I was in Jaffna, Sri Lanka in 1974, and it was a very hot day. I was sitting
at Bawa Muhaiyaddeen’s bedside. He was very old, and his Ashram was made up
of a cement floor, a corrugated steel roof, and a courtyard ten yards From
his bed with a variety of animals – goats, peacocks, dogs, cats and a deer
that had followed this gentle Sufi out of the jungles when he entered
society to teach. I was struck by How the deer was always attentive when
Bawa would sing and pray. Bawa’s day consisted mostly of sitting on his bed
and giving advice on understanding the wonder and beauty of God. Because he
was respected as a living saint, people attributed many happenings in their
lives to him—both good and bad.
One day a fellow came in shaking with rage and hatred. He pulled out a short
machete, the kind that one uses to cut bamboo. I understood that some
tragedy had befallen his family, and he was blaming Bawa. I was close to
him, close enough that I could have sucker-punched him.
You must understand the kind of love that Bawa Muhaiyaddeen generated in me,
so this was a profound position that I was in. But I knew, deeply, that I
was to watch and not engage. Bawa attributed all beauty, goodness, wonder
and the miraculous events that happened in creation only to God. He never
centralized any events on himself. He did not use miracles as a way of
promoting wisdom. He promoted the supremacy of love and the knowledge of the
nature of consciousness as the pathway to human realization.
Now he opened his arms fully wide, he had no shirt on, and he leaned his
head backwards exposing himself fully to this flood of violence and looked
with the melting eyes of gentleness at his assailant and said: “My Brother,
will taking my life give your soul the peace it is seeking?"
It was as if the molecules in the room began to scintillate and vibrate with
the power of love. It filled the space like a tangible presence, and the man
with the machete became like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He
collapsed on the ground and sat up gazing deeply into the sage’s eyes. Bawa
then embraced him and said: “Go home and clean yourself, and come back, my
child.”
A person with such knowledge shines with a light that guides others even
without speaking.
Epilogue. Today, people whose hearts are at peace have a duty to come out of
the closet and address the dangerous distortions arising from the
misapplication of power. People guided by compassion as never before have a
duty to engage publicly. The public dialogue has become a pornography of the
trivial. Authentic expressions of passion, beauty, and meaning are needed,
and those who are capable of sharing such gifts have an obligation to step
forward. I commend Kosmos for becoming a forum that encourages such needed
voices.
Jonathan Granoff, President Global Security Institute www.gsinstitute.org
