Mar 13 | A Jesus Inside (Radical Love Journal #3)

Last weekend, I led a retreat for the residents of Hineni House, the intentional community where I work as director and chaplain. We drove out to a truly stunning Airbnb in Garden Bay on the Sunshine Coast and had the chance to enjoy each other’s company and reflect on our chosen topic: the desert.

We had a lot of time to relax and be together: chatting, cooking, laughing, playing games, teaching each other to crochet, playing harp and ukulele and piano, writing songs, and going for walks. But I had also crafted three guided meditations to help them contemplate what the desert might mean for them, spiritually.

Each meditation was focused on a different passage. The first was Matthew 4:1-11, exploring temptation and what it means to isolate oneself to gain deeper understanding of the divine (something I’ve been considering in a very new light as the world begins to embrace social isolation to combat the spread of Covid-19). The second was Exodus 3:1-6a, where I led them to contemplate finding something strange and beautiful in the desert, and to ask themselves what it meant for them, what it might be calling them to do and be. Finally, the third was a portion of Surah 19 from the Qur’an, where I called each of them to imagine themselves bringing forth new life – and the consequences that always follow from such an action, and how they would respond, or, perhaps, allow the voice within to respond.

This was the first surah I really heard in one piece from the Qur’an, rather than just snippets (usually random sentences referencing peace or compassion quoted by people of all faiths in times of danger and mistrust against Islam). It was Seemi who told the story, woven expertly into an account of her daughter’s birth. I was totally enthralled, and a little ashamed that it had taken me this long to hear it.

In both the Matthew and the surah meditations, I encouraged the Hinenites (my pet name for residents of the house) to see these passages as inversions of the story of the Fall. You can read my exegesis of the Matthew passage in my sermon from Lent 1 on March 1st. With the surah, though, I had found myself caught up short by the discovery that here, Maryam is in a sense providing an act for her son to echo later. Like Jesus she is called out into a deserted place, rather than having a temptation laid in front of her within a garden of delights – but she also finds herself almost reconciled to this tree as she leans against it in the throes of labour. Unlike the tree of life this one is not a delight to the eyes as yet, but as she laments all that has happened to her (perhaps even speaking words that Eve uttered herself as she was expelled from the Garden), the tree willingly gives up fruit for her, fruit that she is welcome to, fruit that she is invited to eat rather than prohibited from eating. And in the strength of that fruit, Maryam returns having borne Jesus.

So too are we called to bear forth shocking and beautiful things.

Through Omid-jan’s beautiful translation, Rumi explains:

“Every task has a guide that leads humanity onward.

There is a pain, a yearning, a suffering, a love for it that has to be aroused inside the human, so that we set out to accomplish it. Without this longing pain for it, no task is accomplished — whether it is regarding the world, the next world, trade, imperial rule, knowledge, stars, or whatever else.

Until the birth pangs showed up inside Mary, she didn’t aim for the blessed tree that’s mentioned in the Qur’anic verse “The birth pangs drove her to cling to the trunk of the palm tree.” It was that pain and yearning that led Mary to the tree. A barren tree became filled with fruit.

Our body is like Mary.

Each of us has a Jesus inside.

If a pain and yearning shows up inside us,

the Jesus of our soul is born.

If there is no pain, no yearning,

the Jesus of our soul will return to its origin from the same secret passageway that he came from…

If there is no pain, no yearning,

we will remain deprived,

not benefiting from that Jesus of the soul.”

None of us know what it is we will bring to birth by love or anger or envy or bitterness. It is only through clinging to the One who is the Source of all Life and Love that we may turn that pain and yearning to good. And even then, it won’t always be the case.

Either way, dear ones, don’t despair. The world has had more than enough of despair. Strive, with sweat, tears, and blood, for hope. Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s impossible. In the desert of your pain, fall against the palm tree and strive for hope.

And whatever happens, whether you succeed or fail, listen again to Rumi:

“On Resurrection Day,

all of one’s deeds will be weighed

on the cosmic scale:

Prayers

Fasting

Charity

Then love will be brought forth

Love doesn’t fit

even in that scale.”

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