And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.
2 Corinthians 3:18
This week in my house, we’ve been talking a lot about Rumi.
Rumi was a 13th century Sufi poet, theologian, and scholar who spent most of his life living in what is now Turkiye.
He’s famous for his esoteric or mystical poetry.
His largest work that took the last 15 years of his life to write is a 6 volume poem called the Masnavi, which has about 24,000 words in it.
Near the end of the first book of the Masnavi, Rumi shares a mystical parable that takes place as a discussion between the biblical Joseph and one of his childhood friends.
In typical Sufi mystical fashion, the poem hinges on the idea that when you unmake something, then it can be remade.
Or maybe it’s better to say, when a thing is confronted by its own nothingness it begins to see what it really is.
For Rumi, this realization is how we begin to heal, by shining a light in the dark recesses of ourselves.
In a minute, we are going to read a portion of Rumi’s poem together.
But first, I want to make a connection between what we will read and the Transfiguration of Jesus on Mount Tabor.
This Epiphany season, we’ve been talking a lot about light.
Mostly, we’ve been talking about how to let our own light shine in dark places, which assumes that we have that light inside of us.
Spreading love, bearing fruit even in drought, singing “this little light of mine,” giving Just Mercy, Facing our Apocalypses Now.
In these days of fear, of neo-nazis in the streets, of drastic changes in our country’s core principles established after World War 2, it is only right that we would spend a lot of our time focused on how the light goes out.
In this season of Lent that begins in just a couple of days, though, it is appropriate to turn inward for a moment and wonder, How is the light coming in?
What are the places within me that need the light of Jesus?
Lent is not just about giving things up, or just about resisiting the temptation to give in, it’s ultimately about what you give out.
Lent is about your transformation, your transfiguration – like Jesus - into a person who like Rihanna says, “shines bright like a diamond.”
The question of this Transfiguration Sunday, then, is this: If you don’t bring the light inside of you, how can you hope to let it shine?
With this introduction, I want us to turn to our excerpt from Rumi.
We will read it altogether, and you each should have a copy.
After we read it, I want you to find a few people around you, not more than 5, and maybe not related to you.
I want each person in the group to choose one or two lines, or a specific image that stands out to you today, and connect it to just one of the reflection questions at the bottom of the poem sheet.
It’s okay if you choose the same image or lines as someone else, maybe you’ll be thinking about them slightly differently, or maybe the Spirit is moving you in the same way and you’ll find an unexpected solidarity.
Don’t think too much, just let your feeling-self take over for a minute.
A Childhood Friend (Selection from Masnavi Book 1, lines 3170-3241)
A close childhood friend once came to visit Joseph.
They had shared the secrets that children tell each other when they’re lying on their pillows at night before they go to sleep.These two were completely truthful with each other …
“Ah my friend, what have you brought me?You know a traveler should not arrive empty handed at the door of a friendlike me. That’s going to the grinding stone without your wheat. God will askat the Resurrection, ‘Did you bring Me a present? Did you forget? Did you thinkyou wouldn’t see Me?’
Joseph kept teasing, “Lets have it. I want my gift!”
The guest began, “You can’t imagine how I’ve looked for something for you.Nothing seemed appropriate. You don’t take gold down into a goldmine, or adrop of water to the Sea of Oman!
Everything I thought of was like bringing cumin seed to Kirmanshah wherecumin comes from.
You have all seeds in your barn. You even have my love and my soul, so Ican’t even bring those.
I’ve brought you a mirror. Look at yourself, and remember me.”
He took the mirror out from his robe where he was hiding it.
What is the mirror of being? Non-being.
Always bring a mirror of non-existence as a gift. Any other present is foolish.
Let the poor man look deep into generosity.
Let the bread see a hungry man.
Let kindling behold a spark from the flint.
An empty mirror and your worst destructive habits, when they are heldup to each other, that’s when the real making begins.That’s what art and crafting are.
A tailor needs a torn garment to practice his expertise.
The trunks of trees must be cut and cut again so they can be used for fine carpentry.
Your doctor must have someone with a broken leg to doctor.
Your defects are the ways that glory gets manifested.
Whoever sees clearly what’s diseased in himselfbegins to gallop on the Way.
There is nothing worsethan thinking you are well enough.More than anything, self-complacencyblocks the workmanship.
Put your vileness up to a mirror and weep.
Get that self-satisfaction flowing out of you!
Satan thought, “I am better than Adam,”
and that better than is still strongly in us.
Your stream-water may look clean,but there’s unstirred matter on thebottom. Your Lord can dig a sidechannel that will drain that waste off.
Trust your wound to a Teacher’s surgery.Flies collect on a wound. They cover it,those flies are your self-protectingfeelings, your love for what you thinkis yours.
Let a teacher wave away the fliesand put a plaster on the wound.
Don’t turn your head. Keep looking atthe bandaged place. That’s where thelight enters you.
And don’t believe for a momentthat you’re healing yourself.
Reflection Questions:
1. How do your chosen lines affect the way you might look at “giving something up” for Lent?
2. How would the lines that you chose change how you think about what you “give out,” or how your “light shines?”
3. If you chose a particular image/symbol, how does that image reflect the idea that we have to risk undoing something in order for healing or a new reality to arise?
4. How do your lines bring you hope, comfort, or strength?
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