An Incomparable Visit

Last Updated on Thursday, 15 November 2007 10:51 by Kathleen St.Onge, fgulen.com Thursday, 15 November 2007 10:49

I recently had the honour of visiting Hoca Effendi's retreat, and I found it to be an experience for which there is no measure. The Hoca himself is really an astounding person, for one feels him to be kind to his visitors in many dimensions at once-in this material/physical world, as an elderly gentleman of the highest distinction who is generous to his guests; and in the spiritual world, as a person who moves on waves of mercy, which seem to hold him aloft and extend outward from himself to others. There is something so incredibly profound and pious about this man, and the pleasure of his company is a really unique experience. I cannot explain it in words, and I suspect that no one can, exactly.

However, I am becoming quite convinced that the entire space around him-the grounds, flowers, trees, deer, groundhogs, fireflies, fish, crickets, birds, toads, eagles, squirrels, cats, and all the other creatures-are all part of a kind of mosque. I felt it the first time I was there, but this time the impression was convincing and potent, by God's grace. Truly, it is a mosque without walls, but it is a mosque nonetheless, built in honour of One God, and built to focus the devoted onto the other life, not this life. On the second night, there was a most mystical fog lining the ground in layers between which we could see trees, so that from the ground, it was like striations of air-fog, trees, fog, trees, fog, and more trees, and then clouds. And above it all, was this amazing, bright, golden full moon. It seemed that no matter which of the roads on his property you walked down, the moon was directly in the center, like a magnificent light. And here and there, fireflies flickered like candles to light up the forest. Enveloping everything, throughout the night, there were crickets chirping very loudly. They began chirping at one end of the farthest field and then the wave of sound moved forward as they responded to each other. Then, there was a moment of silence, and a new wave began, again from far to near. Not coincidentally, the wave of sound began at the soccer field down by the pond, at the farthest end of the property, and moved up to the main house-which is actually the prayer direction. And so, all the animals seemed to be engaged in an act of continuous prostration, like an incomparable wind of humility and submission. It was a really devotional experience just to breathe in that place. I think there is no better kind of mosque than this.

And as for the Hoca, just being in his presence makes me weep. There are not many mystics of our time who have managed to keep their hands and feet on the ground where the rest of us can still grab hold, and whom God, in His infinite compassion, has graced with such immense productivity amid such profound contemplation. It is absolutely a miracle of time, by God's Grace only, that so much prayer and so much business get done in just one day. It is not logical really; there really isn't time for all these things. It's also not logical that a man at such an advanced age could do as much as he does and sleep so little-may God protect him always, in this life and the next. But then this is a place where much happens outside of space, time, and words.

This is a place where things come to us in dreams and reflections which are just as real as the skin on our arms and the bones in our fingers. And Hoca, as a spiritual entity, is nothing less than an ancient soul graced with much knowledge and support from God, an entity who is familiar to all times and places, and yet particular to none. The Hoca can be recognized as a spiritual guide, a guardian even, by God's grace only, by the marks on him, both visible and beyond vision-just as holy people of deep prayer and God's favours have always been recognizable, in every generation they have appeared, since the dawn of man, by God's infinite mercy upon those who seek. And so, souls come to this place and simply continue to want to be there. And in being there, we touch a little of the infinite. And that is all that can be said, really, about things which really cannot be said, and sometimes should not be said, as God knows best.