Then came the 26th and the 27th and the 28th and on and on - right up until this morning. A storm came in from the Indian Ocean (which we are very close to) and the mountains that we live in tend to "catch" the storm and hold it. In fact, they seem to have held on to this storm for dear life. Because we are at the top of these mountains the monastery gets caught up in the clouds which is quite a something to behold. It is not so much that we are rained upon here, as we are rained among. I'm not sure how else to put it. You do feel rain from above but also from the sides - and not because of wind, but just because we are actually in a cloud. It even seemed to me to be coming up at me from the ground.And this went on all week.
Well a monk with a bit of a poetic heart cannot ignore living within a kind of "cloud of unknowing" for almost the entire Octave of Christmas without writing something about the experience. It lead me to look back at one of my favorite poets, the great Japanese master of Haiku, Matsuo Basho.
Basho (1644-1694) lived one of those fascinating lives: raised to be a Samurai, when he came of age he left that life to join a Buddhist monastery and, after having lived the monastic life for awhile, left it to follow his true calling, that of poetry. He ended up leading the golden era of Haiku in Japan which was a poetic phenomenon perhaps unseen in any time before or since.
Basho traveled around Japan, gathering disciples while writing poetry and about poetry. One of the many things which he wrote that has stuck with me is: "Of all the men who have entered these mountains to live the reclusive life, most found solace in ancient poetry." And while I am not quite living a "reclusive life" Basho's comment from his "Travelogue of Weather-Beaten Bones" (n.b. all examples of Basho's writing in this blog entry are from "The Narrow Road to the Interior" translated by Sam Hamill and published by Shambhala Classics) seemed to hit home during my great immersion into these mountains and the clouds of the Indian Ocean.
In the same travelogue (Basho wrote several), the master writes: "I crossed Hakone Barrier in the rain, clouds hiding all the mountains:
Heavy falling mist -
Mount Fuji not visible,
but still intriguing.
Well, I love that. Basho seemed to be capturing from Japan in the 1690's my experience of South Africa in late 2014. Even when nothing is visible, when all is clouded with obscurity, and when the rain is falling not just on you, but even about and among you, the ancient poetry of our faith and of all those, like Basho, who sought after beauty, love and truth, is still intriguing and can still lead us to God who works in, it seems to me, mostly obscure ways. In fact, the more obscure it is the more intriguing it becomes.
This morning, for example, after nearly a week of living among the clouds, the sun began to emerge as we prayed Lauds for this feast of the Holy Name of Jesus. Here in Grahamstown, we pray the Camaldolese Office as at New Camaldoli in Big Sur, California (www.contemplation.com). When we prayed the antiphon preceding Psalm 150 we sang: "From Jesse's stock a flow'r has sprung, alleluia!" which, in its simplicity was very moving to me.That flower, of course, is Jesus.
If you spend time with the Gospel readings of the Eucharistic Liturgies for the three high points of Christmas-tide, we hear on Christmas Eve, Jesus being introduced to the shepherds, the poorest and lowliest members of society at that time; then on Holy Name, Jesus is introduced by name at his circumcision to the wider Jewish community; and then on Epiphany, we will hear Jesus introduced to the Gentile community as represented by the Wise Men. That simple idea of a flower springing forth from Jesse's stock, results in the Holy Name of Jesus being introduced to all of humanity in a very specific order: the poorest first, the faithful of Israel next, and then the remainder of humanity.
In and of itself, the order in which the name of Jesus was introduced to the world should give us cause for contemplation. The praying of the Holy Name of Jesus ("Lord Jesus Christ/Have mercy on us" repeated continuously often using a prayer rope)
As we were singing Psalm 150 at Lauds, my contemplating Basho once again this week led me back to some of his poems for the new year. He composed many haiku about the new year and was, of course, referring to the traditional New Year celebrated in many Asian countries at the beginning of spring. The antiphon with its flower springing forth from Jesse's stock reminded me of one of Basho's haiku which sounds to me like a contemplation of eternal life, at least as Basho might have understood that concept.
Seeing the new year's
first flowers, I'll live seventy-
five years longer
Beautiful blue skies and perfect summer weather have returned to these holy mountains outside of Grahamstown and beautiful flowers abound all over the property, But whether we are being immersed in the clouds with rain all around us, or are bathing in the sunlight of the perfect day, the Holy Name of Jesus is held out to us - as it has been for two millenia now - as the name which brings our life to flower.
It is not clear whether Basho would have ever even heard the name of Jesus. There were Christian missionaries in Japan at the time of his life, but there is no record to my knowledge of Basho having encountered any. What is clear to me is that all truth seekers, those who, in the Benedictine tradition we sometimes call the "seekers of Christ" share with all seekers of every faith three things: (1)a longing to know God, by whatever name we call God; (2) a desire for a even just a glimpse into eternity, by however we construe that concept; and (3) a need to deepen our understanding of how climbing up and down the mountains of our lives, whether within the clouds or within the sunshine, leads us on that journey toward knowing. This is a wisdom journey and one that can unite all of humanity if we allow ourselves to be so wise.
It seems to me that contemplating the Holy Name of Jesus is a wonderful way to begin this New Year. In the Holy Name of Jesus is the first flower of the new year. In it we find some aspect of the truth of God's love for all of humanity and all of God's creation. In that name, lies the mystery of the God.
May peace be upon you, your loved ones, and all of humanity in this new year.
