“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness-on them light has shined.” Isaiah
“The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawns.” Matthew
In religious language, there are a number of motifs that speak of the human telos, the goal to which human beings are moving. The motifs are expressed as metaphors-“it's a bit like this.” This is not literal language, but more than literal. It takes the form of “from” and “to”:
From slavery to freedom . . . the telos is freedom
From death to life . . . the telos is birth, being born into new life
From suffering to peace . . . the telos is perfect peace
From illness to healing . . . the telos is wholeness, completeness
From darkness to light . . . the telos is enlightenment
There are more, but these suffice. The form of “from” and “to” suggest a few things. Human life is not as it could or should be; we know there is a lack. Human life is not static; there is movement from something toward something else. There is a promise and hope; things will be different.
There is within us a longing for this other thing. We long to be free, to know the fullness of life, to know perfect peace, to be whole, to truly see things as they really are. Even when unaware, the longing is in an inarticulate ache, a restlessness. I am tempted to say that that this longing is the root and substance of the religious impulse. It is the spark of divinity deep in all of us reaching out for Ultimate Reality.
In this season of Epiphany, we focus on light, on enlightenment. In my musings, I wondered, “Am I enlightened?” Do I truly see?
My tentative answer is, “yes, and no.” I do not think I am enlightened. Yet, I do think that I have had moments of enlightenment. There have been occasions when it is almost like the veil has been removed and for the briefest of times I see with great clarity. And then it is gone.
Sometimes these moments are like daydreams, when the everyday world recedes and I find myself in some other place where all is clear. It may be sitting reading, or driving the car to work, or even in the shower.
Sometimes the moments of enlightenment are in my dreams while sleeping. At a recent retreat, the main speaker, a psychoanalyst, talked to us about dreams. I asked him why it was that sometimes in my dreams I have such clarity of insight, only to be lost on wakening. The insight remains for the briefest of moments and then it is gone. Did I really see that clearly? His opinion was, yes, it was a true glimpse of reality. A glimpse. Nothing more; but, nothing less. A glimpse of reality.
It is these briefest of glimpses, moments of enlightenment, that give us hope that we are in movement toward the fullness of enlightenment.
Yet, there is another way to think of it. Enlightenment may come in two ways. The first is like the switching on of a light. Here we are in darkness; the light is turned on and the darkness is no more. I think the brief moments of enlightenment are like that. When the light comes, the darkness goes and we see. Of course, if we have been in the dark a long time, the light itself is blinding and even in the light we do not see. It takes time for eyes used to darkness to adjust.
The other way of enlightenment is the gradual rising of the sun.
Last week we had opportunity to leave home in the darkness to go to an early appointment in another city. As we drove in the darkness, gradually dawn came. It was a cloudy day, so we did not see the sun rise. Yet the light came. The light came in imperceptible increments. It was difficult to say when the day had broken. It is equally hard to say at what point enlightenment happens. It is very gradual. I see more clearly now than I did a moment before. Yet, there is nothing spectacular; no great event you could put your finger on. If I compare what I see now, with what I saw before, it is more.
However, I will not be dogmatic about what I think I see. As the light begins to dawn, shadows play tricks on the eyes. Dawn and dusk are the most difficult times to drive. There is sight, but it is far from perfect. One of the greatest problems with religion (and it can be very dangerous for others) is when someone gets the beginning of enlightenment and proclaims that they now see clearly. It is the arrogance of the spiritually immature. The world is full of it and is a more violent place because of it.
When I look back on my early years as a minister I cringe at the arrogance of spiritual immaturity; the dogmas confidently proclaimed; the things I thought I saw clearly and insisted that others see too. The shadows played tricks, but I was unaware and people suffered.
Nonetheless, enlightenment awaits! Humility is needed with the little we think we see now.
“The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawns.” Matthew
In religious language, there are a number of motifs that speak of the human telos, the goal to which human beings are moving. The motifs are expressed as metaphors-“it's a bit like this.” This is not literal language, but more than literal. It takes the form of “from” and “to”:
From slavery to freedom . . . the telos is freedom
From death to life . . . the telos is birth, being born into new life
From suffering to peace . . . the telos is perfect peace
From illness to healing . . . the telos is wholeness, completeness
From darkness to light . . . the telos is enlightenment
There are more, but these suffice. The form of “from” and “to” suggest a few things. Human life is not as it could or should be; we know there is a lack. Human life is not static; there is movement from something toward something else. There is a promise and hope; things will be different.
There is within us a longing for this other thing. We long to be free, to know the fullness of life, to know perfect peace, to be whole, to truly see things as they really are. Even when unaware, the longing is in an inarticulate ache, a restlessness. I am tempted to say that that this longing is the root and substance of the religious impulse. It is the spark of divinity deep in all of us reaching out for Ultimate Reality.
In this season of Epiphany, we focus on light, on enlightenment. In my musings, I wondered, “Am I enlightened?” Do I truly see?
My tentative answer is, “yes, and no.” I do not think I am enlightened. Yet, I do think that I have had moments of enlightenment. There have been occasions when it is almost like the veil has been removed and for the briefest of times I see with great clarity. And then it is gone.
Sometimes these moments are like daydreams, when the everyday world recedes and I find myself in some other place where all is clear. It may be sitting reading, or driving the car to work, or even in the shower.
Sometimes the moments of enlightenment are in my dreams while sleeping. At a recent retreat, the main speaker, a psychoanalyst, talked to us about dreams. I asked him why it was that sometimes in my dreams I have such clarity of insight, only to be lost on wakening. The insight remains for the briefest of moments and then it is gone. Did I really see that clearly? His opinion was, yes, it was a true glimpse of reality. A glimpse. Nothing more; but, nothing less. A glimpse of reality.
It is these briefest of glimpses, moments of enlightenment, that give us hope that we are in movement toward the fullness of enlightenment.
Yet, there is another way to think of it. Enlightenment may come in two ways. The first is like the switching on of a light. Here we are in darkness; the light is turned on and the darkness is no more. I think the brief moments of enlightenment are like that. When the light comes, the darkness goes and we see. Of course, if we have been in the dark a long time, the light itself is blinding and even in the light we do not see. It takes time for eyes used to darkness to adjust.
The other way of enlightenment is the gradual rising of the sun.
Last week we had opportunity to leave home in the darkness to go to an early appointment in another city. As we drove in the darkness, gradually dawn came. It was a cloudy day, so we did not see the sun rise. Yet the light came. The light came in imperceptible increments. It was difficult to say when the day had broken. It is equally hard to say at what point enlightenment happens. It is very gradual. I see more clearly now than I did a moment before. Yet, there is nothing spectacular; no great event you could put your finger on. If I compare what I see now, with what I saw before, it is more.
However, I will not be dogmatic about what I think I see. As the light begins to dawn, shadows play tricks on the eyes. Dawn and dusk are the most difficult times to drive. There is sight, but it is far from perfect. One of the greatest problems with religion (and it can be very dangerous for others) is when someone gets the beginning of enlightenment and proclaims that they now see clearly. It is the arrogance of the spiritually immature. The world is full of it and is a more violent place because of it.
When I look back on my early years as a minister I cringe at the arrogance of spiritual immaturity; the dogmas confidently proclaimed; the things I thought I saw clearly and insisted that others see too. The shadows played tricks, but I was unaware and people suffered.
Nonetheless, enlightenment awaits! Humility is needed with the little we think we see now.