Much Better

It's now Sunday morning, and the sun is rising nicely over the horizon. The house is quiet, and I feel much more refreshed this morning than I did last night. Which, I guess, is a good thing. I mean, that's the purpose of sleep, isn't it? To wake up nice and refreshed?

But what about "sleep" in the Writings?

There are ample references to sleep as a function of the body. The prayer that begins "This, Thy servant, seeketh to sleep in the shelter of Thy mercy..." is but one of many examples. And it is from this peaceful, restful sleep, in which we might find ourselves dreaming, that we ask Him to "make of what Thou didst reveal unto me in my sleep the surest foundation for the mansions of Thy love..."

Then there are the more negative references to sleep: "Speed out of your sepulchers. How long will ye sleep? The second blast hath been blown on the trumpet."

It is this second definition that I'm interested in right now.

Baha'u'llah describes, in many places, the peoples of the world as if they are fast asleep, unconscious, unaware of what is happening. They move as if they are in a daze. And this is what I see all around me in the world today. People are walking, talking, acting as if in a daze. They seem wholly unaware of the consequences of their actions. They appear oblivious of the disasters that are awaiting them. They are, for all intents and purposes, like zombies, the living dead.

I don't think it's a coincidence that Baha'u'llah, in that previous quote, asks us to hurry out of our sepulchers.

In many ways, that reference of the trumpet, and its second blast, reminds me of my alarm clock. It's already gone off once, and I have hit the snooze button. Now it's ringing a second time, and I need to get up. If I don't, there will be consequences. I might be late for work, or miss an appointment. I could even lose my job, if this is a regularly occurring thing.

Or maybe that alarm isn't my alarm clock. Maybe it's a fire alarm. If there's a fire in the house I may lose everything, including my life.

This whole metaphor just keeps going on and on in my mind.

Looking at the fire alarm aspect for a moment, what is our role in it? Obviously we need to get up. But what if there are other people in the house? We need to try and get them up, too. But what if we can't? What if we can't get to their room, and our yelling hasn't had any effect that we've noticed? Well, maybe they're already outside. We need to save ourselves, too, so we better get out of there. It's a tough call, though, isn't it? Do we fight our way to someone else's room, risking our own death, or do we get out of there and pray that they have, too?

This seems to me to be the state of the world right now. We're hoping to wake up others before it is too late. And you know what we call that? Teaching. We know the house is burning down. We know it is beyond any hope. And with the core activities, we're building a new house right now, one that is much nicer and far safer. We know for a certainty that there are many still asleep in the old house, but we also know that most of them refuse to wake. They are like the stubborn child who holds their eyes tightly shut, mumbling, "No, I won't get up", or maybe "Just five more minutes".

"This is your Lord," Baha'u'llah continues in that same paragraph, "the God of Mercy. Witness how ye gainsay His signs! The earth hath quaked with a great quaking, and cast forth her burdens. Will ye not admit it? Say: Will ye not recognize how the mountains have become like flocks of wool, how the people are sore vexed at the awful majesty of the Cause of God? Witness how their houses are empty ruins, and they themselves a drowned host."

Remember, though, this is God of Mercy. He is giving us ample chances, trying to wake us from our slumber.

And when we waken to His Revelation, you know what? It is refreshing. We do feel far more clearheaded. We are more vibrant, ready to face the day.

The only question, though, is whether we want to wake up to the cooing of the birds and the gentle rays of the rising sun, or to the blaring clang of the fire alarm. In a strange way, that choice is actually ours.

For me, I prefer to wake just before sunrise and enjoy a few moments of quiet contemplation before acting like the fire alarm for the rest of my family.

Speaking of which, gotta wake up the son. He's off to his junior youth group this morning.

Heh heh heh. Here I go!