Christ and Oneness: Tools for Inner Quiet from the Transfiguration and the Adulterous Woman

Were I to say, as I do indeed say, that "All that is, is Christ," it'd be a fair thing if you replied "hogwash, bollocks and nonsense! Prove it!" I'd certainly fail at any efforts in that direction.  Basic acceptance, like belief, requires a receptive disposition.  To the unwilling, no proof exists, to the willing, none is necessary. But it's still important to say "all that is, is Christ" and I practice that because it pays dividends in increased serenity.  Both self and other are Christ. Paul said "I live, but not I, Christ lives in me." Jesus said "whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, you do to me." Motivation is Christ. To the Philippians, Paul said "I press on toward the goal of the heavenly call in Christ Jesus." All that you're attracted to is Christ, to be let go of, and all that you're averse to is Christ, though realizing it takes a bit of fortitude. The epistle tells us we're "always carrying in the body the death of Christ, so that the life of Christ may be made known in our mortal bodies also."  [bxA]

Later tradition bears this out. St. Cyprian says "The Christian is another Christ." Lawrence of the Resurrection says "in everything you encounter throughout the day, the Triune God is coming to meet you." Jean Pierre de Caussade says "abandon self, and everything that's left is the Triune God.  Trappist tradition has a story of a alcoholic monk who, tempted to drink, bowed to the altar with intention, and was set on the path toward sobriety.  Another story tells of a monk who would, using his thumb, press his many concerns into the handle on the Church door.  When he came out, sometimes he'd consciously pick them back up, sometimes not.  Alcoholics Anonymous has a story about a fellow whose "higher power" was the lamp post outside his weekly meeting.  He'd admit he was powerless, remake a decision to turn his life and will over to God as he understood him--then literally surrender his whole self to the lamppost.  Sometimes he'd re-adopt his preoccupations afterwards, sometimes not.

It helped him bracket his concerns, and in AA--where whatever keeps you sober is counted as miraculous--one adheres to whatever get's the job done.

Note that all the above takes just a little inner hustle to see.  Fortitude, attention and intention require focus and power.  To capably point attention, what's necessary is "letting go of many things for the sake of what's right in front of us."  To capably rouse intention: we have to allowing ourselves enough time with mantra so that the body and mind will easily circle back around to it amidst distraction.  The body is a great help here.  We breathe, and eventually hear the name of God coming from our own lungs.  We Listen because the scriptures say "Hear O Israel." Both the pains and the ecstasies of the body are intense sensations that say "for your own good, slow down and pay attention to more subtle sensation." With practice, it's quite grounding to place your hands on the cold surface of your desk, to take a few deep breaths, to listen to the air conditioning or to the silence, and to let go of all that isn't those sensory experiences, including thought.  The body becomes means of emptying the mind.

If all things are Christ, it makes a quiet mind easy to obtain.  Take note of your mind, noticing many things, and use that as a springboard into oneness.  Practice it.  Notice many things, and its ensuing host of worries.  Give yourself a safe space in which to admit "I've labelled things in a way that's not helping me, perhaps there's a better way."  Then push off into "all that is, is Christ" and pay attention to how the body responds to it.  Done with persistence, this may well have a palpable positive effect on your nervous system. 

In the gospels, there are two examples of this "going from multiplicity and worry to unity and Christ."  It's interesting to note that one is a relatively blissful experience, one is full of affliction, but the end result of "being with Christ" is the same. 

First, remember the Transfiguration.  The Apostles witness Jesus glowing white, talking with Moses and Elijah.  They say "let us make three tents."  Matthew's text says the apostles became afraid, Lukes text says "they did not understand."  In Matthew it says Jesus touched them, in Luke it says the apostles heard a voice in a cloud--note that those are both sensory experiences--and that afterwards, the Apostles saw no one but Jesus.

Second, remember the story of the adulterous woman brought to Jesus.  Without an attempt to shame, it's to be noted that the woman has very real faults to deal with--which I'm sure rendered her ultimately a nervous wreck.  (Acting willfully on desire always creates anxiety, quite unlike the serenity created by acting willingly according to providence, the spirit,  and God's will.)  The crowd, full of various jewish authorities, points out that she'd been "caught in the very act of committing adultery."  And then there's this debate, around "all that the law commands be done to such a woman" and the silence of Jesus.  Then Jesus says "let the one without sin cast the first stone."  To the credit of the crowd, the rocks drop one by one, and the people depart.  The woman is left with no one but Christ.

It'd be fair play for the Logos to hide necessary lessons in both affliction and bliss.  Please hear this without allowing your egoic craving for hardship to kick in, but know that the end result of suffering is a skill--one that makes us capable of doing voluntarily what we once did at the prompting of grace alone.  Whether we have a blissful experience of Tradition's oneness in the Lord, or an afflictive experience of "judgment forestalled" by Jesus, the end result is the same.  All that is, is Christ.  Now please, for Christsakes, listen.