Finding the Numinous, in Words, Music and Nature

Numinous: \NOO-min-us; NYOO-\, adjective: Indicating or suggesting the presence of a god-- spiritual, divine; inspiring awe and reverence-- holy.

Richard Mitchell, in his book Less Than Words Can Say states that "Our culture is not much concerned with the numinous, but in language we preserve many of the marks of a culture that is." Carl Sagan found the numinous in science and nature: "It is very hard to look at the beauty, intricacy, and subtlety of nature without feeling awe. I don't think even the word reverence is too strong."

In my everyday life, there doesn't seem to be enough time to look for the numinous. Sometimes not even enough time to think of it. Even in the dark hours, just waking or just drifting off to sleep, when I find myself poring over deeper ideas, it does not often enter my stream of consciousness. Thankfully, there are occasions that arise that compel me to ponder bigger thoughts, events that cause me to crash and tumble in the feeling, inviting me to revel in something reverential. Tonight was such a night.

The holidays have become a time that evokes in me a deeper sense of peace and well being. A happiness that is often difficult to describe, and one that causes my friends and colleagues to wonder what strange potions I've been brewing in the laboratory. Yes, it is the end of the semester, and there is time for rest, but it is more than that. A certain serenity, a slightly discomfiting giddiness washes over me. And only lately have I come to understand about myself that it is something that I need to revel in, to play with, to enjoy without my normal inhibitions.

One of my favorite events on campus at this time of the year is what we call our "Service of Lessons and Carols". A program of readings, prayers, and music held in the Chapel. This is generally a small gathering, of a couple hundred students, faculty, staff, and community members, in a chapel that never looks better than it does at this time. Candlelight, poinsettias, yule trees, garlands and small twinkling lights. 90 - 100 students in the choir, gowned and tuxedo'ed. Students, and faculty, and the President of the College in robes, reading the Gospels.

The music, oh my God, the music. Traditional carols: Oh Come All Ye Faithful, O Holy Night, Angels We Have Heard on High, Silent Night. Less well known (at least to me) selections: Gesu Bambino, O Nata Lux (with so many parts of harmony that it is breathtaking), Mary Did You Know?, I Wonder as I Wander. And of course, the Hallelujah Chorus.

Tom, our Music Department Chair, always does an amazing job of directing the students. A contralto soloist that brought tears to my eyes. A flautist who played an amazing work. A soprano soloist who couldn't keep herself still the music was moving her so greatly. A tentative student conductor, whose wooden nervousness left him completely three bars into his piece. Beautiful, simply beautiful.

The choir offers any in the community who wish the score to the "Messiah" and an invitation to join them for the Hallelujah chorus, swelling the choir loft to overflowing. Over 150 voices lifted with that potent, powerful work. I felt the vibrations of their voices in my breast as they sang, and realized that my body was in resonance with the music, my pulse quickening.

The lights came down as an usher brought a small flame to pass among us, lighting tapers to close the service with a final hymn of "Silent Night". Exiting the chapel, walking with my friends Melissa and Jason, we stopped to notice the clouds in the crisply cold night sky: rippled, brilliant and textured, illuminated by the nearly-full moon.

A night to find the numinous. In friends. In music. In words. In moonlight and candlelight.