Intimacy with the Infinite First Unitarian Church of Philadelphia Rev. Abbey Tennis December 4 th, :00 AM

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1 Intimacy with the Infinite First Unitarian Church of Philadelphia Rev. Abbey Tennis December 4 th, :00 AM Description: It is said that those seeking a relationship with God yearn for intimacy with the infinite. Whether God-language resonates with you or not, what might it mean to become close to that which is incomprehensively vast? Can we ever find comfort in mystery? Sermon: As I was sitting in the outdoor chapel at a family camp in Maryland, a young mother and her toddler son wandered in. The chapel was set up on a hill forest sloping steeply down to the beach right from the edge of the rickety wooden slats that enclosed the chapel. It was a beautiful day all sun and laughter and green grass and wind blowing off the Bay and rustling in the trees. Allison walked in holding little Louis s hand. He was a cherubic little boy maybe three or four years old, with astonishingly blue eyes and golden ringlets bouncing as he pulled his mom around the chapel. The chapel was one of the only places in the main camp where you could see the beach below us to get there, one had to take a long winding path that zigzagged through the trees and cabins. Most people drove. But if you didn t want to go all the way down, you could see it when you looked through the trees below from the railing of the chapel. Louis had asked his mom to come here because he wanted to see the beach, so Allison hoisted his little body into her arms. He put his chubby little hands on the railing and looked out. Allison explained what Louis was seeing the trees, the beach, the boats, the waves. After gazing down at the crashing waves for a while, Louis turned his head and asked his mother: When are they going to stop? Allison paused for a moment, and then said It doesn t ever stop. Louis s round blue eyes widened as he turned his head back down to look at the Bay. I smiled and looked down to read a line from the hymn we had picked for the following morning I brought my spirit to the sea and gazed upon infinity. Gazing upon infinity 1

2 I ve thought a lot about Louis over the years, and the honor of getting to witness what might have been the first moment he encountered infinity. I wonder what it was like to have the brain of a three year old again what it was for so much to be unknown so much being learned every day so many to help, ready with answers. I wonder how the limits of his brain coped with being told that the waves will never end. I wonder how hard he tried to understand infinity in that moment or if understanding infinity made him more attached to the concrete and finite realities around him. Whether we are three years old or much much older, it is impossible to comprehend the limitless the infinite. Each generation s great mathematical minds, and perhaps great religious minds too, help us move a tiny step closer to understanding. Einstein s theory of relativity bringing one more aspect of the infinite into the realm of human understanding. The Dalai Llama s message of compassion opening new space in the hearts of human love. But we will never fully be able to understand the infinite. And yet, a good deal of humanity spends their lives trying to cultivate a sense of intimacy with the infinite nonetheless. We cannot ever fully understand it know it and yet we yearn to be close with it; feel connected to it a part of it meaningful within the vast infinite space in the universe, meaningful in time as history unspools behind us, purposeful as new possibilities bubble into being ahead of us. Infinity is frightening otherwise so massive we feel powerless. So huge we feel insignificant. So incomprehensible, we feel stupid. For most people, cultivating a sense of intimacy with the infinite means cultivating a relationship with God. It is the ultimate paradox at the center of faith for many people seeking a deeply personal relationship perhaps the most close and personal relationship of one s life with that which is the most impersonal thing possible the infinite; that which holds everything moon, humanity, stars, oceans, earth, galaxy, tiniest space between two individual atoms and the largest space between solar systems. The fact that people succeed that millions, maybe billions of people have close and intimate relationships with that which they consider infinite that which they call God is part of what keeps faith alive for us as a humanity. ~~~ There is a whole realm of theology called negative theology or apophatic theology that describes God only by what God is not. Recognizing that the vast and unbounded nature of the Holy cannot be adequately captured in human understanding, let alone words, apophatic theologians might only ever describe God as infinite. This was put into words sixteen centuries ago by Augustine Si comprehendis, non est Deus If you have understood, then what you have understood is not God. 1 Or even twenty-five centuries ago, when Lao Tzu 1 Keller p. 18 2

3 wrote in the Tao Te Ching the Tao that can be spoken is not the true Tao. Any attempt to directly describe God, or the infinite, will inherently fail. This is where Mysticism comes in. Most people know of mysticism as an area of religion or spirituality outside the realm of normalcy. Mystics are those who have direct experiences of the divine people who find union with that which is holy, people who seek out a religious practice not based on doctrine, routine, or duty, but something more intuitive and connected; something more ecstatic. Famous mystical figures include St. Francis of Assissi, Hafez, Julian of Norwich, Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi, Thomas Merton; monastics, Kabbalists, Sufis, teachers in Hinduism, Sikhism, Buddhism, Taoism, and more. Transcendentalism was the mystical outgrowth of Unitarianism in the early 19 th century. But, as theologian Catherine Keller writes, Mysticism means, as the word itself hints, not primarily special experiences or esoteric gifts, but a persistent attunement to the mystery. 2 Mysticism isn t about knowing it s about comfort even ecstasy in the bewilderment and mystery of human experience. ~~~ Intimacy is ultimately what brings meaning to our lives. Each of us yearns for relationships that feel close, relationships where we know we belong. We seek love and affection, we seek the kind of relationships where we can be our true selves the compassionate and competent selves we are proud of as well as our jealous, petty, or selfish selves. We seek relationships that support us when times get hard, that encourage us when times are good; when we are let in and not judged. The kinds of relationships that strengthen our cores, challenge us to be better, help us to build our resilience, amplify our joy, and accompany us when we cry. Yet intimacy isn t possible without real visceral connection whether with another person or with the infinite. Finding that visceral connection is the first step. Like little Louis, gazing out upon the ocean s waves fills me with awe I can t wrap my brain around how large it is, or how complex its ecosystem is. Where the tides are strong or the waves are fierce, the ocean s power frightens me. And yet, when I wade out into calm waters on a summer night, phosphorescent algae sparkling around my legs as the stars sparkle overhead, I can lay down in the water, and float on my back. With my ears underwater, and my eyes shut, I can stretch out and feel held by the ocean. It surrounds me, quiets the harsh world for me, lifts me, immerses me in something ancient yet alive. 2 On the Mystery: Discerning God in Process, by Catherine Keller, p. 18 3

4 I can feel intimate with the ocean, and it is my limits that help me most understand its limitlessness. It is the feeling of the cool water on my skin, the muffled waves crashing in my ears, the taste of sea salt on my lips, the smell of seaweed. Knowing where I end and the water begins, yet being immersed in water, I am able to feel close to its vastness. Knowing that I only know what my body feels, though there is more to know, allows me to be present to mystery. But not all experiences of the infinite can be tactile. So instead, throughout time, we have sought other ways to be intimate with the infinite. We use metaphors and stories giving shape to a shapeless infinite so that we can connect to it often giving human shape to God. We buy a figurine of the meditating Buddha, and then sit in front of it, imitating his pose, to deepen our relationship with wisdom. We sing of the prophet Muhammad (may peace and blessings be upon him), five times a day, to build our own sense of faithfulness. We tell stories of Moses to remind ourselves that liberation from oppression is possible if we have courage and stick together. We look at stained glass of Jesus cradling a lamb in this very Sanctuary when we need to believe that, though we may walk through the valley of the shadow of death, a comforting presence walks beside us. Giving shape to the ineffable gives us a way to connect with it even when we, like all mystics, know that the ineffable can never be truly captured in any shape that our minds could comprehend. And many of us are reluctant to give shape to infinity at all, because of our religious pasts. When many of us were children, the shape of God that was handed to us was an angry, authoritarian, or abusive man who judged us and found us lacking. We were asked to build intimacy with this image of God, and instead we were wounded. Like any hurtful relationship, religious images of a cruel God made it hard for us to trust religious intimacy again for fear that our wounds might be re-opened. Others of us were presented with a shape of the holy that simply didn t align with our intellects. What seemed to be a metaphor was presented as the literal truth, making the whole faith feel like a lie. And then there were some of us presented with principles devoid of story, metaphor, or symbol, including those of us who grew up with the seven Unitarian Universalist principles as our main religious text. Rev. Marlin Lavenhar, my colleague at the All Souls church in Tulsa, Oklahoma, writes: Generalized principle statements, like the UUA Principles lack the power and depth of life s particularities. No alcoholic, no person on her deathbed or person in need of forgiveness, no grieving parent or child, no person contemplating divorce, 4

5 He goes on: suicide, abortion, or military service, turns to the Principles in time of need or temptations or discernment. They are not enough to sustain faith. 3 In my experience, when I am weeping for my dead daughter, the image of a soiled Mary on her knees holding her son s lifeless and bloody torso against her body touches the core of my experience; the words justice and compassion for all people are about as inspiring and comforting as a phone book. 4 Faith and meaning are mediated by metaphors and stories and symbols. 5 These are struggles we all share. Intimacy with the infinite is only possible through tactile connection and metaphors and stories and symbols. The gift for us in this faith tradition is that we get to choose what metaphors and stories and symbols resonate with us as we look to build closeness with the limitless. If you seek motherly comfort or the power of creation, you may connect with Goddess imagery. If you seek connection with the interdependent web of life, you may recognize the sacredness of your cat nuzzling into your hand, or your dog s trusting sleepy head on your lap. If your faith is earth-centered, you may interpret the wind blowing through your hair as the caress of a kind father. The first time I was able to give voice to an experience of intimacy with the infinite, I was in Turkey with classmates of mine from seminary. We had travelled there to visit ancient religious sites and learn about Christianity, Judaism, and Islam in that part of the world, but primarily we were there to celebrate the sebi-arus of Mevlana Jelalludin Rumi whom we know most commonly simply as the poet Rumi. Every year on the anniversary of Rumi s death, thousands of Sufi Muslim pilgrims flock to Konya, where he lived and is buried, to honor his life with ritual and celebration. Sebi-arus means wedding day it is the day of Rumi s death. One s death is called a wedding, because Sufis consider death to be a reuniting with the Beloved with the Divine. I had never really thought about God as a lover before, and yet there I was, morning afternoon and night, praying and chanting and meditating and whirling to celebrate a prophet s wedding to God, and seek a closer relationship to the Beloved myself. 3 Reverend X, Chapter: How the Principles and Purposes are Leading UUs Astray, Marlin Lavenhar, p ibid, p ibid, p. 88 5

6 I had just gone through a breakup and moved to a new city, and I entered Turkey brokenhearted. I wondered if the loneliness of being single would ever cease. Purposeless and devastated, I resented my calling to ministry and all that had brought me to Turkey. But as the week went on, I began to open my imagination. If I yearned to increase my sense of interdependence with all that is, why not give a lover s shape to the Infinite? What would God be like as Beloved? I began to imagine God as a constant presence who would support me when I felt down, warm me when I was cold, dance with me when I was happy. I imagined God as a lover who thinks I am beautiful all the time, and I began to walk around Turkey feeling adored. I imagined God as a partner who stood by me even when I wasn t easy to be around, and found myself more able to speak truths, even when they were difficult for others to hear. I felt the Beloved s warmth in the hugs of friends and in my thick coat wrapped around me on cold smoky nights. If I felt awkward, or alone, I reconnected to the image of the Beloved and found good company that found my awkwardness charming. Rather than fear despair, I chose to let infinite take the shape of love, and I immersed myself in its radiance. As long as we bring what is true in us to the world - as long as we bring an openness to what arises - we can find meaning in anything; we can find intimacy with that which is infinite. The way we find meaning, however, can only be determined by examining our own hearts. Louis found infinity in the waves that morning overlooking the Chesapeake Bay yet its scary vastness only became clear while he was safely snuggled into his mother s arms. May each one of us discover waves of new experiences that never end. May each one of us be cradled in love. Amen, and Blessed Be. 6