About the Unresolved ... About Doubt ~ by Rainer Maria Rilke

 

About the Unresolved ... About Doubt 

~  by Rainer Maria Rilke ~

~ I want to beg you, as much as I can, dear sir, to be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.

~ Your doubt may become a good quality if you train it. It must become knowing, it must become critical. Ask it, whenever it wants to spoil something for you, why something is ugly, demand proofs from it, test it, and you will find it perplexed and embarrassed perhaps, or perhaps rebellious. But don’t give in, insist on arguments and act this way, watchful and consistent, every single time, and the day will arrive when from a destroyer it will become one of your best workers — perhaps the cleverest of all that are building at your life.
 

An Uneasy Moment ! ~ by Hénock Gugsa

 

An Uneasy Moment ! 

~ by Hénock Gugsa ~ 

I'm not sure how the following memory bits just floated to the surface of my consciousness.  Yet, it is neither probable nor even possible that they could ever have been erased completely!

I was maybe six-years of age at the time, tops.  I had just been worshiping with my father at our neighborhood's St. Marcos Orthodox Church in Sidist Kilo, Addis Ababa.  It was not only an important bonding moment between father and son, it was also, for me, a first serious introduction and immersion in our family's religion, the Ethiopian Coptic Orthodox Christian Church.

My father had coached me on what I was expected to do at the end of the grueling hour-and-a-half long prayer and hymnals called Kidassé (ቅዳሴ ).   So, as is customary to most Christian churches, what came next was the Eucharist or Holy Communion.  I approached the priests and mimicking my dad, I received the sacraments without a hitch.  Then, my dad and I exited the church and walked out into the warm and deliciously sunny morning air.

We came out of the church's compound and headed home. Not even five minutes later, as we were walking up the concrete side-walk, my father noticed the fidgety discomfort and fear on my face.  He stopped and, bending down, examined me closer.  He asked me what was wrong and if I was ill or something.  

I must have looked more guilty as I tried to respond, but words  couldn't come out of my mouth.  My dad looked sternly at me, and all I could do was open my mouth wide and point inside with my finger.  I shall never forget the shock and fright that fell over my father's face.  He dropped to his knees, and made several signs of the cross with his right hand.  He looked at me with the greatest worry and  care, then ordered me to chew and swallow immediately the Holy Host that was lodged in my mouth.  As I was doing that, he prayed fiercely and hurried us home.  He instructed me to stay inside the house all day that day, no questions asked.  Meanwhile, he said he was going to go back to the church and get some Holy Water for my protection.  Then he dashed out of the house, loudly mumbling prayers in Geez, which he could speak better than many priests.

So, that Sunday, that whole day, I was incarcerated at home after drinking the Holy Water that my beloved dad brought.  Every moment was fearful as I stayed alert for any signs of Evil.  None came.  I believe I have been blessed even up till this day !

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