SHARED THOUGHTS…..08.09.2012.
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Religion teaches us to pray. Pray to God. More often, we tend to think of God as a third person, to whom we address our problems and expect Him to hear us and expect magical solutions. Are our actions, speech and thoughts in line with our prayers? Can our prayers instill in us a sort of Godlinesswithin us, that would determine the quality of our actions? Is not Godliness more relevant, than being extremely religious. Is not God loving more important than God fearing? Some food for thoughts.
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MOOSA AND THE SHEPARD
A tale from Rumi’s Mathnavi
With so many recently on Haj, a tale comes to mind from Maulana Jalaludin Rumi’s Mathnavi, which is hailed as the Persian Koran. It is a tale that many non-muslims would find dear and familiar already, for it could be from anywhere in the epics written ages back. .
Anyhow, here was this unworldly shepherd whose heart overflowed with love for the Creator. All day long, as he tended his flocks, he would talk aloud to God: “Where are you, my Beloved? How I long to serve You!”
One day, Hazrat Moosa (the prophet Moses) passed by the meadow where our shepherd’s flocks were grazing and heard him call aloud: “Where are you, God, that I might stitch Your clothes, mend Your socks, polish Your shoes, comb Your hair and bring You a cup of nourishing milk?”
Moosa was horrified at what he considered as blasphemy of the Formless Almighty. “How dare you speak to God like that?” he raged. “Stuff cotton to your worthless mouth if this is how you blaspheme. At least others will be spared the sin of listening to your polluting words. Is God a mere human, that he needs to drink milk and have his hair combed and his shoes polished? You insult the Almighty by such talk, you enemy of religion. Let us pray that the Creator will not punish the whole human race because of you!”
The poor shepherd was shattered. What had he said that was so wrong? Sobbing heartbrokenly, he apologised to the great prophet and led his flock away feeling wretched and bereft.
Proud that he had caught and taught an erring person, Hazrat Moosa marched away grandly, when the Lord’s annoyed voice arrested him. “Why did you interfere with Me and Mine, Moosa?” asked the Almighty. “Who authorised you to separate the lover from the Beloved? Did I make you my prophet to bring humanity to Me or to drive it away?” Stunned, Moosa fell to his knees.
“I did not create this world for my profit, Moosa,” said the Lord sternly. “My Creation is for the benefit of my creatures. I have no need of praise and worship; it is the worshipper who benefits, not Me. Nor do I care for what form the worship takes. It is the sincerity of the heart that alone interests Me. Those bound by outward correctness are unlike those bound by their love for Me. Those who love me know no religion but their Beloved.”
Humbled and repentant, Moosa went back to look for the shepherd. After much searching, he finally found him in tatters meditating by a spring. Moosa eagerly related what had passed, but the shepherd had no more to say. With a compassionate smile, he simply moved away.
Thanks to Late KG.Mukundan, & Renuka Narayanan
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Do not seek God… allow God to find you… God finds you when your Godliness shows in your actions.
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Father John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago, writes
about a student Tommy, in his Theology of Faith class.
“Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into
the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith class. That
was the day I first saw Tommy.
My eyes and my mind both blinked. He was combing his long flaxen hair,
which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the first time I had ever
seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just coming into fashion
then. I know in my mind that it isn't what's on your head, but what's
in it that counts; but on that day I was unprepared and my emotions
flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under "S" for strange ..very strange.
Tommy turned out to be the "atheist in residence" in my Theology of Faith
course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the
possibility of an unconditionally loving Father / God. We lived with each
other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me,
at times, a serious pain in the back pew.
When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he
asked in a cynical tone, "Do you think I'll ever find God?" I decided
instantly on a little shock therapy. "No!" I said very emphatically. "Why
not," he responded, "I thought that was the product you were pushing."
I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out,
"Tommy! I don't think you'll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain
that He will find you!" He shrugged a little and left my class and my
life. I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my
clever line --- "He will find you!" At least I thought it was clever.
Later I heard that Tommy had graduated and I was duly grateful. Then a sad
report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search
him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office, his body was
very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of
chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the
first time, I believe.
"Tommy, I've thought about you so often. I hear you are sick," I blurted
out.
"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It's just a matter of
weeks."
"Can you talk about it, Tom?" I asked.
"Sure, what would you like to know?" he replied.
"What's it like to be only twenty-four and dying?"
"Well, it could be worse."
"Like what?"
"Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty
and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real
'biggies' in life."
I began to look through my mental file cabinet under 'S' where I had filed
Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by
classification, God sends back into my life to educate me.)
"But what I really came to see you about," Tom said, "is something you
said to me on the last day of class." (He remembered !) He continued, "I
asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, 'No!' which
surprised me. Then you said, 'But He will find you.' I thought about that
a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time.
"But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was
malignant, that's when I got serious about locating God. And when the
malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists
against the bronze doors of heaven. But God did not come out.. In fact,
nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great
effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with
trying. And then you quit.
"Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals
over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just
quit. I decided that I didn't really care about God, about an after-life,
or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing
something more profitable. I thought about you and your class and I
remembered something else you had said: "The essential sadness is to go
through life without
loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave
this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them."
"So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper
when I approached him. "Dad."
"Yes, what?" he asked without lowering the newspaper.
"Dad, I would like to talk with you."
"Well, talk."
"I mean . . It's really important"
The newspaper came down three slow inches.
"What is it?"
"Dad, I love you. I just wanted you to know that."
Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt
a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him. "The newspaper fluttered to
the floor. Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever
doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night, even though
he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my
father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved
me."
It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too,
and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each
other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years.
"I was only sorry about one thing --- that I had waited so long. Here I
was, just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close
to.
"Then, one day I turned around and God was there! He didn't come to me when
I pleaded with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a
hoop, 'C'mon, jump through. C'mon, I'll give you three days, three weeks.'
"Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour. But the
important thing is that He was there. He found me! You were right. He
found me even after I stopped looking for Him."
"Tommy," I practically gasped, "I think you are saying something very
important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you
are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private
possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need,
but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said that. .
about a student Tommy, in his Theology of Faith class.
“Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into
the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith class. That
was the day I first saw Tommy.
My eyes and my mind both blinked. He was combing his long flaxen hair,
which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the first time I had ever
seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just coming into fashion
then. I know in my mind that it isn't what's on your head, but what's
in it that counts; but on that day I was unprepared and my emotions
flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under "S" for strange ..very strange.
Tommy turned out to be the "atheist in residence" in my Theology of Faith
course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the
possibility of an unconditionally loving Father / God. We lived with each
other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me,
at times, a serious pain in the back pew.
When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he
asked in a cynical tone, "Do you think I'll ever find God?" I decided
instantly on a little shock therapy. "No!" I said very emphatically. "Why
not," he responded, "I thought that was the product you were pushing."
I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out,
"Tommy! I don't think you'll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain
that He will find you!" He shrugged a little and left my class and my
life. I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my
clever line --- "He will find you!" At least I thought it was clever.
Later I heard that Tommy had graduated and I was duly grateful. Then a sad
report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search
him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office, his body was
very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of
chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the
first time, I believe.
"Tommy, I've thought about you so often. I hear you are sick," I blurted
out.
"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It's just a matter of
weeks."
"Can you talk about it, Tom?" I asked.
"Sure, what would you like to know?" he replied.
"What's it like to be only twenty-four and dying?"
"Well, it could be worse."
"Like what?"
"Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty
and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real
'biggies' in life."
I began to look through my mental file cabinet under 'S' where I had filed
Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by
classification, God sends back into my life to educate me.)
"But what I really came to see you about," Tom said, "is something you
said to me on the last day of class." (He remembered !) He continued, "I
asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, 'No!' which
surprised me. Then you said, 'But He will find you.' I thought about that
a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time.
"But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was
malignant, that's when I got serious about locating God. And when the
malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists
against the bronze doors of heaven. But God did not come out.. In fact,
nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great
effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with
trying. And then you quit.
"Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals
over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just
quit. I decided that I didn't really care about God, about an after-life,
or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing
something more profitable. I thought about you and your class and I
remembered something else you had said: "The essential sadness is to go
through life without
loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave
this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them."
"So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper
when I approached him. "Dad."
"Yes, what?" he asked without lowering the newspaper.
"Dad, I would like to talk with you."
"Well, talk."
"I mean . . It's really important"
The newspaper came down three slow inches.
"What is it?"
"Dad, I love you. I just wanted you to know that."
Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt
a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him. "The newspaper fluttered to
the floor. Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever
doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night, even though
he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my
father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved
me."
It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too,
and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each
other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years.
"I was only sorry about one thing --- that I had waited so long. Here I
was, just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close
to.
"Then, one day I turned around and God was there! He didn't come to me when
I pleaded with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a
hoop, 'C'mon, jump through. C'mon, I'll give you three days, three weeks.'
"Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour. But the
important thing is that He was there. He found me! You were right. He
found me even after I stopped looking for Him."
"Tommy," I practically gasped, "I think you are saying something very
important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you
are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private
possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need,
but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said that. .
'God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is
living in him.' Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in
class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me
now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them
what you have just told me? If I told them the same thing, it wouldn't be
half as effective as if you were to tell it."
"Ooh I was ready for you, but I don't know if I'm ready for your class."
"Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call."
In a few days, Tom called, said he was ready for the class and that he
wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date. However, he
never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than the one
with me and my class. Of course, his life was not really ended by his
death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision. He
found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the
ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined. Before he
died, we talked one last time.
"I'm not going to make it to your class," he said.
"I know, Tom."
"Will you tell them for me? Will you . . . tell the whole world for me?"
"I will, Tom. I'll tell them. I'll do my best."
So, to all of you who have been kind enough to read this simple story about
God's love - Thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the
sunlit, verdant hills of heaven --- I told them, Tommy as best I could.”
With thanks,
Rev. John Powell, Professor Loyola University in Chicago
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happy weekend.
MOHANDAS. KP.
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