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| Liszt - passage from Transcendental Etude # 1 |
In an SF novel by Joe Haldeman
(Worlds),
there is a scene where the
protagonist is describing other participants in a musical performance
she is participating in. In particular she is noticing two of the
other musicians, one who is technically proficient and skilled, if a
little distant, while the other, also proficient, appears to be
continually in amazement of the sounds coming from the instrument,
as if unwilling to credit other than their own skill at the music
produced, that the instrument itself is somehow possessed by will and
responsible for the wonderful sounds created.
These character
observations really have no further relevance to the story, and I can
only imagine that this awareness of transcendency was something he
had seen, and felt compelled to get the experience down on paper. By
its nature, transcendental experiences are those that surpass and
rise above our mundane expectations and experiences, hopefully
transforming us in the wake of their passage.
I bring this up
because of an insight I recently had during a contemplative retreat.
This retreat was aimed at helping the participants make more of a
connection between their interior spiritual life and the Christian
liturgy (in the instant example, it was aimed at the Episcopal
liturgy).
One of the facets
of that connection is to make the conscious effort to listen to, and
reflect on, what is contained in that liturgy. Indeed when you
reflect upon the liturgy, and “deconstruct” it, without actually
being that rigorously analytical, we can open up our perceptions to
allow the transcendency of the mystical to be recognized, and view
what one subjectively experiences as “listening with love,”
“delight,” “amazement” or simple wonder, as that musician
Haldeman described in his novel's scene. For most of us, this
feeling of experiential wonder is fleeting and unpredictable, except
that, when we consciously seek for that feeling of wonder it is
certain to elude us.
One of these
transcendentally transformative experiences for Christians can be the
simple act of contemplation and acceptance of the Eucharist. Being
human, our inner life is usually full, not of thoughts of the
sublime, but of the ordinary, are our shoes at the proper state of
shiny? Look at the state of that altar cloth! The ability to be as
empty of preconception, and as open to acceptance of Christ's
presence is rare indeed, and the more we strive for that state the
more it will elude us, such that when it does come, it is a surprise
that can overwhelm and frighten. Thought of finding the sublime in
our daily, mundane, life is supremely attractive to us.
That experience is
so much more beauteous, so much more of a
wonder beyond hope or expectations, when achieved, and so much, much
more terrible when lost, we have only a fleeting glimpse of
memory as treasure, either to hoard to ourselves or to share.
The achievement of
that promise may be something that is as simple as accepting the
existence of the reality of the mysticism and mystery in our faith,
or it may be forever beyond our grasp.
