Meister Eckhart's Views on the Bible and Biblical Literalism

Jackson: Hey Lena, I was thinking about something today. If you found out the Bible had thousands of tiny variations across different ancient copies, would that change how you see its "truth"?

Lena: That’s the big question, isn't it? It’s exactly what Bart Ehrman wrestled with. He went from being a "born-again" student at Moody Bible Institute, believing every word was inerrant, to becoming one of the most famous skeptics in the world.

Jackson: Right, and it’s fascinating because he wasn't just some casual reader. He became a world-class scholar of Greek manuscripts. But it makes me wonder: was he actually a literalist, or did his deep study of the "literal" text actually drive him away from literalism?

Lena: It’s a paradox. He argues that if we don't have the original "autographs"—only error-ridden copies made centuries later—then the idea of "verbal plenary inspiration" starts to fall apart. He really angered people by suggesting that even a single copying error could undermine the whole doctrine.

Jackson: So let’s explore how his journey from fundamentalism to agnosticism turned him into such a lightning rod for controversy.

Jackson: You know, Lena, looking at that shift from Bart Ehrman’s modern struggle with manuscripts back to Meister Eckhart in the fourteenth century—it’s like watching the same fire burn in a different forest. We started by talking about how literalism can actually drive a scholar away from faith, but with Eckhart, it feels like the opposite happened. He was so deeply embedded in the literal text that he started seeing through it—like a window that most people were just staring at instead of looking through.

Lena: That’s a perfect way to put it, Jackson. Eckhart wasn’t a literalist in the way we think of modern fundamentalism, but he was a "Scriptural mystic." He spent decades lecturing on the *Sentences* of Peter Lombard and writing massive Latin commentaries on Genesis and John. He knew the literal word better than almost anyone in the Holy Roman Empire. But for him, the literal level was just the beginning. He believed that if you stop at the literal, you’re basically starving your soul.

Jackson: So, if he wasn't a literalist, how did he actually view the Bible? Was it just a jumping-off point for his own ideas, or did he think there was a "truer" meaning hidden under the surface?

Lena: He definitely believed in multiple layers of meaning. The Church at the time recognized literal and allegorical senses, but Eckhart pushed into what we call the "anagogical" or spiritual dimension. He’d take a simple verse and find a moral or metaphysical depth that wasn't immediately obvious. In one of his famous German sermons, he takes the story of Martha and Mary from the Gospel of Luke—verse thirty-eight in chapter ten—and he doesn't just talk about them as two sisters. He treats them as symbols of the soul’s internal journey.

Jackson: Wait, I’ve heard that sermon mentioned before. Doesn’t he actually change the translation of the Latin to fit his point? That sounds like exactly the kind of thing that would get a scholar in trouble today—let alone in 1326.

Lena: Exactly! He translated the Latin word for "woman" as "a virgin who was a wife." Now, linguistically, that’s a massive stretch, right? But for Eckhart, the "spiritual truth" outweighed the dictionary definition. He argued that for a soul to be "fruitful" in good works—like a wife—it must first be "ever virginal" and pure to accept Christ. He wasn't trying to be a lexicographer; he was trying to be a spiritual surgeon. He used the text as a tool to reveal the "Ground of the Soul."

Jackson: So, he’s essentially saying the Bible is a map to an internal landscape. But that feels dangerous. If everyone starts translating "woman" as "virgin-wife" based on their own spiritual hunches, doesn't the whole structure of the Church’s authority start to wobble?

Lena: That is precisely why he became such a lightning rod. The Church saw themselves as the guardians of the Word’s meaning. When Eckhart started telling laypeople—the uneducated public, the nuns, the Beguines—that they could find this "Godhead" within themselves by interpreting the Spirit rather than just obeying the Law, he was bypassing the middleman. He was telling them that external acts like pilgrimages or fasts were "worthless" unless the soul had the right attitude.

Jackson: Wow, "worthless" is a strong word for a medieval priest to use about Church traditions. I can see why the Archbishop of Cologne started taking notes for a heresy trial. Was he trying to start a revolution, or did he just not realize how much he was poking the bear?

Lena: It’s likely a bit of both. Eckhart was a high-ranking Dominican official—a "Meister" or Master of Theology from the University of Paris. He probably felt his academic credentials gave him a certain "intellectual license." But when he stepped into a pulpit in Strasbourg or Cologne and spoke in the vernacular German instead of Latin, he was taking these high-level, speculative ideas and dropping them right into the hearts of common people. He made the Bible feel alive and personal, but in doing so, he made the institutional "literalism" of the age look a bit dusty and irrelevant.

Jackson: Lena, I want to dig into this "Godhead" idea because it seems to be the pivot point where Eckhart moves from being a regular theologian to someone the Pope eventually felt he had to condemn. If the Bible gives us a picture of a personal God—a Creator, a Father, a Judge—Eckhart seems to be saying, "Sure, that’s fine, but that’s not the whole story." Is that where he starts to diverge from the "literal" God of the scriptures?

Lena: That’s the heart of the controversy. Eckhart made a radical distinction between *Gott*—the personal God of the Bible and the Trinity—and *Gottheit*, the Godhead. To him, the God of the Bible is God as He relates to us. He’s the Creator, the one who works, the one who judges. But the Godhead? Eckhart described it as a "desert," a "still silence," or even "superessential nothingness." He famously said, "God and the Godhead are as different as heaven and earth."

Jackson: "Nothingness"? That sounds almost like he’s leaning toward Eastern philosophy. I mean, if a priest today stood up and said God is "nothing," people would think he’d lost his faith. How did he justify that using the Bible?

Lena: He used "negative theology," or the apophatic path. He argued that anything we say about God—like "God is good" or "God is wise"—is actually a lie, because those words are human categories. If God is "good," then he could theoretically be "better," but God is above all things. He’s not a "thing" at all. So, to call him "nothing" isn't an insult; it’s the highest form of praise. It’s saying God is so far beyond our language that silence is the only honest response.

Jackson: So, if the Bible says "God is Love," Eckhart would say, "Well, that’s just a metaphor for something we can’t actually name"?

Lena: Exactly. And this is where he really angered the traditionalists. He preached a sermon where he said, "I pray God to rid me of God." Imagine the shock in a fourteenth-century cathedral! He was telling people to let go of their *ideas* of God—their mental idols—to reach the actual reality of the Godhead. He wanted people to move past the "literal" image of a man in the sky to the "pure, clear One" that is "sundered from all secondness."

Jackson: It sounds like he was trying to strip away the "garment of the Christian myth," as Schopenhauer later put it. But wasn't that a direct challenge to the authority of the Church? If you don't need the "literal" God of the Bible, do you even need the Bible?

Lena: That’s the question the Inquisition asked. By pushing past every image and concept, he was pushing past the Church's primary tools for controlling the faith. But Eckhart’s defense was that he wasn't rejecting the Bible; he was trying to reach the "unmanifest" truth that the Bible points toward. He saw the Trinity as God’s "face" in relation to creation, but he wanted to sink eternally "from nothing to nothing" into the core where God is "becomingless" and "thingless."

Jackson: It’s fascinating, but I can see why Pope John XXII was worried. If the masses start praying to "nothingness" and ignoring the "literal" Father and Son, the whole social and religious order of the Middle Ages starts to dissolve. Was he essentially accused of blurring the lines between God and the human soul?

Lena: Precisely. Because if the Godhead is the "ground" of all things, then the "ground" of my soul and the "ground" of God must be the same. He taught that "the eye with which I see God is the same eye with which God sees me." That’s a non-dual awareness that feels very modern, but in 1329, it looked like "autotheism"—the heretical idea that a human can become God. The Church insisted on a hard literal line between the Creator and the creature, and Eckhart was using "dramatic language" to erase that line.

Jackson: So his "heresy" wasn't that he hated the Bible, but that he loved the "truth" behind it so much he was willing to set the literal words on fire to get to the warmth. It’s a bold move, but as we’ll see, it’s a move that eventually cost him his reputation for six hundred years.

Jackson: Building on this idea of the "Ground of the Soul," Lena, I’m struck by how Eckhart talks about the birth of Christ. For most people, the birth of Jesus is a historical event—something that happened once in a stable in Bethlehem. It’s a literal fact of history. But Eckhart seems to take that literal fact and turn it into something happening *right now*, inside us. Is that right?

Lena: You’ve hit the nail on the head. For Eckhart, the *Geburt des Wortes*—the birth of the Word in the soul—is the central event of spiritual life. He didn't see it as a metaphor; he saw it as an "ontology," a fundamental reality of being. He preached that the same eternal act by which God the Father generates the Son in the Trinity is happening in the ground of your soul every single moment.

Jackson: That sounds like he’s taking the "literal" doctrine of the Trinity and exploding it into the human experience. If the Son is being born in *me*, then what does that make me?

Lena: That’s exactly what the Inquisition wanted to know! Eckhart’s critics argued that this teaching made the human soul equal to God. But Eckhart’s point was that this birth only happens when the soul is "empty." He used the term *Abgeschiedenheit*, or "detachment." He argued that if you can clear away all your attachments—your ego, your desires, even your religious "ideas"—you create an open space. And God, by his very nature, *must* fill that space. He’s "obliged" to pour himself in.

Jackson: "Obliged"? That’s a risky word to use about the Almighty! It sounds like he’s saying we can "force" God’s hand.

Lena: He actually used that exact language! He said in solitude one can "force" God down into one's own soul. It’s one of the statements the Pope later condemned as "rash." The Church wanted to emphasize God’s "free grace"—that God gives because he chooses to, not because he has to. But Eckhart was describing a spiritual law, like gravity. If you create a vacuum, the divine "ebullience" or "boiling over" of love will naturally fill it.

Jackson: It’s interesting how he uses these hydrodynamic metaphors—"boiling over," "flowing out." It feels much more like a natural process than a legal or religious one. But I imagine this really angered the literalists of his day who saw salvation as a matter of following the Church's rules and sacraments.

Lena: Absolutely. If the birth of Christ is an internal, mystical event that depends on your own "detachment," then the "literal" necessity of the Church and the sacraments starts to look secondary. Now, to be fair, Eckhart never rejected the Church. He remained a loyal Dominican and even said he’d recant any error. But his *language* suggested a path to God that didn't require a priest as a gatekeeper. He was telling people that "God delights in goodness" and is "tickled through and through" by justice, regardless of external acts like pilgrimages or fasts.

Jackson: "Tickled through and through"—I love that. It’s so human. But you can see the tension. On one hand, you have the Church saying, "Follow the literal steps of the law to be saved." On the other, Eckhart is saying, "Be empty, be still, and let the Word be born in you." One is about doing; the other is about *being*.

Lena: And that distinction is where he truly "angered those of his age." The fourteenth century was a time of "disarray among the clergy" and "rapid growth of pious lay groups" like the Friends of God. The Inquisition was terrified of these groups because they weren't easily controlled. Eckhart’s preaching gave these groups a high-level theological justification for their "inwardness." He was providing the intellectual fuel for a mystical fire that the Church was trying to put out.

Jackson: So his view on the Bible was that its literal stories were actually "blueprints" for this internal birth. The "Son of God" isn't just a figure from the past; he’s a potentiality in the present. It’s a beautiful vision, but in a world of rigid hierarchies, it was a dangerous one. It’s no wonder he ended up in Avignon defending his life’s work.

Jackson: Lena, we’ve talked about the "birth of the Word" and the "Godhead," but there’s this one specific claim Eckhart made that really stops me in my tracks. He said that "detachment" is a greater virtue than love. In a religion where "God is Love" and the "Greatest Commandment" is to love, how on earth did he justify putting detachment on a higher pedestal? That has to be one of the things that angered the Church the most.

Lena: Oh, it absolutely did. It’s one of his most "temerarious" or rash claims. In his treatise *On Detachment*, he argues that love, as great as it is, still involves a "clinging." When you love something, you are drawn toward an object. But pure detachment—*Abgeschiedenheit*—is a state of being completely "immovable." He used the image of a "great mountain of lead" that stays still even when a "little breath of wind" blows against it.

Jackson: So he’s saying that love is too "reactive"? That it’s still part of the ego’s drama?

Lena: Exactly. He believed that if you love God because he’s "good" or because he "saves" you, you’re still loving for a "why." He wanted people to "live without a why." True detachment means you are so empty of self that God can act through you without any interference. He argued that God himself is "perfectly detached"—he is unmoved by our whims—and so to be like God, we must reach that same level of stillness.

Jackson: That feels so counterintuitive to the "literal" reading of the Bible where God is often portrayed as very emotional—angry, jealous, compassionate. Eckhart is stripping all that away to get to a God who is essentially "pure detachment." Did he see this as the "literal" truth of the soul, even if it contradicted the "literal" surface of the stories?

Lena: He did. He saw the soul as having a "spark" or a "citadel" that is "uncreated and uncreatable." This was his most controversial claim. He believed there’s a part of us that is *co-eternal* with God. Not something God made, but something that *is* God in us. If that part of you is already one with God, it doesn't need to "strive" or "love" in the traditional sense; it just needs to "be."

Jackson: I can see why that would feel like a threat to the whole concept of "sin" and "redemption." If part of me is uncreated and already one with God, then I don't really need to be "saved" in the literal sense of the word, do I?

Lena: That was the exact logic the Church feared. If the "spark" is already divine, then the sacraments, the priest’s absolution, and the literal "pains of hell" start to lose their bite. Eckhart did speak about the danger of "deadly sin" as a "disquiet of the heart" and a "blindness of the sense," but his ultimate solution wasn't just "be a better person." It was "be more detached." He believed that "the only thing that burns in Hell is the part of you that won't let go of your life."

Jackson: Wait, is that a real quote? "The only thing that burns in Hell is the part of you that won't let go"? I’ve heard that in movies like *Jacob’s Ladder*. Was that actually Eckhart?

Lena: It’s attributed to him in popular culture and fits his theology perfectly, though scholars debate the exact wording in the primary texts. But the *idea* is pure Eckhart: Hell isn't a literal place of fire and brimstone; it’s the agonizing experience of the ego clinging to things that are being "burned away" by God’s presence. If you’ve made your peace and let go, those "devils" are actually "angels" freeing you.

Jackson: That is such a radical reframing of the "literal" afterlife. He’s taking the most terrifying images of the Bible and turning them into a psychological process of liberation. No wonder he was "on the periphery of acceptable practice." He was taking the Church's "scare tactics" and turning them into "spiritual medicine."

Lena: And that’s where he angered the establishment. By moving the drama of salvation from the "external world" of Church law into the "internal world" of the soul's ground, he was making the individual their own highest authority. He was teaching people to "love God as he is; a not-God, a not-spirit, a not-person," and to sink into that "One" eternally. For a Church built on persons, spirits, and images, that was the ultimate challenge.

Jackson: So, Lena, we have this brilliant, high-ranking official preaching these radical "interior" ideas. He’s telling people to "pray God to rid them of God" and that the "spark" of their soul is uncreated. Eventually, the pressure builds up, and in 1326, he’s hauled before an inquisitorial trial in Cologne. How did he respond? Did he try to hide his views, or did he double down?

Lena: He was surprisingly defiant, but also strategically humble. He produced a "Vindicatory Document"—essentially a defense where he quoted chapter and verse to show that everything he taught could be found in the tradition. He even said, "I am able to err, but I cannot be a heretic, for the first belongs to the intellect, the second to the will." He was basically saying, "If I’m wrong about the facts, fine, but my *intent* is pure."

Jackson: That’s a clever distinction. "I might be mistaken, but I’m not a rebel." But the Archbishop of Cologne, Henry of Virneburg, didn't buy it, did he?

Lena: Not at all. The trial was led by Franciscans, who were long-time rivals of Eckhart's Dominican Order. There was a lot of "increased tension between monastic orders" at the time. They took 150 suspect articles from his writings—including his *Book of Divine Consolation*—and narrowed them down to twenty-eight. Eckhart eventually appealed to the Pope and set off for Avignon in the spring of 1327 to defend himself in person.

Jackson: It’s like a medieval legal thriller. But he never got to see the final verdict, right?

Lena: No, he died in early 1328, probably in Avignon, before the case was settled. But the Pope, John XXII, didn't let the matter drop. Even though the man was dead, the Pope issued the bull *In Agro Dominico* in 1329. He condemned seventeen of Eckhart’s statements as heretical and eleven as "rash" or "suspect." It’s an "unusual decision" to issue a bull against a dead man who wasn't personally condemned as a heretic, but the Pope was terrified of the "growing problem of mystical heresy."

Jackson: So the Church was trying to "kill the ghost" of his ideas before they could spread. They wanted to draw a literal line in the sand and say, "This far, and no further." But did it work? Did his influence just vanish?

Lena: Far from it! His disciples—men like John Tauler and Henry Suso—continued to spread his teachings, though they were a bit more "circumspect" or cautious with their language. His work also lived on in the anonymous *Theologia Germanica*, which was a huge influence on Martin Luther. Luther actually said he learned more from it than almost any other book besides the Bible and Augustine.

Jackson: That’s incredible. So the man the Pope tried to silence actually became one of the "strongest influences on German Christianity before the Reformation." It’s like the Church’s attempt to bury him only made his ideas more "unmanifest" and powerful.

Lena: Exactly. And for centuries, he was "largely forgotten" except for a few sermons tucked away in Tauler’s books. It wasn't until the nineteenth century that he was "rediscovered" by German Romantics and philosophers like Schopenhauer and Hegel. They saw in him a kindred spirit—someone who saw the "Absolute" beyond the "literal."

Jackson: It’s a long journey from a "heresy" trial in 1326 to being a "hero of modern spirituality" today. It makes me wonder: if the Church had embraced his "dramatic language" instead of condemning it, would the Reformation have even happened? Or was his vision just too big for any institution to contain?

Lena: That’s the great "what if" of history. But even in the twentieth century, the Dominican Order pressed for his "full rehabilitation." In 2010, it was revealed that the Vatican had responded back in 1992, saying there was "really no need" to lift the censure because he had never been condemned *by name*—only his propositions were. So, in a weird, bureaucratic way, the Church finally admitted that Eckhart is a "good and orthodox theologian."

Jackson: Lena, one of the most fascinating parts of this story is how Eckhart’s "heresy" in the fourteenth century became a "bridge" to other religions in the twentieth. We’ve mentioned the Zen connection a few times, but it’s wild to think that a medieval Catholic priest is being cited by "neopagans" and "ultimatist Buddhists" today. How did that happen?

Lena: It’s largely thanks to scholars like D.T. Suzuki and Rudolf Otto. Suzuki, the man who brought Zen to the West, wrote *Mysticism: Christian and Buddhist* in 1957. He argued that Eckhart’s ideas—especially his view on "pure nothingness" and the "isness" of God—were almost identical to the Zen concept of *sunyata*, or emptiness. He said Eckhart’s sermons were so close to Buddhist speculations that they could practically be stamped as such.

Jackson: "Isness"? That sounds like a very simple, literal way of looking at existence. Did Eckhart actually use that word?

Lena: He used the term *Istigkeit*, which Suzuki translated as "isness." It’s the idea that God doesn't have "qualities"—he just *is*. Suzuki argued that this "Christian experience" is fundamentally the same as the Buddhist one; only the "garment of the myth" is different. Eckhart was just "obliged to clothe his ideas" in Christian terms to survive his era.

Jackson: But wait, didn't we establish that Eckhart was a "Scriptural mystic"? If he’s just a "crypto-Buddhist" in a monk’s robe, doesn't that ignore how much he actually loved the Bible?

Lena: That’s a great point, and it’s where some modern scholars, like Reiner Schürmann, push back. Schürmann argued that while the *parallels* are real, Eckhart remains "theocentric." In Zen, "emptiness" is often about the ordinary state of the mind. In Eckhart, the "isness" is about *God* being at the heart of all things. Eckhart isn't trying to reach a "void"; he’s trying to reach the "fullness" of the Godhead.

Jackson: So he’s a bridge, but he’s a bridge with a very specific Christian foundation. It’s interesting that Rudolf Steiner also saw him as a "peak" of medieval esoteric thought. Steiner argued that Eckhart was a "genuine spiritual investigator" who just didn't have the "cognitive tools" of the modern era to explain what he saw.

Lena: Right! Steiner saw him as a precursor to "spiritual science." And it’s not just philosophers. Erich Fromm, the psychoanalyst, used Eckhart to talk about "having" versus "being." He saw Eckhart’s "detachment" as the ultimate psychological health—letting go of the need to "possess" things, including our ideas of God. Even Dag Hammarskjöld, the UN Secretary-General, was deeply influenced by Eckhart’s call to "selfless service."

Jackson: It’s like Eckhart created a "universal language" of the soul that people from all backgrounds can understand. Whether you’re a Zen practitioner, a Lutheran, or a secular psychologist, his "dramatic language" seems to hit a nerve. But I keep going back to why it angered his peers. Was it just because they couldn't "literalize" his vision?

Lena: I think that’s exactly it. Literalism is safe. It gives you rules, boundaries, and a clear "us versus them." Eckhart’s mysticism is dangerous because it’s "all-inclusive." It blurs the lines between the "sacred" and the "secular." If God is in the "ground" of every creature, then there is no "outside." That’s a beautiful thought for a modern syncretist, but for a fourteenth-century Pope trying to maintain a "holy" empire, it was a recipe for chaos.

Jackson: It’s a paradox, isn't it? The more he tried to find the "literal" ground of the soul, the more he was accused of abandoning the "literal" faith. He was too Christian for the heretics and too "heretical" for the Christians. But maybe that "middle ground"—or "groundless ground"—is exactly where the most interesting truths live.

Jackson: Lena, we’ve spent a lot of time on the theory and the history, but if someone is listening to this and thinking, "Okay, Eckhart’s ideas are cool, but how do I actually *use* them?"—what’s the takeaway? How does a person in 2026 practice "detachment" or find the "ground of the soul" in a world that’s constantly screaming for our attention?

Lena: That’s the most important question. Eckhart wouldn't want us just to talk about him; he’d want us to *do* it. And the first step is his concept of "living without a why." Most of our lives are driven by "whys"—I’m doing this to get a promotion, I’m being nice to get someone to like me, I’m praying to go to heaven. Eckhart says all of that is "clinging." To practice his wisdom, you have to try doing things for their own sake—because they are "good," not because they "result" in something.

Jackson: So, "action without attachment to outcomes." That sounds like a great way to lower your stress levels, if nothing else. But how do you find that "interior stillness" he talks about?

Lena: He would suggest a practice of "apophatic prayer" or what we might call "Centering Prayer" today. It’s not about talking to God or asking for things. It’s about sitting in silence and letting every image and thought "fall away." When a thought about work or dinner pops up, you don't fight it—you just release it. You’re trying to reach that "empty vessel" state where, as Eckhart says, "nothing can disturb you."

Jackson: I love that image of the "mountain of lead." But it’s hard! My mind is more like a mountain of feathers in a hurricane. Is there a "middle step" for those of us who aren't ready to be fourteenth-century monks?

Lena: There is. Eckhart calls it "detachment in action." You don't have to go into a cave. You can practice it "in the marketplace." The test is your "orientation." Can you engage with the world—love your family, do your job, enjoy a meal—without being "possessed" by those things? Can you be "as empty of your own knowledge" as when you were born, even while you’re using that knowledge to solve a problem?

Jackson: It’s about "releasement"—*Gelassenheit*. Letting things be what they are without trying to "master" them. That feels like the ultimate antidote to our modern "surveillance culture" and "will-to-mastery."

Lena: Absolutely. And for those who struggle with the "literal" vs "spiritual" divide in their own faith, Eckhart offers a way out. You don't have to choose between being a "literalist" who follows every rule and a "skeptic" who throws it all away. You can be a "mystic" who looks through the literal word to the "Word being born in the soul." You can see the Bible as a "garment" for a truth that is "beyond all words and beyond all understanding."

Jackson: So the "playbook" is basically: 1. Live without a "why." 2. Practice silence to find the "ground." 3. Engage the world without "clinging." And 4. Look for the "divine spark" in everything. It’s a demanding path, but it’s one that promises a "dance for joy" in the core of your being.

Lena: "Glad through and through," as Eckhart put it. And remember, he said, "If God is to pour into you, first you must pour out." We spend so much time trying to "add" things to our lives—more knowledge, more stuff, more experiences. Eckhart’s radical advice is to "subtract." Become a "superessential nothingness," and you might just find that you’re actually "everything."

Jackson: It’s a total flip of the script. But then again, that’s what Eckhart was best at. He took the "literal" world and turned it inside out.

Jackson: Lena, as we bring this journey with Meister Eckhart to a close, I’m reflecting on how he really was a "man from whom God hid nothing," as one of his biographers put it. He saw the "literal" Bible not as a cage, but as a doorway. And even though he was condemned by the Pope and "buried for six hundred years," he’s more relevant today than ever.

Lena: He really is. He reminds us that the "literal" surface of life—the rules, the labels, the external acts—is just the "left eye" of the soul. The "right eye" is meant for eternity, for the "contemplation" of the Godhead. He teaches us that we don't have to wait for an afterlife to experience union with the divine. It’s happening right now, in the "eternal now," if we can just get out of our own way.

Jackson: It’s a powerful thought to leave our listeners with. Whether you think of Eckhart as a "good guy" or a "bad guy," a "heretic" or a "saint," his challenge remains the same: Are you willing to "pray God to rid you of God"? Are you willing to let go of your "memories and attachments" to find the soul that is "free and empty"?

Lena: And he gives us so much hope. He says that "God delights in goodness" and that even the puniest deed done in justice makes the Godhead "dance for joy." It’s a vision of a universe that isn't just about judgment and law, but about a "boiling over" of love that wants nothing more than to be born in us.

Jackson: So as we wrap up, I want to encourage everyone listening to take a moment of "Eckhartian silence" today. Just for a minute, try to "live without a why." Pour out the vessel of your mind and see what pours in. You might just find that "spark" that was never created and can never be lost.

Lena: "In this One let us sink eternally," as Eckhart said. It’s a deep dive, but the water is fine. Thank you so much for exploring this "dangerous mystic" with us today. It’s been a real journey into the heart of the "nothingness" that is actually everything.

Jackson: Thanks for listening, everyone. We hope this look at Meister Eckhart’s view on the Bible and literalism has given you a new "eye" to see the world with. Take care, and keep looking for the "ground" beneath the surface.