Scratched primitively in the red and yellow stone was a mark:
Off the path, this route guided by the Breath of the One, attained only in the loneliness of the pilgrim’s path. Even the whimsical encounters and quirky units of chaos force the true Rat to manifest or be lost. Too soon in the journey to find the object of my desire…the Rat.
Seco shifted a little on the sharp rock. A smile faintly haunted his countenance, manifested by a slight tightening at the edge of his eyes and a barely perceivable bob of his long whiskers. As he spoke, the sound started as a low tone, a vague guttural “um” that increased in volume until the actual words caught up. Every paragraph, therefore, seemed to come from somewhere else, a great reservoir of speech only accessed in the middle. All his phrases began with ellipses.
“…you have the Breath, yes? Do you know He’s here, in you? How great, large, immense, cannot be measured, ummmm….holds everything together all the time, everywhere…even places you will never see or learn about…they are there…in His mind…” There was a fading into mountain-breeze here, and it seemed like Seco laughed to himself. “…ummmm…how can Breath have thought…the wind goes where it will, and we are but a figment of the Breath…”
Again, the Breath wrapping itself around the mountain tightened, and Seco’s words returned to the silence. I tried to rest-in-thought, but the Scriptures spoke in my heart (1 John 2:27).
“For by Him [the Beloved Son] all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities – all things have been created through Him and for Him. He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together” (Colossians 1:16,17). What is Reality? The severely-edged seat on the side of a mountain, imposing its’ truth into my backside? The penetrating radiation of sunlight on my cheeks and scalp, engaged in a sensate dance with the cool wind in my beard and hair? The tattered Book in my left hand? The rock-Rat still as stone a few feet away? Are these material things Reality, or are they only things I am feeling? Are they thoughts in the infinite Breeze of the Almighty and Beyond? How can this Man of Nazareth continually conceive and move Everything and Every-moment? Question marks reduce the humble to breathless adoration and the prideful to frenzied self-indulgence. Seco’s stillness was infectious enough to keep me low. Another Word came.
“The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit” (John 3:8). Due to a loving Will beyond me, I find myself born of the Breath exhaled from Forever. I am like Him in this way: I am present. I am ignorant of where I come from, for the only Past to me is the Present-Past, the Past that is brought to mind Now in my memory; it is not the same as the true Past (if such a thing exists), for I remember how and what I will. There is no Past: “…forgetting what lies behind” (Philippians 3:13). “Do not say, ‘Why is it that the former days were better than these?’” (Ecclesiastes 7:10). Likewise, I am ignorant of where I am going. My knowledge of the future consists of imaginations and words written a few pages ahead in a calendar (does my vanity consider these scribblings real?). There is no Future. There is only Now. I am part of the One Who said, “I AM WHO I AM” (Exodus 3:14).
“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8). Did the writer not see the Creator? Did he not see the Baby, or the bloody pulp nailed to a stick? Did he not put his hands in the scars or fall dead at the flaming feet of Glory? How can He be the same? How can He be only Present? I ask, for I am to be “conformed to the image of His Son,” (Romans 8:29) yet this timeless Present in which He is First Cause, Infant, Victim, Wounded, and Deadly Light all at once makes me forget to breathe…
…let me endeavor to encourage you, since it is still Today (Hebrews 3:13). Those who care to look see a recluse when they look in my direction. How do I survive, I was asked, in the smothering chaos of the crowd? I responded in an effort to teach myself, “I carry my own silence within me.” Another time, kept in the apparent Morgan (close to the Desert of Morgan, yet infinitely far away if we’re not there), the distance to the Desert was brought to my attention. Again, teaching myself, I observed the Desert in my mind and claimed it as sufficient. Are these things true? No, they are false. It is not my silence, nor is it my Desert. Concerning the Desert of Morgan, I will say this only briefly at this time (I know, I said “Time”): though tagged with “of Morgan,” the Desert is part of Paradise. Calling it the Desert of Morgan simply gives us a flimsy frame of reference for our – for my – struggling mind. Let me speak of the Silence. And yet, as I would speak to you, Seco’s voice came from the silence of the mountain. Let him speak to you.
“…observe the silences in the Apocalypse.”
I opened my ratty copy of the Scriptures to the Unveiling of Jesus. First, Seco the Rat led me through the Liturgy of the Silence of the Breath of God.
“…the Wind embraces the mountain…we are on the mountain, insignificant parts of its’ vastness…we are embraced and filled and made by the Wind of the Being. ‘…I saw four angels standing at the four corners of the earth, holding back the four winds of the earth, so that no wind would blow on the earth or on the sea or on any tree’ (Revelation 7:1). The Teacher has said, ‘you do not know the path of the wind,” (Ecclesiastes 11:5) and the Chosen One has showed us the Wind is the incarnation of Breath…” I nodded. I have, in my stillness-to-be-taught, felt the Wind and sensed the closeness of Otherness, the Return, and even the grave. It is always a delicate and potent concession, a most valued gifting. Seco grunted approval. Do you, beloved, apprehend the love and communion in the fellowship of disciples that has as its’ goal the shaping of the spirit? It is beyond the love that fills my belly or heaves into laughter. It is eternal and unbreakable. Such was the moment on the abrasive mountain. Seco continued (or at least I heard him again…perhaps he never ceased speaking):
“Many messengers are spoken of in the Unveiling. One makes proclamation, ending any further delay, any further salvation: ‘…when he had cried out, the seven peals of thunder uttered their voices. When the seven peals of thunder had spoken, I was about to write; and I heard a voice from heaven saying, “Seal up the things which the seven peals of thunder have spoken and do not write them”’ (Revelation 10:3,4) The thunders, you know…they are the Breath…” Seco paused, allowing the Breath to teach me further. My hands moved the pages an instant before I knew where they were going. I found the verse the Breath (and Seco) wanted me to find: “Out from the throne come flashes of lightning and sounds and peals of thunder. And there were seven lamps of fire burning before the throne, which are the seven Spirits of God…” (Revelation 4:5). Though uttering perfectly, wholly, and “seven-ly,” the Words were hidden from us. Even the thunder of the Spirit is silent. Only in a deep spiritual mystery can thunder be SILENT.
The manifestation of the Breath of God, the wind, is silent in the Unveiling for a time. The thunder of the Breath from the throne is silent, for it is not revealed to me. Seco thought of me, and the Wind moved me to another verse: “When the Lamb broke the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half and hour” (Revelation 8:1). Seco the Rat said nothing. He did not need to teach, for the Wind had used him to bring me to this moment. Seco was the pedagogue, and now he retreated before the Master. He now lapsed into still oración. The silence of Heaven, the realm of God Who is Spirit (John 4:24). This realm of Spirit is silent for a slice of eternity thirty minutes long (I remain agnostic concerning the temporal mechanics of heaven). Another silence of the Breath came to my attention, despite myself. As quickly and profuse as my thoughts were, it was a true grace that the Spirit condescended to continue in this time on the mountain. I have yet to master stillness (forgive me, Father).
There are Words concerning the end of the Breath of God flowing from His servants: “…in the days of the voice of the seventh angel, when he is about to sound, then the mystery of God is finished, as He preached to His servants the prophets” (Revelation 10:7). I have seen the verse that speaks of prophesies’ end (1 Corinthians 13:8). The Breath will be silent in the mouths and pens of His dead servants. They will be silent to the reader. They will be silent, and will cease from their moving the mountain of the Kosmos like a mote of dust in sunlight. A time comes, and since it is promised perfectly, it even now is (I entertain some element of timelessness in my ontology, as a mystical Parmenides). The testimony of the Spirit to the nations will cease (Matthew 10:20, where it is the Spirit of the Father. Mark 13:11, where it is the Holy Spirit. Luke 21:15, where it is Jesus. The Trinity will speak through His servants, and the Trinity will cease to speak…may it be that His servants also cease to speak).
The Wind (symbol of the Breath), Heaven (the place of Spirit), the thunders of the Breath of God, and the instruments of the Breath of God…all these are mute. What does it mean for the Breath to be silent? Since most people do not hear the Voice (for they do not have that desire given to them), the Spirit is experientially silent anyway. For the Breath to be silent is a deepening of a Deepness hardly noticed. The Spirit sinks back into the eternal silence of God (Who is not seen or heard)…it is a SILENCE that drowns out the vain and futile and stupid cries and pontifications of the Kosmos.
Behold: the body (singular) of you (plural) is a temple (singular) of the in-you (plural) Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19).
The body we have is one, and it is the temple. The Spirit in us is One, and He is Being. In a sense, none of us has authority over our bodies, for we do not consider ourselves as individuals with rights to somatic possession (1 Corinthians 7:4. Of course I do not mean sexually in this application. Consider also 1 Corinthians 11:11). If disciples are, in Body, a temple of the Holy Spirit, then what does it mean for the place of worship if the Object goes silent? I do not mean that He leaves the temple, but that His presence grows silent. Surely it would be blasphemous to do anything except be silent! As the Spirit returns for a season (it could be only half an hour!) into the silence of God, He does not leave His temple, does He? May it never be! Instead, the temple itself is drawn into this beautiful stillness. “Therefore, behold, I will allure her, bring her into the wilderness and speak kindly to her” (Hosea 2:14). This speaking “kindly,” this wooing, can (and does) occur in silence. Are the heavens not said to tell, declare, pour forth speech, reveal knowledge, and to have utterances? Yet, “there is no speech, nor are there words; their voice is not heard” (Psalm 19:3).
When the Spirit grows silent and draws me into that silence, it is not enough that I am quieter than a wind that rends mountains into pebbles. It is not enough to be unnoticed in an earthquake, or dull beside a great fire. When the Spirit grows silent, a gently blowing must be a roar compared to me (1 Kings 19:11,12). Yet, in my silence, I will be an offensive omission in the fruitless noise of the Kosmos. So shall my devotion and testimony be. My silence will bear profound and indestructible fruit, for it is not my SILENCE. It is the silence of the Creator, Who has been known to silently settle over dark formlessness and void (Genesis 1:2). His silence is not nothing, since He does not create nothing. His silence is indefinably rich with creativity and bounty. Hush. Amen.
In the distance, miles away, there were mountains and mesas and features that were nameless to me. Dark clouds hugged the horizon closely. The mountain to my left rejoiced in the sun. I enjoyed the grace bestowed by the communion of the Moment. My faith was increased. I had been led to prayer by faith, and in this prayer of learning and receiving from the Spirit, my faith had been increased. The increased faith drives me into more prayer.
After the passing of an age in this world, Seco led me through the brief second Liturgy of Silence in the unveiling. This silence is the silence of the grain of wheat, fallen on the ground (John 12:24). It is the Absolute Image that is our singular Passion. Three days, silent in the borrowed tomb. Cold, motionless, lifeless, thoughtless, dead. Three days and three nights. O sign of Jonah, marked on the courses of my being! Hear the silences of the Lamb: “…I was dead…” (Revelation 1:8; see also 2:8) “…a Lamb standing, as if slain…” (Revelation 4:6) He is silent through this whole episode. “…You were slain…worthy is the Lamb that was slain…” (Revelation 4:9,12). After His message to the Churches in which He beckons us to hear spiritually, He becomes so silent in His unveiling!
The third silence is an echo of the second. As the divine-fleshly Template was dead, so too his witnesses. “When they [the two witnesses] finish their testimony…the beast that comes up out of the abyss will…kill them. And their dead bodies will lie in the street of the great city which mystically is called Sodom and Egypt, where also their Lord was crucified…for three and a half days…” (Revelation 11:7-11). Three and a half days of silence. The witnesses give no testimony, except in their lifelessness (I have never been taught that “model”). As He was dead, the witnesses are dead. “And I heard a voice from heaven, saying, ‘Write, “Blessed are the dead who died in the Lord from now on!”’ ‘Yes,’ says the Spirit, ‘so that they may rest from their labors, and their deeds follow with them’” (Revelation 14:13). A strange rest. A stillness of flesh, thought, emotion, being. Let the deeds follow the saints and witnesses, follow behind. They move beyond being now. “…they poured out the blood of saints and prophets…drunk with the blood of the saints…in her was found the blood of prophets and of saints and of all who have been slain on the earth” (Revelation 16:6; 17:6; 18:24). The whore. The life is in the blood (Leviticus 17:14). Their blood, their life in her. Yet they are not in her. In silence beyond life and blood they are unbeing, safe in him. Their testimony of silence in the prostitute, speaking mutely against her. The silence of the martyr, an echo of the silence of the Lamb. Hence it is said of all servants of the Being: “…he did not open his mouth” (Isaiah 53:7).
A fourth movement in the empty Liturgy of this great and terrible Space above the Desert of Morgan speaks of awe. “And I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, ‘Who is worthy to open the book and to break its’ seals?’ And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the book or look into it” (Revelation 4:2,3). There is an instant (eternal where there is no time) between the seeking of worth and the great Ascribing of Worth…an instant of unanswered question. Somewhere in there we are tempted to think of all the things we wish for in this world, and are forced by our discipline to give them to the One Who needs Nothing. But before this spontaneous list of desire we are silent, choking on our silence before the awareness that we are not the center.
Seco the Rat sniffed, ever so slightly. For this beautifully ugly rat, such a gesture was the funniest of jokes. Have you ever sat and endured the heat of the sun? Ceased squirming in the feeling that your surface tissues are swelling to burst? Relaxed in the hot air that suffocates? You are assured a blessed “prayer-closet” in such a place; only the most set-apart will ever join you. You can be sure their company is not distraction, but Appointment. It was a holy meeting with Seco on the side of the yellow crags. A fifth Space in the Liturgy of Silence. “…no lie was found in their mouth; they are blameless” (Revelation 14:5). There are times we cannot open our mouths without lying. We pretend to know, yet knowledge is possession of One. We cannot know each other, or ourselves, or God, as He knows. Yet we open our mouths. The mouth speaking no lie is dormant, dry in the painful air. An angled bone-of-earth digs into my leg, just below the knee. Do I move? Why?
You know there are false silences, too. There is the spiritual death: “…you are dead…” (Revelation 3:1). It comes (see how I personify the absence of life) when we rest on the path set before us. The deeds of God not complete. How can that be, except in the place of false silence, spiritual death? “…the idols of gold and of silver and of brass and of stone and of wood, which can neither see nor hear nor walk…” (Revelation 9:20). I am witless, to be sure, for speaking occasionally to the rocks and dust as a brother in Creation. But to attribute deity or even corresponding consciousness requires a special level of willful confusion. “For nothing else so soils the work of God and makes unclean what is clean as the deification of creation and the worshipping of it as equal to God the Creator and Maker. Thus all creation, defiled now and worshipped by man, is soiled and brought down to complete corruption” (St. Symeon the New Theologian on the Mystical Life: The Ethical Discourses, trans. A. Golitzin, vol. 1, The Church and the Last Things [Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1995], 30). These things of Creation are relatively silent (relative to our endless vomiting of words and communications), but fulfill the Creator’s will in their silence. To worship these fellow-beings baffles even the heat-exhausted rat-seeker. “…and he threw him [the dragon] into the abyss, and shut it and sealed it over him, so that he would not deceive the nations any longer, until the thousand years were completed; after these things he must be released for a short time…when the thousand years are completed, Satan will be released from his prison, and will come out to deceive the nations which are in the four corners of the earth…” (Revelation 20:3,7,8). A thousand years of satanic silence. May our silences never be a biding of time until we set our minds to receive and conquer and manipulate and rebel and an cessation of all waiting for the Lord. I have seen it happen.
Seco did nothing, yet marked the end of the Liturgy. It was time for me to move on in search of the Desert Rat. It’s always tempting to stay and let the heat and rocks finish cooking me. But I wordlessly leave Seco and move on, unchanging in my quest. “Let the one who does wrong, still do wrong; and the one who is filthy, still be filthy; and let the one who is righteous, still practice righteousness; and the one who is holy, still keep himself holy” (Revelation 22:11).
No comments:
Post a Comment