Judge Not

The French writer Léon Bloy wrote something like, “The friends of Jesus see all around them the modern Christians, and it is thus that they are able to picture hell.” (Quatre ans de captivité à Cochons-sur-Marne)  So many people who claim to be Christian have no trouble ignoring the simple command that Jesus repeated over and over, forcefully and unambiguously: do not judge.  They get worked up over what other people are doing—usually things that Jesus, in fact, didn’t seem particularly concerned about—but think this command doesn’t apply to them.  Instead of following Jesus’ example, his words: “Father forgive them,” “Neither do I condemn you,” “Judge not,” “Do not condemn,” “I did not come to judge the world,” etc. etc., they are always the ones to “cast the first stone,” and to act like it is their personal religious duty to do so.  What is the source of this perversity that drives people to disregard so clear a command, and become so invincibly self-righteous?  Jesus preached love.  Where does all the hate come from?  No one was more about mercy, forgiveness, and not judging others than Jesus.  He reserved his harsh words for hypocrites, for those who thought they were better than everyone else, because he knew that no one had the right to condemn another.  Yet so many Christians refuse to acknowledge this basic message—and seem to have no trouble preaching its exact opposite!

The Cosmic Dance

When we are alone on a starlit night, when by chance we see the migrating birds in autumn descending on a grove of junipers to rest and eat; when we see children in a moment when they are really children, when we know love in our own hearts; or when, like the Japanese poet, Basho, we hear an old frog land in a quiet pond with a solitary splash—at such times the awakening, the turning inside out of all values, the "newness," the emptiness and the purity of vision that make themselves evident, all these provide a glimpse of the cosmic dance.

                                                                                     —Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation

Spring

As I walked past a sandstone bungalow in the incomparable light of spring, I thought of a friend who had lived there.  A fig tree grew outside the front bedroom window, but he—my friend—would never see it again.  He’d died during the previous winter in another city, far, far from this place.  One day, I, too, would no longer be able to stand before this golden sandstone house, this fig tree.  The house would still stand, and perhaps the tree, the orange and purple wildflowers in the yard would return, the spring sun would bathe them in its incomparable light, but someone else would observe it all; someone who, in all likelihood, would know nothing of either me or my friend.

Love is the Highest Reality

Novalis wrote: Das sind glückliche Leute, die überall Gott vernehmen, überall Gott finden, diese Leute sind eigentlich religiös.  (These are happy people who hear God everywhere, find God everywhere; these are actually religious people.)  To find God in all persons, all things, all circumstances of life, in an unending dialog of love.  Wer Gott einmal suchen will, der findet ihn überall.  (Whoever wants to seek God, finds him everywhere.) 

Once, in a dream, I was walking toward the door of a house that I had never visited before, across a red stone yard, and I was suddenly filled with an overwhelming desire to have nothing in me but God, to finally be rid of everything that wasn’t God.  The dream stayed in my memory as a great inspiration, a great hope, and a great reminder of my deepest desire.  Novalis also said: Glauben ist Empfindung des Erwachens und Wirkens und Sinnens in einer andern Welt.  (Faith is the sensation of awakening and working and being in another world.)  Not just looking at this world differently—but being in another world.