CS Lewis once wrote, "It is the chief duty of the interpreter to begin analyses and leave them unfinished."
Heraclitus wrote, "Nature loves to hide."
Lao Tzu wrote, "The way that can be named is not the way."
And James Hillman wrote, "The soul is undiscovered, though explored forever, to a depth beyond report."
In the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, the children meet a talking Star. Skeptical Eustace says, "“In our world a star is a huge ball of flaming gas." The star replies, "Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is, but only what it is made of.”
We sometimes think of this mystery as having to do with the limits of the mind. But doesn't that put mystery in the service of the mind, as though we each have an easily accessible, bottom line, "Well, some things just can't be spoken. It's all so mysterious anyway!"
I'm not so sure this is the best way to use the word...doesn't it leave out the fact that mystery isn't just a concept we use to communicate our lack of intellectual understanding? Isn't mystery a robed woman, walking with a starry headdress, Moon slippers and Solar crown? Isn't mystery the way something feels? Isn't mystery the way we know something we don't know? The tangible feeling that accompanies unspeakable holiness?
Isn't mystery something whose contours say things to us..even if they're hushed, or unrepeatable...mystery is not an empty place holder, a dead end, or a white surrender flag. I'll have none of that!
I see mystery like the body language of God. A subtle language that speaks more and more the more we choose to see beyond the visible, hear beyond the audible, and touch with hands of heart.
Prayer: Venus, Moon, Neptune...may the mystery make us feel all right.