Radical Amazement
August 11th, 2006

To see a world in a grain of sand, and Heaven in a Wild Flower
Updated April 2006
In his beautiful book God in Search of Man, Abraham Heschel writes, “[T]he problem of religious philosophy is not how does man arrive at an understanding of God, but rather how can we arrive at an understanding of God.”(p.5)
The shift is subtle, and yet to my mind extremely important, and in truth really does encapsulate, for me, the problem with my own spiritual undertakings. Religious philosophy must be personal. In order for it to have any meaning, in order for it to truly propel us towards the Sacred, it cannot merely be gedankenexperiment dealing with humanity in abstraction. It must be personal, dealing with you and me as individual people, actual individuals upon this mortal coil struggling to know God. It must deal with our daily situations, our foibles, our strengths, etc. Heschel wants to draw God out of the ether, and in order to do so we have to lay claim to our right to seize God. Not merely the right. Not merely man’s right. Our right-yours and mine. His work is about you and me, here and now.
In his discourse on the sense of Mystery, Heschel gives us a quote from the book of Job:
But where shall wisdom be found?
Where s the place of understanding?
Man does not know the way to it;
It is not found in the land of the living.
The deep says, “It is not in me”
The sea says, “It is not with me . . .”
Whence then comes wisdom?
And where is the place of understanding?
It is hidden from the eyes of all living;
And concealed from the birds of the air.
Destruction and Death say:
“We have heard a rumor of it with our ears.”
-Job 28:12-14, 20-22
Curious as to the context of and the rest of the passage, I looked it up. My translation reads:
God understand the way to it
And he alone knows where it dwells,
For he views the ends of the earth
And sees everything under the heavens.
When he established the force of the wind
And measured out the waters,
When he made a decree for the rain
And a path for the thunderstorm,
Then he looked at wisdom and appraised it;
He confirmed it and tested it.
And he said to man,
“The fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, and to shun evil is understanding.”
-Job 28:23-28
I, like many before me, have always had trouble with this idea of fearing God. I cannot believe that I am supposed to think of God as tyrannical or terrifying. But Heschel talks early on in his work about man’s position relative to God, and instead of casting us in a position of traditional fear, he uses another term: “radical amazement”. Not merely awe, not merely inspiration, and certainly not merely fear, radical amazement is the soul-transforming perception of God that overwhelms all the senses, that fills the perceiver with wondrous awe, that propels us to move deeper into the body of God.
“Radical amazement refers to all of reality; not only to what we see, but also the very act of seeing as well as to our own selves, to the selves that see and are amazed at their ability to see.” (p 46)
“What fills us with radical amazement is not the relations in which everything is embedded but the fact that even the minimum of perception is a maximum of enigma. The most incomprehensible fact is the fact that we comprehend at all.” (p. 47)
The passage from Job indicates that we cannot search out an understanding of God here on Earth. Understanding of God does not exist here in any particular place or form (this is, of course, congruent with Kabbalah, wherein understanding, “Binah” is completely transcendent and only her daughters are available to us here in Malkuth). If we are to have any wisdom or understanding of God, we must seek him out not only here but also beyond. We must be open to god in many forms, in may guises, on many levels. God is not in the sea or in the deep or in the land of the living-God pervades these places but is not contained by them. To find God, we must stand alone in our radical amazement, completely devoid of our thinking, interpreting, analytical selves and stand open to the utter sublimity of God. As Emerson writes, “Standing on the bare ground, - my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space, - all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God.” (Emerson, Nature, Chapter 1.)
In his book Sefer Yetzirah, Aryeh Kaplan mentions that good and evil are considered directions: that which leads towards God is good, and that which leads away from God is evil. Heschel himself writes, “Indifference to the sublime wonder of living is the root of sin.” (p. 43) If we allow ourselves to be forever changed by God’s wonders, by the very miracle of life, if we allow ourselves to experience the indwelling of God each moment as a matter of course, is this process in and of itself a shunning of evil? I wonder, then, if we can interpret this as saying that radical amazement of God is the beginning of wisdom, and the conscious journey towards the presence of God, the good work (tikkun olam, tzedakah, the mitzvoth) that brings us toward the Holy, and the permitting of God’s wonders to affect us is the beginnings of understanding?
Here I can begin to see how I am to make my journey towards God personal and how I can begin to love God and not merely the idea of God. The situations that spur radical amazement will differ for each of us: the birth of a child, a sunrise, a star filled sky, that feeling is deep connection to another being . . . they might all be thresholds beyond which hold the possibility for our radical amazement of God. For my part, I have but to find those moments and surrender myself unto God that he may find me and speak. For God is never absent; it is only I who wander.
Amber,
I actually stumbled upon this blog from your recent A List Apart article. I enjoyed that article!
You bring up an interesting point that I myself have been questioning: Fear of the Lord. It is interesting how the meaning of words change in modern english. In this instance as you said, Fear is actually extreme awe, or, reverence. The penitent man (one who is teachable) will gain wisdom from God, not one who shows a lack of respect toward deity.
Translation of the Bible into modern english can cause confusion, as it does in one use of the word repent. In Genesis 6:6, it reads: “and it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth. Some say that this emotion or feeling is not congruent with an omniscient being; however, the translation in this instance is: being moved to compassion, sorrow, or pitty. Not repenting for a mistake. In the context of Gen. 6:6, God had pitty on the fallen state of Man, and thier natural tendancy for sin.
I have a whole spiel about translations that I’ll need to post at some point. I think there’s something to be said about the natural mutations of wisdom-based religions, and about the legitimacy of even a bad translation for the people that follow it. Language is largely overlooked but overwhelmingly important in determining the flavor of any religion. And if the people who follow religion X are using a poor translation of te original source, I’m tmepted to say, “So what?” That’s their right and that’s their faith. Blah-blah citation might not have appeared in a certain way in the original text, but the text is alive, and this is what it says now. And that, for better or worse, is legitimate.
I know that isn’t where you were going with that, but I wanted to mention it anyway :) I’m glad you made it by :)
Very Interesting thoughts. You are correct in stating that it’s their right, but I wasn’t discrediting that right. These translations and evolutions of text and meaning are natural, but dangerous to preserving literature, and its original meaning. From a Christian perspective, original contextual meaning is vitalally important.
As an author, I would despise such a natural mutation of a word that has explicit and important contextual meaning to my passage. The word “gay” comes to mind. Mis-translations (although natural) can create huge contextual gap that changes a meaning of a passage.
I understand what you’re saying. It’s sort of a sticky-widget. I, too, hate it when my words are misused, but then most of the time my words are about *me*. If what I’m writing, however, is supposed to reflect a personal God that many people share, and in a thousand years those words have been miconstrued and applied to a new context, I’m not sure I can be upset about that, since my words are now attributed to a living entity that *isn’t* me.
I do know what you’re saying, though. And it makes me wonder, in the context of mythology, how important is the writer? Who owns sacred history?
Would like a copy of this book. Can you help?
Radical Amazement
Thank you,
J. Baer