It’s difficult to be a human being! As the widely-spread quote goes, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”
I’m about to get Bible-geeky, which shouldn’t surprise readers of this newsletter, but it’s so I can untangle a complicated but important message: God and humanity are not separate, or, my humanity is precisely the place where I meet God.
There’s a phrase used in Jewish apocalyptic literature, which Jesus mysteriously applies to himself in the Gospels: the “Son of Man.” It’s a strange phrase that in Hebrew simply means human being. According to theologian Walter Wink’s culminating work, The Human Being, the phrase “son of” was a way Jewish people categorized things in Hebrew. It meant “membership in a class or category.” Here are a few examples that Wink gives: “son of a quiver” in the Bible is translated into English as arrow. “Son of a year” is translated as a one-year-old baby. “Sons of burning coal” are sparks of fire. “A son of strength” is translated as a valiant man. “A son of death” is a person on the verge of dying. According to the Hebrew then, a son of man would simply be a human being. Yet when our English translators encountered this phrase “Son of Man,” they rarely translated it as “human being”; they capitalized it and kept the odd phrasing to read “Son of Man.”
Then I turned to see whose voice it was that spoke to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the lampstands I saw one like the Son of Man [or one like a human being], clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash across his chest. —Revelation 1:12–13
Through describing his visionary experience as an encounter with the Son of Man, John of Patmos is firmly locating himself in a long biblical, mystical, evocative tradition. The Son of Man references in the Bible are a visionary thread that functions as an archetypal image of God being revealed through humanity.
John of Patmos’s likely direct inspiration comes from the wide-eyed prophet Daniel, who reports his direct encounter with God: “As I watched in night visions, I saw one like a son of man, coming with the clouds of heaven” (Daniel 7:9). In Daniel, this “son of man” is handed over authority of the earth while unjust Empires are overthrown.
What can this possibly mean?
Is this son of man a messiah liberating the people?
Is it ancient Israel?
Is it a guardian angel?
Is it a prefiguration of Christ?
Commentators throughout the ages have given all of these responses.
Notice how easy it is, especially for those of us raised in Christian tradition, to assume that the Son of Man is Jesus. Many of us (wrongly) assumed that this means Jesus is coming back with the clouds of heaven, and when he does, as I’ve written before in this newsletter, it’s never good news. Heads will roll. Terminator Jesus is here. The nonviolent, inclusive Gospel seems to be displaced by a vengeful return.
But what if, in addition to Jesus, the Son of Man is us?
Photo by Marion Cervela on Unsplash
What if “coming with the clouds of heaven” means we are finally discovering our divine identity and purpose?
Not to escape earth for heaven, but to realize heaven here?
What if seeing the Son of Man strolling alongside brilliantly lit lampstands means that we, too, participate in glory?
The metaphor lures us to imagine the collective potential of freedom and intimacy with God that humans can experience.
What if this “one like a human being” haunts the tradition’s collective unconscious, and is a recurring image of humanity’s wholeness, power, and possibility?
As usual, the mystics understood this tension. One fairly obscure mystic known as Pseudo-Macarius from the Syrian tradition comments on another vision witnessed by a Hebrew Bible seer, Ezekiel. Ezekiel’s wild scene contains a chariot, with four animals, covered with eyes. It’s really wild, truly, read it for yourself (Ezekiel 1:4–2:1). But what’s interesting to me is how Pseudo-Macarius sees this as relevant for the spiritual life:
The soul is completely illumined with the unspeakable beauty of the glory of the light of the face of Christ and is perfectly made a participator of the Holy Spirit. It is privileged to be the dwelling-place and the throne of God, all eye, all light, all face, all glory and all spirit, made so by Christ who drives, guides, carries, and supports the soul about and adorns and decorates the soul with his spiritual beauty. (Homily 1)
In other words, the crazy visions in Ezekiel, in Daniel, and in Revelation are about, among other things, what is happening between Christ and the soul. I’m there with Christ the Human Being, with John of Patmos, amidst the lampstands, and so are you. The Human One and we human ones are not separate, and God finds fulfillment through us, just as we find our resting place in God. May it be so.
I love the title of this, Mark. It goes to the heart of the matter. My own heart! I like to think of God as a big inclusive soup of which we are all part—whether most present as vegetal, physical, or mental ingredients. It’s all a matter of spiritual energy in varying degrees of manifestation and density. The challenge, I think, is a mindful choice not to OTHER God but participate in the glorious meal of life.
“In other words, the crazy visions in Ezekiel, in Daniel, and in Revelation are about, among other things, what is happening between Christ and the soul.” Fascinating and I think you’re on to something here. Reminds me of St. Teresa of Avila’s soul work in The Castle…Your study of archetypes seem to be a means, a way, the Spirit of God would connect us all and help us discern the deeper meanings in our Spirit-filled selves. Fascinatingly wise and brave to share these perspectives AND much appreciated.