Faces of the Mountain

Mauna Kea, ‘the white mountain,’ rises majestically above Hawaii’s Big Island as the tallest volcanic creation in the Pacific at 13,796 ft. These days my mythic world revolves around this great being like the circumpolar stars circle the pole star. From every side of the Island I get a different view of its personality. At a little bridge on the northern coast road which curves along the mountain’s slope, I always ‘stop’ (at least in my mind) on a beautiful morning commute to view what appears to be a powerful, broad obelisk, often partly shrouded in clouds of mystery. Down near South Point, Hawaii, the southernmost village in the United States, I see a longer view of the mountain—like a hazy divine presence in the background of a peaceful worship service. From Hilo’s eastern perspective, one day I saw Mauna Kea rising in the distance behind the local Hongwanji Buddhist temple. I was astounded to see the snowy slopes of the mountain juxtaposed with the temple’s archaic design. It reminded me more of the rugged Himalayas than a sleepy Polynesian peak. And from the western ‘gold coast’ of the Big Island, Mauna Kea stands guard with two other mighty mountains, forming a sort of volcanic trinity.

Mauna Kea has come to symbolize for me a God who has Faces which look out to worshipers and lovers in all directions. People of all faiths and persuasions view Divinity from perspectives which seem at times to be diametrically opposed, just as our great mountain looks very different to southern and northern Island dwellers. But doesn’t this reinforce the transcendent greatness and compassion of God? One Source, living in the center of all beings and all things, looks out with different and appropriate faces to those looking back from an infinity of directions. Is this Mountain, or this God, any less conceivable, or any less believable, because of a paradox of complementary visions? I think not.

Some say that one should stick with their own view of a mountain or of God; that one should study their single, often hereditary, vision each day; then clarify and quantify that deeply personal conception over a lifetime. I say that this is fine and perfect for some. But for some of us, for those called to be explorers of Truth, mediators and bridge-builders to Truth, the burning desire to travel around the circumference of a great mountain, or a Great and Multi-Faced God, is not a whimsical, self-indulgent obsession.

It is a pilgrimage of love. It is a circumambulation of wisdom gathering. Let us not be deterred from gazing through the viewing windows of people and cultures of myriad perspectives. In the process, we may discover more facets of the personality, beauty and greatness of our beloved mountain, or our Beloved God.

Blessed are those of multiple vision, for they may one day see the brilliant, multi-faceted diamond at the heart of all existence that is God.