i think when i met nasar he hugged me before he asked my name. he decided to love me before he knew my sins. such grace so freely given, nasar must be a friend of God's. no priest or pastor could have absolved the sins forgiven in that moment. Jesus was there, Immanuel. and so i remember that moment in the mass when the priest calls the church to proclaim the mystery of our faith, and chanting we respond, "we're all bastards, but God loves us anyway." the divine mystery prepares us for Christ's presence among us, a healing presence that reconciles us.
after this moment of healing, nasar learned my name. now, every few minutes he calls me, "paul, paul, paul...." until i turn to him. in this place where call to prayer can be heard five times a day, nasar's call, like the muezzin who serenades us from the minaret, is becoming a prayerful rhythm for me. but nasar prefers to pray the minutes instead of the hours. i think i like it that way too. the prayer is simple and always the same. nasar's prayer is simply "HABIBI!" which means "my love." to which the only response is an exuberant exclamation, "HABIBI!" i think nasar is teaching me to pray. and slowly, i am learning.
"paul, paul, paul....." i turn.
"HABIBI!"
"HABIBI!"
may we learn to share such a prayer.
peace and stuff,
paul
simply beautiful.
ReplyDeleteAlexa