When was I less by dying?

Dear Friends,

I am very sorry for the long break from writing on this blog. I was working with some sensitive matters related to CPT and did not want my blog to act as a hindrance to that work.

Last week I left Chicago for Camden on a surprise visit. It was so lovely to be home. I especially loved the Friday Night community dinner where my housemate Jeremy shared with all those who gathered round, the different events of his journey “on the road”. I was very inspired by some of the themes he noticed throughout his journey, and aspire that I may be as attentive and intentional as he on my journey to Damascus.

I was also blessed by a breakfast I had with a woman from the Sacred Heart community who has been a real inspiration to my housemate Andrea. We dared the mounds of snow that had fallen earlier that morning granting the rather grateful school children of Sacred Heart a snow day, and made our way to the Elgin Diner, a local favorite. Perhaps this diner is a favorite because it collects some of the finest and most interesting characters one may find in Camden together over bitter coffee and superb omelets. Or perhaps it shares the indebted fate of many similar diners in run-down small towns that dot our country as the ONLY place around to get anything descent to eat. Earlier that morning she and I visited with some lovely and wise folks at Dayton Manor where we shared the Eucharist and song. Over breakfast she shared with me how she met her husband, and some of her favorite ways to relieve stress. Her manner was so unassuming and open to hearing whatever I had to share. The one question she asked me that I most appreciated and had the least amount to share about was about where I came from. Her kind eyes were keen and warm, making it very easy to consider this question deeply.

I immediately thought of a poem I had read recently by Rumi who is the older gentleman pictured above. The poem goes like this:

I Died as a Mineral
I died as a mineral and became a plant,
I died as plant and rose to animal,
I died as animal and I was Man.
Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?
Yet once more I shall die as Man, to soar
With angels blest; but even from angelhood
I must pass on: all except God doth perish.
When I have sacrificed my angel-soul,
I shall become what no mind e'er conceived.
Oh, let me not exist! for Non-existence
Proclaims in organ tones, 'To Him we shall return.'

In its original Pharsi:


I have been thinking very much about the challenge of the Christian Peacemaker Teams to go to those places where their lives are assuredly on the line. I have been thinking hard on that especially considering more than half the folks in CPT are older and do have children, homes, and jobs to attend to. Though there peacemaking (in its various forms and nuances) does place their lives strictly in the care of the spirit as they enter places of great violence. I have often thought of this in terms of our community in Camden. We have been so blessed by Sacred Heart and by our time with those in sharing life, living, in Waterfront South. I think it is easy for us as young people without very many responsibilities to live in Camden, but it is much harder to imagine raising children, purchasing a home or any of those other extraordinarily customary activities we do as we grow older. How will our commitments to peacemaking change as our life grows and changes? Will we seek the refuge of suburban life? I have often and harshly judged my own experience growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, but I have often been grateful that I am filled of memories of walking to Sweets and buying chocolate covered pretzels after school or walking home in the evenings after swim meets. I often thought of that last year after attending Sacred Heart School basketball games and having to be certain that each boy had a parent to pick him up as we could not leave him to his leisure on the harsh streets of Camden.

As far as where I come from? I am not sure. I never really had a conversion experience that reshaped my views after growing up on Chicago’s North Shore. I have an exceptionally kind and generous Mother, and a stubborn yet deeply concerned Father (Baba jun). I have been exceptionally blessed to be surrounded by so many people who have cared deeply for their neighbor and for our earth, and have found spiritual sustenance in the holy ordinary. I have been blessed in my experience in the world, and humbled by her often treacherous beauty.

Tomorrow is the Shebe Yalda, which is Pharsi for the Winter Solstice or “rebirth of the Sun.” It is a joyful time as it is the turning point in the year where the night is the longest and the light only grows stronger. It is celebrated as a joyous holiday where family and friends join round a Korsee (large brass ornate table), drink chi (tea), tell stories or read poetry and eat pomegranates, watermelon and apricots until the sun returns to us after her sweeping sabbatical. There is much joy in this celebration as it is a time where there is an exceptional sense of idealism as trust grows stronger after each hour of darkness and finally when the light descends upon the full and trusting heart it shines brighter, bolder.

May the coming of the new light bring you an ever greater sense of peace and joyfulness.

With Love,
Farah Marie