For every one of you, We have established a norm and an open way. And if God willed, you would have been made a single people; but God is testing you in what you have been given. So race to virtues; God is your destination, and God will inform you about that wherein you differed. Surah 5:48
Each one of us have been given an open way to find meaning and purpose, indeed, whether we are Hindu, Jews, Buddhists, Sabians, Christians, or beyond, we will find the way to the good, to race to our virtues. Many of us trust in Guidance as a way to live into our destination.
To believe in Guidance that comes to us in many different ways is to believe in the existence of that which cannot be seen.
Hope.
It is difficult for many of us to believe in that which cannot be seen. Yet, ironically, we believe in other such things that cannot be seen, beyond empirical evidence, things like the mind, free will, the capacity to choose, or the future. Is it possible to believe, even though you cannot prove it, that the Sustainer of all Life, the Trust-Giver has a relationship with you?
This is the difference between believing that the Divine exists to believing in the Divine. It’s the difference between believing that You exist to believing in You. Believing in in is the source of Hope.
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I was living in South Africa and working as a minister side-by-side with the Rev. Dr. Gideon Khabela, a Presbyterian minister, Zulu, from KwaZulu, Natal. I met Gideon during seminary at Union Theological Seminary in New York City; he became one my great mentors, a wise sage. After returning to South Africa, he was named as Chaplain to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa, under the direction of Archbishop Desmond Tutu.
I am remembering one day that is seared in my soul.
I am with Gideon and we get into his pickup truck and travel a long time in order to reach a village deep in the mountains of KwaZulu, Natal, close to Lesotho. Together, we are officiating at a burial service.
At first glance, it is very similar to a burial I would have officiated back home. We each are wearing black cassock, white surplice, and tippet stole. The wind is blowing, our robes billowing. People are dressed in their Sunday best with hats, shawls, and their black and white church uniforms. The coffin is a simple pine box, the ground freshly dug, about six feet deep, and as the coffin is lowered into the grave with ropes, the prayers begin. Gideon translates,
“Get up, dear one, now.” “Break the bonds of death and crack open the coffin.” “Come back to us; we need you.” “Unseal the seal.”
The members of the village are praying earnestly that this loved one will rise out of the grave. Not metaphorically, not symbolically, not as a “sign” of the resurrection. They are praying for the real deal. “Get up, walk out of the grave, return to the living.”
This goes on for about ten to fifteen minutes, with lots of singing, chanting and wailing, ululations, with prayer books slapping against hips as percussion. And then things came to a natural quiet space, and Gideon reads the Burial of the Dead. We fill the grave with shovels of dirt.
As we return to his truck, I tell him, “While shoveling dirt into the grave, I have never felt so alive.” As we drive home, Gideon talks about the power of hope, with no justified hope to support it.
“We live by hope, against hope, clinging always to mere possibilities. We hope always, that something will happen, though there is no evidence that change will happen. We hope that life will be found in the darkest moments of our lives, to hope with little justification, to believe in slight chances. We hope with no hope to support our hope…. That we will find food, that it will rain during a drought, that the crops will take, that the snakes will hide, that births will be alive, that apartheid will end, that justice will reign, that evil will be destroyed, and that the dead will come back to life.”
After a pause, he continues, “This has nothing to do with what Americans call optimism because optimism is rooted in getting what you want. You wage hope against outcomes.
“We live with hope against hope as the way to give our lives over to God, as the way to be bearers of the Divine Essence. It’s what gives us joy, peace, power, and patience. We believe that reversals do happen and any chance we have to ask for reversals, we ask. This asking, this hoping is the seat of our joy. It’s the way we walk in faith.”
“To call out to a dead person to unseal their coffin?” I ask, stunned. “You’re hoping for things that aren’t possible. It makes no sense.” Shaking my head, caught up in my own thoughts, I say, “Gideon, I want to understand because this burial service touched my soul.”
Then, as if I were missing a limb, Gideon gives me a look filled with compassion… about my limitations. I am rooted in my western sensibilities, clinging to logic, privilege, and proof. “Your soul was touched; the seed of all hope. We are Lazarus, dead, deep in a cave, wrapped in grave clothes and we hear the cry for life.
“And we rise.”
Day 6: Reflection
You matter. The Cherisher, as destination, as Guide and Goal, is reaching out to take your hand and to dance. How are you living into the possibility of this hope?
Sometimes, it takes a lifetime to trust in this hope. The Providence of Eternal Presence is always patient.
