address; those that have created a pause in our common life.
If we practice formal worship, we always have a venerable pastoral and liturgical system we can use for the ordering of questions, concerns, or even grief. If disjointed from a community of faith, people will still seek alternative forms of address, perhaps from a pastiche of religious practices.3
In either experience, those grieving or curious seek solace and forms of eternal response to their inevitable questions.
That quest is universal, as all of us have either known suffering or agonizing questions from time to time, and takes a form shaped by our needs and yearning. What is remarkable is that, while it is an experience that may be deepened by liturgical practices or doctrinal knowledge, it is not dependent on them.4
Philosophy, and not just Religion, makes note of mysticism as well, especially since many philosophers have achieved inspiration while in what a religious person would describe as a mystic encounter.
We have spoken before of the physician/philosopher/psychologist Willam James and his book, The Varieties of Religious Experience. What we did not mention at the time was Varieties’ genesis, and that James had retreated to the Adirondack Mountains to formulate his thoughts about the series of lectures he was to give that would form his book.
While hiking to the summit of Mount Marcy, the highest peak in New York state, James had what could only be called a metaphysical moment. At the conclusion of his long day’s hike, as the Marcy trails are, like most Eastern trails, notorious for their difficulty, James slept fitfully and encountered his revelation.
In a letter to his wife, James notes,
“The moon rose and hung above the scene, leaving a few of the larger stars visible, and I entered into a state of spiritual alertness of the most vital description. The influences of Nature, the wholesomeness of the people around me..., the thought of you and the children … the problem of the Edinburgh lectures, all fermented within me till it became a regular Walpurgis nacht.”5
Regardless of the medium for the mystical experience, or whether it is regarded as religious, psychological, or philosophical, the common shared aspect is what is known as “direct realization,” of which there are three portions.
The first is a sense of insight, either sudden or gradual, involving a realization of truth that bypasses ordinary conceptual thoughts or reasoning. This experience is intuitive.
The second is the awareness that the direct realization transcends language, concepts, and sometimes rational analysis. It is a perception of reality that is free of familiar and common interpretations.
The third is the trans-formative, especially when it is a religious experience. The mystical moment has historically led to profound shifts in perception and subsequent behavior. In some, it can create a sense of moral clarity, contentment, or liberation.
As our interest in The Wandering Coracle community is with the religious reality of mysticism, over the next series of Mondays we will examine the different manifestations and descriptions of mystical encounters, from the early church through the medieval period dominated by the church’s mystics in the monasteries around which Western Christianity was built.
We will also have examples as to how mysticism in the 21st century continues to evolve and appears to be the one aspect of Christianity responsive to the changing needs of seekers, and resistant to the corporate sensibility that has made contemporary Christian practice so prosaic.
For those interested in extra reading, these are some books worth consideration:
Mysticism [1911] by Evelyn Underhill – the classic foundational work that is still on seminary and divinity school reading lists.
Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross [circa 1577] – another classic that is still vibrant.
The Cloud of Unknowing [circa 1350] by Anon.
The Big Book of Christian Mysticism [2010] by Carl McColman – if you ignore the infantile title, this is a good introduction to the subject and can be found through most libraries.
“Mystical Monday” will continue next week.
This is apocryphal, but I like the story. Also, he’s not wrong.
Many of the Reformation traditions in mainstream Protestantism do not care for the notion of mysticism as it was strongly associated with the Church of Rome and its enforcers, the monks. The Anglican/Episcopal tradition escaped this limitation due to its special nature as the “middle way” between Protestantism and Catholicism.
Please see the post entitled “Ronin” for an example of seekers finding a path, however obtuse and temporary.
This is noticeably true in the mystical traditions of Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, and Buddhism.
The Walpurgisnacht is celebrated on the eve of the feast day of St. Walpurga at the end of May and is traditionally recognized in German folklore as a time when the spirits walk freely among us.
Great intro to "the mystical"--definitely looking forward to "Mystical Mondays"!!