A man in his mid-twenties said to Sister Mahala and Brother Weeps, “You have taught us so much these past few years. We are grateful for all that you have opened up for us. The provocative questions you have raised we will carry with us for the rest of our lives. We were talking among ourselves and wondering who were the best teachers you ever had?”
Sister Mahala thought for a moment and said, “Over the course of my life, I have had three special teachers: the sacred text of nature, the sacred text of scripture, and the holy dance of suffering and joy. Each has been a generous teacher.”
“What did the text of nature teach you?” a woman asked?
“I learned that everything is inextricably connected, that I am part of a wondrous whole, and that all life forms are my kin.”
“How about from scripture?”
“Scripture awakened me to the generosity of God, to the sheer gift that I live and move and have my being in the Holy One when I need not have existed at all. I learned I am the beloved of God–as is each and every person–and that God is an extravagant Lover.
“How do you mean that–extravagant? That’s one of your favorite adjectives for God. How so?” the woman asked.
“You’re an attentive listener,” said Sister Mahala. “When some hear the word extravagant they think ostentatious or wasteful. But literally extravagant (extra+vagārī) means “to wander beyond”. Divine love is vagrant love. And for Christians, Jesus is the wandering beyondness of God’s love. Divine love goes where no man or woman has gone before. Truth be told, we want God to stay close to home, in our neighborhood, in our church, in our country, with our kind of people. You know, godly people.” Sister Mahala winked though not everyone saw it. “God delights in trespassing. Jesus is the embodied expression and the living reminder that ours is a God Without Borders.”
After a brief silence, another student asked, “And what did you learn from the dance of suffering and joy?”
“I learned how to move gracefully through the seasons of life and through all kinds of weather. Yes?”
Those gathered nodded their heads.
“What about you, Brother Weeps?” a man asked from the back.
“I suppose when I was young, it was Doubt,” said Brother Weeps.” You might say Doubt was my novice master. In my thirties and forties, I’d say Failure was my most faithful teacher. And now,”–his face gave way to a smile–“it is wonder and awe.”
“What did fear teach you, Brother?” Expecting the question, Brother Weeps said, “Not to be afraid,” the smile still on his face.
“How about failure?” someone else asked. “What did failure teach you?”
“Humility, and not to be afraid to fail.”
“Okay, last one,” said the young man who had raised the original question. “What did wonder and awe teach you?”
Brother Weeps said, “Wonder taught me that it is the first and one of the final forms of love. Think of a child who is enthralled with everything, no matter how seemingly insignificant. The child finds everything fascinating, enchanting. The child is naturally, indigenously in love with the world. Then, at the end of our life, when death becomes less theoretical to us, so to speak, wonder reemerges in an accentuated way. The elderly learn, or at least have the opportunity to learn, how to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ again.
And awe, spelled a-w-e, I learned, is the portal to worship, and worship, I discovered, is when I am the most self-forgetful and yet when i am the most fully and truly myself.”
~ Dan Miller, © 2020. All Rights Reserved.
⊕ Gracious Reader, tell someone about THE ALMOND TREE
on The Sacred Braid. Maybe pass this along. Thank you, Dan