Posts tagged ‘rumi’
Those Who Fish, Rise Early
It is a New Year . . . has been for ten days now. Our Christmas Season ended on Sunday, the Feast of the Epiphany . . . yesterday we celebrated the Baptism of the Lord . . . and today Jesus calls his followers and invites them to go fishing.
Jesus said to them,
“Come after me, and I will make you fishers of people.”
Then they left their nets and followed him.
Fishing boat leaving the Bolinas Lagoon
This shot of a boat going out to fish was taken in the early morning, just as the sun was rising. Those who fish, must start early. Photographers rise early for the good shots. So must we who are are also called to fish. My friends who are not early risers would argue with me about the rising early. And they are right . . . they see an earlier morning than I do, for they stay up sometimes till the morning. Reminds me of a Rumi poem, “Sometime, stay up all night.”
Late or early, let us find our God in the silence of that time, and may it speed us on our way to where each one of us is called to “fish.”
Thank God for the Poets
Perhaps I am into poetry at the moment. Certainly, I am enjoying Rumi.
God’s presence is there in front of us,
a fire on the left
a lovely stream on the right . . .
Whoever walks into the fire
appears suddenly in the cool stream,
Any head that goes under the water surface,
that head pokes out of the fire.
Most people guard against going into the fire,
and end up in it . . .
If you are a friend of God,
fire is your water.
You shoud wish to have a hundred thousand
sets of moth wings,
so that you could burn them away, one set a night.
(tr. Coleman Barks)
I am reminded of two things.
- In both the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, John the Baptist says that the one who will come after him (Jesus) will not be baptizing with water, but with fire. When I look at myself, as well as at most of us, I think we would rather settle for a baptism of water. We shy away from the fire, and end up in it when thrust there.
- I am reminded of the words of the song, “Live This Mystery,” by Michael Card. It goes:
As the river seeks to be
forgotten in the sea
so my soul is so thirsty
it longs for Thee.
Like a moth around the flame
drawn to the light
and to the pain.
Since my life is hid in Thee
I must live this mystery.
It is, indeed, a mystery, that that which can draw us, can also repel us. Paradox and mystery. Our lives are filled with them. We long for passion – for fire. And yet we try to stay away from danger; we do not want to be burned.
Thank God for the poets who find ways to express what we do not. And that their words can open us to mystery.
A Poem I Would Like to Make My Own
Rumi. How could you find a poet that could better express the movement of the soul . . . the stirrings of the heart . . . ?
Hospitality is one of those virtues that religious communities hope that they reflect. And sometimes we’re good at it, and sometimes . . . . . . Well, we fall into that place called human.
I found this poem today. And I would like to make it my own:
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
From:The Essential Rumi, p. 109, Translations by Comeman Barks, Harper: San Francisco, 1995.
