Divine Sparks

At this point I can’t recall what sparked the journey; but for over a year now, I have been immersing myself in the words of Medieval and Renaissance women. Known as mystics, these diverse women share a powerful, gritty, visceral relationship with God that is intimate and earthy. Each brings her unique perspective and vantage point, illuminating different communities and countries, describing and creating meaning in different languages. They are not monolithic, but rather inhabit vastly different worlds, centuries apart from each other. Between me and them there lies a vast chasm, vast by almost any measure one chooses. Reading their words, trying to penetrate the fog of the layered years, I am often reminded of our countless, colossal differences.

But then!

Then there are these moments where the words seem to leap from the page and touch something in me that is so present, so familiar, so alive, so like how I experience God. The right and perfect word for this experience is sacrament—a holy moment, a true receiving of grace from the Divine Other.

So while I can’t remember exactly what caused me to begin this exploration, I’m beginning to name why it has resonated so much, and where this fits in my own journey.

The last years have brought an immense amount of change and turmoil because of the community of faith I was part of. Sometimes it seems the shards of difference have erected insurmountable walls between people, people who once shared life together. Sometimes it is difficult to hope for any kind of healing. Sometimes whispering voices of despair clamor for attention, pushing me to question, tempting me to reject all I once held dear.

These women are giving me somewhere to stand again.

It is in the very act of experiencing the weight of centuries, precisely in the moment when I am unable to hide or avoid our shocking lack of commonality—it is right in that repulsion of difference that this spark of connection comes to life. If these long-dead women and I can share something that breathes Creator life—well, then maybe the whispers and screams which try to push me to despair are laughably, arrogantly, short-sighted. If the centuries, even a millennia can be crossed to find kindred spirits, our current divisions no longer seem insurmountable in comparison.

This is my reminder to take a deep breath, and open my ears to different voices than the ones of despair and deconstruction. These women breathe an ancient wisdom that has stood the test of time. They flesh out an anchored spirituality that kindles Divine Sparks in my here and now.

Today I’m getting on a plane to go spend a week roaming the hills and the rivers where Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179) lived, and breathed, and saw visions. I will follow my pilgrim road to the very places where she gave spiritual leadership to women in her Abbeys, prayed for people’s healing, fired off bold letters to emperors and popes; and where, as a woman in the 12th century, she toured towns and villages to preach. I’ll be in the Rhine Valley of Germany, trying to marinate in her words and her life. More importantly, I will be trying to make space in my mind and heart for God’s Spirit to challenge and cleanse, to heal, and to (hopefully) give me a fresh vision for how I am to live and be in this world today.

I’m so grateful for this opportunity that seems like a dream, thankful to Elaine for telling me to go ahead and do this crazy idea, and for the resources that make this possible. I’m planning to process and write, and if it seems right to share, I will do so.