Blessed be the Mystery of Love

Exactly one year ago, during my first sermon here at East End United on the first Sunday of the Season of Creation, I shared a few things about myself—a crash course in getting to know me. I mentioned that I was, and still am, allergic to bees. I told you that Rain Dogs is the very best Tom Waits album. I also shared that my Myers-Briggs Personality Type is INFJ, which stands for Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, and Judging.

I’m not sure how often Myers-Briggs is used these days, but there was a time, before my era in seminary, when every student went through the process of discovering their personality type—figuring out which of the 16 boxes they fit into. When I first took the test in high school, my results were pretty extreme. People exhausted me, I moved through life heart-first, and I didn’t care much for ambiguity. I preferred clear answers and straightforward paths. Even if I could accept that life wasn’t black and white, I liked my world in primary colors. I needed to feel safe, maybe even in control. I wasn’t good with mystery—unless it came in the form of a Nancy Drew novel: neat and solvable.

But here’s the thing about personality tests—Myers-Briggs, the Enneagram, What Color Is Your Parachute, Love Languages, and the like—they assume that who you are is what you value. That how you are now is how you’ll always be.

That was never true for me. I knew my comfort zone, but I also knew it wasn’t a place I should stay.

So, on summer nights, I’d take the old quilt my Grandmere made for me when I was born, and I’d go out to the middle of our canola field. I’d lie down, feel the cool grass between my fingers and toes, and let the breeze wash over me. I’d suck on wild clover and listen to the night creatures sing and the river flow nearby. Then I’d look up—up into that vast, breathtaking sky. A sky so wide it swallowed me whole, leaving me awestruck by its enormity. The constellations scattered like ancient stories, the stars and planets glittering in their distant realms. And there, here, among it all, Earth—our home—a tiny speck in an average solar system, nestled in a galaxy far larger than I could ever comprehend.

It was beyond anything my little brain could make sense of, then or now. So far beyond anything one of my infamous flowcharts could explain.

It felt holy. Sacred. Mysterious. Humbling. Beautiful. Loving. Sensual. Terrifying. All at the same time.

"Oh, oh, woe-oh-woah is me
The first time that you touched me
Oh, will wonders ever cease?
Blessed be the mystery of love."

These are the kinds of moments musical artist Sufjan Stevens captures so beautifully in his compositions. In a few moments, the choir will sing these words—it’s all Sufjan Stevens for the Season of Creation this year. You will hear them sing of this incredible mystery of love that we, human beings, have been trying to make sense of since the very beginning. And how did our varied ancestors try to make sense of the universe and our place within it? Not with multiple-choice tests or questionnaires, but with art. With storytelling.

The Anishnaabe people share the creation story of Turtle Island. Kitchi-Manitou, or Great Mystery, sent a flood to purify the Earth after the Original People, the Anishinaabe, fell into disharmony and violence. Only Nanaboozhoo and a few animals survived, floating on a log in search of land. Despite many attempts by larger animals to retrieve Earth from the waters, it was the small muskrat who succeeded, sacrificing his life in the process. Nanaboozhoo placed the Earth on the turtle’s back, and with the help of the Four Winds, the Earth grew into a vast island.

In the Yoruba creation myth, the supreme god Olodumare tasked Obatala with creating the Earth. Obatala descended from the heavens with a snail shell filled with soil, a white hen, a palm nut, and a chameleon. When he reached the waters below, he poured the soil out, and the hen spread it with her feet to create land. Obatala planted the palm nut, which grew into a tree, marking the beginning of plant life. At some point, Obatala became tired and drank palm wine, falling asleep. While he slept, his brother Oduduwa took over, establishing the city of Ife, the sacred center of the Yoruba people. When Obatala returned, he created human beings from clay, and Olodumare breathed life into them.

Then there’s the creation myths in our Bible. God creates the world in six days, speaking it into existence. On the first day, God creates light, separating it from darkness to form day and night. On the second day, they create the sky, separating the waters above from the waters below. On the third day, God gathers the waters to reveal dry land and commands the earth to produce vegetation. On the fourth day, God creates the sun, moon, and stars to govern day, night, and the seasons. On the fifth day, they fill the seas with creatures and the skies with birds. On the sixth day, God creates land animals, and, if we kept reading, finally humanity—diverse humanity—in God's own image, calling humans to be good stewards of the Earth and all its creatures. In fact, the diversity of creation is not just made in God’s image, it is God. In future weeks, we’ll talk about how we haven’t always been good stewards, and how many have sought dominion over creation rather than partnership with it. But we’ll get to that.

For now, I want to speak to that confused girl wrapped in a quilt, gazing at the night sky in the middle of a field. We humans have been trying to make sense of this Holy Mystery since time immemorial. We keep trying and trying. Many of us seek rational, verifiable answers—something that might hold up in an episode of Law & Order. Something science can explain. But no data or spreadsheet will ever describe the overwhelming, sensual feeling of awe—of simultaneously understanding and yet not understanding at all—the interconnectedness of God, the universe, and everything, including us.

Yet we keep trying. Leaning into mystery means sinking into wonder.

We find some of this wonder reflected in A Song of Faith, one of the United Church of Canada’s faith statements:

God is Holy Mystery,
beyond complete knowledge,
above perfect description.

Yet,
in love,
the one eternal God seeks relationship.
So God creates the universe
and with it the possibility of being and relating.
God tends the universe,
                mending the broken and reconciling the estranged.
God enlivens the universe,
                guiding all things toward harmony with their Source.
Grateful for God’s loving action,
We cannot keep from singing.

We witness to Holy Mystery that is Wholly Love….

This Holy Mystery that is wholly love is at the heart of what it is to be—both as individuals and as part of the vastness that is Creation.

And so…

Blessed be the questioners,
Blessed be empty moments spent in wonder,
Blessed be the artists and storytellers,
Blessed be the stewards and protectors,
Blessed be summer nights spent staring at the sky,

And blessed be the mystery of love.