Can AI truly create? We are all Platonists, whether we like it or not. No one has ever seen the perfect Platonic Forms, and yet we confidently say when something is âfar from ideal.â How do we know?
Judges evaluate athletes based on criteria that no one has ever seen. We judge the quality of bananas even though we have never encountered a perfect banana.
The same is true of beauty. No one has ever seen Beauty itself, and yet we recognize when something is beautiful⊠or not. The same is true of justice. No one has ever encountered perfect Justice, and yet we always know when something is unjust.
We evaluate the visible world against an ideal we have never seen. Back in the 1990s, when I was just starting out as a translator, my first editor gave me advice I didnât understand at the time: âWhen you begin working on a translation, never start from the beginning. Always start from the end.â
I cringed: âWhat?â
He smiled: âWell, if you begin by translating words, you will never get them right. You must translate meaning, not words. And meaning is not written â it must be intuited, grasped from the get-go. You can only catch meaning if you sense the Whole after reading the first few paragraphs or chapters.â
At first, it sounded cryptic. But he was patient, and over time I understood: the meaning of the parts is revealed only through the Whole. When I begin translating a book, I must first read enough of it to glimpse where the author is going. Once I have âseenâ the end, I am ready to start at the beginning.
Nothing can be brought into being unless we have already âseenâ the end from the beginning. We must be Platonists â perceiving the world of perfect forms, which then inspires us to imbue every part of what we are doing with meaning. Meaning flows from the Whole and shines through every nuance of creation.
To quote William Blake,
âTo see a World in a grain of sand, And a Heaven in a wild flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, And Eternity in an hour.â
Thatâs why my editor insisted that I translate individual titles after completing the entire translation. âYou donât know what things should be called until you know their end.â
This made sense. When I translated titles at the beginning, I was caught up in words â and the results were sloppy. But when I left them until the end, the titles came out crisp and luminous. Our best creations are born only when we âsee the perfect patternâ of what we are making in the realm of Ideas.
But how do we know what we have never seen? We have. We were there. The soul remembers what it beheld in the realm of perfectionâwhat Plato called anamnesis (re-cognition, knowing again). Anamnesis happens every time we see through the veil of appearances and re-collect the perfect world.
Anamnesis is the only way to truly create. The soul remembers what it saw in heaven and strives to recreate it on earth. Just as Moses was told to build the tabernacle according to the pattern he saw on the mountain, so we are called to create whenever we catch a flash of re-cognition.
Technology cannot and will never be able to create â precisely because it has nothing to remember. It cannot see Platonic ideas and cannot grasp the Whole. It focuses on individual bits of data â without seeing the Heavenly Pattern. I asked ChatGPT if it could see Platonic ideas, and it answered:
âI donât have direct access to metaphysical realities. I donât âseeâ Forms the way Plato imagined the soul glimpsing them before birth. I process language, patterns, concepts, and symbols that humans provide me. So in the strict Platonic sense, I cannot truly grasp Ideas the way a soul might.â
Who protected the borders of the Shire? The hobbits were blissfully unaware of who they should thank for the long peace of their land. For many centuries, they lived happily in the Shire, never realizing what terrible creatures roamed just beyond their borders.
Aragorn said:
âLittle do they know of our long labour for the safekeeping of their borders, and yet I grudge it notââŠâ
The Shireâs frontiers were carefully watched by Gandalf and by the Rangers of the North, the remnant of the DĂșnedain. They held the darkness at bay, while the hobbits remained completely oblivious to the dangers lurking beyond their green pastures.
One of the most mysterious passages in the Bibleâ2 Thessalonians 2:7âtalks about âthe mystery of lawlessness that is already at work, and the one who now holds it backwill continue to do so till he is taken out of the way.â
Someone is holding back spiritual darkness this very minute. We donât know who they are. They are skillful with their spiritual blade, and until they are there, chthonic monsters are kept at bay. We sip our coffee, walk in the park, enjoy the sunset, laugh with friends, watch the news, and think that the fates of the world are decided by the politicians.
They are not. The earth is preserved not by might but by salt. How much salt is needed for the earth not to spoil? Not much. A few grains. Even one blessed man may well be enough. Once, Abraham was bargaining with God about the fate of Sodom. He asked if the city would be spared for the sake of fifty righteous men. God said yes.
Abraham kept bargaining: Forty-five? Forty? Thirty? Twenty? Ten? Each time God said âyes.â Eventually, God sent his angels to rescue the last oneâLot. One grain of salt is enough to keep spiritual darkness at bay. Until that one is taken out of the way, all is well.
When chthonic monsters appear at our borders, it is a sure sign that too few Guardians remain. If the Shire is still lush and green, it must be because of Rangers still standing watch at the edges of the land. Rangers are invisible, unrecognized. When we do see them, we scarcely take noticeâthey look ragged, forlorn, and forgotten.
And who can tell? Maybe the good earth itself endures only because of one old man hidden away in the heart of New York, Moscow, or Beijing. Such is divine irony (from the Greek eironeĂaâto âfeign ignorance,â or to âplay the foolâ). We imagine that the peace of the world is preserved in the corridors of power, yet in truth, it may be upheld in a lonely hut somewhere deep in the Siberian taiga.
Chthonic monsters are not afraid of politicians or earthly power. They fear salt and lightâthose who wield the razor-sharp blade of the Spirit and drive them back by their very presence. Divine irony is inscrutable: it would utterly shatter us if, even for a second, we could glimpse the ones for whose sake the sun still rises over the horizon.
The Rangers of the North walk among us unnoticedâunshaven, weary, cloaked in dust. We, the hobbits of the world, laugh at them or dismiss them, never suspecting that our own laughter still rings because someone, somewhere, wields a power beyond our comprehension.
The true balance of the cosmos is preserved not by kings, but by rejected fools who carry the divine breath in their lungs. Their songs may be too quiet for us to hear, and yet strong enough to hold back chthonic monsters until the first gleam of Dawn.
What does Saruman of many colors mean? Saruman the White was white up to a point. Beyond this point, he only âseemedâ white. He said to Gandalf in Orthanc,
âI am Saruman the Wise, Saruman Ring-maker, Saruman of Many Colours!ââ
When Gandalf looked, he âsaw that his robes, which had seemed white, were not so, but were woven of all colours, and if he moved they shimmered and changed hue so that the eye was bewildered.â
The white that he once was had been broken into many colors. He was now the ârainbow Saruman.â Saruman believed in breaking things to find out what they were. He believed this would give him power. According to Gandalf, he strayed from the path of wisdom,
âAnd he that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom.â
When you want to know what something âis,â you canât break it. You must encounter it as a Whole. Being is holistic. Itâs not breakable. Itâs not reduceable. A thing that is cannot be less than it is. To know the White one must encounter the White, not break the White into many colors.
For Saruman, the White was only the beginning. He wanted to âuseâ the White for his purposes. He wasnât interested in âknowingâ the White; he was interested in âusingâ the White. What you want to know you canât break. What you want to use you canât help breaking.
ââWhite!ââ he sneered. ââIt serves as a beginning. White cloth may be dyed. The white page can be overwritten; and the white light can be broken.ââ
Gandalf wisely retorts,
ââIn which case it is no longer white.â
A broken white is not white. A whole white is not a thing to be used but a living reality to participate in. Participation is the highest wisdom. Gandalf knew it in his gut. He learned it from Nienna herself, the Queen of Pity when he was her pupil in times immemorial when his name was OlĂłrin. From Nienna, he learned patience and compassion.
He praised Bilbo for showing compassion to Golum â knowing that he had a part to play in the Whole, for better or worse. He trusted that the Hobbits would destroy the One Ring because he had perceived their part in the Great Music. He had learned to be patient and wait for the Whole to unfold. Thatâs why he became Gandalf the White â or Saruman as he should have been.
Later, Tolkien would write in his Mythopoeia,
Man, Sub-creator, the refracted light through whom is splintered from a single White to many hues, and endlessly combined in living shapes that move from mind to mind.
The White can either be broken or refracted. When broken and used, it ceases to be white. When refracted to be encountered, it remains the Living White â and creates a symphony of colors. When we encounter the Living White, it passes through us and gets refracted to many hues without being diminished.
Is hermeneutics related to Hermes? The word hermeneutics comes from the ancient Greek verb áŒÏΌηΜΔÏΔÎčÎœ (hermÄneuein) â âto interpret, explain, translateââwhich is etymologically and conceptually related to Hermes. True hermeneutics comes from Hermes.
The ancients believed that the messages of the gods were too cryptic for humans to grasp without an interpreter. HermesâMercury in Roman loreâwas seen as the god of speech. In him, the transcendent meanings were translated into human language.
Hermes was a liminal figureâsomeone âin-betweenâ worlds, times, and meanings. He embodied the idea of interpretation as a journey across a threshold. To truly understand a divine message, we must be carried from one realm into anotherâborne on winged sandals.
Without this journey, there is no understanding. Understanding is less a matter of data analysis than a passage between worlds. We must be transported across the threshold by Hermes himself. This ancient personification of understanding was, in its way, a prefiguration of âThe Word became flesh and dwelt among us.â
The Logos becomes a felt Presence so that we might understand God. Echoing the descent of the Logos to earth, C.S. Lewis describes the descent of Mercury in That Hideous Strength in terms that are almost Pentecostal:
âThere came an instant at which both men [Ransom and Merlin] braced themselves⊠All the fragmentsâneedleâpointed desires, brisk merriments, lynxâeyed thoughtsâwent rolling to and fro like glittering drops and reunited themselves. It was well that both men had some knowledge of poetry⊠For Ransom⊠it was heavenly pleasure. He found himself sitting within the very heart of language, in the whiteâhot furnace of essential speech⊠For the lord of Meaning himself, the herald, the messenger, the slayer of Argus, was with them.â That Hideous Strength, âThe Descent of the Gods.â
It was the felt presence of Mercury that brought celestial clarity to Ransom and his friends. And it was his felt presence that ultimately overthrew that hideous strength whose power chiefly came from perverting essential speech. What is essential speech? Itâs the âreunitedâ speech that slays Argusâthe giant with a hundred eyes, a fitting symbol of the ever-watchful N.I.C.E.
Unless the Word is enfleshed, it remains intangible and therefore hidden. There is no hermeneutics without an encounter with Hermes. Hermeneutics is often treated as an objective method of extracting meaning from a text, as if meaning resides solely in the words. But true meaning can only be found in the felt Presence of the Word.
During Covid, most of us met online, and for a while we thought it was no different from meeting in person. Yet after a couple of years of staring at screens, we realized how much meaning we were missing. We craved flesh-and-blood people. We longed for the eyes, the touch, the embrace. But why? All the words were conveyed just fine. The words were thereâHermes was not.
Without the descent of Hermes we canât feel the heavenly pleasure of being âin the very heart of Language,â which is true hermeneutics. We hear words through headphones, see faces on screens, yet our hearts yearn for more. For what? For embodied Meaningâfor the âWord made flesh.â And then, at last, the Covid restrictions were lifted, and we saw real human faces again.
In that moment, many of us realizedâin a flash of Platonic anamnesisâthat meaning cannot be digitized. It can only be read in the living contours of a real human face. Words without a body may denote, but they do not mean.
âWe should not forget that there is more to the world than what we can interpret. The materiality and immediacy of our experiences are just as important.â Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht, Production of Presence
What is truth? When Jesus stood before Pilate and told him that he had come to testify to the truth, Pilate famously retorted: âWhat is truth?â Interestingly, in the Koine Greek of John 14:6, Jesus refers to himself as áŒÎ»ÎźÎžÎ”Îčα (aletheia, truth).
âI am the way, the truth (aletheia), and the life.â
Aletheia is the opposite of Lethe, the river of oblivion flowing through Hell. The prefix âa-â is a negation. Thus, truth is that which that negates oblivion. Lethe concealsâaletheia reveals. Lethe makes us forgetâaletheia makes us remember. Aletheia un-conceals.
Aletheia is the unconcealment of what is hiddenânot merely a set of propositions. Thatâs what Jesus calls himself: the unconcealment of Being.
Truth is the disclosure of Beingânot sentences or propositions. Incidentally, for Heidegger, aletheia is the moment when beings âcome into the open.â When beings come into the open, they disclose Being. They reveal. Truth is revelation.
âEveryone is the other and no one is himself.â Heidegger
Until we come into the open, we are not ourselves; we are someone else. We live in concealmeant, hiding Being. Yet, our false self is transientâit will be consumed by Lethe. Everything that does not reveal Being will be forgotten. To rise above Lethe, we must embrace aletheiaâthe unconcealment of Being.
This is what Jesus meant when he told Pilate that he had come âto testify to the truth.â He was aletheiaâthe perfect unconcealment of Being. To be true is to participate in something that survives Lethe. Pilate was too steeped in the temporal and transient to recognize Being before his eyes.
âYes, says the Spirit, they are blessed indeed, for they will rest from their hard work; for their good deeds follow them!â Rev. 14:13
Whatever we have done within chronological time to transcend chronological time abides forever. It follows us. It has been salvaged from Lethe. It is aletheia. It cannot disappear. As Michelangelo said,
âThe true work of art is but a shadow of the divine perfection.â
In aletheia, we transform shadows into glimpses of divine perfection. These glimpses cannot disappear. We make âin the law in which we were madeââto borrow Tolkienâs phrase. We become sub-creators.
Having glimpsed divine perfection, we reproduce itâwe unconceal itâwithin the confines of our shadow world. The only way to salvage the world of shadows from falling into oblivion is to transcend the shadowsâengage in aletheia.
Whether we bake bread, write articles, share a conversation over a cup of tea, build cathedrals, or repair carsâif we glimpse and reflect the divine spark in what we do, we participate in the unconcealment of Being. In doing so, we transcend the shadowlands.
Everything in the shadowlands is a shadow until we see through it and partake of divine perfection. It is our inheritance by virtue of divine birth. We have that spark in us. We are that spark. We are shadows transcending ourselves by pursuing aletheiaâevery moment of the day.
How to remove the fear of death? Speaking of the beginning of days, The Silmarillion says that IlĂșvatar gave Men âstrange gifts.â First, he set eternity in their hearts so they would always desire to go beyond the visible world:
âBut to the Atani I will give a new gift.â Therefore he willed that the hearts of Men should seek beyond the world and should find no rest therein; but they should have a virtue to shape their life, amid the powers and chances of the world, beyond the Music of the Ainur, which is as fate to all things else.â The Silmarillion
Second, he gave them a gift of finiteness.
âDeath is their fate, the gift of IlĂșvatar, which as Time wears even the Powers shall envy.â
But what is there to envy? Why would even the Valar envy Men? It turns out that in the beginning, Men didnât fear death. Fear of death was instilled into their hearts by Melkor who deceived them by saying that it was Iluvatarâs punishment rather than a gift.
âBut Melkor has cast his shadow upon it, and confounded it with darkness, and brought forth evil out of good, and fear out of hope.â
Melkorâs shadow had a name; its name was Ungoliantâa monstrous spider born out of his envy. She was neither an Ainur nor Maiar. Most likely, she was Melkorâs Shadow-Self, his own insatiable darkness, which he feared. It was Ungoliant who first spun a spiritual darkness called Unlight, for it was made in mockery of light.
âThe Light failed; but the Darkness that followed was more than loss of light. In that hour was made a Darkness that seemed not lack but a thing with being of its own: for it was indeed made by malice out of Light.â
Ungoliant infused the first darkness with malice, filling it with ânets of strangling doom.â She cast Melkorâs shadow on it. Darkness became a source of existential fear. Later, Melkor cast his shadow upon the gift of IluvatarâManâs mortality. He deceived Men into believing that death was not a gift but a doom, and they started craving immortality. Eventually, they decided to seize it by force, which led to the fall of Numenor.
Melkor impressed upon the hearts of Men that death was a punishmentâa severing from Iluvatar. Distorted by Morgothâs lies, death became a mockery of Godâs giftâMenâs ability to leave the Circles of the World and be renewed. While the Elves were bound to the fate of the world, growing weary of its unending cycles, Men were granted the grace to depart and be renewed.
In the beginning, there was no more fear in dying than in falling asleep. Men knew they would get up âin the morningâ refreshed. They simply let go of their consciousness and slept, until newness, freshness, rest, restoration, and hope overtook them.
Curiously, most people who have had a near-death experience report that after their return, they no longer fear death. A friend of a friendâwho died of a brain tumor, saw heaven, and returned after being miraculously healedâsays she doesnât fear dying anymore. She says, there is no death. You donât even lose consciousness.
âWhat struck you the most in Heaven?â asked the person who interviewed her. She answered, âThat God is a Soundâan ineffable and irresistible Sound that you hear everywhere: in all things, in others, and in yourself.â
The French philosopher Paul RicĆur pointed out that, for the last two centuries, philosophy has been developing in the mode of suspicion. âPhilosophers of suspicionâ like Karl Marx, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Sigmund Freud, argue that when you believe you are acting for certain reasons, you often fail to realize that your actions are driven by hidden forces.
Marx suspected that all human actions were driven by economics, Nietzsche by the will to power, and Freud by the unconscious.
In other words, when you act a certain way, you may think you have clear reasons for acting this way, but in reality, you do it because of
1) economic conditions,
2) desire for power,
3) unconscious drives.
Philosophers of suspicion have led us to believe that thinking must be rooted solely in suspicion.
âWhat do we mean by âhermeneutics of suspicionâ? This school of interpretation involves a radical critique of consciousness, an effort to unmask the hidden meanings behind the apparent ones. It is a mode of interpretation pioneered by Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud, each of whom tried to expose the illusions of consciousness and reveal the structures of power, desire, and the unconscious that lie beneath.â Paul RicĆur
Thereâs nothing wrong with hermeneutics of suspicion as such. It is true that some human actions are driven by economics, some by the will to power, and some by the unconscious. But not allâand not always.
Paul RicĆur contrasts âhermeneutics of suspicionâ with âhermeneutics of trust.â Instead of deconstructing someoneâs meaning, he suggests assuming that there is one and seeking to recover it.
âTo interpret is to render near what is far, to appropriate what is strange, to make oneâs own what was initially alien. Interpretation, then, is guided by a âwill to trust.ââ
âThe witness testifies to an event which has touched him or her deeply, physically or morally. As such, testimony is more than a recounting of facts; it is an expression of responsibility, a call to remembrance and a summons to the ethical imperative of remembering.â (Memory, History, Forgetting)
A personâs actions may be motivated by economics, the will to power, or unconscious drives, but my goal in meeting them is to become a witnessing presence to encounter something wonderful. I become a witness because my primary motivation is to encounter a witnessâsomeone so full of wonder that you canât miss it.
The Greek word for âwitnessâ is ÎŒÎŹÏÏÏ Ï (martys), from which we derive the word âmartyr.â In ancient times, a martyr was seen as the ultimate witness. Martyrs witness to Wonder so profoundly that you canât help seeing it. Wonder is contagious. You read it off their faces. Their faces testify that they are above economics, the will to power, or unconscious drives.
Philosophy of suspicion cannot survive in the presence of a true witness. A true witness turns you into a witness too. As Wonder passes from one person to another, suspicion dies. When you see wonder in the eyes of a martyr, you stop seeking âexplanationsâ for their behavior. You simply stand there, stock still, smitten by the âwill to trust.â
As the Roman centurion exclaimed, âTruly this man was the Son of God!â
You are not naiveâyou know that at a certain level, a personâs actions may be caused by economics, the will to power, or unconscious drives. But not now. Not when you see âthat.â When you see that, you donât interpret. All hermeneutics ceasesâyou simply witness. You feel touched, moved. There is nothing in your mind except âthe ethical imperative of remembering.â
What is true art? Speaking of âThe Machineâ in On Fairy-Stories, Tolkien contrasts it with organic, sub-creative work of a true artist or storyteller.
By the [Machine] I intend all use of external plans or devices (apparatus) instead of development of the inherent inner powers or talentsâor even the use of these talents with the corrupted motive of dominating: bulldozing the real world, or coercing other wills.
So, what is the Machine? Itâs anything external I use to force my will upon the world. According to Tolkien, the Machine differs from Art (sub-creation) in that it arises from a desire to amplify self-will rather than from an attunement to the Music of IlĂșvatar.
All true Art, which is the province of the Elves, proceeds from oneâs inner alignment with the Great Music. The Elves first hear the Music and then express it through their Art. Their purpose is to attune to the Thought of IlĂșvatar in all things and to pour this harmony into the world. In contrast, the purpose of the Machine-creator is to attune to self-will and devise ways to impose it upon the outer world.
Art is prayer springing from: âThy will be doneâ; the Machine is anti-prayer springing from: âMy will be done.â Art is internal; the Machine is external. In The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien insists that evil cannot be defeated by wielding the Power of the Ring.
You can make the Ring into an allegory of our own time, if you like: an allegory of the inevitable fate that waits for all attempts to defeat evil power by power. Letter 96to Christopher
When we use external means to defeat external means we amplify the external means. The Machine perpetuates the Machine. Power cannot defeat power. Paradise cannot be achieved through external means. Only the renunciation of power can overcome power. Art is the ultimate renunciation of external power and amplification of the internal powerâthe intrinsic power of Being.
Thatâs why the Art of the Elves is not technology. It may look like technologyâElvish ropes, robes, fials, boats, lembas bread, blades, ploughs, bows, harps, bowls, etc.âits purpose is not domination but the manifestation of the Great Music in the world. All Art taps into spiritual power and brings it into the physical realm, which is the ultimate triumph over evil.
The âproductsâ of Art reveal the Music. Thatâs why the Elvish rope burns Gollumâs neckâhe canât bear the âsoundâ of the Great Music. Thatâs why all Elvish things ward off evil, not through external force but by the light they emanate. The âpowerâ of Sting lies not in its external properties but in how much Divine light it carries.
Elvish toolsâchisels, harps, hammers, bowlsâare not technology in the conventional sense of the word but an organic part of the creative process. Elvish boats are carved with Elvish knives, each infused with a prayer to Elbereth. Elvish tools are not âexternal meansâ to bend reality to the Elvish will; they are an outer expression of their inner attunement to the Higher Will. So, what is true art?
As Heidegger says in his essay The Question Concerning Technology, modern technology is not just an instrument â itâs a way of revealing (aletheia). It reveals how we view the world. It is a Gestell (enframing) â a rigid framework that configures our vision, causing us to see everything as a resource. Its purpose is to order and command nature, not to listen to its Song.
Because the essence of technology is nothing technological, essential reflection upon technology and decisive confrontation with it must happen in a realm that is, on the one hand, akin to the essence of technology and, on the other, fundamentally different from it. Such a realm is art.
Sunset at Horsehoe Bay, Magnetic Island, Queensland, Australia. A 2-section panorama of twilight colours and crepuscular rays, taken with Canon 60Da and 10-22mm lens.
What does it mean to be ordinary people? G.K. Chesterton famously said,
âThe most extraordinary thing in the world is an ordinary man and an ordinary woman and their ordinary children.â G.K. Chesterton
Dante was regarded as a poeta popolareâa poet of the peopleâand he took pride in that title. He was read and loved by ordinary people rather than intellectuals. When I first read The Divine Comedy in the early 2000s, most of it went over my headâexcept for a few haunting images from Inferno.
In the 14th century, however, ordinary Florentine citizens gathered money to establish a Dante cathedra (a professorship dedicated to Danteâs works) at Santa Maria del Fiore. Giovanni Boccaccio was the first one to occupy that cathedra and read Divine Comedy to common city folk passing through the cathedral on the way to work.
Somehow, culture has little to do with intelligence but everything to do with mysticism. Pure intellect is incapable of the one thing from which culture emergesâlove. Intellect shuns emotion and filters out what it cannot see, touch, calculate, or predict.
âIf it canât be measured, it doesnât exist.â Intellect is very good at constructing but very bad at creating.
âThe whole difference between construction and creation is exactly this: that a thing constructed can only be loved after it is constructed; but a thing created is loved before it exists.â Charles Dickens
Ordinary people are extraordinary because they are lovers. They are never professionals but always amateurs (from Latin amor â love). They love, and thatâs why they are capable of creating. What is not loved, cannot be created â it can only be constructed. Constructed reality is artificial. It lacks the Love and Life that all mystics delight in, because they tread on earth and wander in fairyland at the same time.
âThe ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic. He has permitted the twilight. He has always had one foot in earth and the other in fairyland.â G.K. Chesterton
Their mystical gaze pierces through the veil of the physical as an arrow of Cupid pierces the heart with love and desire. They understand that to truly dwell on earth, you must have one foot in fairyland. Without fairyland, there is no earth. With fairyland, there is both heaven and earth.
God himself is a lover, not a professional. He loved twilight before it emergedâthatâs why it emerged. The ordinary person, through their love of twilight, recognizes the essence of twilight. Particles of light is not what it is but only what it is made of. To love is the highest form of sanity. To be in the right mind is to delight in the twilight â in everything where heaven meets the earth.
What is the power of brokenness? According to Dr. John Gottman, extending kisses to six seconds may be a key to improving relationships. He also cites studies showing that people who are kissed regularly can live up to five years longer.
I couldnât resist the urge to look up the etymology of the word âkissâ when I heard that. Especially because in Russian (my native language), the word for kiss is closely related to the word âwholenessâ or âto make wholeâ (ŃĐ”Đ»ĐŸĐČĐ°ŃŃ = ЎДлаŃŃ ŃДлŃĐŒ).
Even though in English there is no obvious connection between âkissâ and âwholeness,â the old English âcossâ meant âembrace,â as in greeting. Maybe thatâs why a âkissâ was often associated with greeting, as in:
âGreet (or salute) each other with a holy kiss.â
Incidentally, the Greek for âgreetâ (aspasasthe) used in this verse also meant embrace. But there is another interesting twist to greeting or saluting which has to do with wishing someone health (or hailing). According to the etymological dictionary, âto saluteâ comes from Latin âsalutare,â which means âwish health to.â
The verb âsalutareâ is derived from the root âsolâ (Sun), which means âwhole, safe, well-kept.â In other words, when we âkiss â salute â embraceâ we make the person whole. Hailing is healing.
Healing is a profound mystery. Health has to do with wholeness, and wholeness has to do with being hailed or embraced. When something is broken, we gather the shards into an embrace and breathe new life into it (symbolically by kissing).
By kissing or saluting we return the person to âSolâ (the Sun in Latin) which symbolizes wholeness and safety. Kissing means returning the person to the Sun-wholeness. The Sun makes us whole. The mystery of healing is deep just as the mystery of brokenness.
Our brokenness is not a problem to be fixed but a mystery to be explored. It is something to watch as Jesus said to his disciples in Gethsemane:
âWatch with me.â
What did he want them to observe? He wanted them to participate with him in the mystery of brokenness being turned to wholeness. He who was broken by a kiss of a friend was made whole by the kiss of the Father.
âRighteousness and peace have kissed each other.â Psalm 85.
