>A life of eight days

>On the eighth day God ascended into this moment. A moment of eight stories. Each story with eight rooms. And on each room eight angels with eight wings and eight arms holding eight swords. The present moment is octagonal, facing into all directions at the same time.

Jesus beckons me to follow him into his mansion. I drop my work, leave all behind, and follow him into the eight-storied moment. The eighth day is where the Kingdom is to be found. The eighth day is the entrance to Eden. The eighth day is new Jerusalem.

The Lord’s Day is a mystery of the knowledge of the truth that is not received by flesh and blood, and it transcends speculations. In this age there is no eighth day, nor is there a true Sabbath. For he who said that `God rested on the seventh day,’ signified the rest [of our nature] from the course of this life, since the grave is also of a bodily nature and belongs to this world. Six days are accomplished in the husbandry of life by means of keeping the commandments; the seventh is spent entirely in the grave; and the eighth is the departure from it. (St. Isaac of Syria, The Ascetical Homilies)

Resurrection and transfiguration. the transfiguration as a preview of the resurrection. And now this. This moment where I am watching the transfiguration of the common moment into shining whiteness. I have come to the periphery of the white moment of Christ. The light instant of reconstitution of the proper order of things. This moment I understand Mary’s vision and my soul magnifies the Lord – for in this moment I can see the strength of his arm revealed; here he has scattered the proud in their conceit; this is the moment where he has cast down the mighty from their thrones and has lifted up the lowly; now he is filling the hungry with good things and sending the rich away empty. This is the moment where excess is unburdened and scarcity is filled. Right here.

So in eight days I accomplish the work and enter into the place I never left. I could never leave – for where can I go from God’s spirit, or where can I flee from God’s presence? So in the first six days I accomplish the stewardship of life, and on the seventh I die. Once dead, my dear St. Isaac, as you know, I enter into the momentless moment. The Lord’s Day lasts less than the blinking of an eye and cannot be comprehended through discursive thought, transcending speculation, neither can it be “experienced” in our usual sense of the word, that is through flesh and blood.

Here’s the mystery: I am in this moment now, and yet there is no experience, no sensation, no explanation I can offer for it. At first this place is boring, exciting, hot, cold, dark, bright, silent, noisy. And it changes from this to that and back again. Then this place goes away – and there is no place in its place. It is neither boring nor exciting, it is neither hot nor cold, it is not dark or bright, there is no silence nor noise. And there is no change possible. Then this place is here. It is boring when there is boredom, it is exciting when there is excitment, it is hot in the heat of summer and cold in the winter; it is dark without light and bright with the lights on; it is silent when there is silence and noisy when the kids are playing are phones are ringing.

And in the cool of the evening I stroll through the Garden. And the Lord Jesus is King.

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About spaceloom

An urban monk, and an experienced spiritual director with a Masters in Psychology. Married with two children. Want to know me better? Read my thoughts.
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