A young man who calls himself "spiritual, but not religious" says, "I do not believe in Christ, -- or, if you prefer, I do; -- since I believe in Love, and Christ is merely a personification of Love. But, rather than focus on the manifestation (in this case, Christ), which is only the projection of a self-fetishizing human consciousness, I penetrate into the deeper truth, which is pure and naked Love."
The words are commendable, for the most part, but we know that there is nothing "mere" about Christ, or about the form in which God's Love has made itself felt and known to men. A form which men can learn from, not because it is a familiar and convenient symbol, but, because it is exemplary. In the words of St. Athanasius, "God became man so that man may become God."
Love may be at the root of Christ, but Christ Himself is the flower. My friends, we should question this tendency to always devalue what is on the surface. The surface is not like a wrapping which must be torn off and tossed aside, if we are to enjoy "the present". The surface, if we are receptive to its secrets (hidden in plain sight), reveals all things. Beneath the surface, there are only analogues of the surface. Christ is Love, yes. But, if we do not see Love when we see Christ, we will not see it "on the other side" of Him either; if we do not see Love when we see Christ, we can see neither Love, nor Christ. If we are not receptive to the surface, no "deeper" discoveries will satisfy us.
This youth, who so hastily dismisses religion as a "mere" surface phenomenon, imagines that he is like a man unmasking someone in disguise, but, really, he is like a man who digs up a flower in order to exhibit the roots as "proof" of the unreality of the flower; or as something "more real" than the flower itself. What could be more foolish than this? And, yet, this is symptomatic of a form of arrogance which has all but taken possession of the modern world. People in our age actually believe they are arriving at a deeper reality when they dissect, reduce, and deconstruct the world as it appears, -- in short, when they dig up the flowers.
Love is perfected in Christ, as the seed is perfected in the fruit; and Christ is perfected in Love, as the fruit is perfected in the seed. Without Christ, Love is just a gift without a giver; without Love, Christ is just a giver without a gift.
Above, I wrote: "if we do not see Love when we see Christ, we will not see it "on the other side" of Him either". This is a strong clue to the esoteric meaning of faith in Christ. Those who believe that Christ is the Son of God, in an esoteric sense, believe that Matter is the manifestation of Spirit, and what is unseen is revealed by the seen. To truly see, -- to see things, -- and not through, into, under, over, around, or behind them -- is to experience the Divine. And because it is an experience of things as they are, -- not in their essence, but in themselves, -- it is not something which may be communicated to one whom God has not prepared to receive it. To attempt to describe this experience in words would only undermine it; since words can only point through, into, under, over, around, or behind things. Words can also point at things, but only by naming them; and to name an experience is not the same as to communicate it, -- except to one who has been initiated; who has had the experience and will know it by name. The only word capable of describing the experience of a flower is "flower". But if, when you look at a flower, you see only the connections it makes to other things, then you do not see the flower. Not really. To see the flower is to see only the flower.
The Japanese poet, Basho, once wrote: "If you want to know about the pine, go to the pine. If you want to know about the bamboo, go to the bamboo." How beautiful, how profound, and how true are these words! My friends, if we desire to know about the life of a monk, we should ask a monk; and not ask one who has chosen an entirely different path. What can the forest tell you about the sea? And when we go to the monk, the sea, or the pine, what do we look for? Only the monk, the sea, or the pine; the thing as it is. We do not uncover the roots of the pine (not unless we want to know about the roots, and not the pine). We experience the thing. We receive the impression of it by a kind of spiritual osmosis. That is all.
Consider how many billions of years have passed, in order that a flower may stand in the fullness of her bloom. Or how much space was needed -- a universe so immense, our heads ache to imagine it, -- so that her petals might spread themselves some few auspicious inches. Has all the time, all the space, and all the care of Creation labored together in order to produce this delicate miracle, just so that we might dissect, reduce, deconstruct, and, -- in a word, -- rape her? How presumptuous are we, when we rush to do all the things which God has (for good reason) left undone? And we have not yet succeeded in seeing what He has done. What is the only thing left to do? What is the one thing which has not been done? Only this: To see. To see what God has done. And, having seen, to know.
The Psalms say, "Be still, and know that I am God!" This stillness is precisely what is necessary for seeing. Indeed, the stillness is the seeing. When we wish to see what is directly before us, we do not need to look in this or that direction, but only lift our eyelids. In the same way, we have only to be still, in order to see and know that God is God. "Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you." ~ Luke 24:23
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