Spiritual Imagination as a Counter-spell to Fundamentalism: Reflection 2

The Call to Truly See

This is the second in an ongoing series of reflections on spiritual imagination

My dear friend and colleague Meg McPeek told me about an incredible app called SkyView. I downloaded it, and I look at it–or through it–every day now. The app shows me where all the stars and planets are in the sky, and it highlights the constellations so I can see them rise above the horizon and set. I can even see where the international space station is. 

Using it at night is amazing, because I can stand outside and see the planets, stars, and constellations that are difficult to see with my naked eyes. Using it during the day is another experience entirely. At any point, I can look through my phone and see the stars, planets, and constellations that I am blind to during daylight hours. I can even turn it toward the ground and see the stars as they appear at that moment on the other side of Earth. Here is a screenshot of Scorpio rising at 9:00 am this morning. 

I keep asking myself what it means that I am blind to certain things right in front of my eyes. The brightness of the sun actually impedes my vision during the day as much as it lets me see the trees and birds in my backyard. I think there is a lesson here, an invitation to a deeper spiritual practice. 

This Sunday we will explore the story of the burning bush and the Transfiguration, since it is the last Sunday before Lent begins. These stories challenge us to notice what we can see–and to wonder about what we cannot see. And why. The story says the voice of God only spoke to Moses once he noticed the burning bush and paused, turned, and looked at it. He could have kept looking at what he already saw. Would the voice have still spoken? The Gospel story is fascinating because it tells us that the Transfiguration moment revealed who Jesus truly was. It wasn’t an adding on of spiritual magnificence, some holy light show; rather, it was a stripping away of what blocked the vision of Peter, James, and John. 

These are stories that invite us to wonder how we can see life as it truly is. 

I keep returning to my research and reflections on how spiritual imagination is a counter-spell to fundamentalism, to that grasping that comes from being caught up in fear, scarcity, and the urge to control. We are blind to a great deal these days, but the invitation is always there to look past what we can see–or what we think we see–and see Scorpio rising above the maple tree in the backyard. And so much more.

Here is a poem to close:

Transfiguration no. 6

Look, you say. Look over here.

I look but I do not see.

Is the problem that I cannot

or that I will not?

There are scales on my eyes,

a thickness that dims life.

What put them there?

What holds them in place?

What can remove them?

All the while, the flames dance.

Faith flirts with what if.

Grace is a match in the pocket.

We seek the key that unlocks

the door, the soul unshackled,

now able to stretch towards

what has only been dreamed,

hoped for. 

Even when he was alone

in the garden, deep in prayer,

he kept his eyes open,

not wanting to miss a moment

in case the bush caught fire once more.

And then, of course, he burned as well.

Blessings,

Stuart