THE ONLY WAY
Since the inception, upon first discovering what it means to be human, we’ve run from it and, thus, from our capacity to love. We were never perfect, just naive, but God loved us anyway. He doesn’t require it; in fact, private human perfection may not even exist. This didn't change when our eyes were opened; we did.
Ever since, we've adopted increasingly clever approaches to bridge the gap of our self-imposed separation. The most significant and damning example in religion is Jesus himself; more specifically, what we’ve done with him. In the 11th century, Anselm of Canterbury argued that Jesus’ death was the necessary payment of a debt owed to God, a perspective that remains the dominant soteriological position.
I’ve come to believe something vastly different, that Jesus paid the ransom to us. From the beginning to this very day, we’ve held a debt over our own heads, and because of this shame-debt alienate ourselves from God and make ourselves enemies of God in our minds. Jesus came, in part, because God knew we’d need a bridge across this divide, a mechanism our dualistic minds could accept. This reconciliation was meant to be a gateway, a necessary first step to a more expansive understanding of Christ, but we stopped at substitutionary atonement and have been there ever since. At some point, we need to forgive ourselves for being what we are. It’s the only way we’ll ever begin to discover what that might really mean.
When it comes to all the messages I heard over the years, mysticism is the only avenue with even an inkling of a chance of showing us the way. Orthodox Christianity taught me I was wretched, but could be saved despite it all if I adopted a belief system and completed a checklist. Atheism taught me I could forge my own existential meaning, devolving into subjective indulgences or arbitrary considerations that mean absolutely nothing to the endless, dark void just miles above my head. To be fair, mysticism itself has been an often circuitous and fruitless journey itself. The wise take care: theosis can itself become a trap when acceptance of God's love becomes contingent upon perceived progress along the path.
Despite this, I remain convinced it’s the only way forward. It's clear I cannot simply choose to receive love unconditionally, not on a deep, unconscious level. The mind thinks it knows things, but only if the heart, the seat of love, also knows. Heart knowledge grounds us in the Real, transcending the realm of ideological abstraction. And how can the heart be shown, when years and years of experience render us slaves to a persistent confirmation bias? How can I come to look at myself through different eyes, a larger set of eyes, God's very eyes? Explanations and normal experience are utterly useless here, asking the colorblind to differentiate between a gala and a granny smith.
So mysticism has become foundational for me, and it's not even about the process or the journey anymore. I've become less and less concerned about transformation, wondering what I might become, and am finally starting to appreciate the wonder of what I already am. The silence opens both my heart and mind to the deep mystery God so desperately wants me to remember: that when he looks at me, he sees his son.