FROM THE BOUNDARY

“‘Martin’, Mo said, ‘you tell me that Jesus loves me and that makes me very happy. But please – does he love everybody, I mean all the people from different lands, black people, and white people, and Chinese people, and people with turbans and long beards, and covered-over people? Everyone seems so different and not everyone’s a Christian. Does he love them even if they’re not? And does he love everything else – the insects and animals, the birds and fishes, the trees and flowers? If he does, where does all that love come from?’”

You’ll remember Mo, I think, the 12-year-old ‘naughty’ boy from a housing estate who’s made friends with Martin, an old man with a white beard who lives in a cave in the northern forest. They’re characters in ‘The Fish in the Sea is Thirsty’, a book I bought recently at a jumble sale. The story continues: –

“Martin peered at Mo as if he’d suddenly grown a halo. ‘Mo, maybe you’ll become a priest one day. You know, everyone’s different and everyone’s the same. Everyone’s face is unique. There’s only one Mo, one Martin, in the world, only one who we are in ourselves. And yes, there are people who live thousands of miles away, and in town too, with different skin colours, and languages, and history, who eat different food, and worship different gods. Some are rich, some poor, some are old, some young, some are educated, some work in the fields, some are healthy, some are sick – our differences. Yet we all breathe, and eat, and are born and die. So we’re different, but the same. And you know, Mo, that in my life I’ve lived in three continents and met so many ‘different’ people, and yet despite the differences everyone meets the same kind of problems in life. Everyone seems to depend on other people’s opinions, everyone wants to be liked. Everyone loves – and hates. Everyone feels guilt. Everyone wants to succeed. It’s one world, Mo, one humanity.

‘And life, you know, has left its mark on all of us. We’ve all become who we are because of the relationships we’ve shared with other people, and many who, in one way or another, we actually needed to survive. So, you see, even if we’re unique and independent in one sense, we’re also interdependent in another. And then there’s love.

‘Love is wonderful, Mo. It’s the explosion of life, what Jesus calls having life “abundantly”. The more love we give, the more we have to give. Isn’t that beautiful? It annihilates fear. With love, you don’t have to fear survival or separate yourself from everyone who’s different. It doesn’t discriminate. It embraces difference. It speaks of truth. It tells us not to condemn and rubbish people because a book says so. It strokes us into friendship, compels us to work together respecting each other. It always creates, heals, unites, realises, transforms. It proclaims resurrection, renewal, rebirth. Creation: it’s the very heart of Jesus, of joy, of oneness. It makes all things new. Creativity: the power to work beyond the farthest horizon in godliness. And you know, Mo, that when we begin to understand all this we begin to know what it is to be fully human, rejecting as beneath us all our narrowness of mind and spirit. We divine that to condemn others in their differences is an affront to truth, to godliness, to life – a life to be lived now not tomorrow, and rooted in the universal consciousness of all being. What does it matter if you’re a Hindu or a Christian? The sacred heart of existence speaks to all of us, demands the ‘YES’ of our inmost selves, enjoins us to joy, to bliss, to sing and dance in celebration of life, and to embrace all creatures as our own. When you go home, Mo, look in the mirror and see your original face and give thanks that you’re part of it all, that you breathe the pulse of all life with every breath.

‘You ask about Jesus. He was in the world, inseparable from it, even in the tiniest thing. What he made us understand is that our love is not about obedience. It’s about oneness and creativity etched on life. Everything that he was, everything he said and lived, is with us as resurrection and liveliness, creating and recreating, and calling us to have the courage to be – not become someone we’re not because someone else says so. He can’t be stopped. His song of rebirth, newness, is sung by everything that lives and dies. His love and mercy are the pattern for all our lives. His face is found in the face of everyman. All the men and women of the world are his living form. Yet formless, he fills all space. His signature is written on every chance happening of our days. With every step we meet him, and the beating of his sacred heart enlivens all we do. We reflect his glory “like mirrors” and “grow brighter and brighter as we’re turned into the image we reflect”. Nothing and no one can ever separate us from his love, which is love itself. And in this world of ours, we’re in God and He’s in us. It’s inescapable. The whole magic of life is godliness, but it’s not here to be worshipped. It’s here to be lived.

‘At this moment, Mo, godliness is showering on us. We don’t have to go and look for it. It’s already here, now, at this very moment around us and within us. So for God’s sake let’s stop hiding from the truth of our being, and begin to understand that God isn’t a person up there but a presence – the presence that overflows us in majesty, and wholly miraculous and mysterious. Call Him ‘existence’ if you will. Call Him ‘the sea’. Man is part of it, but his eyes and ears are still closed. Man is godliness but he’s oblivious to it. Poor man – he’s the fish in the sea but still thirsty.’
“Mo had long since fallen asleep but a smile caressed the corners of his mouth. Martin kissed him on the forehead and whispered softly ‘God Bless, Mo.’ Then he sat down and dozed himself.”
Well, that ends my little jumble sale book. It’s certainly different. I came across some lines from Walt Whitman’s ‘Leaves of Grass’ the other day. They seem to me to summarise much in the stories I’ve been recounting and I’ll leave them with you.

“I celebrate myself, and what I assume you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”
Go safely, then – until the next time.

Martin’s ‘night night’ from the boundary: “Lay down, my dear Mo, won’t you lay and take your rest? Won’t you lay your head upon your Saviour’s breast? And I love you but Jesus loves you the best. And I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight. Lord, I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.” (The Incredible String Band)