Introduction
The contents which follow were written in China during the winter of 1994-5. The topic, however, is not China, per se, but the Siberian experiences of an American who has called China, Germany, former Soviet Central Asia, China again, and now Malta home.
This volume is divided into three sections: poems, proverbs and a prayer. The Poems are recorded in the chronological order of their revelation. They represent layers of permafrost being softened, transforming previously unusable land into fields for life. The Proverbs are geothermal swells of clarity melting through the glaciers of frigid human systems which freeze dreams in their icy flow. The Prayer is the advent of a spring which returns despite winter’s cyclical fury.
For those who enter the pages to follow, I hope that your heart may find encouragement in the common soil of human experience in which we all grow. I do know, however, that not all who read these pages will be friendly to them.
Some final comments. All poems here were written with ink on paper. I have musically scored some of the poems to follow, all of which were written apart from modernity’s cantors — my wife and I (and four children) largely fasted from music and radio except at Christmas while in China last year. It has also been eight years since we have invited a television to be part of our home.
Brian J. Grim
Malta
March, 1996
Poems
Layers of Innocence
Seasons – 1.
Seasons:
Incessant, aren’t they?
Reminding ubiquitously
As I go my way,
Times cycle with or without me.
Winter,
I must here begin,
For of barren times I must write;
Out cometh the jinn
And my desire to bid them flight.
Summer.
Winter had its day;
The palter of the jinn is gone!!!
Onward, upward, I see the way!!
I am no one’s pawn!
Spring,
Your promise is nigh.
Yet a cycle not a spiral
You cannot but cry.
You precede vainglory, then fall.
Fall,
Ephemeral friend,
You come, you go as if one night;
Yet, all you can lend
Shall I need for the coming fight.
October 27, 1994 — China. The third snow of fall now lays.
And deliver us from evil
Still, Thy Kingdom Come! we pray.
Advance has yet to see its day.
Yet, are the gains refluent?
Dark prince ever insurgent.
Lord, have mercy! out we cry.
The devil’s schemes blind the eye:
Chaos, reason ebb and flow.
Clear our sight to face the foe!
Blazing with the zeal of right —
Burn ourselves out in the fight.
Christ, have mercy! Frail are we:
Save us from ourselves! Our plea.
MARTHA, MARTHA, CAN’T YOU SEE?
YOU SERVE YOURSELF, IT’S NOT ME.
WON’T YOU CHOOSE THE BETTER WAY?
DON’T CLEAN UP THE MESS TODAY.
– deliver us from evil.
November 5-6, 1994 — China.
February 14, 1996 — Malta: fourth line of the last stanza, Don’t clean up the mess today.
Sedulous rest
My world has been busy, arduous, long — I stare death in the face;
With eternity in my heart I press heedlessly on
Looking ever onward, from time to time glance upward,
Denying my life in time shall evanesce.
The compulsions America applauds — work hard, give your all —
Ring true until they possess instead of being possessed,
Then they merely a sepulcher bedizen.
So with eternity in my heart how shall I then live?
Does it beckon a different pace?
Is stillness the antithesis of meaningfulness?
Is activity a subtle proclivity to avoid morbidity?
Wherein does lie the balance between work and rest …
Is the secret in the easy yoke … But what does it mean …
How can I work at rest?
November ?, 1994 — China.
Not … directly
Must He lead in ways so strange?
Certainly common sense allows for a range!
Ah, where sense and chaos meet:
Till that juncture is the greatest of heat!
Moon follows not the sun–directly.
The moment of choice is near;
Is He really too recondite to hear?
Yes for I who life do plan:
How difficult to yield to grasp His hand.
Moon follows not the sun–directly.
Novemeber 8, 1994 — China.
–We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.
– C.S. Lewis
Abolition of Man
Geldings be fruitful!
Tales of Lions, Ships and Hobbits still live
In aspiring hearts of all Creative.
Yet, there’s a breed of man who cannot see
The use, The sense, The reason of myst’ry.
The world is of fact, logic and ledger;
Sublimate dreams to what we can measure!
To such all of m]en’s Committees evolve —
Feelings and visions on paper dissolve.
Yet what is real is not frozen in notes
The sort statisticians are apt to quote.
Truth is what lasts when what fire burns away
Ascends to the Throne where night is as day.
The following tale is as true as the quail
Hollering bobwhite, but never in sight;
As true as the saffron in the sunset —
A truth that will glow if will you but let!
A mission’ry yarn to distant frontier —
An entrepreneur with nary a fear.
With fire in his heart to kindle a drive —
Discovery, yes, is ever alive.
Please, do not despair of rhyme and of verse,
Condemning such talk to ride in the hearse;
The tale is much shorter, concise, compact —
Honestly speaking, more fun to enact.
Enter now in the pages to follow —
Come and explore an uncharted hollow!
With integrity will I seek to unfold
The tale the FCommittee hopes never is
Told!
O! Lions they roar and ships they do soar;
Hobbits adventures — reality lore!
Guess ye clear now to where we are heading?
Rise now! Restore the castrated gelding!
November 21, 1994 — China. Last verse added December 6, 1994 (China). Dedicated to all who dream dreams and have visions — may we all learn.
Arise!
Mountain of Faith climbed once for all —
Only to find it’s not just tall;
Reaching the top I felt so strange:
That peak begat a rocky range.
At times the turbid path doth go
Through murk and muck and slushy snow.
My hands tucked in, my heart so cold —
My faith so sudden has grown old.
Yet ev’ry hiker knows this well —
‘Tis premature to ring the knell;
Do not assume that storm and gale
Must bring the end of faith’s long trail.
And thSen resplendent dawn breaks forth —
The path is clear and joy out pourth!
Assault conquers another peak —
The view from there is not so bleak.
And now with hope and joy restored
Approach the next, but am ignored
By those who wrote the course text book
On how the life of faith must look.
Your hike is for enthusiast,
But common folk you’ve surely missed!
Expect them such trail to follow?
Come now, get real! Don’t be callow!
Hike we must in modern-day haze —
Where fog is smog, the path a maze.
Radical faith, Thy day is nigh.
Stand up! Lead on! Lest we all die! fine …
… my wife when she this verse did hear
said meaning was not crystal clear;
I sat once more, unsheathed my pen —
with other words say I again:
Prophets now rise from field and pew!
Call now the Church, its mission renew.
If now you sleep or merely weep,
W]ho now is left to rouse the sheep??
Technocrats, Bureaucrats are they
Who visions of prophets gainsay.
But dare Believe! Things be different,
When prophets lead through the thicket.
Yes, my wife said, ’tis clearer now —
They lead faith like a holy cow.
Since none can guide the Spirit’s way,
Rise now prophets! Enter the fray!
December 22, 1994 — China. Winter Solstice (the darkest evening of the year).
Pyrrhic* Victory sonnet
At dear cost we dot all i’s, cross all t’s:
Make rules to keep litigation away —
Cover our butts from liabilities —
That which is feared has ever stronger say!
From enceinte we birth dreadnoughts forth to send
The message of grace and faith and trust to share;
While deck hands cry, Not a farthing to lend.
Finance chief navigates from captain’s chair;
Where would we be… without his acumen?
The ship ever so tidy, clean as snow —
Fueled by parity among the crewmen —
Ready and able to fight any foe.
Meanwhile, the battle is far from the sea;
They won one war without The Victory.
December 24, 1994 — China. Christmas Eve. A Pyrrhic victory is one which is won, but at a cost too high. It is from the crushing losses Pyrrhus entailed while defeating the Romans.
Rise sons of Dixie!
Playing Old Dixie brings tear to the eye:
Still motivates men to reach for the sky.
South, yes, was beaten not too long ago;
Beat not defeated — ‘Twas no mortal blow.
Force of the North was Technology driv’n;
Sinister Generals, not one bound for heav’n.
Cold-hearted culture, their souls are impaled,
For deep grow their roots in Gentility failed.
Spirit of Mullins, of Jackson and Lee
Quicken our vision of what yet can be.
Rise Sons of Dixie! Thy Easter is Come!
To win the world’s souls — Thy victory won!
January 11, 1995 — China. This is not satire but postulation. Though I am now Roman Catholic, I was a Southern Baptist for twelve years.
When not Finishing is Beginning
I. Secrets ever fail
Committee paused dignified pace,
Their interest seemed to grow;
Countenance spoke wonder and grace —
At least I read it so.
All introduced at first were we
Round the Formica square:
These are Drs. X, Y and Z,
Dr. V.P. will chair.
(Did you know ‘tis planned vagary
In Mission Board parlay,
Ph.D.s are honorary.
(oops … this we daresn’t say))
In nineteen and fifty something
Our mission’ries bid leave.
The Communists us out did fling;
They did our dreams bereave.
Three decades we’ve been off the task
And you’re the first back in.
Questions of you we have to ask,
So won’t you now begin?
To start — The year was sorrow paved …
But fast they interjected:
Pray tell us of the souls you saved,
Of ones you have affected.
I said the opportunities
Wax high each greeting day;
For time our only limit is
The News to them to say.
With measured word, genteel gesture,
In fluorescent-hallowed halls,
They said, It’s best to sequester
Your feat behind the Wall.
Keep the secret twixt us and you.
Said they as if my boss.
Naive was I — I never knew
A secret is a cross.
But that’s the part I see too late
In this my saga tale;
Lincoln did see it isý good fate
That secrets ever fail.
I spoke in chapel the next day
To Mission Bureaucrats,
Of fear of God, Of His hard Way —
Our One True Theocrat.
He is too young to know such things
As pain and suffering.
Besides ours is the NEWS which rings,
And joyous tidings brings!
But in my soul my spirit burns
As fire consumes a wick.
So deep inside it ever churns,
It gives my heart its tic.
So my dear friend who reads with me
May now I share with thee,
Why did at all I cross the sea
To the land of oolong tea?
II. The Cross’s Call
My thinking was still like a tad
Aswim in summer pool;
Yes I was but a wee small lad
Yet one year off from school.
Of those young days most is a haze
Except for one gray day
When out my window I did gazeß —
That gaze my life waylaid.
No thunder peal nor lightening flash
Nor wind of hurricane
Did greet me standing fore the sash
Peering through clear glass pane.
Staccato swell brought forth the Face
Alive in sublime lull.
Impossible ‘tis to erase
The import of that call.
Visitation, Consecration,
Ordination broke through
Vying host of fine vocations
That later I’d construe.
Intent clear — it was no query.
In calmness He did say,
Brian be a missionary.
With that He went away.
As I mentioned, my heart did yearn
Some other path to trod —
A dozen ways I could discern
To get a Divine nod.
A call so clear you’d think would clear
All shades of doubt away;
Yet tricked myself that best career
Lies not in mission’ry way. Selah.
Through the decades as I have told
That beatific scene,
Some have listened and their eyes rolled
Behind a pious screen.
Day each day I do this ponder,
A treasure in my heart;
A trove I keep as I wander
The worlŠd’s most distant parts.
Two questions in my mind linger,
Spiritual kens do dull:
How to know when Divine finger
Is lifted from this call?
The second to the first relates:
Does such a call portend
God shall my life administrate
And my own will suspend?
As I the calling do live out
My tendency, I fear,
This call now and anon to doubt
Till His voice again I hear. Selah.
My little twitter must I raise
In praise and plaint alike —
With Psalmist try to part the haze
To feel His puissant light.
Truth to tell His Way called Sorrow
Is paved with pilgrim tears
Which water earth new hope to grow
When honest about fears.
And now, years past, I see His Face
Is streaked with blood from thorns,
Reminding me in this my race
Such trials, too, must be borne. Selah.
III. On the Waves
But have I jumped too far ahead?
So much lies in between;
Conclusions drawn >too soon, ‘tis said,
Are seldom ever seen.
So let me now resume the tale —
It takes us through Hong Kong,
The port from which we did set sail
To enter China’s throng.
Past islands green & pleasant sailed,
My heart on billows rose;
Each passing junk’s fanned canvas hailed
Sentimental repose.
Our ship did glide on sea of gold,
Height’ning my desire
For God’s great plan to now unfold
On Chariot of Fire!
Just nine months fore, I cast the die
And dropped from seminary;
Divinity school too loudly cried
Of overt missionary.
The dean gasped and blandly censured
This visionary scheme:
Finish school to fully insure
Your ministerial dream.
. . .
January 12-24, 1995 — China. Unfinished. By not finishing this poem I began a book.
White snow of God
White snow of God Thy advent brings
The hope of all things bright.
You glide as soft as angel wings —
Our spirits join Thy flight.
At times you whirl, at times You fall
For moments froze in time;
Thy Christ’ning lures one and all
Thy glist’ning hills to climb.
In a twinkle, in a frenzy
Swept way are You by gloom;
Often in You mortal men see
The fall which spelled their doom.
Dark soot of Sheol blots snow and sun
And seeks to scourge Thy grace
By black’ning our redemption won
With cares of time and space.
Come thousand no ten thousand picks
Thy Way of light to break —
O thousand and ten thousand nicks
Upon Thy crystal lake.
And we in solemn hope despair
That You must evanesce;
Our earthbound dreams and hopes impair
Death’s vision of success.
Sheol’s pick and broom and vile smoke stack
Thy ennd can never bring,
For in Thy death You do him smack —
You sink to bring forth spring.
White snow of God now us revive
With wits to face the foe;
Melt deep within and make alive
The seeds our deaths do sew.
And when Thy snow becomes a stream
And white turns into green,
The myst’ry of our hope and dream
Blooms in this Paschal scene.
January 14, 1995 — China. Amazing as it may seem to those in non-Chinese lands, snow is cleared from roads and walks of major northern cities by teams of thousands of city folk wielding picks, shovels and brooms. Domestic heating is generated by coal plants with their ubiquitous stacks on many a block. (To friends in China: This poem is allegorical.)
In 1994 I learned.
To become close, I must ever be an I.
When I’m bereaved, I die to replace in haste.
Their past when known, anxious years I need not waste.
To own my pains, evil’s domain I defy.
Calloused by grit, greater strength in play I see.
Secrets do lie, they foul innocents with black curse.
Naive am I, Leah has to marry first.
And I do die, to those who pigeon-hole me.
I can stand still when they push and pull and mar;
My crises fade, as grows response repertoire.
January 16, 1995 — China.
A canvas nude
The rage it burns within me strong
When they their vacant stares intrude
Into my life — gawking so long
As if I were a canvas nude.
From whence does this dark anger rage
That rises to relentless boil?
See they a monkey in some cage?
I feel inside a viper coiled.
Control I’ve lost of my own space —
In this live hell I live in hate;
This suffering, God, while I embrace
Somehow, my heart, please recreate. – Selah.
That vile master of lies, of hate,
Seeks us destroy with feigned new foes
Who loudly pound at the front gate
While through our back he works his woes.
Forgive me please sweet Lord of Light.
Your redemption, O! Never cease!
And set me square the foe to fight;
In Your mercy, do grant me peace.
January 18-19, 1995 — China.
The song of the Phoenix
Swift Phoenix, bird of might,
In your death you win your flight;
As your flame turns to ash
You rise anew — death’s hold to dash.
Son of God our true light
In your death we gain our sight;
And we see ‘tis the way —
Sanguine blackness precedes life’s day.
And now we life throw off
Like the worm becomes a moth;
Martyrs prayers, souls ignite
To join the Phoenix in its flight.
January 27, 1995 — China. In response to Robert Lowell’s For the Union Dead, after seeing the film Glory. Tertullian was correct, the seeds of the church are watered by the blood of its martyrs, both living and passed away.
St. Valentine’s Day:
A Valentine to friendship lost (for the director of music)
The cardinal pair, each fall they came
To Grandma’s feeder stand —
Out the window where she sat lame
All winter were at hand.
I never knew the dreams she had:
Her tongue the stroke did stay;
But spirit soared, her eyes grew glad
When crimson flew her way.
And then one day their wings grew cold
For she had gone away;
No longer did the feeder hold
The seed which friendship lays.
My friend, while I still have my speech
This chance cannot pass by
To lay my seed within your reach —
Perchance you may draw nigh.
Refrain: An ode to friendship —
No greater joy is there!
I wish you friendship —
A blessing, O, so rare!
Note: Friendship can be a dangerous enemy, a seduction of the mind lying beyond the reach of investigation. Tongues that appear to be offering helpful advice can actually be hostile opponents and, in offering love, may devour us in the way people consume food. (Saint Augustine, Confessions, II.ix.(17). & IX.ii.(2). transl. Henry Chadwick, Oxford Univ. Press, 1991.)
January 29, 1995 — China. My grandmother passed away on Valentine’s Day, 1978.
A night prayer
God, my hope, have mercy upon me —
Free me from this net of night;
If not you, your angel of mercy
Send to relume strangled light.
Was the glint that erstwhile inspired me
Fabricated in my mind?
Or have all my doubt soliloquies
Made the flame so hard to find?
These, detractors pine to parody,
Dressed up like angels of light:
Off the spiritual deep end’s gone he;
Against such ways we must unite.
God thy Wheat Field ever Tares at me —
Seeking hope to extirpate.
Be not silent, come and redeem me!
With their lies themselves negate.
February 1, 1995 — China.
The Robin and the Fox
Red Fox to Robin did protest:
Why do you fly away?
Has not your nest stood many a test
Of storms both night and day?
Robin to Fox then did reply:
You have not nest but den.
With what God gave mount I to sky —
I am no farmer’s hen.
The instinct God on me instilled
Was made for Autumn flight;
The Winter chill does many kill
Who naively stay and fight.
So, Dear Red Fox, I now confess
Why I do take to wing:
Harbinger, yes, of God’s caress —
The Robin brings forth Spring.
February 2, 1995 — China. Robins and red foxes are (were) part of the suburban/rural Pennsylvania neighborhood I grew up in.
Dry dock
In a world where Saints* are more numerous
On the playing field
Than in the purlieus of field, pew and pulpit
What should be my field?
Theology seems fitly constructed to
Keep God in a box;
Churches are modernly constructed, a
Perfect place to box.
Do my own trials presage my future role
To which I must yield?
Or do they say my quixotic past shall
See no further yield?
In faith, strove I Thy kingdom to expand
To land in the dock?
Faith — only it makes sense — in it I hope
To sail from the dock.
February 5-6, 1995 — China. *Saints are also an American football team.
Melting fast
God, this fast I begin
And I intend it to keep
Until through it I win
Touch of deep calling to deep.
Please melt this iced tableau:
Is it satan, me or You
Who is bringing me low?
I plead, my soul renew.
February 6, 1995 — China. The answer came as the fast became unsuccessful.
The 15th Station
What can assuage an empty soul;
Its void what can beguile?
‘Tis just as when gray bride’s knell tolls —
Her groom’s but a short while.
Promise of Spirit does instill
My soul with lust for more;
Yet Ludwig had his life distilled
Through silent music score.
Approbation of erstwhile dreams
Now sadly makes me grieve;
Ere how they filled up countless reams —
Of them I’m now bereaved.
What can assuage an empty soul;
Its void what can beguile?
The Cross’s Way, can it console
In this, life’s hardest mile?
February 6, 1995 — China. gray bride = dreams gone cold; groom = will of life
Sails
What word, what art, what song conveys
The contents of a sigh? —
My love, my spouse, for thee I pray
Strong sails to lift thee high.
This sigh suspires by joys we’ve gained
Through leagues of windward gale;
Your love it often ©did sustain
When tempest me impaled.
And once again our course has led
Into uncharted sea;
The sigh I breathed is gently said
In deep, deep love for thee.
March 22, 1995 — China. Dedication of my confessional autobiography to the love with whom I share my life. Coincided with decision to move on from China.
Me and my kettle
On my way to the water house I pass
You returning with your kettle full and hot.
The solidarity I feel you may not —
What do you see in me and my kettle?
I’ve come and joined you in burdens you bear;
Yet when I pass by our eyes do us betray
That our dreams do different life systems obey —
What do you see in me and my kettle?
March 28, 1995 — China. Many people daily carry boiling hot potable water from water houses since tap water is considered nonpotable. It also saves on the cost of household fuel. This poem evoked many honest reflections when I shared it with my three classes of Chinese students.
Simultaneity
Spring snow —
The memory of past is present:
You sew
Parting seeds of winter’s descent;
his chill
As eternity looks on now
Is real
As yon future’s sublimest vow.
April 5. 1995 — China. For the second morning in a row spring’s advent has been buried in snow. cf. Augustine’s Confessions XI.xiii (16).
A charge to the Light Brigade
(for the director of music)
Once a mighty Asian warlord sought to renew his strong hold,
So invited all his kingdom new ideas to him unfold.
One young warrior filled with visions of that kingdom’s grand success
Mounted stallion, beckoned others to join him in selflessness. R
Go ahead unfurl your visions. Go ahead let loose your dreams.
Heedlessly go into battle, undaunted by evil’s schemes;
You know that your career may end up lost to you some day.
To the Grander Kingdom of Light, ones like you must lead the way.
The young warrior subdued peoples — claimed new lands for his warlord;
And the warlord praised his daring, feigned they were in one accord.
Then the minions of the warlord machinations did relume;
To the warlord counsel proffered: Time ‘tis now your rule resume. R
Charged into the last great battle with the warlord on his back;
Every blow he struck the foe with, he felt his own life force crack.
Battle won, the warlord champion eulogized this warrior brave;
Said the kingdom now needs others in his stead the gains to save. R
April 5, 1995 (begun February ?) — China.
To Alibek
A.
In the soul of every man
Burns a fire reminding him
That he with his very hand
Snuffed out light to make all dim.
B.
The One who made the Lamb made thee,
His love shall set thy people free!
Love’s strong hammer strikes thy chain;
Can it now unloose thy brain?
April ?, 1995 — China. Adaptation of William Blake used in a letter to my student, Alibek. (See the Prayer in Part III.)
Labor Day
I have never seen the salmon’s trek of life
Which ends as she lays her eggs
Then dies.
Up, Up, Up the rapid torrents which do slap
Life’s face with cold rock water
To breathe.
Of this I have heard.
I have never seen the Red Guards’ cinereous rage
Since now they’ve shed gray Maoist collar to
Don a tie.
Hear, Hear, Hear ten million throats
Slit in shadows of night
Still cry.
Of this I hear.
I have never seen the nomads of Central Asia freely roam
For a block of crumbling Soviet-deco flats is now
Their home.
Sing, Sing, Sing your mournful melody
You millions who died at
Cadres’ knees.
Of this I hear.
I have seldom seen a Patriot of a People without a Land
Stand strong and love his captor as a
Fellow man.
See, See, See such Path as Gandhi trod
Is want for wear; the road is overgrown
With sods.
Of this I see.
I have ruefully watched humanity’s soul fain swept clean
By scintillating Cimmerian systems which obviate God and feign
A gleam.
Gone, Gone, Gone is He from day-to-day
Concerns; His judgment falls in just
That way.
Of this I lament.
I have never seen the Ichthyic Trek of Life
As shall be seen when they leave behind
Still waters.
Swim, Swim, Swim into hell’s torrents and there lay
Your living seeds of truth and love and hope. Shirk —
Not again!
Of this I scheme.
May 1, 1995 — China. International Worker’s Day. Written after a strenuous run-in with a man who physically accosted my 10-year-old son, mistaking him for a Muslim ethnic minority in a crowded bird market. My children have often worn Muslim-style attire by their own choice.
A letter from a friend …
Grow old along with me
The Best is Yet to be
The Last for which the first was made
Our times are in His hands
… a response
As time our pages turn
Dare souls yet vainly yearn
Their feats of old to live again?
So, hands in Hand let’s go on.
May 5, 1995 — China. In reply to a friend’s poem to me of February 6, 1995, from England. The last line in my response might be different if written today, one year later, esp: *Note: I later found out that my friend pirated his poem (which he claimed to write) from Robert Browning.
Purple Cows for my children:
A Chinese Blessing
May the waters of your toilet
ever flush beneath you,
And God forbid that they should
ever rise to meet you!
I’d Rather Be a Bird
Children, Will you fly,
Lift your hearts to the sky? —
On poems with feather wings,
Which reveal all hidden things.
Would you rather be a bird
Or a kite held back by string?
Can an eagle learn to sing? —
A good question for the King.
Don’t you be a silly nerd,
No real* question is absurd.
Fat Cat
A cat is fat,
A rat is too.
When cat eats rat
He’s fat as two.
My Stuffy
My stuffy is so very new —
My mother him did sew.
He is the best I ever knew —
And I will tell you so!
* Unreal being a question asked in order to control/dominate somebody else.
?? Spring, 1995 — China.
Proverbs
Swells of Innocence
I. The cut worm
As the cut worm forgives the plow
Her heart is set free from bitter bile;
But that iron will which laid her low
Shall never again be agile.
A sailor once a rock did spy
And stood to sound the warning.
To which the captain did reply,
I’m busy now ‘til morning.
The Wall was Great and built by men
Who sacrificed their lives within;
That Wall did ne’er protect their kin
But only kept their dreams in.
The goddess oLf Tranquility
Frowns upon those who cause a stir;
All must to Her swear fealty
Or never taste Her elixir.
II. Proverbs of pain
A rumor
A rumor is like a melliflous song. It can be sung with gusto or heard as background music. Either way, it can easily be summoned up with only the motif being plucked. Sometimes the strike of the tonic alone brings it with fullness to mind. It is the most easily identified on Name That Tune game shows.
A secret
A secret is just like a rumor, only played in reverse. All melody is lost, and the more times it plays, the less sense it makes. It’s like those hidden satanic messages purported to be present when certain unsavory rock music is played backwards.
A stallion
Vision is castrated by those who would seek to manage it. Management is as far away from true leadership as is a gelding from a stallion. From a distance, they can look identical, but up close it is clear that the latter generates life while the former only lives to keep itself alive.
A goal
Orchestrated unity is like a synthesized orchestra, which can simulate many of the characteristics of the live orchestra. While synthesized music is easier, more transportable, and fully responsive to the composer, it is solely dependent upon one person. A live orchestra depends upon the full cooperation of 50 highly talented individuals towards a recognizable goal; unity is not the goal, but a result of focusing upon the goal together.
A call
A career is to a calling as an IRA is to a sacrifice. In the short term, all four expect you to give. However, in the end, careers & IRAs are measured by their reward, while callings and sacrifices continue to be measured by their cost.
A gadfly
As America’s (or any) pioneer legacy wanes, what used to be goads of progress metamorphose into gadflies.
III. Lamentations of missionary naiveté
1.
Bureaucracy breeds so many a jinn —
Art is now science, Play the game to win.
Preciosity to use channels right
Is required, or ever lose the fight.
2.
The greater they plied the work to contain
The more incalescent my flame became!
The illuminati me out did toss;
‘Tis true, ardor became my albatross.
3.
Was the NRM era but tableau —
A thought of God enacted here below,
By man institutionalized to be
Of dire mess and fuss and success set free?
4.
With advent of fortnight missionary
Vocationals they may safely bury
In quaintest demiworld of yesteryear,
Or, just in case, keep them to bring the gear.
5.
Avant-garde, Oh yea, we got your vision;
For what you found we’ll now make provision!
No sir, we’re not obscurants — no red neck!
Now let us take charge; Com’on, What the heck.
6.
Once I saw heav’n break — the face of God appear!
But jaded experts quoth: He’s always near.
Once my friend saw heav’n break to show forth the way!
But jaded experts quoth: Bible has the say.
7.
Knows his Bible; He’s a winner of souls.
Greatest of all are these spiritual goals.
What good can be in an anchorite’s way?
He’s so out of it — God’s way for today.
-Or is he?
8.
Chaos, uncertainty do swirl about —
Eupeptic bliss seems ever so in doubt.
Yet, confine I my cheer to what is seen?
Pause! The Valley of death turns verdant green!9
IV. Snippets of broken systems
How fearful when duffers who bogey and rest
Are given the job to lead the rest.
Bureaucracy has an inherent leukemia:
It’s technical name is acute abulia.
The synonym for sycophant
Is: foolish, middle-aged infant.
Those who chiefly ruminate
Rarely ever animate.
The most canny of all dissemblances
Is talk that to love bears resemblance.
A gate is to a petard
As reputation to a canard.
Some call living by faith opprobrium —
As if their life were ad infinitum.
When happiness is found in gewgaws,
Inspiration is found in (TV’s) Heehaw.
Living by Zeitgeist
Substitutes for HeilegeGeist.
Is not the length of human ontogeny
Proof of Divine endogeny?
V. Fasten love
It helps me not when disconsolate
To think of those less fortunate. Why?
Unlike the gray vista redeemed by rime,
Not all of life’s pains are removed by time.
‘Tis never savage
The soul to lavage.
If I face heaven with face so saturnine,
Is not my outlook not but asinine?
The man without a sobriquet
Lives without the light of day.
Though the meaning of child is papoose,
Let me not confuse the man with burnoose.
When I the world emulate,
The Spirit I certainly Immolate.
To baldrics fasten love.
A Prayer
Spring of InnocenceThe City of God
(A Prayer Letter for Alibek’s People)
The glorious city of God is my theme in this work … I have undertaken its defense against those who prefer their own gods to the Founder of this city — a city surpassingly glorious, whether we view it as it still lives by faith in this fleeting course of time, and sojourns as a stranger in the midst of the ungodly, or as it shall dwell in the fixed stability of its eternal seat…
– St. Augustine, The City of God
Dear Alibek,
We have spent so much time together this year, and I have often shared my heart with you concerning many, many things. Yet, I have not shared with you about my deepest prayer for you and your People. I must confess that I think about your People and their welfare every day, hoping for their greatest good.
Your People and you cannot be separated. You are one. Your People have a beauty, a dignity, a creativity which is infinite. For you are created in the multifarious and splendid image of God whose Names form an unending chain of majesty and beauty and love. m Yes, love.
The splendor, the glory, the grandeur which innately is present in your People has become pallid with years of whitewash. O, would that the water of life could be poured upon these layers and make the opaqueness translucent!
The vicissitudes of time have dimmed the glass through which the world looks at your People. The years of coal soot have become part of the glass. O, would that the Hand that will wipe every tear away would reach down and wipe clean the windows so that the world can see and marvel at the greatness of your People!
Do I exaggerate? Is there any People which is truly great? Are they not all stained by sins (small and large)? Do I think your People is better than other Peoples? No, but they are equally as beautiful and unique! In heaven God invites all nations to his Great Banquet, and your People shall be seated there with ]honor!
Yet, history flooded your environment with turbid waters — waters which have not brought life as do streams in the desert — but waters which deluged your People with promises that have evaporated, leaving stagnant, nonpotable pools.
God, O God! Hear my prayer. This People filled with Your very Spirit and image has been living under a cloud. Only You can part the Heavens, only You can bring the Sun, only You can breathe a Breeze which will give them the light from heaven to take to wing and fly. Alibek, I know you have the same prayer. It is a prayer for faith to come alive. A prayer for hope to inspire. A prayer for love to conquer all! So what is love?
The life-chain which you have hoped in for centuries has omitted the greatest of all Names. The Name Love is not recited in the chain. Certainly the chain does not argue against its inclusion! In fact, the chain would be even more beautiful as on every cycle, this bead of diamond would be sung as the climax of the recitation.
Love is simply being willing to give up your own life for your friends. Anything less is less than love. And is there a model for such love? Is there a God with such a love? Is there a possibility for such a love to be realized in every aspect of human society — in your society?!
Over Two thousand seven hundred years ago there was a great prophet of God named Isaiah, a descendant of Abraham. Isaiah was given many direct dreams and visions of the future which he faithfully proclaimed. They were recorded in the Holy Book. He spoke of God sending One, a Lamb, who would overcome through the might of love.
See, my servant shall prosper,
he shall be raised high and greatly exalte4d.
Even as many were amazed at him–
so marred was his look beyond that of a man,
and his appearance beyond that of mortals–
So shall he startle many nations,
because of him kings shall stand speechless;
For those who have not been told shall see,
those who have not heard shall ponder it.
Who would have believed what we heard?
To whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?
He grew up like a sapling before him,
like a shoot from the parched earth;
There was in him no stately bearing to make us look at him,
nor appearance that would attract us to him.
He was spurned and avoided by men,
a man of suffering, accustomed to infirmity,
One of those from whom men hide their faces,
spurned, and we held him in no esteem.
Yet it was our infirmities that he bore,
our sufferings that he endured,
while we thought of him as stricken,
as one smitten by God and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our offenses,
crushed for our sins,
Upon him was the chastisement that makes us whole,
by his stripes we were healed.
We had all gone astray like sheep,
each following his own way;
But the LORD laid upon him
the guilt of us all.
Though he was harshly treated, he submitted
and opened not his mouth;
Like a lamb led to the slaughter
or a sheep before the shearers,
he was silent and opened not his mouth.
Oppressed and condemned, he was taken away,
and who would have thought any more of his destiny?
When he was cut off from the land of the living,
and smitten for the sin of his people,
A grave was assigned him among the wicked
and a burial place with evildoers,
Though he had done no wrong
nor spoken any falsehood.
But the LORD was pleased
to crush him in infirmity.
If he gives his life as an offering for sin,
he shall see his descendants in a long life,
and the will of the LORD shall be accomplished through him.
Because of his affliction
he shall see the light in fullness of days;
Through his suffering, my servant shall justify many,
and their guilt he shall bear.
Therefore I will give him his portion among the great,
and he shall divide the spoils with the mighty,
Because he surrendered himself to death
and was counted among the wicked;
And he shall take away the sins of many,
and win pardon for their offenses.
Such is the model of Love which was prophesied, and which had its perfect fulfillment in the Lamb of God. It is victory over death. It is victory over living hell.
The victory is sweet! It is within your reach! But it will require the strongest sinew of heart! The secret of success is in loving your enemies, not extirpating them. For in loving them you shall cast upon them burning coals which will make them also cry out for the living water which you yourselves must surfeit yourselves with. And how glorious the day when you can lead them to the well which never runs dry! O, the irony, the paradox, the mystery of such a turn of events!
You said that your People have become weak. They can become strong. For in God’s economy, only when we are weak can we become strong. Do not look to horses or chariots for strength. For those who live by the sword die by it! No, turn instead to the One who holds all the nations in the palm of His hand. In His strength you shall overcome.
The One who made the Lamb made thee,
His love shall set thy people free!
Love’s strong hammer strikes thy chain;
Can it now unloose thy brain?
But to what end? Is love just a good feeling? Is it sentimentalism? Is it a lame strategy? Doesn’t it invite further abuse? If someone strikes you on one cheek, aren’t you a fool to offer him the other? Yet, that is love. If someone makes you carry his load one mile, isn’t it foolish to then offer to carry it one more mile? Yet, that is love. Isn’t it better to strike back, returning blow for blow? Love is not weak because it doesn’t use the same stratagems evil uses. No, it is powerful and becomes stronger each time it stands against evil with goodness and righteousness.
What is the outcome of such a Way? Is not your yearning for the buried bulb to sprout and grow and blossom? And what sort of blossom do you hope for? The flower of joy or the flowers of death. Both have blossoms, but only one begets life. The other is paper. Where would you be if you terrorize your enemies instead of love them? You would be on a road which would only turn back upon itself and upon your own heads as you soon begin to solve all your disputes with yourselves by means of hate.
Instead, let Love be the springtime which awakens your People. Watch the flowers unfold their hidden colors, colors hidden in the soul of the seed which has lay dormant for too many centuries. O LORD, unfetter the seed of Love in the soul!
O God, affix upon this People wings as eagles! Let them soar to the highest peaks and rise to the distant stars! Break the shackles which hold their dreams from becoming their aspirations. Wake them from their night of sleep into the clear fresh dawn of the heights!
Alibek, it is at this point where I feel I must speak with greater delicacy. For it is at this point where my intention can most easily be misunderstood. I am now talking about a subject not nearly so transitory as the former issue.
There was once a man who explored the world on his camel. But between them there arose a dispute one day as they were plying the road across the desert. The camel sat down and spoke:
Ah, wise master, why is it that in all our travels it is you who receives praise for our amazing adventures and exploits?
To which the man replied, My dear camel, my companion, my support. Surely you know that it is I who guide you, and that it is I who chose you, and it is you who needs me to survive, not vice versa.
The camel did not reply. They rested for the night under the stars and the man had sweet dreams. The next morning the man awoke to find that his support was gone. So he settled there, in that barren place where his companion left him. He was to travel no more. His exploits ended.
Does this story sound familiar? Did the promise of glory depart from your People when the camel became lord? Did the camel win and leave you in a wilderness? Is it the camel who leads the man, or the man who leads the camel? We talked about this crucial question at lunch on Sunday. You must choose.
There is an Answer. It came through the strangest of all events the universe. That Answer said, You will do greater things than what I have done. The Answer did not come and say to the world that it must merely perpetuate the reality of what He, the Answer, did. Oh, yes, that is important, for it is the source of our strength. But, but! The Answer said that what He began was only the beginning, only a foretaste of the great exploits which He hoped His people would do.
Is this chimerical? What leader invites his subjects to rise to greater heights than he was able to? Do not leaders want to be remembered as the paragon, the vertex of success?! Why would the Answer say His work, while complete, was to be only the beginning rather than the apex?
Alibek, I ask you to ponder this. Did your People ride a camel which became incorrigible? Did it leave you alone in the desert of a victory? A victory which was not a seed of growth, but a seed of decline. A true seed is one which, when it dies and falls into the ground, it brings forth abundant new life, life a hundred fold! Did the camel try to keep its own life immortal, never dying, always living, never suffering, always being triumphant, never giving, only demanding?
O, how the God, the God who made you and your People, longs for your good! You are called to be a chosen People, a royal priesthood, a holy nation. Are you living your destiny or are you consigned to a destiny which someone long ago chose out of enthusiasm rather than love? Has the salt which once seemed so tasty become insipid? What use is salt which isn’t salty?
In what way do I love your People? Why do I love your People? How can I love your People? Are they not asleep, so to speak, as your great uncle said? Can you love a sleeping bride? Most assuredly! But O how superior is the waking bride to the sleeping! Won’t you arise sweet bride? Throw off the veil which has covered your radiance and let the air be redolent with your sweet perfume. Let your mellifluous music be sweeter than honey as you raise you‹r bread high above your head and circle it three times!
No, not bread which can go stale and be used only by soaking it in milk tea. No! The bread which will stay fresh forever! O, if you could find such a recipe, wouldn’t you sell everything to buy it? Imagine, bread which will never become hard!
Just as the Prophet Isaiah predicted, the Bread which came from heaven was thrown under foot, trampled by men, whipped, cursed, spit upon, drug through the streets, and then thrown on a tree. Yet, this Bread willingly endured this. Why? Why? Why?
Did heaven lose? Was heaven defeated by man? Was heaven betrayed by man? Only to the last question can we say yes. You know this deep within, don’t you?
In the soul of every man
Burns a fire reminding him
That he with his very hand
Snuffed out light to make all dim.
But no we must answer to the first two questions. Heaven died, as I ¢alluded to above, in the same way a seed must die in order to beget life greater than it had alone. In this paradox rests the mystery of the ages. The mystery which your People must grasp if they are to enter the pearly portal of the City of God.
It is not a city found on a chart or map. It is a city found within the heart of every man. Some ignore it, some despise it, but some, yes some, consider that living in that City for a single day to be of greater worth than living in the city of man for a thousand years. Is it a spiritual city? Yes. But it is more than just a spiritual city.
It is a City which has but one law. To love the LORD your God, and to love your neighbor as yourself. Such a simple juridical system makes it easy for this city to be built on every hill and in every valley. It can be built in the desert and in the oasis. It can be built under oppression or within freedom. It is a city in wvhich the life of each person is accorded supreme dignity, for he/she is loved with the love which is willing to sacrifice all for the well-being of another!
It is a city which is willing to bear all things, believe all things and hope all things. It is a city which does not rejoice at wrong, but mourns. It is a city which stimulates rather than stifles. It is a mimetic city. It imitates the creative touch of the Almighty.
It is a city in which Love frees all bonds holding the spirit from flight. Would you like to live with your People in such a city? Would you like to build such a city? You yourself are a scientist, an engineer. So I think you certainly have some curiosity which must be explored.
As I said, there is only one law. But there is also one rule:
Man was made for Joy and Woe;
And when this we rightly know
Thro’ the World we safely go.
Joy and Woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the Soul divine;
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The rule: The City’s builders have joy but shall suffer in the city of man. Also, woes come from those pretending to build the City.
You see, the City of God is at odds with those who aspire to their own personal greatness or comfort or immortality. Immortality is granted to all, but it can be lost. Can you see? — the Answer, the Bread, the Water, are all One. That One came to bring every person into the City of God, and the invitation is open to all — all who have lived, now live and shall live. Nevertheless, it can only be received as a child would: in utter dependence on the Giver. A child cannot control the government of the city. He/she can either accept or resist. He/she cannot force.
O Lord, have pity on those who blindly build their own small kingdoms as flies pretending to be hawks.
Alibek, I know you want this, yet, have you the courage to do what it takes to build such a city? There are three steps before you can begin building:
What is the first step before building? It is to look at the enervating laws and rules which the camel forced you to adopt in the desert. Do those laws give your People and their parents and their children true life? Or, do they act as a hunter’s snare? What will it take for you to cut it loose and mount to the sky above the canyon walls, and sail upward and onward — heavenward!
And what rule do your People now live by? Isn’t it the rule: Life is given to those who grasp it? Isn’t that like trying to move the shifting sands of the desert with a knife? Does not the very cycle of life and death in our world prove that this rule is misguided! Can you grasp life directly? Is not life found when we give up our selfish desire to control everything and everyone around us?!
And now, please be understanding: Cannot the camel be used secretly for the advancement of some individuals and to the greater detriment of many? Cannot men who want to become immortal use the camel to this end? What can this mean?
I am not against the camel. No. In fact, you know me to be very concerned about all life in God’s creation. But, I am talking about the camel’s misuse.
And now I have come to the second question you must ask before beginning to build the City of God. I mentioned it already above: Does a man exist to serve a camel or does a camel exist to serve a man? What a strange question.
Look at history. I know that history is a crude and esoteric science, if it is a science at all. I suppose it is an art, just like your People are art. So, maybe you can draw lessons more easily than my People can, because my People have tried to become science.
You yourself said that hundreds and hundreds of years ago your People were powerful, full of life and energy. But you said that once you mounted the camel the power disappeared! Your history is ever present with you. It suspires and inspires. Have the past centuries turned out the way your People would like? Has your camel taken you to a green valley watered by underground streams flowing from the mountains? Has your culture flourished? Do Peoples of the world want to learn from you? Are you lifted high? Are you attractive, or are you well-preserved (my People use that as a euphemism). I ask this not to be unkind or proud. I merely ask you to look around while you are still in your life’s shining days.
How can your People’s youthful beauty return? Your women are voluptuous and your men virile, but it fades with age. Inside there is the potential to become great, but it is covered with makeup and baubles trying to imitate something which is itself nothing but a whitewashed tomb. Let the true beauty shine forth!
Should not the camel set the man free to accomplish great feats? — feats of beauty, of art, of music, of science, of government, of medicine, of leisure, of work, of sports, of education?
Let the people dress in finest silk! Let the painters express what words cannot! Let the musicians capture the full range of human joys and sorrows! Let science search for truth, for truth is of God! Let government make the poor and oppressed their concern, not just the rich and powerful! Let medicine heal the sick and comfort the dying! Let people learn to enjoy the wonders of God’s creation! Let work be for the good of others, not self-aggrandizement! Let sports develop cooperation and stamina! And, let education expect great things from the young, urging them to attempt great things for God!
And here is the GREAT DIFFERENCE: The City of God rides not on the back of a camel, but on the back of a Lamb, and this makes all the difference. The Lamb expects people to exercise their creativity in building the City of God and exercise leadership within it.
The Lamb is mild-tempered. It seeks to serve; it doesn’t demand to be served. The only thing it carries is that which you put on it when it is sacrificed during Corban. And this is the Answer which has come from heaven — the Lamb was slain once for all, and on His back he carried all those seeking entrance into the City of God across the fiery chasm separating the city of man from the Eternal City. Look into your history to see‚ whether this is not true! Surely there still live White Beards who know this story of old.
O how sweet is the air on the other side. Each time you see the smoke pregnant with peace rising from the hibachis and smell the aroma of the roasting lamb of the shishkabob, don’t you desire to praise God with all your senses and, yes, even from the deepest wells of your soul?! The Lamb who was slain upon the tree is seen there. And His meal not only fills all the senses, but it satisfies every hunger — He is also the Bread that never grows old and his blood is the wine of a new covenant between the Creator and the created. What a great and glorious Corban is imitated in the bazaars day after day. But, it is only a shadow of the real Corban which gives abundant life and life everlasting.
My People too often hear this and believe individually, but never collectivize its import. O God, forgive us for our lukewarmness. Are you preparing, my LORD, to shine your light on Alibek’s People so that my People can again see the Way clearly?
Alibek, are you surprised that I would think such a thought? Your People have a genuine affability and harmony of social community which has been supplanted in my People by television, fast food and climate-controlled automobiles & cubicles. Your People love to sit and sew and talk and smoke and snore through all the summer dawn. Oh happy people! Your People dance and sing and have blood which is thicker than a dollar bill. Do you think God might have a world mission in front of your People? Could you be the ones to call the modern world back to its roots which stretch to the Garden of Eden?
Can your People repair the walls my People have left fall to ruins? Can your People build new walls, expand the territory of the City of God? I ask you not to come into my city, but to work together building the very same city, bringing your expertise with you. Might we join hands and work together on this very thing?
Can one or two or even a thousand of your People do this? No, not if they seek to do so in the shadows and byways of society. It is a job which beckons every able-bodied person to rise from their bed and build. And the building must be done in the daylight. It must be done as a community. It must be done by the humblest and the highest.
How well I can guess your response to this. I know you would be criticized (ostracized? or worse?) for riding a Lamb. But, unless you demonstrate its efficacy, how will others join in? Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me! Shout it from the roof tops! Shout it in the bazaars! Shout it from the towers!
The third preliminary step is the most paradoxical. It is a reorientation from large to small. The small grape seed when planted can produce a vine which stretches on and on and on, yielding clusters of gold.
As I mentioned, the true Way looks for humility, not haughtiness to lead onward. It calls for love of enemies, not hatred. It asks us to look upon weakness as strength, because God opposes the proud and shows mercy to the weak. Therefore it is His power at work which eclipses any power known to man.
So, proclaiming the good news of life in the City of God is not to be confused with building the City. The proclamation is only an invitation for people to come and build. Even if they show up with their trowels in hand, it is no guarantee that the City shall be established.
There are many fair weather builders who prefer to huddle by their stoves all winter long rather than risk a chill. They let the garbage pile up for half the year and then only sweep up when the hard times are past. The mission calls for stalwartness, which your People have developed through years of trials. Now is the time to utilize that strength — a strength tougher than the blade of any sheep knife.
Alibek, if you and your People are willing to take these three preliminary steps, the time for constructing the City of God is at hand.
The buildings you must construct in the City are ones which are the centerpiece of your communities and the envy of the nations. Of course, you must count the cost before beginning building, so let me try to summarize the key facets of constructing such a Cit2y.
The first facet is double-paned: celebration and reverence. You must build centers of joyful and holy community worship for all people, men and women, boys and girls, old and young. There is no material with which to build unless there is the sustained and glorious activity to which angels and the faithful departed attend to daily, and which is our greatest joy. Worship does not come naturally to people who have been used to desert life. But, it does come naturally when the Lamb is at the center!
What child, what young man, what old man cannot help but come to the Corban! When a lamb is sacrificed, all come. Only the blind cannot come to see. And so it is in the City of God! The center of the worship is the Lamb who carries us from our old city into the new one.
The Lamb is Answer and Bread and Blood. The Answer is recorded in the sacred words of the Holy Book of the Lamb and in His Living Way. It lifts our hearts through our ears and minds to greatness beyond human wisdom. The Bread and Blood are symbols, but greater than symbols. You know this instinctively about the Bread. Which one of your People would ever throw a piece of bread to the ground to be stepped upon? Is not bread sacred to you! Is not Bread synonymous with Life!
The Blood is what you have been missing. Maybe you have been taught that it is impossible for heaven to bleed. Yet, look around! Can God look at the plight of your People and not weep? Does the God who made and loves your People look at your miseries with aloofness? No! He cries, He weeps, He bleeds! In fact, the blood of the Lamb can redeem this awful mess which human avarice has created. God gave us freedom to follow or reject Him. The price for this freedom was high. God’s own Lamb joined us in humanity and bled and died. But the Lamb was raised from the dead to lead us onward! Now, we are not just set free from the penalty of separation from God for our sin, we are set free into the wonderful meadows of grace. Grace, the undeserved favor and love of God!
How should we then live with this eternal benefit? What ramifications does it have as we build the City? As I began this concept, it means that we worship God first and foremost for this amazing grace. Grace is the charcoal of the hibachi. Without grace we can cook nothing.
Worship is the salt of life. With that taste in our mouths we emerge from our holy, beautiful centers of worship to meet every obstacle empowered by the worship of a loving God.
The city of man is dedicated to exploitation of the earth and the rule of human might. This always pushes individual people onto the sidelines of concern. In contrast the City of God is a community, it is a community of individuals, each created in the image of God! The concerns of individual people need to be the focus of the second facet of building the City of God.
Men, lift up the beggars and seat them at your tables, don’t just throw them your pocket change! Women, take the hands of prostitutes and lead into a new life, don’t just smugly rejoice that you are better! Men, take your children’s hands and teach them about how God loves the birds! Your children need you to hold their hands and show them an earthly model of the Heavenly Father. Men, confess your faults, for real strength is shown in honesty! Men, do not be harsh and cause enmity to arise between you and your families; instead, love them as you yourself yearn to be loved by your own father. And love your wives as those to be esteemed more highly than yourselves.
Women, take your daughter’s hands and teach them that they are forever cherished in God’s heart. They need not resent their weaker feminine sex, for in it they are greatly honored. It was by a highly favored Virgin that the Lamb became man — a Virgin humble and blessed for all generations! In your humility and gentle spirit, may you imitate the handmaid of the LORD!
Give up your selfish ambitions and join hands with your neighbor to build schools which reflect the creativity of God. Look at God’s wondrous world and let the schools teach the children about this! No longer just recite worn out ideas taught by old men pretending to have answers. The greatest teacher is a question! Get your children to ask them. Be prepared to answer them. And above all, be prepared to admit that you don’t have all the answers, and that it is the children who must be challenged to search for them!
Go to the sick and lame. Hold them in your arms. Do not shrink away from them. Kiss them. In doing so you are kissing the very flesh of God. The Lamb came and sought out the sick and needy. The lovely and healthy need not our attention. Develop your science and medicine for this end–for the benefit of the oppressed, not for the economic gain of the healthy. And protect the children who have yet to see light. They have no defender and no defense. Their unborn trust must be repaid with honor. They are your People’s budding pomegranate trees.
Tend the garden called Earth with care! God made people the master of the soil and beasts and waters. In reverence for Him and in love for the generations to follow, be a wise steward.
O God, help Alibek’s People as they renew the temporal order, working in harmony, making it increasingly more perfect: such is Your design for the world! Sanctify their family values, culture, economic interests, the trades and professions, institutions, international relations, and so on. And help them never flag in zeal for works of charity to their poorer brethren!
And finally, the third facet is taking your place among the Peoples of the world. I do not refer to politics, but to integrity and probity. As the Lamb said, go therefore into all the world, proclaiming this great news of the City of God, teaching all nationalities to observe the Great Law and to recognize the rule. And, as a sign of this, pour water upon the members of the City, washing away the pallid layers so that their created beauty and power may be clear for all to see!
With the water comes the Great Seal. How many times have your People seen visions and dreamt dreams of light and heaven? Where do these come from? Whence does the miraculous originate? The world is not just physical. There are seraphim and angels and demons and devils–jinn. It is to be expected that as you begin construction, the vile enemy, satan, shall muster all his forces to oppose you. And the joys shall become woes. In this, the Lamb has asked His Father to send His very Spirit to bond with our souls. It is the Spirit that can testify to the truths written in these pages and the Spirit that will recreate your power to love and worship and build.
And this mystery is far too deep for me to explain briefly. Yet, its reality you can soon discover. As you face opposition, you can be sure that the Spirit shall come to your aid. Yet, just as God gives all Peoples freedom to follow or reject Him, so He gives the beings of the spiritual world that same prerogative. Since I have never visited that realm, I cannot be a sure guide for you in these matters. But you know of their reality, I’m sure, better than I do. My People’s science has blinded us to realities you see. Just as the wind blows where it will, and we can neither control nor see it, so God’s Spirit comes upon us as we follow the Lamb.
The Bridegroom is calling His bride to come out. He is outside the door knocking! Pounding! His friends are all with Him, singing and making merry. Inside, the bride sits. She is waiting. Shall the Groom and His groomsmen be disappointed?! Shall she sit behind the door and never open it?! O, God! Forbid it! The banquet is prepared, the musicians are ready to begin the music. The wine is poured — can you refuse to take it in your hand?! The generations of saints who have gone before are already seated. Come! Come out from behind the door so the world can see your splendor — the splendor of a bride who has been chosen to become a Queen. For the Lamb is none other than the King.
Alibek, I am leaving your People shortly to challenge my People to again rekindle the flame which once burnt brightly within them. Now, our part of the City is not providing enough builders for the City. One thing I pledge, I shall focus my will to be faithful to the heavenly calling which has led me to write these things about the good news of the City of God to you. Will you pass it on to your family, your People? Or will you cover its Light under a bowl or put it in a drawer? God willing, some day I hope to return to worship the Lamb with you and your People in the central square.
Your friend,
Habibullah
This is an actual letter I wrote to one of my students, an engineer studying advanced English in Central Asia. It was a response to several conversations he and I had. He translated it from beginning to end and grappled with two of the themes: love and suffering. The style and imagery reflect the traditions and culture of Central Asian Muslims; perhaps they will appear obscure to Western readers.
Notes:
Some Proverbs were written in Malta.
The Sixth Proverb of Hell of William Blake.
IRA: Individual Retirement Account. A popular tax-deferred retirement nest-eggs investment strategy in the USA.
NRM: The Non-Residential Missionary program was a dynamic, start-up entrepreneurial thrust which was begun and then discarded once it proved successful enough to become a regular part of the institutional, corporate fundamentalist structure of the mission board I served
The Prophecy of Isaiah: 52:13 – 53:12 (The New American Bible)
William Blake. Auguries of Innocence.