On Indescribable Experiences

Examples: The phrase “Lilac eyes shine in the dark.” The golden light of late afternoon in Autumn. Walking on Santa Catalina Island in the dark with a young lady, the only light being the stars and the phosphorescence given off by the protozoans in the crashing breakers and in our footsteps as we walk. The huge, still, silent conifers in the intense summer heat. Dew covered grass, where the dew is brightened to diamond-like iridescence by the morning sunlight. Fog blowing past as I stand on a hilltop in the wind. The rain and wind that pummel me to delight as I walk to school. A waterspout on San Francisco Bay, reaching up to heaven like some giant pillar. A freighter sailing through the Golden Gate in the afternoon, bound for infinity. A starlit evening that makes one feel alone in the universe.

I believe these experiences are spiritually significant because they embody a longing for heaven. They point beyond the world. They tell you there is something more meaningful than the things you pour all your time and effort into. They promise a joy that makes abandoning those things an easy trade.

The problem with these experiences is that they are almost impossible to talk about. Few people react to them the same way. Perhaps other people have their own versions; perhaps their minds do not operate that way.

I was surprised to find a description of such an experience while reading Exodus.

Then Moses and Aaron, Nadab, and Abihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel went up, and they saw the God of Israel. There was under his feet as it were a pavement of sapphire stone, like the very heaven for clearness. And he did not lay his hand on the chief men of the people of Israel; they beheld God, and ate and drank.

– Exodus 24:9-11

This passage appears almost out of nowhere. It is heartbreaking in its brevity, as if everything that could be said was said. It sent chills down my spine as I read it because I realized that God had planted it as a sign. It stands in contrast to the Israelites who, after hearing God speak the Ten Words to them from the mountain, told Moses that they were too afraid of God to hear him any more, and that Moses should talk to God for them. This may have been safe but it was not what God wanted. He wanted their fellowship.

This is a banquet. It is a foretaste of the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. It is if they spent an evening at an inn in the New Jerusalem. God took them out to dinner.

The following poem is an imagination of what it must have been like to have gone through that. It would be impossible to talk about. It would be the only important thing that had ever happened to you. It would kill off everything in this world because the only thing that mattered would be to get back there. At the same time you would know that you did not belong, that you were not worthy, not ready. Your humility would be the humility of someone who is among geniuses. You are allowed to hear, and even your foolish speech is graciously acknowledged. But the best thing is to listen, to drink it in and hope for the day when you can understand what was said.

And of course the manna that everyone complained about would put the taste of it back in your mouth!

The Meal
No, I don't talk about it much.
(The most important part is, of course, indescribable.)
To those who were there, it's unnecessary.
To those who were not, it's useless.

I say, "Look at the sky! It reminds me, a little, of ...."
"Yes, me too," comes the immediate reply.

Or

"Look at the sky. See how blue it is?"
"Uh, yes ...."
"Now think bluer, purer, more intense.
Sapphire, transparent ...."
"OK. But if you will excuse me, I have to go
Collect manna for my family."

Manna! Everyone complains about it.
But if not for manna I could not stand it.
It's the only physical thing that really takes me back.
Just the taste of it.
No, it doesn't taste anything like the food there.
But it comes from the same kitchen, the same cook.

The food. Just a few bites and all hunger was gone.
And every bite after that was pure joy.
And the wine! I believe He let Himself go a bit
On the wine. He seemed to have a special
Fondness for it.

The first sip and I felt I had wasted my life.
I should have spent it
Preparing myself
So that I could taste this wine
And do it the slightest justice.

There was no gladness it did not contain,
No joy it did not admit.
It was life itself, the red blood from which
Creation sprang.

It illuminated the whole gathering;
Everyone was a paragon of wisdom,
Every word a ruby.
And yes, I still remember them,
And yes, they are still precious.

I am homesick ...
No! Not for Egypt.
Nothing matters ....
That's not right. Things matter,
But they don't. Living, dying,
Hunger, thirst,
Pain, joy,

It is as if I do not feel any of them.
I will die soon --- today, tomorrow,
(You will all die today, or tomorrow,
Except for the brave few
Who wanted to go up into the land.
You will all die in a single day,
A day that lasts forty years.)

But I am already dead.
No, God did not kill me. But I am as dead
As if He had turned me into a pile of ash.

When I first ate the food
I was afraid that I would live forever.
I was right, but I am no longer afraid.
For the food killed me, and the wine,
And I live forever.