Easter Message from Issa

Burn marks on this fragment of ancient scroll indicate that much 
of it was destroyed by fire before it could be hidden in a jar of honey.     

"No need to ascend.

Just keep falling into Grace.

You need a new name for the heart. 
Call it the wound 
at the center of the world. 
A new name for love.

Call it the courage to breathe, 

to breathe through the wound. 

Savor this inhalation, it is the Holy Spirit, 

your anointing.
Here on earth, taste each photon of flesh
as infinite light: this is my Resurrection.
Welcome all into the radiance that shines
from your chest: this is my Kingdom.
Crucify my otherness, glorify me as your Self. 
What is suffering? To cling 
to the ever-perishing outward form.
Be risen from the tomb of the past
into the garden of this moment.
When Magdalene reaches out her hand,
let her touch you.

Bathed in dawn, don't wash off the smell
of loam and roses.
I taught this simple Gospel, then dissolved 

into the eternal samadhi of now

where I Am with you always.
What does it mean that I am risen,
raised to the right hand of God?
It means that I have become
the silent Witness within you.
Now feel my compassion 

as your own true nature.
Have a joyful feast, share everything.
This celebration began 

billions of years ago, 

when the Breather of Creation

offered stars, galaxies, garlands of galaxies 

to her Beloved.

She prepared the Feast, he accepted the libation.
She was the Creator, he the Uncreated
who silently witnessed her whirling.
He the wonder, She the dance. 
And her dancing ignited your heart 

before you were conceived, 

a trembling flame in the mirror of his love.

Who told you about “original sin?”
You were whole, you were divine, 

a perfect oblation before 

the sun and moon were lit on fire.

With each breath, you are washed in beauty. 

Presence is purification.

Your work is to Be.

Be the still-point at the center of my Cross, 

where opposites converge:

Heaven and earth, East and West,

left and right, mother and father,

pain and joy. 

No conflict can endure this 

infinitesimal stillness at the core.

You are the silence around the battle. 

Your heart hugs everything. 

Now tell me, dear ones why, in Springtime, 

does your mother make offerings, 

the hyacinth, a host of stars, a cluster 

of snowdrops, your embryo, a tear?

So that I might taste and touch  

my Beloved in each creature. Selah.

O friend, the cosmos is not an atonement 

but a joyful feast; share everything.

Breathe through the wound.

No need to ascend.

Just keep falling into Grace."

Image: detail, by Rembrandt