The Sage said (to Moses): This is the parting between me and you! I shall tell you the interpretation about which you have not been able to have patience. Surah 18:78
Moses wanted to learn the secrets of the universe. He knew that the Sage, al-Khidr, the Green One, held the keys to doors that were usually closed, questions that could not be answered. Why does evil exist, especially if God is good? Why do innocents suffer? Why do the unjust go unpunished? How do we forgive the unforgivable?
Moses pleaded with al-Khidr to let him follow him hoping that a little bit of the Sage’s wisdom would rub off. The Sage responded that Moses would never have the patience he would need, but to come along anyway. Just don’t ask any questions because all of what you will witness will be beyond you, dear Moses.
And so, the two went on their way. The Sage made a hole in a boat which might drown the people who were in it; he slayed a young man; and he supported an inhospitable community. Moses, of course, was beside himself. How could the Sage justify such acts?
And the Sage answered him with information that explained the inexplicable, that which Moses could never have known. “There is real meaning beyond what you see, dear Moses, even though you may not understand.”
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Living with questions that are rarely answered is difficult. I’m with Moses, pleading to know, willing to assume patience in order to learn, and yet being aghast at what I see. We are asked to believe that there is purpose and meaning and a mystic truth in all events, which are beyond our comprehension. God knows what we do not know. Sometimes this brings solace, especially if we feel God’s presence in the midst of horrific acts we experience or witness.
Yes, sometimes this brings solace, but not always.
As we do our best to trust in God’s providence, I believe we are being asked to commit to ‘something else’ as well.
This something else is not about asking how God is ‘acting’ within the consequences of our lives, but rather asking how we are acting. Will we transcend the circumstances of our lives, rather than be controlled by them? Will we embrace compassion and peace and defend the dignity of all? Will we believe that all people are children of God?
Holy Scripture is clear: faith is not about protecting us from suffering, though we long for this protection. Yes, it’s so tempting to plead, “God, can you please just fix everything?”
Faith invites us to embrace the mystery of our lives, yet what do we do when mystery is delivered through suffering, to the point of even facing evil, an experience that is disorienting, and often leaves us speechless?
As I write, the US is dropping bombs on Iran during the holy month of Ramadan. We are waging an illegal war of choice and calling it Operation Epic Fury. This morning, I continue to pray for the 180 students and staff killed at the Iranian girls’ school and for their families, and for all the other innocents throughout the region who are dying. US military have been killed in action, with deaths and casualties on both sides mounting. I pray for them. Missiles are being dropped all over the region. No one is safe. I continue to pray. The officials of the US administration have provided at best conflicting and circular rationales for attacking Iran, and I pray for those in charge to seek wisdom.
It’s so easy to become angry, even enraged, hopefully pledging to make right what is so wrong, yet feeling helpless as well.
Herein lies opportunity. In the midst of the unjust, the inconsolable suffering, and evil acts, even the absurd, how will we make commitments to what is true?
Besides prayer, I believe we need to seek knowledge. This is a radical idea, and maybe even threatening, because exposing ignorance is never easy. What do we not know about Iran? I know that the regime of the Ayatollah and the Islamic Revolutionary Guard since 1979 has brutalized and terrorized its people, its neighbors, and much of the world. I have a right to critique it. Yet, even though I have received an excellent education, there is much about Iran I did/do not know. Most of this history, long before 1979, centers on the colonizing power of America and Britain to control the oil industry through attacks, war, coups, and the defense of illegally placed puppet leaders on the sovereign country of Iran. Too many Iranians died; too many non-Iranians made a lot of money.
Learning about the brutal history of all the ways the West attempted to colonize Iran does not excuse the present-day regime, but it offers us a way in, to come to the negotiating table in an honest way. We too have committed acts of evil. And isn’t Lent and Ramadan, a time for all of us to confess our sins, to wait for a change of heart, to hope for repentance, to turn turn toward seeing with eyes of enlightened fitra, which blesses all of us with the capacity to recognize the good and the just?
We pray, we seek knowledge, even when it exposes our ignorance, we act and we wait, sometimes mournfully so, as Jesus did when he wept over Jerusalem.
I am reminded of a story that Martin Luther King shared in his writings. During weeks of the Montgomery Bus Boycott, he was worried about Mother Pollard, an elder of the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church and one of his spiritual guides. After several weeks of walking to her destinations rather than taking the bus, he suggested to her, then about 72, that she take the bus for the sake of her health.
She replied, “My feets is tired, but my soul is rested.”
Day 16: Reflection
Many a feets is tired, especially as we witness so much destruction, chaos, and trauma. How are you attending to your tired ‘feets’? How are you acting, even when you feel disoriented, fearful, angry, even speechless, in ways that keep your soul “rested’… yet with the heart of engagement to name the good and the just?
