At the very end of my drive back to school, I caught the beginning of an NPR program called Speaking of Faith. This week’s episode, “Listening Generously,” featured physician and author Rachel Naomi Remen. (You can read the transcript or listen to the episode here.)
I didn’t get to hear much on that drive (no time to give it a generous listen) because I was very close to my college town, but I did hear some. She described her grandfather, and his beliefs as a Jewish mystic who studied the Kaballah:
My grandfather felt that the world was in constant communication with him, that there was a spirit in the world, a God in the world that could be spoken to and could respond at all times, that there was a presence in the world that was holy and sacred and that he was in constant dialogue with this as he went through the events of his day.
I love the idea of being in constant dialogue with God, which I think is at the heart of mysticism, and that prayer is an ongoing thing. She also told a story from the Kaballah that her grandfather told her as a birthday present when she turned four.
In the beginning there was only the holy darkness, the Ein Sof, the source of life. And then, in the course of history, at a moment in time, this world, the world of a thousand thousand things, emerged from the heart of the holy darkness as a great ray of light. And then, perhaps because this is a Jewish story, there was an accident, and the vessels containing the light of the world, the wholeness of the world, broke. And the wholeness of the world, the light of the world was scattered into a thousand thousand fragments of light, and they fell into all events and all people, where they remain deeply hidden until this very day.
Now, according to my grandfather, the whole human race is a response to this accident. We are here because we are born with the capacity to find the hidden light in all events and all people, to lift it up and make it visible once again and thereby to restore the innate wholeness of the world. It’s a very important story for our times. And this task is called tikkun olam in Hebrew. It’s the restoration of the world.
And this is, of course, a collective task. It involves all people who have ever been born, all people presently alive, all people yet to be born. We are all healers of the world. And that story opens a sense of possibility. It’s not about healing the world by making a huge difference. It’s about healing the world that touches you, that’s around you.
So many of the Chinese ideas I’m reading about for my class, particularly from the Dao, seem to compliment this idea of communion as a contribution to restoring the world. We find meaning when we interact with others. Also, some things I know about Jesus also inform this restoration idea–for instance, when he describes, in Matthew 18, God’s presence among the two or more who gather in His name. Or why He might spend so much of His teaching describing how God expects us to interact with other people (in response to God’s love for us, without judging, full of forgiveness.) The idea also helps me understand the way Jesus, himself, interacted with others during his journey.
I know it is not hip to the doctrine to say that God needs us. We are supposed to believe that God doesn’t need us, that if he wanted, he could just smite us all and start over. This might be true, hell if I know, but it’s important for us to know that God wants us. And he wants us together. And it’s interesting to know that in Thai, want and need are not separate ideas.
I like this story, and the idea that our job is to find hidden light in people. This goes a little against what many of us have been taught–that light doesn’t enter into a person until they have been saved. Maybe we’re taught our role is to help people to get that light inside, I am not sure. But this seems to contradict a passage from Ephesians someone read last Sunday in church, which she concluded by saying, “You see? Everything has already been done.” God’s accomplishment makes a lot more sense to me if we are to go about in the world looking for the light that is already within people and explaining to them, in relationship to what Jesus is done, that all they have to do is “show up.” And by that, I mean, be aware of the work God is doing, collectively, with all of our lives.
I guess I have a hard time relating to the salvation idea because for me, it was not a one time endeavor. My relationship with God much more resembles a restoration. And that restoration comes out with dialogue. It’s fascinating to think of the poetic implications of Jesus’ statement that we are the light of the world; if we all have bits of light but stay alone, disengaged, our light is too dim to be of much use. But if we contribute our light to something collective, larger, we will have more light than we know what to do with. And by being in dialogue with God, our eyes get used to that light.
The interviewer, Krista Trippet, stated that she told her son the story of the Kaballah and then the conversation turned into a discussion of the significance of story. Remen said,
There’s a powerful saying that we tell each other stories — sometimes we need a story more than food in order to live. They tell us about who we are, what is possible for us, what we might call upon. They also remind us we’re not alone with whatever faces us and that there are resources, both within us, and in the larger world, and in the unseen world, that may be cooperating with us in our struggle to find a way to deal with challenges. And when I say a story doesn’t have an ending, for example, part of my story is you telling your little boy the story of the birthday of the world. That’s also part of my grandfather’s story, right? And your little boy has never met my grandfather, but perhaps my grandfather will be woven into his life in some way. It may be a very small way or it may not, I don’t know, but in that sense no one’s story is ever finished.
Sometimes I feel a little lost in studying writing, as if I’m wasting my time and should be doing something significant. I think most people who pursue the arts in any way (literature, music, whatever) must go through this. Writing and reading often seem like selfish acts–so much work we do just gets thrown away. But listening to this interview helped me to see my work in another way. It’s a noble thing to want to tell stories, to learn the best way to tell a story, and in turn, to learn how to understand other people’s stories. That is the work of a writer–we make sense of other stories and let them influence us. Then we weave them into our own story. This is how we help each other collect light.
I liked this a lot. Thanks for writing.
this is awesome
I like your musing. I find this so interesting, because the idea of light has been on my mind recently. We are starting to read the Gospel of John on Thursdays. Right off, little, old John seems so taken by his revealed knowledge that Jesus is THE Light of the World, “the true Light, which, coming into the world, enlightens every man.” I think I am coming to see a very different perspective. Maybe that ’salvation’ part that you alluded to. I think there is a Negro Spiritual that refers to “John the Revelator” – good name. Revelation – that is what we need, and, heigh-ho, that is what we are given!
Historically, the Jews have been the chief vessel for Light from God, with, ultimately, the true God being revealed exclusively and most fully to them, first to Abraham, and then through his offspring, the Jews, to the whole world. No other culture or people seem to have been given as much concentrated light, or Truth about God, than they. This is not to their credit, realy, for they did not ask for the revelation, they did not ask to be chosen, but they were the ones entrusted with it. That is not to say that other cultures or peoples don’t have bits of light, but there is this most concentrated Light that has been given to the world, through the Jews. The Promised One, a descendent of Abraham, was more than anyone understood or bargained for – the brightest Light of all (“a Light to enlighten the Gentiles, and the Glory of His people, Israel”). When we see Jesus, we see God in His fullness, only clothed in flesh. –And what a beautiful sight!! No one is more fair or beautiful or lovely or pure than He – and to see that Beauty is to see that Almighty God, whom we do not see, is Beautiful. What good news, that Almighty God is not an ogre, and is not our adversary!
I think I am seeing better all the time that we and this world are in such utter darkness, left on our own. Were there no actions taken by God, we would never, ever find the Light by our own efforts, no matter how well-intentioned. WE don’t find Him, HE reaches down and ‘finds’ us – I think I am convinced of this more and more. I suspect that anything good that we see, any good that we witness in ourselves or in this world, is from Another World. I suspect that we would be blown away if we could see just how much Light and Good God pours out on everyone, everywhere, everday. We need Revelation. OUR PART in that is illustrated nicely by what the viewer cannot see in that picture you posted with your entry – the other side of that closed door, where we are to open up to the One who is knocking (–and look, He is holding a Light!)
I like what you say about constant dialogue with God. I agree. As far as ‘bringing out the light in others,’ I would have a different way of seeing that. The reference you made about “everything has already been done” is an important truth – we can do nothing to bridge the gap, but the good news is that it has been done – and that news IS for everyone, but John says not everyone receives it; but “to everyone who receives Him, He gives the right to be children of God” – those words that were read last Sunday were written to people who had already opened their hearts to the light, 2000 years ago in Ephesus, and it rings true today.
Having said that, however, I also think that there is evidence, even in this dark, dark world, of the Light having been at work, all around us and in probably everyone we meet, ’saved’ or not. There is an old English hymn that says life is “…sprung in completeness/ Where His feet pass.” I like that picture (okay, maybe it seems a little Disney-esque…) – of the Lord walking by, and where His foot has stepped, life springs up from the dirt
He rains his Light or Love or Life or Goodness down on both the just and unjust, no respecter of persons. Indeed, He is capable of doing only good, not evil. We see such evidence, such tell-tale marks, in our own lives and in the people around us – even people who are not aware or don’t give Him the credit – and our heart cries, “Hey, Jesus has been here!”
I don’t have a lot of original thoughts on your musing about Story – except that it does seem to me to be a wonderful gift to all humans, and a vehicle for us to share our human experience; both for those who have had revelation, and for those who have not but will hopefully discover it in the future. Why, the Gospel of John is a story, a true story, and at the end of his writing, John says why he chose the parts he did, and why he wrote it down.