A pocket full of gems (better than the broth of cabbages)

There is a song, from Colombia, about a little caterpillar named Pecocito, who dreams of flying. “But how will I achieve this?” he wonders. “I’m just a lowly grub, nudging about in the dust.” He learns, though, that—incredible as it may seem—there is a way for him to fly…but to do so, he must renounce all that he has. “How difficult!” the song exclaims, to detach himself from his form, his color, the warmth and familiarity of the earth! But when Pecocito offers himself up, and gives way to the transformation, he finds that he has wings…and he soars.

The title of this song is “El misterio del sacrificio”: the mystery of sacrifice.

Sacrifice. I looked up the origin of this word, and found that its roots are “sacra,” which means sacred, and “facere,” meaning to do, perform. A sacred act.  Book 2 of the Ruhi Institute, Arising to Serve, suggests that the true nature of sacrifice is to renounce that which is lower for that which is higher. “Therefore,” it adds, “although sacrifice involves pain, it is in reality the bearer of joy.”

And then a series of exercises follow, to aid in further reflection on this idea. One question, in particular, stands out to me:

A young boy has a pocket full of stones. He comes across someone who offers him a handful of gems. He must throw away the stones in order to receive the gems. What is he sacrificing?

I’ve been thinking a lot about the nature of sacrifice since the Fast* began two days ago. The fact that all the world’s religions have prescribed unto their followers some form of fasting indicates, I suspect, that it’s an act that can fill our spiritual pockets with gems. Of these gems proffered by the Fast, the Bahá’í Writings state:

“Fasting and obligatory prayer are as two wings to man’s life.”

“Grant, O my Lord, that this fast may become a river of life-giving waters.”

“Even though outwardly the fast is difficult and toilsome, yet inwardly it is bounty and tranquility.”

“Fasting is the supreme remedy and the most great healing for the disease of self and passion.”

“Fasting is the cause of the elevation of one’s spiritual station.”

“This fast leadeth to the cleansing of the soul from all selfish desires, the acquisition of spiritual attributes, attraction to the breezes of the All-Merciful, and enkindlement with the fire of divine love.”

But to receive these gems, we must offer up a pebble:

Lunch.**

One of my favorite things to read and meditate on during the Fast is a poem by Rumi, which includes these verses:

There’s hidden sweetness in the stomach’s emptiness.
We are lutes, no more, no less.

If the brain and belly are burning clean with fasting,
every moment a new song comes out of the fire.
The fog clears and a new energy makes you run up
the steps in front of you.

A table descends to your tents, the Lord’s table.
Expect to see it when you fast, this table
spread with other food,
better than the broth of cabbages.

Of course, the Fast can, at times, be quite a challenge (especially, I’m finding, in tropical heat!). Those chocolate-covered donuts in the display case beside me have never looked so appealing, and as I type, my tummy is rumbling a little. But it’s a joyful noise, ‘cause it’s one of the many soundtracks of the attempt to renounce that which is lower for that which is higher.

The broth of cabbages for a heavenly banquet.

Our cocoon for a set of wings.

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*The period of the Fast is March 2 through March 20. During these precious 19 days, Bahá’ís in good health abstain from food and drink from sunrise to sunset.

**Of course, abstaining from food and drink is a physical symbol of spiritual purification, and merely giving up lunch will have no effect if it’s not done in a spirit of joy, detachment, and striving.

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