When I was younger, and had more disposable hours, I used to play Dungeons & Dragons and other fantasy role playing games (RPGs). In such games, you might say you compose your own movie. Each player becomes a “character” in the story, and you go on adventures together—with someone providing leadership, called the “gamemaster”. One of the professions your character could choose was mystic—a type of “magic user” who drew power from his/her mind. (In contrast, the priest drew power from his/her god.) In this sense, the Jedi from Star Wars might be thought of as mystic warriors—drawing upon the energy of the mystic Force to accomplish great feats of valor—but able to do so because they have disciplined their minds.
I’ve also heard various individuals throughout Christian history described as mystics. However, before now, I could not have defined what makes one a Christian Mystic.
The very name itself should give us a hint that it’s a little mysterious exactly what this job description should include. If we could travel through history, say via Mr. Peabody’s time machine, we would meet a variety of different people living in different times, places, and circumstances who theologians classify as mystics. For example, I’m taking an online class right now on Christian Mysticism. The first week was an introduction, and then in the next three weeks, we will consider Hildegard of Bingen, Thomas Merton, and Mary Oliver. These are three unique individuals, each from different historical settings—but all considered mystics. Concurrently, I’ve been reading another book that describes Howard Thurman as a mystic. [1] Thurman’s example seems fitting to include as we begin African American History Month.
So, what is it all these diverse people called mystics have in common?
While Christian Mysticism does deal with disciplining the mind to emulate Christ, my RPG past only reveals part of the answer. According to The Center for Action and Contemplation’s (CAC’s) devotional readings, Christian mysticism is more about having an undeniable, authentic, and sometimes ecstatic, God-experience; it is described as “focusing more on experiential knowing [of God] over academic knowledge [of God].” Mystics are people who “see things in their wholeness,” says Richard Rohr (founder of CAC). Further, mystics function more like poets and artists, and other creative “outside the box” thinkers than mathematicians and scientists, who tend to dwell more in the realm of established formulas and linear processes.
Given that definition, I think we could certainly use more of the mystical perspective in our religious and political discourse today. We live in a world that is deeply polarized. I don’t know about you, but I find it hard to speak my mind if I know it goes against the prevailing opinion of my friends on a given topic. We get caught up in our tribe, perfecting our orthodoxy (the right way of thinking), and protecting the “tribal borders” from invading ideologies.
Consider, for example, what happens on Facebook (other social media platforms are similar—if not worse) if someone has a thought that runs contrary to the prevailing opinion on a given thread. It’s fascinating to watch; it’s not unlike white blood cells surrounding an infection in a human body. Someone posts a view contrary to the prevailing opinion of the online tribe and within minutes—or even seconds—like-minded online friends have “surrounded it” and quashed it—and they often aren’t particularly nice about it. In that kind of sterilized echo chamber, we run the risk of becoming convinced our tribe has it all right, which implies the rest of the world has it all wrong. But, of course, we know most real-life issues are complex, defying such dualistic thinking.
Learning to see mystically, as described by those who have done it, seems to offer a cure for the “us versus them” dualism that so often plays out in human relationships in our world, and that seems to make it virtually impossible for those with differing views to find common ground. The mystic path offers an alternative to our culture’s tendency toward dualistic (a.k.a., either/or) thinking. God teaches mystics to become more comfortable with both/and thinking. They realize that no side has the market cornered on the truth.
Jesus walked the mystic path. (Richard Rohr suggests Jesus was the first non-dual mystic in the West, and that part of what got him killed is that human society wasn’t ready to follow his Way. We might consider: Are we any more prepared today?) Make no mistake, the world he entered was deeply polarized, maybe even more than the one we have today. While Jesus didn’t have to navigate social media as we do, every faction that existed tried to get Jesus to “join their side”—Zealots, Essenes, Pharisees, Sadducees, you name it. And of course, in the end, Jesus did emphatically choose a side—against the religious and political powers of his day and in solidarity with the powerless, the least, last, and lost—which ended up costing him his life. But if you look at Jesus’s interactions with people, it does seem he managed to remain aloof and not pinned down by one faction or another—at least until he was ready to be pinned down, literally, for the redemption of the whole world. How did he manage that?
I think it’s because his wisdom (which was God’s wisdom) transcended all the political and/or religious options and pointed them all toward what Paul would later describe as a “more excellent way”, which he summarized in one word: agape, or unconditional love.
The good news is this path is available to all of us if we choose to pursue it. I know the name mystic sounds, well, mysterious. But keep in mind that in the Bible, mysterious doesn’t mean secret, as much as it means hidden. (Secret knowledge of God was more in the realm of Gnosticism.) The prophet Isaiah said, “Truly you are a God who hides”—Isaiah 45:10, and Paul, whom Marcus Borg dubbed a Jewish-Christ-Mystic, describes Jesus as the God-mystery made flesh—e.g., Colossians 1:26-27, 2:2. Since those who follow Jesus are said to be part of his Body, that means that those who follow Christ can be conveyors of the God-mystery. In other words, we can all be mystics.
Now, if I’m honest, I’ve never really thought of myself as a mystic. I think I always thought it was for “special people”. I don’t know that I can point to a single extraordinary God-experience that I’ve had. But, on the other hand, I have the experience gained from walking with God every day for 49+ years. That must count for something. Seen in that light, maybe I do qualify to be a mystic—and maybe you do too!
What I’ve learned is that you don’t have to retreat to a monastery to be a mystic. You can practice God’s Presence anywhere. Although many that we revere as saints are also mystics, we find that the two are not the same thing. Saints tend to be those associated with supernatural acts of goodness, while mystics are those who know God intimately, and have had their life transformed by Divine Presence. Put more simply, “saints embody goodness while mystics embody love.”
Some mystics have become famous for the writing they’ve left behind. We learn from those who lived centuries ago, as well as those who lived more recently. However, far more mystics remain anonymous, experiencing God in their own unique context, but still every bit as authentic as a Thomas Merton or Evelyn Underhill or Howard Thurman.
As Carmelite Friar, William McNamara says it, “The mystic is not a special kind of person; each person is a special kind of mystic.”
According to the CAC, it seems that, “what makes someone a mystic is less about a top-down kind of approval and more about an organic, broad-based recognition on the part of the people whose lives have been touched. In other words, mystics teach us how to find God, and a great mystic is someone who has been recognized for doing this particularly well.”
So, then the question for us to wrestle with is not: Am I a mystic? Because it seems we all have that capability within us if we choose to pursue it. Rather, we should be asking: What kind of mystic am I? What do I need to do to uncover more of the mystic within me? For God needs the unique Christ-mystery hidden in you.
[1] See Chapter 2 of Blessed are the Peacemakers [2005: Wyndham Hall Press] by Rev. Dr. C. Anthony Hunt, see pp. 60–65.
