On The Mystery Of Jesus

Jesus, you are the Mystery my frail human intellect cannot explain. Yet, through your Mystery, all other mysteries are solved. 

 

You have said, "If thine eye be single, thy whole body will be filled with light (Mat 6:22)." When I meet you in the center of my soul, I can see through your single Eye, the lens of my heart.  And your Eye in my heart irradiates whatever it sees with the light of a new creation.  

 

I cannot comprehend your grace. You anoint me with a sobering vision, yet it is the vision that heals, and leads to wholeness. I see how this beautiful earth is immersed in a cloud of human vanity. I see why humans treat each other so cruelly. How our politics and even our science are perverted by the ego. Why our wounds so willfully reject the very kindness that would heal them. How we are driven by an unacknowledged grief. It is the grief of pride, the pride that will not confess its yearning for you. 

 

How can I heal myself, when "I" am the dis-ease? You are more vast than my mind, because you are more humble. I cannot "believe" in you, because you are deeper inside me than my will to believe. How can I sing the silence of your overwhelming nearness, a friendship beyond words, where love alone is the prayer? 
 

Naked of any creed, my chest invites you to enter its wound, that I may rest my breath in your companionship, and hear your name in my beaten heart. "Stay open, stay open." This is the song of my wound. "Jesus, Jesus." This is my heartbeat. 

 

To my brothers and sisters I can only say, don't worry. You don't need to call him. He is already here, more inward to you than your soul. But if you hear his name, observe your mind's reaction. Don't be afraid. Let go of any voice that grinds indignant, resentful, or bitter. Follow something softer, a warmth expanding in your heart, melting into tears of longing. 

Painting: Rembrandt