God is the light of the heavens and the earth. The simile of God’s light is like a niche in which is a lamp, the lamp in a globe of glass, the globe of glass as if it were a shining star, lit from a blessed olive tree neither of the East nor of the West, its light nearly luminous even if fire did not touch it. Light upon light! God guides to this light whomever God will: and God gives people examples; and God knows all things. Surah 24:34-35
We are all infused with the Light of God within the niche of our souls which holds our hearts. Jesus also speaks about this Light when he says, “I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (Gospel of John 8:12).
With the Light of God, we can see through enlightened hearts the good, and we speak to its truth. We also can see the whims and vagaries of our society, the systemic injustices that prevail because of privilege and power, and the violence that vacates hope. As we see by God’s Light, we are able to put ourselves into another’s shoes, remembering God while we stand, sit, lie down, or sleep.
How else but in remembrance of God are we able to love our neighbor as our self?
As one way to remind themselves to see by God’s Light, Muslims pray five times a day towards the Ka’aba in Mecca. The Ka’aba (the Cube) is the most sacred site in Islam, known as the sacred House of God. It is located at the heart of the mosque Masjid al-Haram. According to Islamic tradition the Ka’aba was originally built by Prophet Adam and later rebuilt by Prophet Ibrahim and his son Ismail. It is the holiest of holies because it is a reminder of the surrender all prophets have made to live by God’s Light. Muslims pray in the light of that surrender.
As you come into a mosque, how do you know the right direction to pray?
All mosques contain a mihrab, which is a curved niche in the wall of a mosque, that indicates the qibla, the direction Muslims should face when praying. The wall in which a mihrab appears is called the qibla wall.
The mihrab is a functional guidepost, indicating the qibla, the direction of the Ka’aba, literally orienting those praying where to stand. It is also a spiritual centerpiece. Just as there is the qibla, which orients worshippers toward the Ka’aba, they are reminded that there also exists the inner qibla which orients worshippers toward their own surrender to live by God’s Light.
How do we know we are living by God’s Light? How do we find our inner qibla?
We pray, worship, and do good works. I also think we find our inner qibla, our direction in life, when we are doing things that aren’t easy. When we visit prisoners, volunteer at food pantries, or offer help at a homeless shelter, and listen to those who feel disenfranchised, by being a witness to their pain and loss. Maybe when we read historical and contemporary accounts of injustice, and wonder about our own privilege and suppositions. Or maybe when we learn about the needs on the local school board and become a member, even though our own children are now adults.
In all this desire to live by God’s Light, to find our inner qibla, we ask God to show us how to make a difference in the lives of people we meet, the lives of loved ones, both known and unknown. In all this, we experience a radical hospitality by knowing that the face of a stranger is the face of a neighbor.
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I had just finished giving a paper about the universality of the Qur’an at a Sufi conference at the Rasooli Community Centre, outside Pretoria, in South Africa. Nomsa, wife, now widow of my good friend and mentor, Gideon, called me to spend a week with her in KwaZulu Natal. She prefaced the invitation by saying that she had sold their home in Pietermaritzburg, and that she had moved back to Cato Ridge, her village. But there was a western hotel only about 20 minutes away. She could book a room.
It was tempting, believe me…hot water, clean sheets, swimming pool, electricity…. But I said, “No, Nomsa, I’m here to see you. I’m fine in the village.”
It wasn’t the lack of electricity or running water that concerned me… it was my fear of poisonous snakes and wild stray dogs, who look like wolves, and rats scurrying in the rafters that would have me up at night. I had to let that all go. Those fears, not particularly unfounded, could not control my actions. I knew I was going to be safe; Nomsa wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I wanted to be with her, visit Gideon’s gravesite, see the work she was doing in the village, and just hang out.
“I will bring some food.”
I arrived just as the sun was setting and we gathered around the open fire to cook dinner when two women appeared, and Nomsa asked,
“Sisters, are you well?”
“Yes, mother,” as a sign of respect.
“Sisters, are you hungry?”
“Yes, mother.”
Nomsa set the table for two more, strangers who were becoming guests.
As we ate, I could feel a migraine coming on from my travels. I was rubbing my temples and the women asked if I were “ok.”
I shrugged them off…. “No problem.” I was hoping that they would leave soon.
After finishing dinner, without a word, the two got up, cleared the table, went outside, stoked the fire, put on water, and began to wash the dishes. And then they appeared, pulled out a cot, pulled out jars of lotion from their bosoms, laid me out and began to rub my feet, comb my hair, massage my forehead and neck; they slathered me with oils and placed hot towels on my forehead.
“You are both like mothers to me,” The two women held my hands and spoke. Nomsa translated:
“Why else do we live, if not to serve each other within the light of God’s love?”
Day 18: Reflection
What does living by God’s Light mean for you?
