Sufis on Joy

We recite Rumi four times in our Prayer to the Mystery of Joy for indeed the Sufis had much to say about the mystery of joy. The Sufis taught that “freedom and joy come from being at home in the heart.” At home in the heart; the Sufis understood the landscape of the heart as no others have—they understood that there are innumerable pathways to and through the heart some of which seem contradictory, and they understood that we are capable of at least a hundred or so, maybe a million or billion different feelings or reactions, and that learning to be at home with all of these is what leads to greater joy—greater illumination—joy upon joy. 

The Sufis have 99 names for God—and believe that all these aspects are within each of us as well. One of these is “Al Rafi” which translates as the “Exalter”—the part of your being that wants to jump for joy, feels honored and exalted. It is the experience of uplift and being carried away. There is yet another name, however, “Al Khafid” which means “divine depression”—the part of ourselves that feels small, immature, depressed, diminished—what we might call “the least of me.” It may seem ironic to us, but the Sufis speak of Al-Khafid, the Depressed, not Al-Rafi, the Exalted, as key to our greatest power and joy. That healing and growth occurs in the “diminished” not in the exalted, that out of Khafid comes the seeds of great creativity. We might say that “…out of the least of me is born the best of me….” 

We rankle at the thought of purification—it is not popular in our day. But the heart of the mystery here is that the road to joy always seems to lead through or out of some sort of alembic of pain—this itself is the mystery which cannot be explained but of which we are offered an opportunity to experience. This is what our high services offer—purifying mysteries within the context of a baptismal immersion—the fire in the water.  

In this month in which we contemplate the mystery of joy, we are given an opportunity to enter and immerse ourselves in a purifying mystery as we build a bonfire of joy. In this way we allow the whirling Sufis to lead us in the infilling dance of the entheos of our Al-Khafid—key to our greatest power of joy.  As we exalt the parts of our being that may feel the least, the smallest, the most immature, the most depressed or diminished about ourselves—as we bring that which is the least lovable, let us offer it as if the most Beloved. This is the blessed timber upon which we build our blaze of joy and while we may not understand how it is so, we give thanks that it is for this is the fuel of transfiguration. And though the path may lead through purification, the firing is not about becoming nice or calm or pleasant to be around at all times.  It is about a fully illuminated moment when we look at all parts of our being—the chutes and ladders of our life—and we know the Gloria—the entheos of both the Al-Rafi, the best of me and Al-Khafid, the beloved least of me and know the fullest expression of being alive—joy upon joy— of being human, at home in the heart. May it be so.