Previously: “He was never completely sure what he saw that morning, but I saw everything very clearly at that moment. In full, not-in-Kansas-anymore technicolor, God was with him that morning, and I’ve been trying to convince him ever since.. “
In this episode, we fast forward to the present day where our narrator shares clues into the meaning of the strange events that occurred during the early morning hours of March 20, 2016 at Yorkshire Grey Place.
Present Day
“He was never completely sure what he saw that morning, but I saw everything very clearly. In full, not-in-Kansas-anymore technicolor, God was with him that morning and I’ve been trying to convince him ever since.”
Now I’m not suggesting he didn’t perceive God in that moment. He was pretty sure it was God, but whether due to his annoying preoccupation with what other people thought or simply the stubborn doubt modern man has toward all things transcendent, he refuses to tell anyone else he had an actual encounter with God.
Even to me (your very reliable narrator), he has never fully shared exactly what he saw, heard, felt, or otherwise perceived on that fortuitous visit. For nothing could have seemed more fortuitous at the time, because on that foggy morning at Yorkshire Grey Place, nothing short of a savior was needed.
The events that would take place over the coming days, weeks, months and years after that morning appeared to be nothing less than a divinely-inspired reversal of fortune. Whether it was a vast company of angels that swooped down in a majestic train described in the lyrics of his favorite hymn, or Jesus alone came in those ‘Clouds Descending’ upon our sunken flat, surely it was to save him from the depths of depravity he was drowning in? And yet, looking upon the lifetime-ago that seems to have passed, if it was Christ our Savior — the Son of Man, the Word, the way, the truth and the light — who paid a visit, it wasn’t a rescue mission.
In spite of the sudden reversal of fortune that appeared on the surface to be truly miraculous, these events were not only temporary, they would prove to be far less benevolent than they appeared. Nothing he had experienced prior to that morning would come close to the depths of misery, despair and hopelessness my dear friend would later endure. Every time he was stricken with yet another blow or betrayal — whether from the treachery of priests and spouses or the church itself — I would question my own certainty that it was God we saw in London, and not the fallen angel in disguise with whom we came to know quite well over these past few years.
When faith could be called upon for clarity, we would understand in hindsight this useful lesson: if God comes to pay man a visit, it isn’t to save him from a sinking ship or for a shoulder to cry on. As Christians, we should know better. We’ve already been saved.
That morning in London was a portent, not a balm or message of glad-tidings. That morning became a fork in the road in which the direction pointed at was not the shorter and easier route, but rather the true path to salvation. Salvation, as we well understand now, comes only through that gruesome, hideous, and yet sacred cross. God failed to tell my friend any of this, of course. So what was the point of the miracle I know for certain we both witnessed?
God had to appear in all His glory to tell my friend to finish his homework.
I beg to know, while he stared from bended knee up at God, looking through eyes filled with tears of awe and wonder, what message did he hear, see or perceive? Every time I ask he answers with only shrugged shoulders and a resigned look on his face. He has never been able to articulate what happened that morning, and I believe he doesn’t have any memory of what actually happened — at least not in the way we understand memory to work.
The only recollection he has attempted to share was comparing the feeling of his encounter to a movie scene where a brilliant scientist sees equations and mathematical proofs scrolling before his eyes in which the secrets of the universe are unlocked.
He doesn’t have any secrets to share about quantum mechanics, but does have a hunch that the meaning of life has something to do with the search for truth; that the most essential appetite for human survival and flourishing is the unquenchable need to know ‘why.’ In this way, humans are at their purest, most basic essence… toddlers.
Recall that during “the experience,” immediately prior to his involuntary genuflection, he was rummaging through the flat to find the Catechism of the Roman Catholic Church. He has embarrassingly conceded that while being high as a kite while studying the Catechism he may have imagined a divine revelation to explain an insight into the meaning of life. Moreover, he cautions that being intoxicated by both gay party drugs and the teachings of the Church may have felt to have been some profound revelation of “The Truth.”
And yet, there might be something there.
The one unassailable good that has come of the big, burning pile of shit that has landed in his lap over these past few years is a newfound appreciation and deeper understanding of Christian theology. Alongside theology is the mysterious language of God we call liturgy. This knowledge and practice have been the very sustenance, the oxygen that has kept his faith alive and burning against all odds. Seeking truth is not for the feint of heart for it often comes at great pain and sacrifice. What discoveries have we made on this rough trodden journey that began ten years ago?
As nearly every philosophical and religious tradition — East and West — have recognized, pain and suffering represent the irrefutable, inescapable, and universal reality of human existence. The cross reminds us of this reality but does so much more than that. They say the cross is the only path to salvation because the truth it reveals is that it is only through pain, suffering and sacrifice that we can reach God.
What my friend is coming to slowly understand is that the mystery of the cross reveals more than answers to his own personal quest, but also sheds some light upon the bigger questions that have become his obsession. As he becomes another victim (and, hopefully, survivor) of a modern plague known as the “loneliness epidemic,” with its many and varied manifestations, he sees something that gets to an even simpler truth.
Nietzsche predicted God’s demise nearly a century and a half ago, but misunderstood the cause of death. If God is dead, it’s because love itself is broken. It has been torn from its roots, separated from that which gives it life and meaning on earth: sacrifice. Love has no meaning without it. My friend’s own hardships have made this truth — to borrow a favorite line — self-evident.
God needed him to finish his homework to fortify the only armor he would need so that he would not only overcome the many hardships along the way, but to understand their purpose. Although we still cannot fully see the true purpose of all that has happened, the way, the truth and the light are just within sight…again.
Not-in-Kansas-Anymore Technicolor