Joy and Wonder

Mysticism and Our Desire for Transcendence

‘Mysticism’ sounds like an exotic topic to most of us, even though mystical experience has been a mainstay in our spiritual tradition. I find that most people, in this hurried era in the West, speak frequently about a desire for tranquility and an escape from the pressures of tasks, schedules, and activities, that are of less consequence than we would prefer. In our search for such escape, we do not always pursue the most humanly fulfilling or enduring ways of attaining our goal.

When receiving catechesis during the academic year in which I was baptized, I had the good fortune to be guided by an expert in the field of Christian mysticism, John Feneley of Oxford. During that year, one of the most influential books in my faith formation was one Feneley asked me to read, by R.C. Zaehner, with whom Feneley had studied. The book was Mysticism: Sacred and Profane. Zaehner (1913-1974) was an Oxford specialist in Oriental Languages, who also served as a diplomat. In that time and place, ‘Oriental Languages’ primarily referred to the historic languages of what we now broadly call the Middle East. Zaehner mastered Sanskrit, Persian and a host of associated languages, eventually publishing a translation into English of the Bhagavad Gita. While thoroughly engaged in these intellectual pursuits, he remained a practicing Roman Catholic, and died at the age of 61 while walking to an evening mass in Oxford.

In his principal book on the subject, Zaehner delineated two basic experiential types of what are often considered to be forms of mysticism. Under the heading of the first, ‘profane mysticism,’ he grouped the reported experiences of those who imbibed mescaline and other pharmaceutical substances in order to gain episodic experiences of transcendence away from our usual orientation to time and place. Apparently, Zaehner was motivated in part to respond to Aldous Huxley, whose book, The Doors of Perception, described his mescalin-induced experience as being of sacramental beauty. Zaehner was concerned to distinguish such memorable experiences, however profound for some, from what he considered to be an authentic experience of the divine.

The second basic type of mystical experience articulated by Zaehner he termed, ‘sacred mysticism.’ Here, within sacred mysticism, he distinguished three varieties, which are likely to be of interest to those who wish to learn more about ‘mysticism’ of a religious kind. The three forms of sacred mysticism identified by Zaehner are ‘nature mysticism,’ ‘theistic mysticism,’ and non-theisitc or ‘monist mysticism.’ As a Roman Catholic, Zaehner was particularly concerned to clarify how and why what he termed theistic mysticism differs from other forms of sacred mysticism. His clarification centers on the concept of and quest for encounter with the divine, and more specifically the goal of union with God.

A striking photo of R.C. Zaehner, likely from his time as a diplomat

I am presently reading two biographies of John Muir (1838-1914), the pivotal American figure who may be credited with the origin of our National Parks and an inspiration for what we broadly refer to as the environmental movement. In Muir, I recognize a wilderness lover enthralled with the natural world, and a writer who remains an abiding representative example of Zaehner’s nature mysticism typology.

Monistic mysticism, in which we can include even the poly-theism of Hinduism, as well as forms of pantheism, perceives an ultimate unity between and among all things, both material and spiritual. It has some overlap with the nature mysticism of someone like Muir. Characteristic of monistic mysticism would be this kind of statement: “The universe and I are one, and any perception otherwise is a temporary illusion.”

John Muir, in a setting where he was most often found

In contrast to these two categories, Zahner’s theistic mysticism category focuses upon the fundamental difference made by a believer’s desire to find and experience union with the divine in a spiritual context. In mystical experiences related to this quest, there is always an indissoluble “I” and “Thou” relationship between the person and God, who despite the union always remains an ‘other.’

This latter distinction has had a lasting value in my own thinking, especially in this era in which a quest for transcendence from ‘the material,’ and from the experience of being bound by time and place, is so common. The legalization of marijuana, as well as the ubiquitous availability of alcohol, may be examples of circumstances that lend themselves to such a quest, but the extraordinary levels at which many pursue athletics such as triathlons and other ‘extreme’ sports for the resulting exhilaration, may provide another.

Assuming I have characterized fairly Zaehner’s concepts in Mysticism: Sacred and Profane, I would add one other distinguishing characteristic among those the author associates with theistic mysticism. In addition to the theme of the active pursuit of the divine (what we usually mean when we speak of ‘finding God’), a distinctive feature of Christian apologetics involves an emphasis upon God finding us. Here we discern the dimension of Grace, and a theme that runs throughout the Hebrew as well as Christian Scriptures, of God’s finding and calling individuals and then communities to be a part of God’s ongoing mission of Redemption. The Old Testament prophets, as well as the New Testament disciples who were found and called by Jesus, provide inspiration and hope for those who through misfortune and other undesirable circumstances may feel lost, overlooked, even abandoned by God. However exotic it may sound, mysticism is a desirable aspect of every human life.

Note: One other facet of R.C. Zaehner’s life and work must be mentioned, to supplement our understanding of a man who was a rather complex figure. In addition to his personal faith, and academic career of research, he served in the British intelligence services. Because of his areas of expertise, he was recruited to serve in the British Embassy in Tehran, and was a prominent figure who was active in setting up the groundwork for the subsequent overthrow of Mohammad Mosaddegh (16 June 1882 – 5 March 1967), the Prime Minister of Iran, whose downfall led to the authoritarian monarchy of the Shah. The history of politics like those of sporting events usually benefits from hindsight, and we do a greater justice to history to be as perceptive as we can about the persons who were participants in the events in which we are interested, and the circumstances that led to their involvements and activities.

As Kingfishers Catch Fire

A Kingfisher, a brightly colored fish-eating bird with a large head, a dagger-like bill, which dives to catch prey

One of my favorite poems was written by the English poet and Jesuit priest, Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889), from whom I have received inspiration in my continuing desire to glorify God by helping others perceive and give thanks for beauty. The poem from which I have borrowed my title for this post, provides a wondrous example of his gifts at work. I quote his poem here in full:

Hopkins’ Kingfisher poem, which is known by its first line

Reading poetry with insight does not come naturally to me, though I much appreciate the art form. As many others do, when approaching a poem like Hopkins’ “As Kingfishers catch fire,” I rely upon essays written by interpreters trained in literature. Since poems involve verbal communication, it may be that sharing insight about a poem with words is a more fruitful endeavor as compared with attempting the same regarding a painting. Yet, I believe that – as with most art forms – we can best express the things that have caught our attention and stirred our spirit in the paintings and poems that have stayed with us. Here are some aspects of Hopkins’ Kingfisher poem that continue to draw me in when I read its lines and speak its words aloud.

In this poem, Gerard Manley Hopkins displays what I consider to be an essentially “Catholic” sensibility when reflecting upon the world and our place within it. Here, his suggestion of the inner relationship and yet the difference between God’s mission in Creation and in Redemption, stands out to me, as does the continuity that may be perceived between the two. Order, purpose, meaning, and – yes – beauty, are to be found in God’s handiwork. The patterns we discern in nature attest to God’s intentions for us and for all other things touched by God’s ‘hands’ and by ours, and so we are reminded to look within ourselves for the same kind of purpose.

In discerning something of God’s purposes for us, we act in accord with what we observe and come to know. We are created to be just and so we choose to act justly. And we are created and then blessed further with God’s grace to be instruments of the same beautiful love. Risen Jesus, who comes to be with us, and then in us, manifests his divine role, inhabits our being, and brings new life to where it was not. In us, among the myriads upon myriads of those who see his beauty, who say, “Yes.”

A kingfisher – metaphorically – ‘catching fire’

Being True, Being Good, and Being Beautiful

James Tissot, *Christ Appears on the Shore of Lake Tiberius*

“To thine own self be true.” This familiar adage is now known to many people through their experience with 12-Step Recovery programs. Yet the phrase is traced back to its appearance in a play by Shakespeare, and hearkens back to a simple statement attributed to Plato from the pre-Christian Classical period, “Know thyself.” One way to understand being true to ourselves involves living toward spiritual wellness and in an ethical manner. If these pursuits are of value to us, we may be open to receiving counsel about how we can be truthful, and good in our conduct, even if we are not comfortable with the degree of our adherence to these ideals. But to be beautiful?

Here, modern translations of the New Testament may provide a benefit to our thinking about questions like these. In our contemporary sensitivity to employing gender-neutral and inclusive language, sayings from the lips of Jesus or in the Letters of Paul are often cast in plural language. The potential benefit to us may lie in the encouragement we can receive to think in corporate or in community-minded terms.

We often need to remind ourselves to think about our lives with a wider frame of reference, for we are so much more than individuals with only chosen or willed connections and relationships with others. We will be truer to the message of Jesus and the teaching of the New Testament when we are equally attentive to our membership in the Body of Christ, the Church, within the Communion of Saints. Our baptismal identity is shaped fundamentally not by what we do, but by our grace-enabled incorporation within the community of the Risen Lord.

In other words, we can learn to receive and follow gladly the advice that we be true to ourselves when we do so as members of the Body of Christ. We can then see ourselves in more expansive terms than those based merely upon our physical birth identity as unique individuals, our social status, or upon our achievements.

One way to understand Jesus’ use of the mysterious phrase, the Son of Man, is to see this title in terms of the transformed personhood we apprehend in the Risen Lord. As such, he embodies for us the ‘true’ and fully redeemed human person and therefore the full goodness of human being. If so, the Risen Christ also embodies for us the fully realized beauty of both created and also redeemed human personhood. In him we find our new baptismal identity in communion fellowship with one another, which is the distinctive characteristic of participation in the Risen Body of Christ. We are, in Christ, people living together into the beauty of his Resurrection.

James Tissot, *Meal of Our Lord and the Apostles*

Here is the challenge that arises with disciplining ourselves to think in these corporate and communal terms. In the culture in which we live and raise our children and grandchildren, beauty for us is most commonly thought of in visible, physiological terms. Perhaps encouraged by the advertising and media to which we are contstantly subjected, we pursue pharmaceutical products, health and exercise regimens, and even plastic surgery. We do so in search of achieving outward beauty of a kind communicated to us by others as a goal we need to seek.

We then lose sight of inward beauty, the beauty we can attain as persons who mature, become wiser, and more generous in our viewpoints. I have previously written about Sister Wendy Beckett, who I have described as one of the most beautiful persons I have come to know through my reading and media viewing. Outwardly, it must be admitted, Sister Wendy was not the kind of person whose countenance would be featured on magazine covers as an exemplar of physical beauty. Our view of what it means to be fully human is diminished if we do not also see how she, over her long years of life as a solitary devoted to prayer, became one whose face and physical presence radiated the beauty of the Risen Lord.

In this Eastertide, we hear stories from the Gospels that are echoed in passages from Acts of the appearances of the Risen Jesus, returning to his first followers. He came into their presence, encouraging and strengthening them for mission as witnesses to his realization of God’s hopes and plans for all people, for we all are God’s beloved. By grace, we are among those who have been embraced by this mission, as are those who have yet to hear and receive the hope of the Gospel. Too quickly, we assume that in the lives of hearers and readers of these stories the appropriate fruit of these appearances will be manifest primarily in truthful speaking and admirable conduct. As a result, we neglect to imagine how these stories also encourage us to embody the Beauty of the Risen Lord.

“He is Risen! The Lord is Risen, indeed!” These are wonderful phrases for us to repeat, and take to heart in this season of the Great Fifty Days. We can find in these words their intended corollary: For us who are baptised, ‘we are risen’! We are risen, indeed, and called to live into the Way, the Truth, and the beautiful Life into which the Risen Lord has invited all people. And he has made this possible for all who might be open to receiving this wonder-filled message.

An Offering for Sunday, April 26, Easter 4 A

Prior homilies or sermons of mine are occasionally downloaded by readers. Noticing this, I anticipate that some of those preparing to preach (or offer a reading) on an upcoming Sunday might benefit from the perspective I have taken regarding the Lectionary readings for a particular day. I am therefore offering (when I can) a prior text that I have used for the occasion. I will try to do this on Sunday evenings or Mondays believing that there might interest in these texts being made available. When I have one prepared, I will also offer an accompanying handout (in pdf format) in case these may also be helpful.

For this coming Sunday, Easter 4 in Lectionary year A, I offer the following.

The link for it is here. The link to the handout may be found further below.

Easter 4 A for 2026 Download

Here is the link to the handout.

Easter 4 A Handout for 2026 Download

Beauty Springeth Out of Nought

James Tissot, *Mary Magdalen and the Holy Women at the Tomb*

What an indescribable series of moments those were with the discovery of the empty tomb, first by the women, and then by some of the disciples. What made those moments so unexpected was the sense of emptiness that pervaded the scene after Jesus’ death on Golgotha. A few had stayed until the last. Most left, surely overwhelmed by a feeling of loss and of dark absence. He was gone. And then, so were they. Furtively moving off toward a place of hiding.

James Tissot, *The Apostles’ Hiding Place*

Then… from nothing came something. On the morning after the sabbath, surprised joy broke through fear and sadness as He who seemed no longer to be appeared amidst them. Among many promises, God had once said, “Behold, I make all things new.” This promise was now fulfilled, but not in a way that his people were expectating. Listless because of doubt, immobile due to their fears, their place of retreat strangely mirrored their Lord’s entombment.

Then, amidst the stillness of a death-prompted isolation, the followers of the Holy One experienced startling wonder, unanticipated joy, and a new sense of community. Excitement overcame their troubled conviction that all was lost. How had this come about? By reflecting on this question, we join writers of the New Testament and others by imagining how the Resurrection of Jesus not only happened to him, but how it also then happened to the disciples.

Robert Seymour Bridges was a nineteenth century physician and an esteemed poet, such that later in life he was named Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom. Though not well-known now, he deserves our attention for how he adapted and rendered in lyrical English verse a hymn text by the seventeenth century German theologian and hymn writer, Joachim Neander. Bridges’ version of that text is known by its first line, “All My Hope on God is Founded.”

Bridges’ poetic text is familiar to people in our own day because of the way it has been set to a twentieth century tune, MICHAEL, by Herbert Howells. Many heard this hymn when it was sung as a fitting part of an internationally televised occasion, the Committal Service for Queen Elizabeth II, in September of 2022.

“All My Hope on God is Founded” therefore represents a remarkable synthesis of a seventeenth century devotional text, Victorian poetical sensibility, and expressive twentieth century hymnology. Each of these features can be appealing, and in my perception, how they work together in this example makes for a very moving hymn that enhances contemporary eucharistic worship.

Hope, based on God’s grace and providence, provides the thematic structure for the five verses of the text as it appears in The Hymnal 1982 (of The Episcopal Church). The third verse evokes the blessings that we have received through God’s work in Creation. The text here is nuanced, evoking the role of divine wisdom, while at the same time making allusion to things we have learned through the science of astronomy. Here is verse 3 in full:

“God’s great goodness e’er endureth,
deep his wisdom, passing thought:
splendor, light, and life attend him,
beauty springeth out of nought.”

Clearly, the hymn’s words here speak of what theologians refer to as creation ex nihilo, how God created all that is from nothing rather than from something preexisting. We remember the way that God’s handiwork is portrayed in Genesis 1, especially God’s recognition that what has been created is good. Andrew Cuneo observes how, in Genesis’s opening chapter, this repeated refrain that it was good, “contains a Hebrew word which may be translated either as good or as beautiful. The feel of the whole chapter changes if one hears God proclaim that the light, the sun, the greenery, the animals are all beautiful, and mankind very beautiful.”

This helps us appreciate how Robert Bridges’ rendering of Neander’s text transposes the object of God’s appreciative regard from the attribute of goodness to that of Beauty. The beautiful splendor, light, and life that attend God then, by implication, become attributes that accrue to humankind, we who are created in God’s image and likeness.

A significant feature of New Testament theology appears in the theme of “a new creation,” signified by and inaugurated through Jesus’ Resurrection from the dead. As Paul puts it, “if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17). Paul is here referring to death and resurrection, and the transformation we undergo through Baptism, when “what is mortal is swallowed up by life.” We can therefore say that the pattern of God’s work of Redemption mirrors that of Creation. For just as God created goodness and beauty out of nothing, God brought beautiful redemption to the world out of the emptiness of Jesus’ tomb. And as we feel joy when encountering beauty in Creation, so we find joy in God’s work of Redemption.

The disciples discovered new life within themselves through their encounter with and transformation by the Risen Jesus. This led them to a renewed sense of confidence that the Lord’s mission continued, and would now continue in and through them. They would have found fitting, and would have been able to sing, Robert Bridges’ words from the first verse of his hymn:

“All my hope on God is founded;
he doth still my trust renew,
me through change and chance he guideth,
only good and only true.”

And toward beauty.

Note: The full text of Robert Seymoure Bridges’ hymn text for “All My Hope in God is Founded” may be found here.

In a prior post I offered a reflection on the Committal Service for Queen Elizabeth II and noted its inclusion of the hymn, All My Hope on God is Founded. That post may be found here.

An Offering for Sunday, April 19, Easter 3 A

First edition book jacket of Walker Percy’s last novel, *The Thanatos Syndrome*

For this coming Sunday, Easter 3 in Lectionary year A, I offer the following.

The link for it is here. The link to the handout may be found further below.

Easter 3 A 17 copy for 2026_PDF Download

Here is the link to the handout.

Easter 3 A 17 HANDOUT Vertical w Thanatos Cover_PDF Download

48 Years Ago Easter Turned My Life Downside Up

Moonrise over Athens, much as I remember it

A dusky early evening left a soft glow on the Acropolis, periodically visible as I walked from the hostel toward the church. Yet, the size and warmth of the rising full moon held my attention as its blush touched the hills, for a brief while silhouetting the pillars and pediments of the Parthenon.

It was the evening of Holy Saturday, which fell on March 25 that year. In other years the day would have been the Feast of the Annunciation, but in 1978 it was the eve of Easter Sunday. I walked the short distance to Syntagma Square, to revisit the Anglican parish I had found that morning. Now, in the approaching darkness, I was returning to make my first confession, and be baptized at the Great Easter Vigil.

How this came to be was largely due to providential grace, for I had not traveled to Greece with this particular result in mind. I was on a college year abroad, having lived and studied in Florence during the autumn. Then, after Christmas in Germany, I traveled to England for two eight week terms of study at Oxford. My plan for the year was to focus on Art History, fulfilling in part my chosen college major.

But, as in the biblical Damascus Road surprise, when first walking into the piazza around the Duomo in Florence, I experienced an unexpectedly sudden conviction: That it was time for me to surrender to the divine power I had come to recognize but had yet to affirm. Asking if there was an English-speaking congregation nearby, I was directed to St James Episcopal Church near the American Consulate. Over the next few months, and with the guidance of Fr. Edward Lee, the parish became for me a place of spiritual nurture.

The autumn course of studies for our group of visiting students in Florence was a fixed one. But my subsequent program in England allowed me the freedom to choose a personal area of focus. The exotic sounding topic of Christian Mysticism had been commended to me, and upon naming this to my Oxford program administrator, I learned that she could arrange tutorials for me with a recognized specialist in the field. What a blessing this turned out to be.

St. James Episcopal Church, Florence, Italy

And so, during a cold and wet English winter, my catechesis in the Christian Faith was suddenly deepened. My growth was fed by readings from the early desert saints, on through to the spiritual writers of the medieval period. My study experience was complemented by a different approach to worship from what I had encountered in the liturgy at St. James Episcopal Church in Florence. By chance, I discovered Pusey House and Anglo-Catholic liturgy soon after arriving in Oxford. Passing by a notice board, I saw an announcement about an upcoming sermon focused on the spirituality of Thomas Merton, whose Seven Story Mountain autobiography I had read the year before. Fr. Cheslyn Jones, the Chaplain at Pusey and a specialist in the Greek New Testament, along with the history of liturgy and spirituality, became my next catechist.

At the end of the Hilary (or winter) Term, I made the kind of plans many American students undertake hoping for spring warmth: To head as far south as cheaply possible, for what in my case would be a six week break before the Trinity Term.

I found a used tent and some economical camping supplies in local shops in Oxford, and located a round-trip bus ticket from London to Athens, offered by a discount travel bureau. This led to a remarkable pair of journeys to and from the continent, crossing between Dover and Ostend, through Belgium, Germany, Austria, and Yugoslavia, before finally arriving in Greece. Deposited on an Athenian curbside on an early afternoon, I found a local bus to the port of Piraeus. There I arranged for an overnight passage to Crete on a vintage island cargo and passenger ferry. The next morning, I bought a bus ticket to the south coast of Crete, going to a place a friend had recommended, the little seaside town of Ierapetra, near where St. Paul’s ship had sailed off the coast (Acts 27). Aside from my basic gear, I had brought along only a New Testament and a book of the sayings of the Desert Fathers for my Lenten reading. My plan to do a lot of fasting for spiritual reasons fit neatly with my need for economy.

My first couple of nights were spent in a farmer’s field, above the town and seaside. I awoke one of those mornings to a rapping on the tent pole that alarmed me, sensitive to a probable complaint about my trespassing. Instead, there was a kind man, his arms folded across his chest, cradling fresh tomatoes and cucumbers. I was very touched.

The beach along which I walked to Ierapetra on Crete

After a few days I relocated my tent to an area just above the pebbled beach, adjacent to the long shore upon which I would daily walk to the town. There I would buy a loaf of hearty brown bread, some cheese and sausage meat, as well as more tomatoes and cucumbers. These became the staples of my diet for about 5 weeks.

With just a couple of weeks to go before my return journey to England, a friend from our study program found me on Crete. He was conflicted and wrestling with a need to fly back to the States to be reconciled with his father. After a day or two, he resolved to act on his intuition, and departed on his long journey home.

A little Greek Orthodox church like the one in which I prayed on a morning of decision

Musing about his decision, I realized that I was moving toward a similar resolve, but that in my case it was a need to be reconciled with our spiritual Father. I was still fuzzy about what this might mean in concrete terms, but awoke the next morning with greater clarity. I walked into town to pray in a small Greek Orthodox church when I realized what I needed to do. That was to go back to Athens, find an English Church, and ask to be baptized. Fetching my sleeping bag from the tent and my New Testment, I booked a bus ticket back to the north shore of Crete for a return to Piraeus on the same overnight ship. It was then I learned that it was Good Friday.

The Greek inter-island ferry ship, the *Minos*, upon which I sailed overnight between Piraeus and Crete

Holy Saturday morning, the bus from Piraeus dropped me at Syntagma Square in central Athens where – very conveniently – I found St Paul’s Anglican Church. Reading the church sign with its parish notices, I learned the name of the priest, Fr. Jeremy Peake, and his telephone number. Taking the risk of calling him early on Holy Saturday morning, I surprised him with an unanticipated but what I hoped would be a welcome request: I wished to be baptized. In a wonderfully understated British way, he responded by saying, “Perhaps we should talk about that!” He then invited me to come by for coffee. When I shared with him about my months of study, and with whom I had been receiving instruction in the Christian Faith, he was reassured. Warmly, he invited me to come early to the church that evening to make my first confession, and receive Baptism at the Great Easter Vigil.

The garden area where new light of Easter was lit

The liturgy began in the darkened forecourt of the parish church, just off a main boulevard in central Athens. Amidst the busy sounds of the city around us, we gathered in silence to light the new fire with which the liturgy begins. Being my first experience of the Vigil, I was quite moved by the sequence of readings, starting with the Creation, through the Fall and the Flood, the Exodus and entrance into the Promised Land, with stories of God’s covenantal grace being extended and renewed again and again. When I was then baptized, I felt like I was on fire, an overwhelming experience of cleansing embrace and transformation. I received communion as a new member of the Body of Christ, and left the liturgy feeling like I was several feet off the ground.

On Sunday morning following the Eucharist I was invited to lunch by the kind couple who had agreed to be my sponsors for Baptism. During that wonderful meal, they explained a practice with which I was unfamiliar: Easter eggs all colored dark red, recalling a wonderful Eastertide legend associated with Mary Magdalene.

After a further week in my tent near Ierapetra, I returned to Oxford for another term of formation in the history of Christian spiritual theology. At the end of the term, I received the sacrament of Confirmation through the hands of a suffragan bishop of Winchester, at Pusey House on Pentecost Sunday.

My experience of what now seems to have been a magical series of months, forty eight years ago, comes back to me every Easter. Especially when the Feast of the Annunciation on March 25 happens to occur near Holy Week, as it did this year.

Additional note: Readers interested in the legend about St. Mary Magdalen and the red egg might like to read my earlier post on this topic, which may be found here. A further reflection of the impact of the story I share here can be seen in the opening chapter and the thematic structure of my book, Ethics After Easter.

An Offering for Sunday, April 12, Easter 2 A

Justin Matherly, *(Untitled), Fear Anxiety Joy*, 2016

For this coming Sunday, Easter 2 in Lectionary year A, I offer the following.

The link for it is here. The link to the handout may be found further below.

Easter 2 A 17_2026 PDF copy Download

Here is the link to the handout.

Easter 2 A 17 Handout copy for 2026_PDF Download

Beauty and Revelation

James Tissot’s painting depicting God’s creative work is likely to strike us as childishly simplistic in its portrayal of divinity. For it quite obviously displays what we consider to be the flaw of anthropomorphism, as if the artist was naive in his approach to faith. But what if our hesitation about anthropomorphism, aside from reflecting a proper theological concern, could also become an obstacle for us? What if the mysterious implausibility of God entering into and sharing the limitations of human being keeps us from appreciating how fallen human beings can – by the same graceful Providence – share in the beautiful fullness of God?

I believe that James Tissot came to realize this: Beauty is a form of divine revelation. And, that our joy when beholding beauty is our experience of God’s love manifest to and within us.

These themes are intrinsic to our participation in Holy Week. As we can learn from observing the traditional pattern for the liturgy on Good Friday, our focus in Holy Week is upon what God has done and is doing for us. The sign of this on Good Friday is our abstention from celebrating the Eucharist, and instead we receive communion from the sacrament reserved following the Maundy Thursday liturgy on the prior evening.

For God creates, God discloses, and God provides. Through all, God reveals self. God’s revelation involves God’s self-disclosing gifts. Within the divine attributes are those of initiative and efficacy, constitutive aspects of creativity. And so, when God creates human beings in God’s own image and likeness, God not only exercises creativity but also self-revelation.

Among the ways that we resemble our Maker is one that paradoxically can become a source of frustration for us. Positively, our Creator has given us intelligence and a God-reflecting capacity for creativity, initiative, and efficacy. In addition, God has given us an inclination toward experiencing freedom and an accompanying desire for its fulfillment. Employing these gifts can lead to an ironic and negative result: They allow us the freedom wrongly to imagine that God is actually a dispensable concept, and a coping mechanism which is just a reflection of our psychological needs and a projection of ourselves.

Reflecting on these things can lead us to recognize the heart of divine humility, that it should please God to create us in God’s own image and likeness. God has given us the capacity to imagine that we are self-made, and then to function in a parody of the divine role in Creation. This happens when we fool ourselves into thinking that we are the center of the universe. Expressions of this parody include our ideas that the universe is infinite, as are our own endless possibilities within it. Yet – and this is critical – only God is infinite, and we – like the universe – are finite beings, endowed not only with divine-reflecting capacities, but also with purpose, meaning, and identities that are not of our own making.

James Tissot, *What Our Lord Saw From the Cross*, a remarkable inversion of how we so often picture the scene

As we approach Holy Week, we have the opportunity once again to be those who watch, who listen, and reflect. As we do, we remind ourselves that we are bit players in the Divine Drama, whose Author has generously written for us a script that has a curious feature, ample provision for ‘ad-libbing.’ In fact, divine generosity is so abounding that we are allowed to create sub-plots within the overall story. To the point that we forget to reference the overall plot lines shaping the whole, as well as the Author’s purposes in creating them.

One thing that God achieved in the events of the Exodus was to remind both Pharaoh, as well as Moses and the people of Israel, that God was and is sovereign over history as well as over geography, the realms of both time and place. Forgetting this ancient truth, we neglect the comfort we can gain from the doctrine of Providence, that God provides for the needs of the world as well as our own, which God knows more intimately and with greater perception than we do. We should wonder that we are left free to imagine otherwise, a fantasy in which some of us at least occasionally engage.

But the humility we are invited to recover in this latter part of Lent, and most of all in Holy Week, involves opening ourselves to a very real possibility. That God’s way of overcoming our refusal and failure to live into the potential we have been given involves the beauty of a strange and unexpected gift. Christmas reminded us of part of this gift, that God became human so that humans could become God-like, and in the best possible way. Holy Week allows us to rediscover the gift that God chose to identify so much with us that, in the ‘Son of Man,’ the Incarnate divine-human being, God passed through human death into the fullness of human life so that we might be enabled by grace to do the same.

Finding Beauty in Easter Living

A book for the New Church’s Teaching Series

Visitors to this space are familiar with my fondness for the words of St. Richard of Chichester: “Day by day, dear Lord, of thee three things I pray: to see thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, follow thee more nearly, day by day.” The theme can be expressed more compactly: We seek to live more nearly as we pray. These words voice our desire to walk a path of beauty in life, such as we find in ‘Easter Living.’

While serving as an Assistant Professor at one of our seminaries in The Episcopal Church, I was invited by the editor of the New Churches Teaching Series to write the volume on Ethics and Moral Theology. This was the third such series of books going back to the 1950’s that seek to provide learning for persons interested in our tradition. Books in these series have addressed a wide range of areas in faith and community life pertinent to our common desire to become informed members. I wrote my book while teaching its content in the seminary, and in about 10 different parish weekend teaching events in Episcopal churches across the country, ‘field testing’ the material. My book was published in 2000, and is still in print. I wish to note that proceeds from all the books in this series were and are donated to the Anglican Theological Review, an independent journal offering the fruits of scholarship for the benefit and educational formation of those within as well as beyond the academy.

At the time of being granted tenure, a seminary trustee asked me what the title of the book implied about its content. It became evident that her concern was focused on my use of the word “after.” I was able to explain that I used the word to mean “in light of.” The book’s title is an indirect tribute to the theological vision of my doctoral supervisor, Oliver O’Donovan, then Regius Professor of Moral and Pastoral Theology at the University of Oxford, whose book, Resurrection and Moral Order, has had a profound impact upon my thinking.

It may be helpful to clarify that I use the terms “Christian ethics” and “moral theology” interchangeably. However, it is worth observing that many within the wider Protestant tradition tend to prefer the term “Christian ethics,” while those within the wider Catholic tradition tend to use that of “moral theology.” Note that “ethics,” as a named field of inquiry without the religious qualifier, is generally understood as a branch of philosophy, which may or may not observably underpin theological writings relevant to this field.

I would like to highlight a number of themes evident within and or suggested by the structure my book, which I think are particularly relevant to Christians at this point of time:

Foremost, the interdependence between ethics and spirituality, which I refer to as ‘two sides of the same coin’ despite their separate spheres of concern.
The centrality of Baptism in the lives of every Christian believer, and its implications regarding the vital relationship between what we believe and how we live
Our historic Anglican dependence upon the natural world as a source of insight about the Creator’s intentions for us and for our lives. This reflects our traditional emphasis upon the Incarnation of our Lord in human embodiment. We look for the complementarity between – but do not equate nor confuse – what the Medievals called the Book of Nature and the Book of Scripture, ‘written’ by the same Author, while having different even if overlapping purposes.
The distinctions that I offer between what I call “laws,” “manners,” and “moral principles.” Neglecting to distinguish among what these terms represent frequently causes confusion.

The final chapter of the book moves from elaboration of basic principles in Christian ethics/moral theology to an application of these principles by offering a methodological approach to how they might be applied with reference to a particular set of ethical questions, centering on how we approach a broad concern for all of us: “Should a Christian ever been involved in or associated with an act of violence?”

I wish to stress that this is not a book about “issues.” My goal was -and remains – an effort to recover and present the foundations of a solid Christian world view for how we might best approach any issue that may be of concern. So, this is not a book where you can turn to the index and look up such matters as capital punishment or a discussion of what might be a fair interest rate on loans. I try to remain careful about observing the important distinction between moral or ethical principles that we might share, and particular policy implementations that we then undertake to reflect or enact those principles in our common life.

For those who may be interested, I include here a précis of the structure of my book, articulated in the series of Axioms that are appended within it, as well as bullet point chapter summaries:

EAE_Axioms & Chapter Contents Amplified_for 2026 Download

Toward Beauty

In Art, Faith and Life ~ STEPHEN HOLMGREN

Joy and Wonder

Mysticism and Our Desire for Transcendence

As Kingfishers Catch Fire

Being True, Being Good, and Being Beautiful

An Offering for Sunday, April 26, Easter 4 A

Beauty Springeth Out of Nought

An Offering for Sunday, April 19, Easter 3 A

48 Years Ago Easter Turned My Life Downside Up

An Offering for Sunday, April 12, Easter 2 A

Beauty and Revelation

Finding Beauty in Easter Living