On the seventh
day of Christmas my true love gave to me--the last line of an amazing bit of
wisdom carved into the stone above a door of an ancient church in Iran. So now
we have the whole quote:
Where Jesus Is, the Great-Hearted Gather.
We are a door that's never locked.
If you are suffering any kind of pain, stay near this door.
Open it.
Is it that simple--Open it?
Remember in the Lord of the Rings when the nine companions get to the door of the Mines of Moria? Where's the entrance? They can't find the entrance.
Then the moon peeks out from behind a cloud and the intricate mithril silver design etched in the door is revealed on the great cliff face. Written in elfin are the words, "Speak Friend and Enter."
Gandalf is thinking, 'Piece of cake.' So, knowing that he is a friend of both elves and dwarves, he confidently begins to speak every arcane incantation for 'Openings' he knows. All of them.
The mountain is unmoved.
Tired, baffled he sits down, exasperated.
Then...he laughs.
Ah! He's realized the door will open of itself when he simply says the word 'friend.' He says, Friend. The door opens.
Following the advice carved above the church door in Iran is like that. It's so simple. Yet it's never something to take for granted. It's a process that we can absolutely trust, but it's never a process we control or command.
Not that we don't try to open the door.
How long can we sustain being baffled? How long can we sustain deep trust? How long can we hold trust and bafflement in our hearts? How long will we stay near a door we can't seem to open?
Well, maybe not that long--at first. Yet holding frustration and trust in the same heart enlarges that heart. And it is the Great Hearted who are gathering here. It is in the company of the Great-Hearted we want to be.
How do we open the door?
The inscription doesn't tell us 'how.' It tells us 'to.' Nobody can tell us exactly how.
Yet I think we can trust that the inscription is telling us everything we need to know.
Where Jesus Is, the Great-Hearted Gather.
We are a door that's never locked.
If you are suffering any kind of pain, stay near this door.
Open it.
Is it that simple--Open it?
Remember in the Lord of the Rings when the nine companions get to the door of the Mines of Moria? Where's the entrance? They can't find the entrance.
Then the moon peeks out from behind a cloud and the intricate mithril silver design etched in the door is revealed on the great cliff face. Written in elfin are the words, "Speak Friend and Enter."
Gandalf is thinking, 'Piece of cake.' So, knowing that he is a friend of both elves and dwarves, he confidently begins to speak every arcane incantation for 'Openings' he knows. All of them.
The mountain is unmoved.
Tired, baffled he sits down, exasperated.
Then...he laughs.
Ah! He's realized the door will open of itself when he simply says the word 'friend.' He says, Friend. The door opens.
Following the advice carved above the church door in Iran is like that. It's so simple. Yet it's never something to take for granted. It's a process that we can absolutely trust, but it's never a process we control or command.
Not that we don't try to open the door.
How long can we sustain being baffled? How long can we sustain deep trust? How long can we hold trust and bafflement in our hearts? How long will we stay near a door we can't seem to open?
Well, maybe not that long--at first. Yet holding frustration and trust in the same heart enlarges that heart. And it is the Great Hearted who are gathering here. It is in the company of the Great-Hearted we want to be.
How do we open the door?
The inscription doesn't tell us 'how.' It tells us 'to.' Nobody can tell us exactly how.
Yet I think we can trust that the inscription is telling us everything we need to know.
