God's Compassion Everywhere

Sometime in the late 1990s, I was on retreat with my favourite nuns, the enclosed Benedictine order of Stanbrook Abbey. I was asking them what I should give up for Lent that year and they replied that I should takesomething up instead, that would be enriching for my soul.

Fast-forward to 2001. The hideous atrocities of 9/11 happened whilst I was pregnant with my first child. I was deeply fearful of what kind of world I’d be bringing her into and felt so helpless, as a typically introspective and introverted classical composer - what could I possibly offer to help make the world a safer place for her?

A friend remarked: “You do realise, that Christians, Muslims and Jews all believe in the same one God?” -  actually, I didn’t. I’d never even begun to think what these three faiths could have in common. And that began a mission – not only to discover what we share but to find a way of conveying this monotheistic message through my music.

The forty days of Lent has now become a time when I read scriptures and texts from other faiths. This has enriched my creative mind a thousand-fold and opened my eyes wide to splendour in places I never previously thought to look. I wanted to share with you some of the most positive and empathetic things that I’ve found.

I’ve read The Koran (dictated by the Angel Gabriel to the Prophet Muhammad, 14 centuries ago) twice and both times felt such a surge of happiness and – yes - relief at all the Old Testament, or Hebrew Scriptures, people we share. Noah implores his people to obey and trust in God but they put their fingers in their ears and their cloaks over their heads, persisting in sin – then come those floods and Noah’s ark saves the faithful (p.407).   Abraham was made to demonstrate his unwavering faith in God through his willingness to sacrifice his son; Moses strikes a dry path through the sea for his people to escape the pursuing Pharoah’s men.

And Jesus was there, too (although as a prophet, not the Son of God): it says: “We gave him the Gospel, and put compassion and mercy in the hearts of his followers.” (p.383)

There is gentle beauty in the treatment of Mary: “We breathed into her of Our spirit, and made her and her son a sign to all mankind”. I love that a voice from below calls to Mary, whilst leaning against a palm tree in the throes of her labour with Jesus: “Do not despair. Your Lord has provided a brook that runs at your feet, and if you shake the trunk of the palm-tree it will drop fresh ripe dates into your lap. Therefore eat and drink and rejoice…” (p.215)

There is enormous Compassion: every surah – or chapter – in the Koran starts with: “In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful“ and the frequently recurring edict to help those less fortunate than yourself.

The Koran also promotes understanding between the three Abrahamic faiths: “Be courteous when you argue with People of the Book” (…) the Angel Gabriel says, through Muhammad: “We believe in that which has been revealed to us and which was revealed to you. Our God and your God is one.”

I worry that the media focuses too heavily on conflict and differences between faiths. Yes, there is condemnation and punishment in the Koran, as there is in our Old Testament - there is also exquisiteness – here Is my favourite passage translated by N J Dawood: “God is the light of the heavens and the earth. His light may be compared to a niche that enshrines a lamp, the lamp within a crystal of star-like brilliance. It is lit from a blessed olive tree neither eastern or western. Its very oil would almost shine forth, though no fire touched it. Light upon light, God guides to His light whom He will.”

We heard in our first reading today that “…just as one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man’s act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all.” (Romans 5, 12-19) One of the closest parallels in the Koran can be found in the Table surah. The Lord tells Moses, “… we laid down for the Israelites that whoever killed a human being (…) shall be deemed as having killed all mankind; and that whoever saved a human life shall be deemed as having saved all mankind.”

For last year’s Lenten project, I branched out beyond the Abrahamic traditions of Christianity, Judaism and Islam, to read a Hindu scripture the Bhagavad Gita, which has been called “India’s greatest contribution to the world”. At some 5,000 years old, it’s messages from Krishna, the god of protection, compassion, tenderness and love, are conveyed in a timeless and universal way.

We are taken back to 3141 B.C.. The most brave and fearsome soldier-prince, Arjuna, is on the cusp of a battle to regain his kingdom. He stands in his chariot which he has asked his most loyal and faithful friend, Krishna (whom he doesn’t realise is actually an incarnation of Divinity on Earth) to drive.

But something terrifying and puzzling happens to this awesome warrior Arjuna – his hands start to tremble. This epic scene of good and evil forces would have normally stirred him into the bravest of action but instead he slumps down, sighs heavily and looks quizzically at his friend, asking: “Why am I doing this?”. Krishna proceeds to tell him in a soul-soaring, life-affirming way what human existence is really about. The Atma – our soul or life force.

He explains that feelings and sensations – such as sorrow or happiness, comfort or discomfort, are transient and ephemeral, coming and going “like the passing of clouds, that we can learn to be unaffected by them. 5,000 years on, this is the most up to date counselling orthodoxy.

Krishna explains that this battle is a win-win situation – if Prince Arjuna is victorious, he will win great respect and fame. If he is killed, he will immediately ascend to Heaven. So either way, it’s OK. The problems are actually desire and lack of inner peace – he says: “Desire for the fruits of one’s actions brings worry about possible failure.” Equanimity is what we should all be aiming for: the “serene mental state free from likes and dislikes, attractions and repulsions…” 

Imagine not having to worry about whether we’re as loved as we’d like to be or, in my case, whether I’ll get that longed-for main-stage opera commission or if an orchestra will play the wrong notes in my piece, making it sound much more esoteric than I had meant it to be. We could be happy to be as we are and with what we have, solely focusing our work and our hearts on the Divine, not unpredictable or even unobtainable, outcomes.  Or we don’t have to imagine – perhaps we could just do?

Krishna reveals to Arjuna that he is in fact God. The chapter in which the Prince begs him to reveal his true cosmic form was, for me, mind-blowing. Here is some of it in a beautiful translation by Jack Hawley: “It is impossible to describe in earthly words the dazzling light emanating from (Krishna) - it is as if a thousand suns were suddenly blazing in the sky; even that is insufficient tribute to the splendour and brilliance of His aura. Arjuna (now sees) the entire universe, with all its myriad forms, within Krishna’s cosmic body – planets, distant stars, living beings, multitudes of animals, the vast plant kingdom – all the expressions of the same consciousness that lives within the Divine One. The celestial worlds are also there (…); all the regions within and without are all united, concentrated at once within this vision of the Supreme One; all contained within the one being, the Divinity of Divinities.” 

Krishna tells Arjuna that “Real bliss is only found within...” and that “Where there is a hurricane of love in the mind and heart all human distinctions vanish.”. If there is one thing I would wish for us all, here today, is that we can find that bliss. For me, it is knowing that whatever faith we follow, we can look outwards at the world around us that, like Prince Arjuna, we can observe, absorb and precure bliss at the wonders of our spiritual and earthly worlds. God is everywhere and in all things – especially in you.