8-3-17 - In a Cloud

Have you ever found yourself in a cloud? Just somewhere when a fog rolls in and you find yourself complexly enveloped in white, your visibility of anything beyond your own form completely obscured? It is a deeply disorienting experience. And what if that cloud began to speak?

…a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

Of course, on the mount of Transfiguration, it wasn’t the cloud speaking, it was God. But why in a cloud? Maybe the blocking of other senses allowed the disciples to focus more on the aural experience, the voice of God, and its message. And what about that message, so similar to what some heard at Jesus’ baptism, but with the added command, “Listen to him.” It was aural confirmation of what they had seen with their eyes. When they were tempted to doubt, they had another form of authority on which to rest. And when they were ready to talk – perhaps after Jesus’ resurrection? – they had quite a story to tell, supported by three witnesses.

How does God get our attention? We are so enveloped in activities and media and dashing here and there, responding to so many messages, it can be hard for the voice of God to get through. Perhaps we should choose to put ourselves in a cloud periodically, to dramatically reduce the stimuli, simplify the order of the day. One might say that is what the practice of centering prayer achieves – entering a cloud of soft quiet, where we see little and hear only silence.

That is also what happens on retreat, whether for a few hours or a few days: we slip into a simpler rhythm of meals, rest, walks, study, prayer, with few choices to make. And as we give ourselves to the simplicity and the silence, eventually God’s voice begins to get through.

One of the great classics of Christian spirituality is a 14th century book called The Cloud of Unknowing (the link is to an edition I like very much), whose author suggests that God is to be found not in knowledge and evidence so much as in absence and mystery. It’s not the way we usually think of seeking God in our take-charge, work-for-what-you-want culture. But that medieval mystic was on to something.

Perhaps that’s what God was doing with that cloud, reminding us that the deepest knowledge comes from what we cannot see or figure out for ourselves. The deepest Truth can only come from God, who speaks in a sound of sheer silence.