Category: Blog

In the beginning, before the foundations of the world were laid, Wisdom danced. Her laughter echoed through the formless void, a joyous invitation to a feast beyond imagining. And as the Word spoke light into being, Wisdom’s Table was set, adorned with the fruits of creation and the bread of life.

Oh, to sit at that Table! To taste the wine of Divine Love, aged in the cellars of eternity! Yet we, in our finite frames, shrink from the light. We hide in shadows of our own making, clutching fig leaves of shame to our chests. We forget that we were made for glory, for communion, for the great dance of creation.

But Wisdom still calls. Her voice rings out in the streets, in the marketplace, in the depths of our hearts. “Come!” she cries, “All is ready! The fatted calf is slain, the best robe awaits. Come, prodigals and elder sons alike, come to the Father’s embrace!”

At her Table, there unfolds a curious alchemy. Here, the hidden things of darkness are brought to light – not to condemn, but to transform. Our wounds become windows. Our scars become stars. The very things we thought would destroy us become the light by which we see the world anew. All that the light shines on not only becomes visible: it becomes light, as the Apostle Paul says (Eph 5:13-14).

Remember, oh soul, remember! For memory is the handmaiden of Wisdom. Not mere recollection, but a living, breathing remembrance that knits together our fragmented selves. In remembering, we are re-membered, our scattered parts gathered into a new whole.

See how Wisdom’s feast makes room for all! Here sit the rule-keepers and the boundary-pushers, the black-and-white thinkers and the embracers of grey. Their differing gifts, once a cacophony of conflict, become a symphony of praise under Wisdom’s conducting hand. All the birds of the air are gathered here, and nested in her ample branches.

And what of those dark growths, those hidden sins we dare not name? What about all the black flowers, the sour fruits that have sprung up in our secret garden of shame? Bring them to the Table! Her invitation is no less: bring them, yes, bring them to the Table. In Wisdom’s economy, nothing is wasted. The compost of our failures becomes fertile soil for new life. Our tears water the seeds of joy. Our confessions become songs of deliverance.

Oh, the depths of the riches of this wisdom and knowledge! How unsearchable are her judgments and her paths beyond tracing out! For Wisdom’s ways are not our ways, her thoughts not our thoughts. She leads us by paths we do not know, to places we never dreamed existed.

In her light, we see light. The scales fall from our eyes, and we behold the world as it truly is – shot through with glory, groaning in travail, yearning for redemption. And we, once blind beggars, become seers and prophets, seated with Christ in the high places, co-heirs with Him of the Divine.

So come, weary travelers, to Wisdom’s feast! Bring your broken hearts, your unanswered questions, your unfulfilled longings. Bring your intellect and your intuition, your reason and your passion. Here, at this Table, all are welcome, all are needed, all are transformed.

Wisdom is building her house, and we are her living stones. With each act of love, each choice for reconciliation, each moment of awe-struck wonder, we add our note to her cosmic symphony. And one day, when the veil is lifted and we see face to face, we will find that we have been feasting at her Table all along.

Until that day, let us feast and remember. Let us wrestle and reconcile. Let us dive deep into the mystery and soar high on the winds of grace. For Wisdom’s banquet is spread before us, a foretaste of the age to come. And her banner over us is love.

Mossymonk86 would teach that the cosmos is woven with layers of sacred reality, each one a veil over the ultimate mysteries that dwell beyond our mortal perception. He would scratch in the dirt with his finger, and trace out the words of Psalm 69: “Let heaven and earth praise him, the seas and everything that moves in them” (Psalm 69:34), or he would intone from Psalm 96, “Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea roar, and all that fills it; let the field exult, and everything in it!” (Psalm 96:11-12) And he would promise, with the Apostle Paul, that “At the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:10-11). He would raise the hood of his cowl, and peer out from the shadows; and with his voice booming and his eyes glowing, he would whisper, “Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea or walked in the recesses of the deep?” (Job 38:16).

Heaven is the ethereal expanse where the mind ascends, encountering the pure noetic essences in their ranks and orders. Here, angelic beings whisper secrets of the cosmos, and vertical causality aligns with the eternal forms. This is the realm of the noumenal, the realm of the emergent, the space of pure consciousness, where the right brain, unfettered by the limits of time and space, dances with the imaginal and the intuitive. Symbols here are not mere signs, but living gateways to the ineffable, a language spoken in the tongues of angels, guiding the soul toward the celestial archetypes.

Earth is the sacred plane where spirit takes on flesh, where the abstract dreams of Heaven become incarnate in the material world. This is the realm of the senses, where the fivefold gates of perception open to reveal the mysteries of the tangible. Horizontal causality weaves its tapestry here, binding together the myriad forms of creation into a grand, interconnected web, whose threads are stories and memories. Earth is the alchemical crucible where the sacred and the profane intermingle, where the soul learns through the textures, colors, and sounds of the material world.

The Seas and all that dwell in them are the deep, primal waters of the soul, where emotions and passions surge like the tides, pulled by the invisible hand of the moon. These are the mysteries of the unknown, the uncontrollable forces that rise from the depths of the unconscious, both wild and wondrous. The seas are a mirror to the soul’s innermost desires and fears, their ceaseless motion reflecting the turmoil and tranquility of the human heart. Here, the intuitive meets the chaotic, and within the churning depths lies the potential for both creation and destruction.

Under the Earth lies the shadowed realm, the underworld of divergent forces that stir beneath the surface of reality. This is the domain of division, chaos, and opposition, where diabolical energies seek to fracture and fragment the unity of the cosmos. Yet even here, in the heart of darkness, there is a hidden wisdom—a paradoxical truth that destruction is but a precursor to renewal, and chaos the seedbed of new creation. This is the realm where the mysteries of death and rebirth are played out, where the soul must journey to confront the shadows and emerge transformed.

But these realms are not separate but intertwined, each one reflecting aspects of the divine mystery; a mirror to the sociopsychosomatic unity of the human person; alive with the same erotothanatic and erotovital energies that suffuse all creation. To live wisely is to navigate these realms with reverence and awe, discerning the sacred within the profane, the eternal within the temporal, the light within the darkness.

He would also teach that each of these domains can be further subdivided, revealing ever more intricate layers of sacred reality. The masters throughout the ages, he would explain, have drawn different maps to explore the same territory. These varied systems of thought – from Kabbalistic Sephiroth to Buddhist realms of existence, from alchemical stages to depth psychology’s unconscious landscapes – all attempt to chart the vast, multidimensional nature of consciousness and spirit. Their languages and symbols differ, but they all seek to illuminate the ineffable Whole that lies beyond ordinary perception.

Mossymonk86 always emphasized that these diverse mappings remind us that while the ultimate reality remains constant, our ways of understanding and navigating it are as varied as human experience itself. He would caution against mistaking any single map for the territory itself, urging instead a recognition that each perspective offers a unique glimpse into the cosmic mysteries. The wise seeker, he would say, learns to read many maps, understanding that each offers valuable insights while remaining humble before the vastness of the unknown.

But then he would stand up, suddenly, at the end of his lessons, his face aglow, and his beard part and lift, as though flames encircling his head, and he would stretch his arms into the air, and open his mouth in the melodies of ecstatic speech, and he would speak of the Gospel.

The Gospel, he would say, radiates outward as the ultimate cosmic mystery, a wellspring of divine love that permeates all realms — visible and invisible, known and unknown, whether nouminal or phenomenal, material, psychical, or spiritual; symbolic or diabolic. This Gospel, he would say, is not merely a message, but the fabric of reality itself, woven with threads of grace so profound that it defies full comprehension.

He would speak of how grace flows like a river through all domains of existence, nourishing every aspect of creation with its life-giving essence. In the ethereal expanse of Heaven, it is the pure light of divine acceptance, illuminating the noetic realms with unconditional love. On Earth, it takes on flesh, becoming tangible in acts of compassion and forgiveness and reconciliation that transcend human understanding, proclaimed and embodied in every generation. In the depths of the Sea, it surges as a current of renewal, washing away the accumulated sediment of shame and fear. Even Under the Earth, in the shadowed realms of chaos and division, Christ is present, preaching to the souls imprisoned, lifting dead Adam by the wrist, and transforming death into the seedbed of new life.

With tears, Mossymonk86 would exhort brothers and seekers alike to the realization that the Gospel is not a set of rules or a system of merits, but a living, breathing reality that invites participation through simple openness and receptivity. It is, he would insist, a mystery that confounds our attempts at categorization or control, always exceeding our grasp yet drawing us ever deeper into its embrace. That the call to repentance is not a call to “clean up our act” and just live a little bit better of a moralistic existence, but a change in our whole life and being brought about by the free and irrepressible proclamation of the absolute fire of the divine love penetrating from our inmost depths, that causes us to repent of repentance itself, and all the ways in which we try to leverage spirituality to make ourselves better, holier people, rather than bask in the free infinitude of this all suffusing, all sustaining mystery.

He would teach that to understand this Gospel truly is to be astonished by it perpetually, to be absorbed in unending, uninterruptable, ecstatic delight, to stand struck dumb in awe before its boundless generosity. It is to recognize that in every atom of creation, in every moment of time, the love of Christ is at work, reconciling all things to himself. The Cross of Christ, he would declare, is where the map and territory are combined – a living way that guides us through the multifaceted realms of existence while simultaneously being the destination itself.

Beloved, let us ascend the mountain together. Let us ascend, although our feet are tired from traveling, our hearts heavy with sleep, our souls weary from the world’s incessant demands. Let us ascend. “I was glad when they said unto me, let us go up to the House of the Lord. And now our feet are standing, within your gates, O Jerusalem.” Here, in the thin air of divine encounter, we stand on holy ground, we witness a glory that defies our expectations; that explodes our carefully constructed notions of worthiness and striving.

Suddenly, we awaken. We gaze on Christ Transfigured, His face ablaze with celestial light, His garments shimmering with otherworldly radiance. In seeing His face transformed, we find ourselves transfigured. His Let us pause. Let us breathe. Let us allow the suffocating tendrils of our own expectations to fall away, withering in the presence of Love incarnate.

Oh, how long we have labored under the illusion that we must earn love! But here it is, burning before us. How long we have toiled, believing that our acceptance hinges upon our performance, our adherence to rules, our ability to present an unblemished facade to a God we are oddly eager to imagine as a stern taskmaster. But here, in the dazzling light of the Transfiguration, these misguided notions dissolve like mist before the rising sun.

Beloved, hear the Father’s voice echoing across the cosmos: “This is my Son, my Chosen One. Listen to Him!” Not “Strive harder!” Not “Prove yourselves worthy!” Not “Bow before Him!” Not even, “Believe!” But simply, “Listen.” Listen! In this divine proclamation, we find rest, we find identity, we find unshakeable belonging.

Peter, James, and John awoke from their slumber to behold Christ’s glory, and we too are invited to awaken. To rub the sleep of legalism from our eyes and behold the breathtaking reality of grace. This awakening is not a striving, but a surrender. Not a climbing, but a falling. A falling into the arms of Love.

In the light of the Transfiguration, we see our own transfiguration – not a change we effect through herculean effort, but a metamorphosis birthed by beholding. We gaze on the radiant face of Christ, and – in ways we can’t explain, understand, or account for – we find ourselves changed. We find our hearts expanding, our burdens lifting, our shame dissipating in the warm glow of His unfailing love, His unwavering, unconditional acceptance.

Beloved, let us lay down the heavy yokes we’ve fashioned for ourselves. The ceaseless striving, the anxious performing, the relentless self-improvement projects – all these we release at the feet of our transfigured Lord. For in His Light, we see light: the Light that shines upon us to reveal the fact that we are already loved, already accepted, already enough, already held in an embrace that will never let us go.

This is the exodus that Christ accomplishes – not a journey from one place to another, but a radical liberation from the tyranny of self-salvation projects. He leads us out of the Egypt of our own making – out of the desperate attempt to prove our worth, to earn our belovedness, to win our place – and brings us into the promised land of grace.

Yet we know, from the scope of the Gospel, that the Mount of Transfiguration is the beginning of the Way of the Cross. In the valley of life, beloved, suffering and pain will come. Darkness will threaten to engulf us. The weight of the world’s brokenness will press upon our shoulders, and we may find ourselves crying out, “Where are you, God? What did I do wrong to deserve this?” The temptation will be great to search our lives for some failing, some misstep that has brought this pain upon us. We may be inclined to interpret our suffering as a sign of God’s absence or displeasure.

But having glimpsed the transfigured Christ, we carry His light within us. This light does not blind us to the reality of pain, nor does it offer glib answers or easy escapes. Instead, it illuminates a deeper truth: God’s love for us remains steadfast and unchanging, even in our darkest hours. The light of the Transfiguration shines backward and forward, encompassing both the glory of the mountaintop and the agony of the cross.

In our deepest anguish, in our most profound confusion, we cling to this unshakeable truth: we are beloved. Not because of what we’ve done or failed to do, but because of who He is. The God who spoke from the cloud, who shone with unearthly brilliance, is the same God who enters into our suffering, who weeps with us, who bears our griefs and carries our sorrows.

This is the mystery and the wonder of the Gospel: that the God of glory is also the God who suffers. In Christ, we see that our pain is not a punishment, nor is it a sign of God’s absence. Rather, it becomes the very terrain upon which grace blossoms in resurrection power. Our wounds become windows through which the light of divine love shines most brightly.

We need not seek out suffering, for life provides enough of that on its own. Nor do we need to paste on a smile and pretend that all is well when it is not. Instead, we are invited to bring our raw, unvarnished pain into the presence of the transfigured Christ. To allow His light to penetrate our darkness, not to erase it, but to transform it. In this light, we find the strength to echo the apostle Paul’s bewildered yet hopeful cry: “We do not know why we cannot do the good we want to do, or why we do the very thing we hate. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!” This victory is not an escape from suffering, but a profound assurance of God’s presence and love in the midst of it.

Beloved, in our pain, in our confusion, in our doubt – we are not alone. The light of Christ’s transfigured face shines upon us, revealing our unshakeable identity as God’s cherished children. This is the light that the darkness cannot overcome, the love that suffering cannot diminish, the grace that failure cannot exhaust.

So let us descend the mountain changed, our hearts ablaze with the wonder of grace. Let us move through the world as awakened ones, our eyes open to the glory that surrounds us, our hands open to receive and to give this inexhaustible love. For we have seen His glory, full of grace and truth, and from His fullness, we have all received grace upon grace.

Beloved, in Christ, we are transfigured. We are beloved. We are free. Let us rest in this radiant grace, and watch as it illuminates every corner of your existence, transforming you from glory to glory.