Terry Fitzpatrick Homilist, August 1, 2010

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There is no Death

There is a story about a servant of a rich merchant in ancient Baghdad. The servant is walking down to the marketplace to get some vegetables for the master, and when he gets there he comes face to face with Death. Death looks at the servant with an astonished look on his face and frightens the hell out of him.
The poor servant runs back to his master and says, “Master, quick, quick, I’ve just come face to face with Death in the marketplace, and I fear he’s going to take me. Lens me your fastest horse so I can flee to Samarra and so escape him.” So the master agrees and the servant saddles up the horse, hops on it and flogs it out of the yard and across the countryside towards Samarra.

A couple of hours later the master goes for a stroll and he too meets up with Death. He says, “Hey, listen here Death, what’s the idea of scaring my servant the way you did?” And Death says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare him. It’s just that I got such a surprise at seeing him here in Baghdad, when tonight I’ve an appointment with him in Samarra.

We cannot run from death . Death walks with us the moment we take birth.

The man in the gospel gets to a point, after all his hard work, where he can sit back and enjoy life a little, when Death comes knocking. He doesn’t get to enjoy the fruits of his labour.

The first reading from Ecclesiastes “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity –

For all his toil under the sun, what does man gain by it.” (1.1-3)

I suppose the message from these readings is that there is more to life than what the external, material world offers. That the world of form is simply passing away, but behind this world is the one life, the ground of our Being; the divine presence, and when we tap into this, we tap into the eternal, and that which gives life meaning.

I love the story about Zen master Ryokan. It’s a bit extreme but makes the point very clearly.

WHO CAN STEAL THE MOON ?

The Zen Master Ryokan lived a very frugal life at the foot of a mountain.

One night when the Master was away, a thief broke into his hut only to discover there was nothing there to steal.

Ryokan returned and caught the burglar.

“You have put yourself to so much trouble to visit me,” he said. “You must not go away empty-handed. Please take my blanket and clothes as a gift.”

The bewildered thief slunk off with the gift.

Ryokan sat naked at the door of his hut, watching the moon in the sky. “Poor fellow,” he said, “I wish I could give him this.”

There is joy and contentment in his owning nothing,  and to give away the little he does own.

These sentiments are found in the very best of all religious traditions.

It is found in the words of the 4th century mystic Meister Eckhart when he says “ You must be empty so that you may be filled.”

All that is artificial in us needs to be peeled away so that we may experience wholeness and fulfillment. For Eckhart, God (the Divine Presence) is always near to us, and we are as far from God only to the extent that we are lost in the passions, in the senses, in the mind, and in the fragmentation which we take to be ourselves.

These thoughts were expressed in a conference recently held at the Centre for Action and Contemplation in Pecos, New Mexico, America, entitled “Following the Mystics through the Narrow Gate” lead by Richard Rohr, James Finley and Cynthia Bourgeault.

One of the really nice things they did was to open many of the sessions with a time of meditation which started with a simple chant. One chant was based on Psalm 4610.

“Be still and know that I am God”.

As the chant progressed to drop off a word each time until we were left with simply BE.

Be still and know that I am God

Be still and know that I am

Be still and know

Be still

Be.

As we pare away a word each time, it’s like taking us down, down, down, down from conceptual thinking into simply Being – to match our minds to the minds of the mystics. If we use only our thinking, rational dissecting mind, the mystics will always look difficult.

As the Greek mystics said in the use of chant, we are putting the mind into the heart, into our bodies that we may hear with our heart and with our bodies. In doing this we bring ourselves into resonance with our bodies, with each other, with nature and all that surrounds us.

So we sing it on a single tone. If you hear harmony, add the harmony in.

Let it take us into our fundamental intention, to be one with all.

(Bell)

Be still and know that I am God

Be still and know that I am

Be still and know

Be still

Be

(Bell)

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