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I live my life in
widening circles
that reach out
across the world.
I may not
complete this last one
but I give myself
to it.
I circle around
God, the primordial tower.
I’ve been
circling for thousands of years
and I still don’t know:
and I still don’t know:
Am I a falcon, a
storm, or a great song?
(Rainer Maria Rilke, “The Book of a
Monastic Life”)
5 October, 2016
We had a marvelous gathering last night,
when I received our friend Aaron Maniam as a Camaldolese oblate. I have known
Aaron for about a decade now. We met through interfaith gatherings here in
Singapore, and he consequently has come to visit me both at my hermitage in
Santa Cruz and now several times at New Camaldoli on his semi-regular trips to
California, bringing with him a new friend or two each time. He was quite taken
with the Hermitage and decided to solidify that by becoming an oblate. Since I
was going to be coming through this part of the world, we scheduled it for now;
it just happened to be on the feast of Saint Francis. I had wanted to have some
kind of gathering where I could greet several of the folks that I know here in
Singapore anyway, and since they all know Aaron too, it became the double
occasion.
We held the event at a place called the
Harmony Centre, which also houses the al-Nahdhah Mosque. It is a Muslim center
for interreligious study and dialogue, which I had visited back in 2006, my
first year in Singapore. Aaron had booked the small auditorium and had brought
in (vegan) pizza and soft drinks. Just when everyone got there, the muezzin chanted the call the prayer so
Aaron went off for the salat while we
nibbled and visited. What a great gathering of people it was, about 25 I think,
most of whom I had at least met before, several of Aaron’s colleagues from work
(he works for the government of Singapore) or from interfaith gatherings. My
friends Joyce and her brother Richard (the photographer who did the photo for
the original version of “My Soul’s Companion”) who I’ve gotten together with
each time I’ve come through were there, as well as my philosopher friend Edward
Dass from Kuala Lumpur, plus Leonard of course, along with our other
Singaporean oblate Mark Hansen, who also serves on the Hermitage’s Financial
Advisory Board.
When Aaron returned from prayer, we
began in typical fashion with introductions around the circle. It was a pretty
sharp group of mostly young folks, many of whom came just to witness Aaron’s
commitment to this new branch of his spiritual life and wanted to lend support.
Just to give you some idea: there was one young man named Yirin who I had
visited with before, a Chinese Christian who majored in Islamic studies, has
spent considerable time in Iran and just finished his Master’s Degree at the
London School of Business. We were also joined by an engaging young Malay man
named Asraf who works there at the Harmony Centre, who just finished his double
degree in Arabic and Islamic Theology at the American University in Cairo (who
had never met Aaron or any of us, but Aaron morphed him right into the
gathering with his winning ways). Also there was Fr. Bruno, a French missionary
priest who does lots of interfaith work and leads meditation groups here in
Singapore, but whom I had first met in Shantivanam in 2006, where he was
studying Tamil so that he could serve the Indian community here.
Then we had a 20-minute meditation which
ended with Aaron reciting one of his poems (see below) he had written in Petra, Jordan, which I accompanied with guitar and
interspersed singing verses from Kabir’s “The Drink Sent Down.”
Here, I learn that even
stone
Has its language…
Standing here, where
Rarefied mountain air slices bone
And evaporates the need for words
Except the toughest, most spare.
Has its language…
Standing here, where
Rarefied mountain air slices bone
And evaporates the need for words
Except the toughest, most spare.
I discover how quiet
eloquence can be
Hearing stone tease and immortalise
Civilisation’s first, girlish blush…
Hewn pink, red, brown compel humility
As I pass treasury and tomb and
Know my own silence, watchfully preserved
Is born of something more than fatigue
Or breathless strain.
Hearing stone tease and immortalise
Civilisation’s first, girlish blush…
Hewn pink, red, brown compel humility
As I pass treasury and tomb and
Know my own silence, watchfully preserved
Is born of something more than fatigue
Or breathless strain.
Standing here, I brush
shards of knowing
That space is sometimes just the lack
Of sound; and why these spaces,
This stony syntax, is what God chose
For chronicle, canon and commandment.
Why, to places like this, we bring
Our most quiet prayers and wordless pleas.
That space is sometimes just the lack
Of sound; and why these spaces,
This stony syntax, is what God chose
For chronicle, canon and commandment.
Why, to places like this, we bring
Our most quiet prayers and wordless pleas.
As if in otherworldly
silence
There is some whisper of what we seek
When, freed of the world’s static
God’s word grows loud
And the silences–His, mine–speak.
There is some whisper of what we seek
When, freed of the world’s static
God’s word grows loud
And the silences–His, mine–speak.
________________________
(from Morning at Memory’s Border, 2005)
(from Morning at Memory’s Border, 2005)
I then gave a brief introduction about
what oblation means, but also addressing unique event of a Muslim making his
oblation with a Christian monastic tradition. I thought that is was somewhat
telling of Aaron and my work that it hadn’t struck either of us as a big deal,
and we were both interested to find out how many eyebrows it raised. I first
mentioned the idea of the Perennial Philosophy, how there is a deposit of
wisdom that the great traditions share. But then I spoke a little about the
universal principles of monastic life, too, and read the first paragraph in the
introduction to the Rule for Camaldolese Oblates, which is adapted from our own
Constitutions:
Long before the
coming of Christ, humanity’s quest for the Absolute gave rise in various
religious traditions to expressions of monastic life. The many different forms
of monastic and ascetical life throughout the centuries bear witness to the
divine destiny of the human person and to the presence of the Spirit in the
hearts of all who seek to know what is true and ultimately real. There is a
“monastic” dimension to every life…
This is not to mention the fact that
Aaron has Christians in his family as well, and knows particularly the
Christian contemplative tradition very well. And then we had the reception of
his oblation, with Mark standing in for all the other oblates around the globe.
And, since it was the feast of St. Francis, we ended, of course, by telling the
story of Francis and the Sultan and singing Bismillah
(with me leading, with due apologies to Gitanjali). We all shared a sign of
peace in the end, and then ate cake (for Fr. Bruno’s birthday) and stood around
talking for a good long time yet. Richard took some photos that hopefully he
will send to me ere long. In the meantime here are a few. I happy to think that
I too, like Rilke, have been able to “live my life in widening circles / that
reach out across the world.”
Leaving for Penang today.