i must decrease so that he can increase: part one

For over a month I have been pondering, musing, fussing, and waiting for a clue concerning how to write about surrender. Some mentors speak of slowly yielding to the sacred as the way to become whole. Others teach that acceptance is the kernel of grace that blossoms into the tree of serenity. And once, in a Sunday talk, I stumbled upon the word relinquish and found it had legs, too. Having now spent the last three months in a gentle, on-line study with Cynthia Bourgeault, I am drawn to this insight: "Although there are any number of spiritual practices both ancient and universal to bring a person into a state of permanent inner "yieldedness," the most direct and effective one... is simply this:"

In any situation in life, confronted by an outer threat or opportunity, you can notice yourself responding inwardly in one of two ways. Either you will brace, harden, and resist, or you will soften, open, and yield. If you go with the former gesture, you will be catapulted immediately into your smaller (false) self, with its animal instincts and survival responses. If you stay with the latter regardless of the outer conditions, you will remain in alignment with your inner most (true) being, and through it, the divine being can teach you. Spiritual practice at its no-frills simplest is a moment-by-moment learning not to do anything in a state of internal brace. Bracing is never worth the cost. (Cynthia Bourgeault, The Wisdom Way of Knowing, pp. 74-75)

As November ripened and the earth became outwardly barren, two wisdom teachers kept blowing through my heart like stray leaves in the wetlands: St. John the Evangelist and Rumi. They both spoke to me about softening not bracing, trusting tenderness rather than rigidity.

+ From St. John 3: 29-30: "He who has the bride is the bridegroom. The friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly at his friend's voice. For this reason, my joy has been fulfilled. I must decrease, so that he can increase."

+ From Rumi: "The mystery of 'die before you die' is this: that the gifts come after your dying and not before. Except for dying, you artful schemer, no other skill impresses God. One divine gift is better than a hundred kinds of exertion. Your efforts are assailed from a hundred sides, and the favor depends on your dying. The trustworthy have already put this to the test."

Both teachers are clear: the way of the heart - the journey into the peace of God that passes understanding - the essence of faith as grace - our being embraced by the holy within the kingdom of heaven while still on earth comes as a whisper. "Let go. Become smaller. Quit striving to prove yourself, to be more, to acquire power. Learn to be still and know... and trust." 

St. John's gospel comes from the close of the first century of the Common Era. It is a collection of stories and interpretations designed to "explain the mystery of Jesus." That is, it articulates the significance of the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of the Christ for a discrete group of believers living by faith after the destruction of the second Temple in Jerusalem. Tradition and the study of the earliest manuscripts suggests it was written in ancient Ephesus (what is now Turkey.) Most scholars concur that the community was theologically heterodox - holding a variety of experiences with Jesus - and ethnically diverse - comprised of Jews, Samaritans and Gentiles from Asia Minor. The late Raymond Brown, a leading Johanine scholar in the 60s-80s, as well as Amy-Jill Levine, contemporary Jewish intellectual and co-editor of The Jewish Annotated New Testament, as well as Bruce Malina/Richard Rohrbaugh, editors of The Social Science Commentary on the Gospel of John, agree: John's mystical collection was inspired to both articulate how the emerging Jesus community differed from its Jewish cousins, as well as how it embodied a counter-cultural alternative to the rest of the Mediterranean realm, too. It is part in-house polemic between sisters and brothers in Judaism, part theological interpretation of the signs and wonders shared and experienced by a varied collection of adherents, and an extended midrash on different Jewish texts as read through the lens of the Greek Septuagint. (See Daniel Boyarin's essay, "Logos, a Jewish Word: John's Prologue as Midrash," in The Jewish Annotated New Testament,p. 546)

I have been praying St. John's words, "For this reason, my joy has been fulfilled (when) I decrease, so that he can increase," on and off for the past ten years. These are not doctrinal words. They have nothing to do with theological belief. These are wisdom words, not creedal, saturated with the invitation to let go and trust. As I listen for wisdom in the original text I find that: 1) joy comes from the Greek word chara (χαρά) which originates in charis (xáris ) or grace. Our joy is filled full and made complete, not by our efforts, but by God's love being poured into our hearts. Grace is a gift freely offered. 2) At the same time, this text also seems to be saying: we realize this gift only when we are empty enough to receive it. Our false self, our incomplete self, must shrink and become less noticeable or influential - elattoó (ἐλαττόω) - so that our true self, our Christ self - can mature, ripen and increase - auxanó (αὐξάνω). Like Bourgeault says: the simplest spiritual practice there is to living into God's peace/grace/presence is to let go of bracing in favor becoming soft.

I sense that is true to Rumi as well. Some have noted that it is no coincidence

that the Sufi way of being emerged as a mystical spirituality in Islam in almost the exact same places that had been most influenced by the way of St. John's insights. It has been posited that after taking shape and form among the Desert Mothers and Fathers of Egypt and Syria, the early Enneagram was held with reverence in this part of creation, too. Rumi was born into what is now Afghanistan in 1207. In time, his family emigrated into Persia (Iran) and later Baghdad where his family studied with Sufi mentors. He made a pilgrimage to Mecca, traveled to Damascus and eventually took up residence in Konya, Anatolia (Turkey.) In his day he served as an Islamic judge before taking up a mystical friendship with Shams his mentor and guide into the way of the heart. His writing and spontaneous poetry was prolific. In my life time, Rumi has been incarnated and popularized most devotedly by the American poet, Coleman Barks, who continues to interpret the Persian mystic for a modern Western audience. 

My sense is that Rumi whimsically and humbly challenges us to quit faking it: the way into the heart of wisdom as well as grace is to become empty. Quit trying and living as the artful schemer. Stop bracing and become small and soft. Such is the testimony of those who have gone before so why reinvent the wheel?

When I am honest, I know more about being the artful schemer than the one who trusts the small, soft and tender. I also know that aching to decrease so that grace might increase has incrementally softened me, too. "Don't start reading," he smiles, "take down a musical instrument" and become part of your longing. How can we not with Paul Winter's Consort beckoning us forward?

credits: icons by Robert Lentz