Moreover, what purpose do words serve if they do not demonstrate through actions the reliable truth of what we profess? Did not Moses, having detached himself from all visible realities and mental pursuits, rise beyond the vision of God’s location and enter into the obscurity where he beheld nothing? In truth, he discerned a spiritual tabernacle that, through material imitation, he presented to those below. This tabernacle, according to the teachings of the saints, represents Christ, the power and wisdom of God (1 Cor 1:24), incorporeal and uncreated in essence, yet through Moses’ tabernacle, He indicated the super-existent and unfathomable Word, the all-encompassing and mighty tabernacle, through which all that is visible and invisible was created. One day, this Word would assume human form, ultimately offering Himself as a sacrifice for humanity—as the eternal High Priest (Heb 2:17), who made Himself a holy offering for us in the latter days.
Thus, as Moses entered the divine darkness, he not only perceived the immaterial tabernacle but also the intricate hierarchy of divine offices and everything associated with them, which he articulated in both substance and imagery in alignment with the piety of the Law. The tabernacle and its components embody material symbols—the coverings of Moses' contemplations fulfilled in darkness—but these contemplations themselves are not symbols, as they are unveiled to those who have achieved initiation and purification, immersed in divine mystery. How can that which is revealed and stripped of all obscurity be merely symbolic? It is no coincidence that the expositor of sacramental theology prays at the start of his work: “O supreme Trinity, guide us to the highest truth of sacramental contemplation, where the immutable mysteries of theology shine forth in the superluminous darkness.”
After this, who can assert that nothing is discernible in divine darkness and that beyond negative theology, there exists no loftier vision? Or is it suggested that all the revelations experienced by the saints were mere symbols, appearing only occasionally? For indeed, Moses experienced visions over forty days and nights, as noted by Gregory of Nyssa, “having combined himself in the darkness of a visionless life,” resulting in contemplations devoid of form. Yet, he did indeed see in the darkness; everything within that darkness is characterized as simple, detached, and unchanging, while in the superficial symbols, which are composite and sensory, can one find anything immutable or simple, unconnected with actual beings?
Since Moses beheld what lay before him, he witnessed either light or something illuminated, yet from his vantage point, everything there is light. However, because he transcended his own being and became immersed in divine obscurity, his vision was neither sensory nor intellectual, suggesting that this light is self-seeing and concealed from minds that have not renounced sensory perception. How can one comprehend the self-seeing and self-aware? When the mind exceeds all intellectual limits and becomes unseeing from an abundance of sight, it is filled with the most exquisite brilliance, deeply rooted in God, and through the incomprehensible unity, it finds and contemplates the self-seeing light.
Therefore, can we not discuss the hiddenness of the Deity in this context? Indeed, it does not simply emerge from its concealment, but also communicates this to others, veiling them in divine darkness. Moses, having entered the cloud alone, became invisible to others as the Scriptures indicate; furthermore, having surpassed himself and inexpressibly detached from his own being, he hid even from himself, much like the divine Paul, who was caught up in a vision and yet did not know what he saw (2 Cor 12:2-3). This strange paradox demonstrates that even in His inexpressible and supernatural manifestation, the Divine remains hidden from those who have renounced all else—including themselves. The persistence of Moses’ ascent toward clearer visions, along with the continuous elevation of angels and saints towards more profound contemplations through endless ages, attests to this supercognizable hiddenness, where, even in seeing, they recognize, beyond mere vision, the light and God manifest within it. Thus, our gaze, fixed on the sun, both perceives and acknowledges its inaccessibility to direct sight.