In
one its declarations at Vatican II, Nostra
Aetate, the Church insists that all humans form one community, for we are
all from God and we are all destined for God.
Despite quite different teachings, we believe other religions often
“reflect a ray of that truth that enlightens all men.” The Church encourages us
“to enter with prudence and charity into discussion and collaboration with
members of other religions. Let
Christians, while witnessing to their own faith and way of life, acknowledge,
preserve and encourage the spiritual and moral truths found among
non-Christians.” (Nostra Aetate 1-2)
This
teaching seems in sharp contrast to much I have seen on social media,
particularly in the past week following the tragedy in Paris. All Muslims are terrorists. All Muslims are dedicated to the destruction
of everything that is not Muslim. The
Koran demands the killing of all infidels.
The generalizations keep increasing in vehemence, frequency, and
certainty.
Surely,
we have witnessed some Muslims who are terrorists. Surely, we have witnessed some Muslims who
wish the infidel world much harm, and we have suffered grievously from their
efforts. Certainly, there are verses in
the Koran which offer encouragement to those who follow this path. And yet, this is not the whole story.
Recently,
I came across a counterpoint to much of the screeds I have seen, a “ray of
truth” that gives me confidence in the ultimate wisdom behind Nostra Aetate. It is also quite timely, for it concerns
gratitude, that virtue we honor in a particular way today on Thanksgiving. It was a poem by a thirteenth-century Persian
Sufi – in essence, a Muslim mystic – named Jamal al-Din Muhammad Rumi. It goes like this:
Giving thanks for abundance
is sweeter than the abundance itself:
Should one who is absorbed with the
Generous one
be distracted with the gift?
Thankfulness is the soul of
beneficence;
Abundance is but the husk,
For thankfulness brings you to the
place where
The beloved lives.
Abundance yields heedlessness;
Thankfulness brings alertness:
Hunt for bounty with the net of
gratitude.
Given
how long I tended to procrastinate as a child when writing thank you notes for
my Christmas presents, it’s obvious that I didn’t really get the opening
couplet. How could giving thanks be more
important than the gift? But of course,
the giver must be more important than the gift, for the giver cannot give
anything greater than itself.
Rumi
understood my problem, as he explains in the next couplet. I let the pleasure of the gift distract me –
and the more abundant the gift was, the more distracting its pleasure – I let
it distract me from the giver. I let it
distract my heart from gratitude.
And
without gratitude as the soul of all of my beneficence and the soul of all my
good works, the abundance that I have received from God, the abundance I try to
share with others, are simply the husks, or, as Jesus would describe it, the
chaff that is thrown into the fire to be burned.
But
when I am thankful, I am brought to the place where my beloved lives, the One
who has provided me with the abundance that has been my life, the One who is so
much sweeter than the abundance, the One who is the infinite and all-loving
source of all abundance.
Rumi
closes by reminding me not to be dulled by abundance, for without gratitude,
mere abundance dulls our hunger for that which is so much greater. In our perceived satiety, we become heedless
of others’ needs, heedless of our own need to be with the One who truly fills
us with all that is good.
By
gratitude awakens us, alerts us to our source and to our destiny, the One who
is all good, all loving and all provident.
Hunt
for the One with the net of gratitude.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
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