Mystic Theology and No-Makeup Days

I told a friend this blog would be a theological treatise on what I've spent the morning reading, but I'm afraid I may need to repent of this self-imposed expectation.  Not that what follows is not of some theological substance, but that this is not your normal "theological treatise."  In the last few weeks, I have come to more fully embrace what I think I've known for a very long--if I am anything, I am a mystical theologian.  I know for many the use of the word "mystical" is off-putting, because in our day and age such terminology usually conjures up images of witchcraft and other untoward spiritual practices.  Yet, in classic Christian theology mystic theology is associated with the exploration of God's ultimate mystery.  I find the following definition from the Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church rather helpful:

Language connected with ‘mystery’ was widely used in the early Church, often in a fairly routine way; the use of such language depends on the conviction that Christian doctrine and liturgy involve matters known only by revelation, which are incomprehensible to, or which need to be shielded from profanation by, outsiders and those insufficiently purified by faith and moral conversion. The sacred words of Scripture and the deeds of God recorded in Scripture and enacted in the Eucharist (Lord's Supper, Communion in modern Protestant contexts) contain a ‘mystic’ significance, into which believers can be progressively initiated by Christ through the working of the Holy Spirit. The mystery of God remains mysterious even in its revelation, so that we need to ‘hear the quietness’ of Jesus as well as receiving His word." (Ignatius)

For the sake of this post, I make the point about leaning toward mystic theology to indicate the direction from which I am approaching the reading I did this morning from Pope Benedict XVI's The God of Jesus Christ: Meditations on the Triune God (referred to from now on as GJC).  The way I take in and chew on Benedict's words is not the same as how others may choose, and that is perfectly acceptable.  I merely prepare you, reader whom I value, for the experience and limitations of my own interpretation.  

One of the most precious points in Benedict's treatment of Jesus, God the Son, is his examination of the childhood of Jesus.  Rather than examine the meager writings in the Gospels attesting to events in the childhood of Jesus, Benedict discusses what it means to be a child and how Jesus' treatment of children later in life is indicative of the value He places on children.  What stands out to me is Benedict's discussion of what Jesus inherited from His mother Mary, not only flesh and blood but also "the inheritance of his ancestors," meaning "he accepted in himself the whole winding path that leads back fro Mary to Abraham and ultimately back to Adam." By bearing "within himself the burden of this history, he transformed it by his own life and suffering." (GJC 50)  As a modern-day Protestant, I find it refreshing to hear how Jesus redeemed the past, as well as the present in which He lived and future generations.  We have a tendency to discuss salvation from a Jesus-onward mindset, but by taking the form of a child who was raised within a certain culture with certain rituals and traditions and ways of thinking developed over hundreds and thousands of years, Jesus shed light on that which was good and condemned that which was sinful in His culture of origin.  If He had come as a fully grown man, Jesus would not have experienced what it is to grow up and internalize the ethnic elements of Jewish society, so He could not have intimately known and therefore brought redemption to the history of God's people.  

Later in His life, after the beginning of His public ministry, Jesus brings visibility to the idea of being a child in his elevation/blessings of the poor.  Benedict makes the point that "this is no romantic exaltation of poverty...rather, what is concerned here is the very depth of what it is to be human. 'Being poor' lets us see something of what 'being a child' means: a child possesses nothing of his own." (GJC 52)  The intent here is not to admonish those who have possessions, but to drive home the point that to enter into the Kingdom of God, possessions must not control one's being.  Being a child, maintaining poverty of spirit, means continual dependence on a God Who holds the world in the palm of His hands.  The human tendency towards independence of God for the sake of wealth is not valued in God's economy.  

I feel like the topic of God's economy is often expounded in our churches, which then turn around and appeal for money from pulpit.  (Now, who is it that needs to let go of dependence on wealth?) With such an example set for us, how is it that we are supposed to be like children when even our churches are hurting for money and seem to be dependent on riches in order to do God's work?  Honestly, this is where my inner mystic rejoices at Benedict's words:

     "the astonishment in man must not wither away, this capacity for astonishment and for listening that does not merely inquire into the usefulness of things, but hears the harmony of the spheres and rejoices precisely at that which does not serve the practical purposes of man." (GJC 53)

Astonishment.  What astonishes you?  What strikes the very heart of your being?  What has no worldly value but feeds your very soul in an inexplicable but wondrous manner?  Whatever it is, that is the beginning of "being a child."  

A couple years ago when my niece was 3 years old or so, I was over at my mother-in-law's house while she was keeping my niece.  I think it must have been a Sunday because I was dressed up more than normal and my hair wasn't in a ponytail. But, even so, I had made no special efforts at putting on make-up or really dressing up, and at the time I was longing to put on some jeans and get dressed down again.  As my niece, my mother-in-law and I were hanging out in the kitchen, my niece turned and with a smile said, "Noni, doesn't Aunt Lisa look beautiful today?"  I don't know what it was about how I looked that day, but I knew, to me, I didn't look like anything special.  But, my wonderful child-like niece saw something wonderful and called it by name.  How I looked didn't have any usefulness to her nor did she really care that I didn't have any eyeliner on and my eyes probably had bags underneath them.  She was astonished and took great pleasure in sharing her astonishment with others.  

May child-like astonishment fill your day, and may it be a gateway into the mystery of God, so that through the mundane, the beautiful may be found.  Amen and Amen!