Invisible and visible, nature conceals yet reveals herself, a tapestry woven with mysteries deep and unsolvable, yet displayed in every leaf and stone.
- What do you fear, wayfinder?
- The death of my family. Not only their death, but their suffering. I know that if the firman is implemented, they won’t only suffer death. They may even survive. I am scared of what they will endure at the hands of the perpetrators.
- I also fear death, wayfinder. Death is a chasm from which there is no return. We have our stories about what happens after death. Some are meant to soothe us; others are meant to scare us. Both are supposed to control us, to live a life of morality, so that in the afterlife we can avoid punishment and gain peace and ease, joy without measure. These are the stories of religious texts.
- Do you not believe these promises?
- I think they are promises distorted, stories misguided and misunderstood. Nothing scares us as much as our own mortality. To deal with it, we make up stories. If they are true or not, I do not know. But this is what I do know with all my heart: stories about the future, which is uncertain and unknowable, can either inspire us to live well or lead us to avoid our lives altogether. We must accept our mortality, as hard as it may seem. We must accept that there may not be a life after the death of this mortal body, except in the memories of those who survive.
- Then how should we live if there is no such thing as heaven or hell?
- Die before you die, so that you may not die when you die. Wayfinder, tell me, if there were no heaven or hell, what would you do every single day? The Scriptures warn against this notion because they claim that if this were true, we would drink and eat, for tomorrow we will die. It assumes that pleasure is all that matters if there is nothing to sacrifice it for. But this is a deep misunderstanding. Pleasure is not the only motivator in life; pleasure is not what matters at all.
- I have never considered the question before. But if I dropped the belief that there was life after death, I think I would do the same things that I do today. I would still love my family. I would still work hard to support them. I would still do everything for their happiness. Would I be good to others? Would I offer them help? Would I serve others and help them when they needed my help? Would I feed the poor? I think I would. Because even if I don’t believe a single thing about life after death, what stays with me is the face of the poor.
- What do you mean, wayfinder?
- I’m sitting here with you, enjoying this lentil soup, eating this bread. We eat food together, and I am enjoying this conversation we are having. This is not because I believe in a life after death or because I am fearful for mine or my family’s life. It is because I see you, I hear you, I recognize the humanity in you. I ask myself the question: would the world be a more pleasant and good place if I didn’t care for you, if I didn’t offer you my bread, if I didn’t speak to you? Would my world be better or worse? If the aga and the chieftains decide to act only to protect themselves instead of recognizing their own humanity, would the world become better or worse?
- I think, friend, there are people in this world who are… evil… They hunger and thirst for blood. They thirst to dominate others, and they want others to succumb to their wishes and urges. If I talk to them, I do not know if they know why they are doing what they are doing. Perhaps because domination is the only pleasure they get. Perhaps it is because they do not truly see the people whom they are subjugating, whom they are dominating.
- To love and to be loved is a human need, wayfinder. To see the face of others, you must first see your own. But it’s hard to see yourself, truly see yourself. We are like trees. We carry inside ourselves earlier faces. The mirror sees only the latest face.
For those who dominate, they see nothing but what they see in the mirror. To them, remembering the inner rings is too painful. So they hate themselves, and they feel shame. Their hatred and their shame stop them from seeing themselves truly. When they are unable to see themselves truly, they are unable to see others. Instead of self-love, they are driven by self-hatred. I tell you this, wayfinder: unless you learn to accept and love yourself fully, you will not see the face of the Beloved.
- But how can you love yourself when you see those earlier faces? Especially the faces that you were not proud of? I have done many things in my life that I regret today. There are many parts of myself that I am not so proud of. I lose my temper easily, especially with my wife and children. I wish I didn’t, but it is hard for me to control my temper. So I snap, and I yell at them. Anger leaves me empty.
- Wayfinder, how do you understand love? As something that you are worthy of, or something you need to become worthy of?
- I love my children not because they are worthy or perfect in any way. I love them because they are mine. This is the purest love I have experienced. I love my wife too. Even in conflicts, I think I love her. But the way the love of God is described in our liturgies and by our priests, it sounds almost as if you have to measure up, ask for forgiveness, or else God restrains Himself from you. For example, when I am at home in Kerburan, I go to church on Sundays. As you perhaps know, in the Christian religion, we believe that the bread and wine are symbols of the body and blood of Christ, who is believed to be the Son of God and God Himself. But we don’t receive it every Sunday. It is almost as if we are not worthy to receive the body and blood of God every Sunday. Before we do, we must also confess our sins. So the entire logic is that God is only available to us fully when we are worthy and confess our weaknesses and sins. So yes, friend, I am not sure this is the right view, but I see those parts of myself that I am not so eager to love.
- What if I told you that in order to love and receive love, you must embrace those parts of yourself that you do not like, love, or accept? Love is ever-present, and we stop ourselves from giving and receiving because we turn away from our weaknesses. Because the wound is the place where the light enters you. It’s not the wound itself that is good; it’s the turning toward the wound, the connection to your flaws and vulnerability. The greatest sin of them all is the sin of pride. This, wayfinder, is true for both Muslims and Christians alike. A person of pride turns away from his vulnerability. He becomes stiff and rigid. There is no softness in his heart. Without softness and vulnerability, you will not be able to have a true relationship with other human beings. It will be one of dominion and judgment. If you do not see your own flaws, you will judge others for theirs. If you see your vulnerability and flaws and accept them and love them as part of who you are, you’ll do the same for others. When you do that for others, even for God, you remove from yourself the attitude that stops you from receiving and giving love. Therefore, wayfinder, the path to God is through your weakness.
- Why do you think the heart of the symbol of your religion is the Cross? Imagine, wayfinder, your God is crucified on a cross. Muslims see this as blasphemy. I see it as the greatest expression of love. It’s not so much about the death and the suffering. It is more about the love of God. God embraces everything. He dives into death itself, embodied. Not as a mere overlord who is transcendent and above everything else, but rather as a weak person, just like me and you. He shows us that turning away from suffering is never the answer. It is only through embracing all of it. Our souls are at stake.
- Wayfinder, remember this: your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.