The Sufi in all of us

Last Wednesday I picked up a volume of Sufi poetry at the Subterranean Bookstore on the Loop. This book, called The Gift, is full of contemporary translations of Hafiz, a 14th century Persian poet and Sufi master. As I flipped through the pages and read the history of this amazing wordsmith, I felt an amazing sense of dejavu. Not the kind that repeats a detail from a crazy dream, but the kind that dregs up a memory of a similar experience in a similar place. I began thinking how my journey in choosing ministry as a vocation, my journey to seminary, may have started in an obscure bookstore reading my first volume of Rumi’s poetry.

I remembered reading a passage of Rumi in a world religions class, being blown away by its complex simplicity and sensual spirituality. I remembered highlighting and underlining verses like some do in their bibles, journaling and referencing Rumi every chance I got. Through a few simple verses in a humanities course in college, I became a convert to mysticism. Mysticism opened a window through which my badly scarred spirit could reenter Christianity again. From Teresa of Avila to Evelyn Underhill to Kathleen Norris, these visionary Christians welcomed me into a world where the parameters of the Church did not restrict their relationship to the Divine.
Happening upon this book of poems made me feel as if I’ve completed some type of circle. The title, The Gift, seemed, still seems, to be of great importance. Not only is the book and words in them a gift, but this glimpse back in the direction from whence I’ve come is a gift. At the time of my awakening, I could never have imagined I would progress this far. The Gift also reminds me of why I feel prepared for ministry. It is a reminder that I not only am aware of my own gifts, but I also have learned much in how to better use my gifts. My heart converted with an earnest fervor to the concept of a ministry vocation years ago, perhaps even upon reading that first verse of Rumi, but I’m not sure my head and hands knew how to respond right away.

Here's some Hafiz to contemplate on: (translated by Daniel Ladinsky)

The small man builds cages for everyone he knows.
While the sage, who has to
duck his head when the moon is low,
keeps dropping keys all night long
for the beautiful rowdy
prisoners.