On Resurrection Day God will say,
“What did you do with the strength and energy your food gave you on earth?
How did you use your eyes?
What did you make with your five senses while they were dimming and playing out?
I gave you hands and feet as tools for preparing the ground for planting.
Did you, in the health I gave, do the plowing?”
You will not be able to stand when you hear those questions.
Youwill bend double, and finally acknowledge the glory.
God will say,
“Lift your head and answer the questions.”
Your head will rise a little, then slump again.
“Look at me! Tell what you’ve done.”
You try, but you fall back flat as a snake.
“I want every detail. Say!”
Eventually you will be able to get to a sitting position.
“Be plain and clear. I have given you such gifts. What did you do with them?”
You turn to the right looking to the prophets for help, as though to say, I am stuck in the mud of my life, Help me out of this!
They will answer, those kings,
“The time for helping is past. The plow stands there in the field. You should have used it.”
Then you turn to the left, where your family is, and they will say,
“Don’t look at us! This conversation is between you and your Creator.”
Then you pray the prayer that is the essence of every ritual:
God,
I have no hope. I am torn to shreds.
You are my first and last and only refuge.
Don’t do daily prayers like a bird pecking, moving its head up and down. Prayer is an egg.
Hatch out the total helpless inside.
The Soul of Rumi
excerpted from the hoopoe
“What did you do with the strength and energy your food gave you on earth?
How did you use your eyes?
What did you make with your five senses while they were dimming and playing out?
I gave you hands and feet as tools for preparing the ground for planting.
Did you, in the health I gave, do the plowing?”
You will not be able to stand when you hear those questions.
Youwill bend double, and finally acknowledge the glory.
God will say,
“Lift your head and answer the questions.”
Your head will rise a little, then slump again.
“Look at me! Tell what you’ve done.”
You try, but you fall back flat as a snake.
“I want every detail. Say!”
Eventually you will be able to get to a sitting position.
“Be plain and clear. I have given you such gifts. What did you do with them?”
You turn to the right looking to the prophets for help, as though to say, I am stuck in the mud of my life, Help me out of this!
They will answer, those kings,
“The time for helping is past. The plow stands there in the field. You should have used it.”
Then you turn to the left, where your family is, and they will say,
“Don’t look at us! This conversation is between you and your Creator.”
Then you pray the prayer that is the essence of every ritual:
God,
I have no hope. I am torn to shreds.
You are my first and last and only refuge.
Don’t do daily prayers like a bird pecking, moving its head up and down. Prayer is an egg.
Hatch out the total helpless inside.
The Soul of Rumi
excerpted from the hoopoe
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