Explainer

Creed

Weirdness

6 January 2025

5 min read

The year of the mystics

Ready to be turned upside down?

Belle Tindall

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

An abstact image hints at twisting figure in front of a St Andrews Cross.

Jr Korpa on Unsplash.

Last year, a journalist called me, completely out of the blue. We’d never met before, but she had a couple of questions she wanted answering about Christianity and, somehow, she found me.

Firstly, she wanted to know what the heck was going on with Christianity at the moment – why can’t Nick Cave stop talking about his Wild God? What was up with Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s infamous U-Turn? Why, despite decline in church attendance and institutional failures, are more and more people finding themselves falling into the Christian story? I wish I had then, what I have now: Graham Tomlin’s round-up of 2024 as the year Christianity (for better or for worse) made somewhat of a comeback. Because, she’s right, it really has been quite something.

But, leaving Graham to answer her first question, this article is an attempt to answer her second, far more unexpected, one: where are all the Christian mystics?

I got the sense that this second question wasn’t being asked for the benefit of a piece she was writing, but for the sake of her own mystically inclined heart. I feel like what she was really asking was something akin to - is there a place within the Christian story for people who are friends with mystery and oddness, who want the unexplainable and the ecstatic, who consider ‘strange’ and ‘spiritual’ to be two sides of the same coin? Is there a way in for those who don’t want the weirdness of it all to be underplayed? Is there space within Christianity for one to be turned up-side-down by God’s ‘heart melting nearness’?

Well, in short, yes. Completely and utterly. Yes to all of it.

Where are the mystics, I hear you ask? It would be my pleasure to introduce you to a few of my favourites.

First up to the plate, it’s Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179).

A master of music, medicine and mysticism – Hildegard of Bingen is one of the most interesting women in German history. As a Benedictine Abess, she dedicated much of her time to mystical theology and philosophy, largely informed by her visionary experiences of God. She reluctantly recorded twenty-six of these visions in a piece of work entitled Sci Vias Domini (which translates to mean ‘Knowing the Ways of the Lord’). She also composed songs, again largely inspired by her visions of God, and even a musical mortality play entitled Ordo Virtutum.

Her Christian mysticism bled into her understanding of science and medicine; she emphasises the deep interconnectedness of all living things - having originated from one creator - and therefore sees medicine as just as spiritual of a pursuit as theology. According to Hildegard, all is sacred, all is connected, and so the health of the natural world matters. It both informs and reflects our own health.

Clare of Assisi (1194-1253) is celebrated as an Italian saint and founder of the Order of Poor Ladies.

Born into a wealthy family, Clare shunned comfort, luxury, and an arranged advantageous marriage in favour of a life devoted to intimate and vibrant prayer. She soon gathered a community around her, and their obvious disdain for luxury of any kind is what caught the world’s attention and earned them the title of ‘Poor Ladies’.

Her life of prayer had dramatic consequences and, ultimately, saved the lives of those she loved. While their Order was under attack, Clare’s prayers caused a violent storm to sweep across the town and scatter the terrified attackers.

Next up is a particularly strange (in the best way) character, Catherine of Sienna (1357-1380).

Catherine had religious visions from the age of six or seven, and took them incredibly seriously, even then. As she grew older, her parents urged her to marry the widower of her sister, who had tragically died in childbirth. In response, Catherine cut off her hair and joined the Sisters of Penance of St. Dominic. That’s quite the outright rejection, isn’t it?

After three years of isolation (during which she is said to have prayed, contemplated, and developed a rich understanding of Jesus’ death and its implications), she became quite the famous figure, feeling sure that God had commanded her to publicly speak of what he had told and shown her.

Now for a personal favourite, Theresa of Avila (1515-1583).

I read her prayers and poems endlessly. And, can you blame me? Just listen to this:

Let nothing disturb you,
let nothing frighten you,
all things will pass away.
God never changes;
patience obtains all things,
whoever has God lacks nothing.
God alone suffices.

The gentleness of her words are like a balm to a world that can so often sting us. And, indeed, stung Theresa, as she suffered with severe ill-health and persecution her entire life. Nevertheless, she developed a passion for mental prayer and is said to have heard God’s audible voice, seen visions, and even felt her body levitate. She became infamous for her poetry, her mystic theology and her unusual independence as a medieval woman.

These women, these mystics, are separated from us by time and context. And yet, to many, they are close companions. They are still aiding those on a quest to enter into Christianity through the ‘mystic’ door. They are still reminding us that we oughtn’t be fooled by the pesky left-side of our brains, the part that wants us to believe that we understand all that’s worth understanding. They are still challenging us with the knowledge that all that we see is not all that there is.

You want mysticism? Christianity can down-right give you mysticism.

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Article

Creed

Sport

9 June 2023

6 min read

Sweating the soul

A mantra-laden spin class generated more than sweat for Alianore Smith, it raised philosophical questions too.

Alianore Smith

Alianore is a theologian, communicator and author. She works for a global charity based in London.

A spin class rider smiles and gives the thumbs up sign in front of other riders.

SoulCycle.

Last year, I learnt an important lesson: cycling and spin classes are not the same thing.

Of course, they both take place on bikes – one moving, one stationary. And they are both exercise. But the similarities stop there.

Let me explain.

I’m a cyclist – and a smug one at that. My cycle commute to work, three times a week, comes to a round trip total of about 15 miles.

So, when I was invited last summer to take part in a SoulCycle class in aid of a charity I care deeply about, I jumped at the chance. How hard could it be? I can ride a bike. My cardio-vascular fitness is above average. It’ll be an easy way to raise awareness of the charity, and maybe have some fun in the process.

How wrong I was.

My first clue that a SoulCycle class wouldn’t be like my normal commute was found on my visit to its website. The About Us page informed me that at a SoulCycle class – a ‘sanctuary’ – ‘tears will be shed’ and ‘breakthroughs happen’. The only time I ever cried whilst commuting was when I got my second puncture in a week, three miles from home, in the January rain. And, quite frankly, when you’re dodging taxis and swerving around pedestrians, breakthrough feels a long way off.

And so, I headed off to my SoulCycle class, equipped with my padded shorts and my charity-branded cycling jersey. I arrived, hired my shoes, and headed into the changing rooms. And it was there that I was greeted by the SOUL Etiquette sign:

SOUL Etiquette ‘To preserve soul sanctuary, we have a few simple requests’

No text & chat
No cell phones or communication devices in the studio. If you are a doctor or your child is sick, kindly leave your phone with the front desk and we will get you if there is an emergency

Skip the cross talk
Talking during class is a major distraction for the spiritual folks around you

Laundry
We ride close together so we can feel each others’ energy. That being said, your neighbour does not want to feed off your odor.

Kindness is cool
Respect the rider on your left and your right. Treat the front desk the way you would like them to treat you.

The pack
There is a direct correlation between your energy and your neighbour’s ride. If you want to do your own thing, please don’t ride in the front row.

I was fascinated. What lay ahead of me?

Well, let me tell you: nothing could have prepared me for the class I took.

A dark room, filled with mirrors, motivational quotes and – for some reason – grapefruit scented candles. About 30 stationary bikes, lined up in three rows. An instructor whose enthusiasm knew no bounds.

I took a bike at the back.

Within 10 minutes, I was sweatier than I have ever been, and questioning all my life choices up until that moment. Within 15 minutes, I had removed my charity-branded cycling jersey and drunk half of my bottle of water. There was still 30 minutes to go. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.

And yet by the end, I was buzzing. Whether it was the endorphins, the sense of community, or the relentless cheerleading of the instructor, I wanted more. It was… remarkable. I very nearly signed up for another class there and then.

From the signs in the changing rooms to the instructors’ soundbites, I was continually told what I could achieve if I tried.

The instructor – a bouncy brunette whose name I can’t remember – led the class with an exuberance that I am yet to see anywhere else. At one point, she got off her bike and danced up and down the aisle in front of the class. Quietly rasping for air at the back, I had no idea how she had the energy to speak whilst pedaling, let alone dance.

The thing that I found most fascinating about my SoulCycle class, though, was the ‘spiritual’ aspect. From the signs in the changing rooms to the instructors’ soundbites, I was continually told what I could achieve if I tried. That the ability to breakthrough my problems, to succeed, to achieve my dreams, was all held within me – I just needed to dig a little deeper, peddle a little harder, put my mind to it.

At one point, the instructor made us repeat after her: ‘I can do all things…’ it was there that she paused. As someone who grew up in the church, learning memory verses of Scripture week after week, I immediately wanted to yell ‘through Christ who strengthens me!’, but instead was encouraged to complete the sentence with something (I can’t remember exactly what) about my own abilities and force of will.

The whole class was deeply motivating. I left feeling like, quite frankly, I could achieve anything.

Thing is, though, I’m an able-bodied, middle class, professional, white woman. I come from a two-parent family, and I’m happily married to a non-abusive partner. I have a stable income. Although some of these things are because of the work that I’ve done or choices that I’ve made, many of them are an accident of birth. The odds are – for the most part – stacked in my favour. The very fact that I would have been able to afford to attend this class if I’d wanted to (new riders pay £16 for their first class, and £26 per class from then on) shows a level of privilege that was seemingly completely overlooked.

When things are working in your favour, it’s easy to assume that it’s because you’re the one doing something right. That was the philosophy that was shouted in catch phrases from the front – you can do it, just try a little harder.

Breakthrough is on the other side of this spin class. Mind over matter. That’s the message of SoulCycle.

But every life philosophy, every ‘spiritual experience’, has a flip side to it.

But the problem with that philosophy, of course, is its flip side: if things go wrong – if you’re in an accident, if you get made redundant, if you lose your house or your health fails you – then, logic dictates, it must be that you’ve done something wrong.

If you can no longer afford a SoulCycle class, it’s because you didn’t try hard enough, or you didn’t peddle fast enough, or you didn’t put your mind to it.

Of course, this was never said during the class – it was far too positive for that. But every life philosophy, every ‘spiritual experience’, has a flip side to it. If everything happens for a reason, then sudden seemingly random acts of cruelty – cancer, the death of children, natural disasters – must be there to teach us something. If we can control the good things in our lives – the promotions, the achievements, the relationships – then if stuff goes wrong then it must be our fault as well.

Is that really true?

Human beings are relentlessly fickle. And we have a deep and overwhelming desire to think that we’re in control, that life is in our hands. And it’s comforting – when things are going well. But what when they aren’t?

In her book Everything Happens for a Reason: And Other Lies I’ve Loved, professor of the history of Christianity and Stage 4 cancer patient Kate Bowler writes that ‘control is a drug, and we’re all hooked’.

I can see how SoulCycle could get addictive. In fact, the day I was there, someone was celebrating their 750th ride at SoulCycle London. The endorphins, the encouragement, the relentless pursuit of ‘breakthrough’ and ‘growth’ and ‘progress’ – it’s intoxicating.

When you grow up in the church, you learn a different way of existing. It’s not that you can do all things through yourself, but – as aforementioned – through Christ who strengthens you. The idea of relying on something outside of yourself, something all-powerful, all-loving, is one of the ideas at the heart of Christianity. It’s less of an emotional crutch, and more of a ‘catch-all’ reality for those of us who have realised that we’re not as in control as we once thought, or as we would like to be.