Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Increase the Light

“When a person lights one candle from another, neither flame is diminished.” 
(Bemidbar Rabbah 13)
Tziporah:
My favorite night of Hanukkah is the last night, when each of us lights our favorite menorah. That’s 45 candles: 8, plus 1 server to light the others, times 5 family members, burning for at least 30 minutes.  My spouse usually remarks that our dining room resembles the nave of a cathedral, which conjures memories of my childhood visit to St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City.  In the text that I quoted, the early rabbis use the physical properties of a candle’s flame to focus on light as a metaphor for wisdom. This is one message of Hanukkah, the celebration of which involves adding candles each night to increase the light.  Many religions prescribe candle lighting and singing to dispel the darkness of the winter solstice. When we light a flame in our own homes and houses of worship, and we keep one another in our prayers, I have no doubt that we will increase the light in the world and the warmth in our hearts.  

Grace:
Tziporah, your delightful family tradition on the last night of Hanukkah makes me smile as I imagine all that flame! It also brings to mind these words from a familiar song: “If everyone lit just one little candle, what a bright world this would be!” That same song makes the connection you make between the light of a candle and a prayer that brings light into dark places. How much we need to heed that call to prayer in our world today: Darkness and evil can never be eliminated, I think, but I also believe with people of every faith tradition that darkness cannot prevail where the light of God shines. A favorite verse of mine from Christian scripture affirms, “The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (The Gospel of John 1:5) In another account, Jesus speaks words that I see as applying to people of good will everywhere: “You are the light of the world.” (The Gospel of Matthew 5:14, emphasis mine) What an awesome calling to be light for one another!

Yasmina:
Although the Islamic tradition does not call for physical lighting of candles, the notion of sharing and increasing the light brings to my mind many positive associations. I recall immediately the beginning of a Hadith that I have memorized. It is a Hadith about charity; the type of charity that is not limited to financial giving, but encompasses any form of voluntarily sharing one’s knowledge, time, advice and emotional support: “Charity does not in any way decrease the wealth.”* Many verses of the Quran and other Hadiths emphasize the superiority of light over darkness and the many forms in which each is manifested. Light is wisdom and blessings, and all that is of benefit to us. Light is also equated with prayer, guidance, knowledge, piety and righteousness; these noble qualities will all take the form of physical light on the Day of Judgment. There is one last, unique depiction of light that is visible to the angels and attracts them to visit its source: it is the light that emanates from houses where the remembrance of God is fundamental.


* Charity does not in any way decrease the wealth; and the servant who forgives, God adds to his respect; and the one who shows humility, God elevates him in the estimation of the people.” (Sahih Muslim, Book 32, Hadith 6264)

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Walking with the Angels

Yasmina:
Hajj, or “setting out with purpose,” is the fifth pillar of Islam. Known as the pilgrimage to Mecca, Hajj is a journey that millions of Muslims across the globe dream to take. The essence of Hajj is to be granted forgiveness from God; its meanings are countless and its benefits far reaching. In October, I was blessed with the opportunity to undertake Hajj and learn from this experience. One of the unforgettable lessons is the depth of purpose that was driving these millions of individuals, and the place where I felt it manifested the most was during the tawaf, or “circling the ka’ba,” the first house built for the worship of God. As I joined the thousands of worshippers in the tawaf, I felt a sense of calm, safety, peace and serenity that I had never felt before. While performing this ritual, each was busy with individual, silent prayers: praising God, asking for His forgiveness and guidance, offering supplications to heal the sick and invoking His mercy. Praying among millions, my sense of self was reduced as my soul yearned to connect with The Creator. I could not but think of the planets’ counter-clockwise motion as I walked in this manner; I could not help but remember that the angels are engaged in the same movement around a House of worship in heaven. It was as though we were diving—in silence and total submission—into a state of utter love and awe to The Most High. As we finished the seventh round of the tawaf, I emerged from the depths of that state to recognize Hajj as a quest for knowledge and better understanding of myself, the world around me and, most of all, God, The Truth.

Tziporah:
I remember when I first read about the tawaf in a memoir by a British-Muslim physician who was working in Saudi Arabia and decided to journey to Mecca for Hajj. Like you, Yasmina, she wrote about feeling like a small part of a larger whole while walking the seven circuits around the ka’ba: “As I looked up and surveyed the multistranded circle of humanity adorning the Ka’aba, a giant, rich choker of pilgrim pearls, I found myself among them. In this diversity, finally I belonged. Islam was many-faceted and I was simply one.”[1] My own experiences with rituals that involve moving in circles have been similar. As a bride under the wedding canopy circling the groom, I felt a sense of serenity and solitude—despite the presence of many family and friends—and a deep conviction that I was not only joining my life to my spouse’s life but also that we were connecting to God. The physical movement of these rituals, coupled with the “music” emanating from the surrounding souls, transports us to another realm.

Grace:
How transformative Hajj, Yasmina! While I have not had the privilege of participating in such a major pilgrimage, I do share both your and Tziporah’s regard for ritual that, in solitude and serenity, binds us to God and to one another. For that reason, I take periodic retreats to a Benedictine monastery, where I spend several days in total silence, enveloped, as you describe, in the peace of God’s abiding presence and love. Many Christians are now reclaiming an ancient religious practice of walking a spiritual labyrinth, whose singular, yet maze-like, circular path alternately narrows and expands as one moves slowly to its center. Perhaps in imitation of early Christian pilgrimages, walking the labyrinth reminds us of the recurring patterns in our life’s journey and brings fresh revelation about submission, guidance, trust, and promise. Some place a pebble somewhere along the labyrinth’s path as a symbol of a burden being released to God or as an offering of thanks to God for mercy and forgiveness.  Even this “pilgrimage in microcosm” helps readjust a skewed human compass!



[1] Ahmed, Qanta A., In the Land of Invisible Women: A Female Doctor’s Journey in the Saudi Kingdom, Chapter 14: The Million-Man Wheel, p. 149.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Thanksgiving

“…give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God…” (I Thessalonians 5:18a)

Grace:
Particularly at Thanksgiving, St. Paul’s admonition to give thanks in all circumstances is readily affirmed by most Christians and persons of other faiths too.  However, the statement that giving thanks in all circumstances is God’s will may strike a particularly discordant note to one whose life is in tangles or to one who struggles with a serious illness or a deep hurt or grief. Once, when I was in a particularly awful situation, I found myself responding with anger to these words. I questioned how I could be expected to give thanks; perhaps I confused giving thanks in all circumstances with giving thanks for such a circumstance. Over time, I have seen how deeply my spiritual life has been shaped by attention to gratitude and thanks to God in every circumstance. In fact, it is in the most bitter of circumstances that my spirit is lifted when I realize just how many blessings abound, even in the midst of suffering. What has your own faith tradition taught you about thanksgiving?

Yasmina:
Upon reading your reflections, I remembered how as a child I was taught that the etiquette for replying to someone’s “How are you?” is to say first Alhamdulillah, which means, All praise and thanks are due to God.  In fact, it is sometimes the only thing a Muslim answers, eliminating the need to give further details. As an adult, I have come to appreciate the five daily prayers—or seventeen cycles of prayer—I am commanded to perform every day because my preoccupation with daily life can divert my attention from “giving thanks in all circumstances.” Knowing that I have to plan my day according to the times during which I need to perform those prayers helps me to refocus, reflect, and transcend my worries and pain, as well as remember the bounties I have been blessed with. Muslims, who stop whatever they are doing to engage in the prescribed prayers to recite the opening sentence of each of the seventeen cycles, find themselves in a state of thanksgiving as they say these words: “Praise be to God the Cherisher and Sustainer of the worlds.” (al-Fatihah 1:2)

Tziporah:
Grace, I am glad you raised this question and grateful for your emphasis on giving thanks in all circumstances.  I, too, have found myself in difficult circumstances struggling to recognize the blessings in my life.  According to Jewish tradition, a person is supposed to recite a blessing upon hearing bad news, in particular the news that someone has died. The prescribed blessing is “Praised is the True Judge.” I have often choked out these words, against my will, without the proper intention of praising God.  But I believe that it is appropriate to say the words of praise or thanks without truly feeling them and hope that feelings of praise and thanks will eventually follow. The early rabbis taught, “One is obligated to bless upon the bad as he would upon the good….” (Mishnah Berakhot 5:5) Perhaps Paul and the early rabbis were responding to a natural human tendency that they observed: While it is not easy for a person in pain to offer thanks to God, there are always things for which to be thankful; and it is a worthy endeavor to offer thanks even when it is difficult to do so.