by Judy Carroll
No answer.
Ten minutes later — “Ali, hurry up! Your breakfast is getting cold!”
Fifteen minutes later — “Yuk, I can’t eat this, it’s gone all cold!”
Mother (close to exasperation), “Well, whose fault is that? It was hot when I first called you. Hurry now or you’ll be late.”
“I don’t want to go to school. I feel sick!”
“You didn’t look sick five minutes ago when you were playing with Greypuss!”
Then my father would intervene, ever patient, calmly pointing out to me, “Ali, if you don’t go to school you’ll never learn to read, and you know how much you like stories and books. Just think — if you go to school, someday you’ll be able to read any book you like. Surely that makes it worth the effort! Come on, hurry up and I’ll give you a ride on my way to work.” And so I would be cunningly cajoled into yet another day of academic drudgery.
The second cloud on my horizon was not quite so tangible. Try as I might, I could not put aside the strange feelings of disquiet that came upon me so often. It was an awareness which hovered on the very outer edges of my mind — a half-buried memory which, the harder I tried to retrieve it, the further it retreated from my consciousness. Sometimes it felt like there were two brains inside my head, each one competing with the other for the upper hand.
This sense of disquiet drove me on many occasions to escape through my bedroom window at night, moving carefully and quietly so as not to wake my parents sleeping peacefully in the next room − simply to watch the stars. On warm summer nights my greatest pleasure was to lie on my back out in the garden, looking up into the heavens. The sight of those stars, seemingly close enough for me to reach out and touch them, stirred emotions and strange yearnings way beyond my childhood comprehension.
One evening as I sat with the family watching a TV news broadcast, a report came on covering a war-torn area in Africa that struck at my core. Heart-rending scenes of starving, malnourished children were graphically depicted, alongside even worse scenes of people wounded or killed in the fighting when entire villages were set upon by armed troops. Immediately after this report, another was shown, obviously to introduce a happier perspective into the program, of a family in America who had been fortunate enough to win a major lottery. This time, children were shown playing happily in a large swimming pool on the grounds of a luxury home, while the adult members of the lucky family sat by watching, sipping tall glasses of champagne and obviously enjoying the good life.
“That isn’t fair!” I protested angrily. “Why is it that those poor little children in Africa are born into such a dreadful life, of war and starvation, a life from which they have little or no chance of escaping, and those other ones in America have everything their hearts desire, just because they were lucky enough to win a lottery? The nuns at school talk so much of God’s goodness, but God cannot be good to allow such unfairness! How could tiny little children be bad enough to be punished in such an awful way? Why are some born into terrible conditions like that, and others are born so lucky? I don’t think there is a God, otherwise it wouldn’t be that way!”
“Anna, Juan!” Aunt Malila’s voice piped up from the depths of the comfortable and over-stuffed rocking chair in which she had been snoozing. “I really do think it’s high time we spoke a few home truths to Ali. She has been exposed enough to Christianity at the convent. She now needs to learn more about the beliefs and teachings of her own people, and to be given the sacred knowledge that we used to pass on to our children around the campfire in the evenings. We may no longer be living a traditional life-style, but this is no excuse. She is old enough now to be told, especially as she is asking such questions.”
My parents looked at each other, then my father went to turn the TV off, before coming back to sit beside me. I felt a sense of excitement, wondering what mysterious revelations were about to be imparted. “Ali Cat,” my father put his arm around me, giving me a hug, “Aunt Malila is right. I know much of what the nuns teach you at school is correct. In fact overall, the education they give you is excellent, otherwise we wouldn’t have sent you to a convent school, but you must understand that even though they are nuns and priests, they do not know everything, even when it comes to the subject of God.”
“But how can that be?” I queried. “Surely nuns and priests must know more about God than anyone else.”
My father sighed and shook his head. “That is what one would assume,” he agreed, “but the truth of the matter is, many of them are limited in their knowledge — after all, it was only a few hundred years ago that they insisted the Earth was flat, and that it was the center of the universe. You see, Ali, people in general are too ready to place limitations upon everything, particularly those things that they cannot possibly fully understand, like God for instance. In fact, it seems to me that the less understanding there is, the more limitations they need to impose as a buffer against their own insecurities and lack of knowledge. All you need do is to look at how desperately they try to prove God’s existence in their own terms, by limiting His omninature to the little pettinesses of human nature by ascribing to Him the very human vices of anger, jealousy, bigotry and intolerance. It seems to me that if a person cannot fit the largeness of a concept into the tiny pigeon-hole of their mind, then they cut it down to size to make it fit, losing much of value in the process, which is a great pity indeed.”
“Ali,” my mother added, “you only have to look at the way many people think of us, the Romanies, or any other foreign cultural group for that matter. They label us in a completely inaccurate and stereotyped way to fit in with their own limited concepts of what Gypsies should be, what we should look like and how we should act, and more often than not these stereotypes are totally wrong, as you well know. If they would only try to move past these barriers that they have created in their minds regarding us, this in turn would open them up to a very rich and diverse culture that could perhaps prove beneficial within their own lives.”
“Exactly, Anna,” my father put in. “You are so right! And this,” he added, turning to me, “brings us right back to what you were talking about before, Ali Cat — those so-called ‘truths’ you’re so rigidly taught at the convent in regards to the concept of God and His fairness, or lack of it, towards humans.
“The Romanies left the country of India hundreds of years ago to travel throughout the world. There are many legends concerning our exodus, but none of them are completely accurate. The real truth of our origins is held secret and sacred by only certain Tribal Elders, but we do know that much time was spent in the northern part of India before we ventured forth. This is why so many of us follow the belief systems of India, all of which are based on the concept of reincarnation — that is, the rebirth of the soul into many varied physical lives.”
At these words a deeply familiar chord began to reverberate inside me, accompanied by the recognition of the fact that I knew this already, but how? My parents had never mentioned such a thing before, so where did this recognition come from? The family was pleased by my obvious reaction of interest, but as usual, words of warning came first, before any exciting revelations.
“Now, Ali,” said Mother, “We have never discussed any of this with you before, because we worried that you would unthinkingly speak of it at school, and that would not do. For one thing it would be disrespectful to talk of such matters at a Catholic convent. Most Catholics don’t believe in reincarnation, and you must learn first and foremost to respect the beliefs of others, and never ever try to impose your beliefs onto another person. The other reason we haven’t brought it up is that we didn’t want to confuse you with concepts so very different from those taught to you by the nuns; however, the truth is, reincarnation was taught and fully accepted by the Church right up until nearly 400 years after the death of Jesus, so really, it is not at all contrary to the original Christian doctrine.”
“Ali,” Aunt Malila spoke up from her chair in the corner, “you are now old e
nough to be told of these mystery teachings which are held sacred by our people, and also by many millions of others the world over — teachings on the subject of the birth and rebirth of the soul over many lifetimes in its seemingly endless struggle to escape the Wheel of Karma. These teachings will clarify and answer many questions for you and will hopefully provide you with a more mature, loving and compassionate way of dealing with those around you.
“Now, child,” she went on, “please don’t make me use these old legs of mine any more than I have to. Come over here and sit down close to me. I well remember my grandmother sitting beside the campfire on many a cold and frosty night, under a sky ablaze with stars, with the rest of the tribe grouped companionably around her, listening to her words of wisdom. My goodness that brings back some fond memories! Among our people it is the solemn duty of the Phuri Dai, the Old Mother of the tribe, to pass on spiritual teachings to the young folk, and so, as the ‘Old Mother’ of this family I shall do the honors.”
Aunt Malila leaned back in her ancient rocking chair, waiting patiently for us to settle ourselves comfortably at her feet. As she closed her eyes, collecting her thoughts, I saw a very distinct change come over her. Gone was the little old lady who often dithered about the place, forgetting where she’d put her shawl or her glasses, or whether she’d taken her herbal tea. In her place I clearly perceived a wise, proud and venerable Elder, an honored repository of vast mysteries and great knowledge, and so I sat waiting in her presence, as quietly and patiently as my parents.
“Now Ali!” she suddenly turned in my direction, black, gimlet-like eyes boring into me. “I want you to just stop for a moment to consider the idea of eternity. You are now what? Ten years old? Think back upon your childhood, as far back as you can recall. Do you remember when you were nearly three-years-old, and we went on that lovely holiday to the beach?”
“Oh, yes, Aunt Malila. I can remember that, but only just. It seems like so very long ago.”
“There now, child,” she replied, “that was but seven years ago, and yet to you it seems like such a long time, an eternity even! But eternity is far, far longer than seven years. In fact, multiply your seven years by seventy million, and you still have only a moment in eternity.” Aunt Malila paused, allowing the full import of this notion to sink in, but it really was beyond me. To my child’s mind the concept of eternity was unthinkable.
“Ask yourself this, Ali,” she then went on. “How could an average, ordinary person, anybody you know, possibly be good enough or bad enough in one short lifetime to warrant spending eternity in either heaven or hell? Just think about the length of eternity compared to the usual three score years and ten of a human lifetime. Admittedly you do very occasionally come across someone who seems to be a living saint, or else the devil himself incarnate, but these are exceptions rather than the rule. Most humans are just average folk, neither very good nor very bad.
“Now I want you to think about those poor little mites you saw on the TV news. They are normal, ordinary children, with parents and families just like you, and in fact you don’t even have to go so far as to compare them to those other lucky ones in America whose family won all that money. Oh no, Ali. You could just as easily compare them to yourself. Here you are, a happy, healthy 10-year-old child, part of a secure and loving family, born into a country at peace, not war, a country where everyone is free to follow their heart’s desire, where everyone has a chance, where it is a right, not a privilege to gain an education and earn a living, and to live in security and freedom. Why are you, and all the others like you, permitted to do this, whereas those other children are not? The truth is, for them, they would consider themselves fortunate to have one decent meal a day, let alone all the luxuries you and other children here in this lucky country have.
“Looked at in the way the church teaches, this situation would be grossly unfair. On one hand they preach and speak of a merciful and loving God, but on the other hand they accept such apparent injustices as ‘God’s will’! I really do wish they would make up their minds. Is their God merciful and loving, or is He a one-eyed tyrant? He cannot be both! If you truly believe that humans have only one life, then how can such things be justified — that one person is born into the lap of luxury, with everything in life that they could possibly want, while another is born into a slum, perhaps blind or crippled, and struggling every single day of their life just to exist? Indeed, without the balancing effect of reincarnation and its associated karma, it would be grossly unfair. Tell me child, how do the nuns explain these inequalities in the world?”
“This is what really puzzles me,” I answered. “They don’t, apart from insisting it is God’s will. They teach us so many other things about religion. like how to recite our prayers, and what to do and say in Mass, and we get into big trouble if we don’t know our catechism and the Ten Commandments, but none of this explains why some have so much and others so little, through no fault of their own.
“And something else that I don’t understand,” I went on, determined to take full advantage of the situation. “If God is supposed to be so good, kind and merciful, then why does He allow terrible things to happen to people? For instance, why does He let little babies die before they have a chance to grow up? And what about that girl at school last year who was run over by a car and will never walk again? Not to mention the awful things that happen in wars like that one in Africa.”
“Well, Ali Cat, these questions are in the minds of many others too, and this is exactly how most people react, blaming God when such things occur, for they do not understand the truth. You see child, it is not a matter of God allowing this or that. We knowingly choose our fate for each lifetime before we are even born, and everything that happens to us is for a reason, even the death of a child. Everything happens according to karmic law, which goes hand in hand with reincarnation.
“Do you know Ali, that there are several references to karmic law in the Bible if you know what to look for? For example: ‘As you sow, so shall you reap’; and ‘He who lives by the sword shall die by the sword.’ Another well-known passage which is puzzling unless you realize that it refers to both reincarnation and karma is: ‘the sins of the father (past life) shall be visited upon the son (present life).’ This is why one must be careful in everything that one does or says. Karma is sometimes referred to as cause and effect, and is the result of a good or bad act performed in one lifetime which is carried through into a subsequent lifetime.”
“Aunt Malila,” I put in, “is that where the Golden Rule comes from? ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.’”
“Yes, child,” she smiled, “that is exactly the basis of the Golden Rule, which is an extremely valid and most sensible rule for life. And in fact Anna,” she said, turning to my mother, “don’t you remember me telling you that when you were Ali’s age?”
“Yes, Malila,” my mother replied, “I certainly do, and it has stood me in good stead all my life.”
Aunt Malila nodded in pleasure, happy in the knowledge that her wise words had been proven correct in at least one life. Settling herself more comfortably, she then continued: “In order to grow, learn and purify yourself spiritually, you must return many times to physical existence, to be exposed to a variety of situations and experiences. For example, in one life you may be born to be someone important, a king, or a president of a country, to have the opportunity to learn to handle responsibility and power. In the next life you may come back as a beggar, to master the lessons of humility and poverty. One life may bless you with great riches; another may bring pain and loss.
“In one round of existence you may take the life of another, but then in a subsequent life you will either find yourself the unwilling victim of such a crime, or will perhaps give your own life to save that of your former victim. Even if you think you are terribly clever and smart because you have gotten away with your crime and avoided the long arm of the law on Earth, there will be no escaping karmic law. Everyone must p
ay in the end for their sins, be they large or small.
“In some lives a soul may manifest as a black or dark-skinned person living perhaps in the country of Africa or India, then in the next as a fair-skinned European. In one life we may be Asian, and in another an Eskimo or an Australian. Sometimes we are born male and sometimes female. In one life we may choose to be Catholic, and in the next a Protestant, a Jew, a Moslem or even an atheist. It is only by experiencing life from all these different angles that a soul is able to achieve a balanced point of view.
“Ali, the most important thing for you to understand is that you are a soul temporarily inhabiting a physical body for the span of a life-time. You are not a physical body with a soul floating around somewhere. You are a spirit, and therefore eternal, so you can survive the deaths of many different physical shells which, being physical, must eventually wear out, like an old suit of clothing.”
“So, Aunt Malila,” I ventured to ask, “what you are saying is that the physical body is like a container for the soul?”
“Well yes, Ali!” she replied. “That is a rather strange term to use, but yes, you are quite right. The physical body is simply an outer covering. In your true form, your soul form, there are none of the divisions such as gender, nationality, creed or color that seem so very important upon the physical plane. These are, in reality, simply an illusion. If you like, they could be compared to the costume and make-up worn by an actor in a film or stage production. You put them on when you come to Earth to play your ‘role’ in the physical body, the role you have chosen to suit the learning experiences you need to have in the coming life. They are then removed at the end of that life when you return home to spirit, just as an actor removes his costume and make-up after the performance and goes back to being himself.”
