Sometimes, we must let go of words in order to move beyond words, so that we might understand the MYSTERY which is sometimes called “God” and sometimes called “the WORD”. Letting go of words is not easy for someone like me. Years ago, I decided that in order to understand God, I needed to learn how to meditate. It didn’t go very well. I remember talking to a good friend of mine about the trouble I was having learning to meditate. Bryan had travelled all over the Far East and was an avid practitioner of transcendental meditation. He sympathized with my dilemma and suggested that perhaps my spiritual quest would need to be one which entailed letting go of words so that I could move beyond words. I remember being dumbfounded by the idea of ever being able to let go of words. But Bryan insisted that unless I moved beyond words, I’d remain frustrated by my attempts to learn any form of meditation.

I confessed that I had absolutely no idea where to begin. Bryan said that my basic problem was wrapped up in the weakness of my right mind. Before I could take offence, Bryan went on to explain that I was primarily a left-brain kind of gal. Bryan insisted that I needed to learn to develop the right hemisphere of my brain. Even though I was familiar with the theories about right brain verses left brain, I had absolutely no idea about how to go about changing what I thought was the unchangeable reality that my left brain, which is the area responsible for verbal and cognitive skills, is the hemisphere that I tend to rely on rather than the right brain, wherein lies the artistic, playful side of my nature. I like words. I like the way words sound. I like the way the way words look. I like the meanings of words and I love the history of words. I love putting words together. I’m called to a profession which is all about words. So, asking me to move beyond words is like asking me to give up my lifeblood. But Bryan was determined to move me beyond words. So, he made me promise to meet him at his workplace the very next day.

Bryan is a pilot, a helicopter pilot. Bryan also knows that I’m afraid of heights and although I’ve conquered my fear of flying, I’m rather partial to fix-wing aircraft. Helicopters make me more than nervous; helicopters terrify me. Most of my fear of helicopters is Bryan’s fault. While Bryan was studying to be a pilot, he would share with me some of his newfound knowledge about helicopters. One thing stood out for me: helicopters are unreliable. The best mechanic can safety-check a helicopter and certify that it is perfectly safe to take off and still the helicopter can malfunction and cause the pilot to have to land immediately. So, I was not too crazy about meeting Bryan at work. But who am I to argue with a guy who was determined to develop my right brain?

That’s how I found myself hovering over the mountains of North Vancouver in a small helicopter which for some reason, I could not understand, had no doors. I was strapped in, and Bryan assured me that there was no way that I could fall out. But there was something about all that fresh air swirling about which made the clouds seem a little too close for comfort. So, I held on for dear life as Bryan headed North towards Garibaldi Mountain. As Garibaldi slipped out of view followed by Blackcomb, and Whistler mountains, the sheer beauty of all that lay before me, filled me with such awe that my mind struggled to comprehend the splendour my eyes beheld. This of course was my left-brain on overdrive struggling to find words to describe the experience of my senses. 

It wasn’t until I heard Bryan’s noisy voice through the crackly headset that I realized that rather than moving beyond words, my mind was flooded with words. I asked Bryan where we were going, and he pointed to a place on the northern horizon and told me that we were going to put down on the side of a mountain in a place which he knew, I would absolutely love. As we’d long since passed the boundaries of my ability to recognize the mountains by their shape, I turned to the map of the Bastion Range, but I could not read our location. Bryan motioned to a point in the distance and indicated that it would be there that he would land the helicopter. As we hovered over the spot, I wondered how he’d manage to land, when through the headset Bryan explained it was too dangerous to actually land.  Bryan would hover inches from the ground and if I was willing to go where few humans had ever gone before, I would step out of the chopper and huddle down on the ground as Bryan swooped back up into the air out of sight, so that I could be alone in a place where Bryan was sure I’d find no words but one.

I was relieved that Bryan had not explained all this while we were still on terra firma because I would never have agreed to this particular journey. But out there, up there, the appeal of the Alpine meadow perched on a mountainside was more than I could resist. Nevertheless, as the ground approached, I became convinced that I was about to die. But I was much younger then and far more reckless, so in seconds, I was hugging the Earth and feeling the whoosh of the chopper as Bryan climbed out of the way without me. I knew that he’d be back in about 5 minutes, but as the sound of the helicopter disappeared, it was replaced by the roar of a silence, a silence I had never heard before. I stood up in time to see Bryan disappear behind the summit and discovered that I was quite literally on top of the world.  

I’ve rarely tried to put into words what happened next. I resisted doing so for years.  I think out of some sort of belief that in trying to put it into words, I would rob it of its, its what, its what, that’s just it, I don’t know what……Well I do know, I just don’t know how to say it with words.

Standing there looking out at what seemed like all of Creation right there before me. Looking down at the vast valley below and up to the summit above, I could almost reach out and touch the top of the mountain. Blanketed by a sky, which I was convinced I could walk out upon, because so much of it appeared to be below me and not above, my senses were overwhelmed. I was alone and yet I knew I was not alone. I’d like to say that I was conscious of a presence but that’s not really how it was. Words cannot do it justice. I was surrounded by it. Not “it” really but “is”.

“Is” is about as close as I can come to describing it. I was in the presence of, or surrounded by, or overwhelmed by, or upheld by, or embraced by, or touched by, caressed by, or loved by ISNESS. Somehow, I knew that this ISNESS was the ONE I had been longing for, the ONE I was trying to learn to meditate for, the ONE I desired to know, the ONE who all those years ago, I called, “GOD”. But even then, I knew that, GOD is too small a word to describe the ISNESS. But there in the presence of all that IS, I had no need to describe IS.  It was enough to simply be. All words, and thoughts slipped away, and it was enough to just be. To be in the presence of the SOURCE of all that IS.

Our ancient Hebrew ancestors had a word for this ISNESS; a word that is inadequately translated into English as “The WORD”.  But the Hebrew word DABHAR means so much more than “The WORD”. In Genesis the word DABHAR is used to describe the compelling creative energy which brought Creation into being. The word DABHAR is the “word and the deed” of the CREATOR of all that IS; the compelling creative energy which set the Cosmos in motion. In the beginning was the DABHAR and the DABHAR was with GOD and the DABHAR was GOD. The DABHAR, the creative energy, the word and the deed, DABHARed light and sky, and it was good. The DIVINE MYSTERY, went on DABHARing and this compelling creative energy created all that IS, WAS, and ever shall BE. We live and breathe and have our being in this very ISNESS that is all that IS and ever shall BE. This Creation IS, and in this ISNESS we are held, and touched, loved, caressed, and moved to be all that we are. Creation is the sacred DABHAR the WORD and DEED of the ONE which IS.

I remember standing on top of Creation, absolutely still except for the breath breathing in me. All around me I could feel the CREATIVE ENERGY of the meadow, the movement of the mountaintops which lay below me, and the dance of the sky, and the BREATH, the RUACH of it all that IS caressing me, holding me, touching me, moving in me, LOVing me as it went on creating, DABHARing beyond me.

It is an awesome thing, this DABHAR, this WORD and DEED, this CREATIVE ENERGY, this ISNESS which we call God. You don’t need to go up to the top of a mountain, you just need to let the words, the images, the symbols, and all the distractions fall away and simply BE. BE in the presence of all that IS. BE in the presence of all that IS. The beauty of all that IS, the LOVE which IS, IS in, with, through, and beyond you, DABHARing and DABHARing, now and forever.  Thanks be to ALL that IS HOLY.

View the Full DABHAR Sunday Worship Service below



  1. I appreciate Pastor Dawn’s struggle to meditate and realizing that words-no matter how PROGRESSIVE they are-they are incomplete by themselves. Henri Nouwen reminds us
    “without silence, words lose their meaning”. I believe some form of Contemplation and contemplative practice is essential to live in this world and be human. Her research and discussion of “dabhar” and “isness” is informative. For me, the word, “God” is not “too small” to describe “issness”. Nor was it “too small” for Meister Eckhart (1260-1327) who introduced the concept of “isness”. Perhaps it would be helpful to remember Christian faith is not about words or a book, but is about a person, specifically the nonviolent Jesus.
    Experiencing contemplative worship is appreciated by many of us. Also, a reminder to those of us who preach-long sermons, wordy services and wordy prayers can drive people away. Pastor Jon R. Fogleman

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