God is love/rough

God is actually quite wild and dangerous, but we domesticated divine experience so much that a vast majority of people have left the search entirely, finding most religious people to be fearful conformists instead of adventurous seekers of Love and Mystery.

                                                                                                     Richard Rohr

I’m hesitant to call it the touch of God and it is not because I’m afraid that I will sound over-pious. From my own experiences in daily living, retreats, times of uncertainty, fear, joy and consolation I've discovered that such a description is too soft and gentle. This is more forceful, deliberate, like feeling the firm grip of a hand on your arm or shoulder, like someone grabbing your hand, pulling you off your feet.

It happens when God opens something up, clarifies an issue, strips you from preconceived ideas and protective armour and images, surprises you by taking you to the heart of the matter and your own heart in the most brilliant manner and dialect that only you can understand. Deep down you just know that this is not of your making. It is too big, profound, delicately assembled, daunting and often downright scary for that.

During our recent Ignatian prayer retreat I became aware of God’s grip once again. Gradually, through the sessions, I discovered how my experiences during periods of great disorder and turmoil in my life were formative for later development. Loss and death were tied up in the process of growth and life. Our trip to Durban last month for our US visa applications en route to The Living School in Albuquerque literally took me full circle (without me planning it at all) to important things I just did not understand 7 years ago. At that stage it was mainly confusion and uncertainty, with me feeling that God is stripping me bare. Now I can see it as the absolute basis of new beginnings.

Just after the retreat I came across this poem by Hafiz:

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
Break all our teacup talk of God. 

If you had the courage and could give the Beloved His choice,
Some nights He would just drag you around the room by your hair,
Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
That bring you no joy. 

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
And wants to rip to shreds all your erroneous notions of truth
That make you fight within yourself, dear one,
And with others,
Causing the world to weep on too many fine days. 

God wants to manhandle us,
Lock us up in a tiny room with Himself
And practice His dropkick.
The Beloved sometimes wants to do us a great favor:
Hold us upside down and shake all the nonsense out. 

But when we hear He is in such a "playful drunken mood"
Most everyone I know quickly packs their bags
And hightails it out of town.

Fact is, it is scary, but it is also extremely alive. Teacup talk and sweet words might be predictable and in most religious circles the preferred manner of speech, but quite often it is not very God-like. My wisest prayer would probably be the one where I ask for courage to give God his choice.

What strikes me when reading the poem and looking at my life is God’s passion. It is not timid, reserved, hesitant or walking on tiptoes. It is a raging volcano. With what I know now I would have added “rough” to the “God is Love” inscriptions on the pulpits of my childhood and God would have liked it.

I am left with a nagging question though. How on earth did Hafiz know on the day after our retreat that I was contemplating this particular issue?

George