That said, I've grown a bit worried about this call for mysticism. And it's taken me some time to discern the exact nature of this worry.
Let's start with William James' definition of mysticism: Mysticism is a direct, personal encounter with the divine.
To be sure, theologians quibble with James' definition. They don't like how James focuses on the personal, individual encounter with God. James' mysticism, the theologians point out, lacks a communal dimension.
Fair enough. But a quick tour through the Bible and Christian history reveals that William James is on solid ground. Moses and the burning bush? Paul's encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus? Peter's vision of unclean animals on the roof? Jesus hearing the voice of God at his baptism? Isaiah's vision of God in the temple? The entire book of Revelation? The stigmata of St. Francis? The visions of Julian of Norwich? And on and on. Each and every one of these is a personal, private encounter with God.
All that to say, William James is right and the theologians are wrong.
So my worry about mysticism isn't that it's subjective, personal or private. My worry, as I've come to understand it, has to do with where the sacred is being located in the mystical experience.
In light of our discussion in Part 2, regarding the contrast between a transcendent versus an immanent sacred, this is was what I was getting at a few months ago in a post describing an "apocalyptic mysticism." For example, lot of us encounter God in nature. But this is ticklish business. When is a mystical experience on a mountain or a beach an encounter with the Creator versus the creation? Borrowing from Steven Smith in Part 2, when is a mystical experience in nature evidence of pagan versus Christian mysticism?
This is why I grabbed the word "apocalyptic" in describing the mystical experiences I'm pondering. A motif of apocalyptic theology, following Louis Martyn, is that God invades the created order from the outside. Thus, a transcendent, apocalyptic mystical experience is God invading our world, God breaking in from the outside. True, this experience is mediated through creation, but the source of the encounter originates from outside our world.
Now, one might wonder why I'm fussing about a contrast between pagan versus Christian mysticism, between immanent versus transcendent (apocalyptic) mysticism. The issue goes to idolatry and the discernment of spirits. I've been arguing that mysticism is vital for a vibrant faith walk. But mystical experiences need to be assessed and discerned.
Specifically, I think one of the temptations with mysticism is how it can devolve into sentimentality. In addition, nature mysticism can have an elitist, classist aspect. As I've joked on this blog before, when friends tell me they feel closest to God in beautiful places, on beaches or in mountains, my standard response is, "That's not God you are feeling. It's called vacation."
That might be harsh, but it gets at my worry. It's worrisome if God only shows up during your week in Hawaii.
I'm looking for an mystical encounter with God that invades and interrupts in the ugly, boring, unremarkable places and spaces of your life. And that's why I find the mystical experiences in the Bile so illustrative. God doesn't come to the saints in the Bible as they are wiggling their toes in the sand sipping Coronas.
God breaks in and disrupts, and the encounter startles and even terrifies. This isn't a warm, fuzzy feeling on a beach. It's an encounter with the Living God.
