I read some time ago - I forget where - that a vehement discussion raged
in Oxford University on the proposition, “It is useless to grow flowers."
Growing flowers was an utter waste, some scholars maintained, because flowers
do not produce anything substantial; for instance, they cannot be eaten. On
reflection I am grateful that the Creator of the universe thought otherwise.
How much poorer our world would be if all our plants were lettuces, beans and
cabbages. There is something indescribably beautiful in the fragrance and
freshness of daisies and daffodils, something which we do not find anywhere
else. And what we express by flowers is also special. They bring a rainbow of
colors to our house. They give a spark to a woman’s hair. They add love to
a gift of honor.
When we try to capture the meaning of realities such as flowers, we are in the realm of what was called rasa-dvani in Indian literature. Understanding it may help us savor scripture, also the Old Testament. Rasa-dvani was first recognized and explained by Anandavardhana of Kashmir in the 9th century. I will try to outline the main characteristics of rasa-dvani and show how it can help us appreciate Old Testament texts.
But we will start with the New Testament. Recall Jesus’ well- known words on the lilies of the field:
“Look how the wild flowers grow: they do not work or make clothes for themselves. But I tell you that not even King Solomon with all his wealth had clothes as beautiful as one of these flowers. It is God who clothes the wild grass-grass that is here today and gone tomorrow, burned up in the oven. Won’t he be all the more sure to clothe you?" (Mt 6:28-30).
The literal meaning of Jesus’ words concerns trust in God. He teaches that we can expect God to look after us. But much more is contained in the text if we allow its inner feelings, its heart, to speak to us. This meaning (rasa-dhvani) is hinted at, is implied in what Jesus says. It is difficult to express it in words, even though it can be clearly perceived. Let me try to verbalize it this way: As Jesus speaks we feel his great admiration for his Father. God, in Jesus’ view, looks at the whole of nature with infinite tenderness and concern. To show his love he dresses the various plants, even the wild grass, with exquisite and delicate flowers. This inner feeling about the Father is the dhvani, the “sound,” which reverberates through Jesus’ words. When we listen to his message we should not only take note of its explicit teaching (the 1iteral meaning) but should also savor the inner vibrations (the suggested meaning, the rasa-dhvani)it contains.
To test this approach on the Old Testament, we might study the following complaint:
The LORD said, “Earth and sky, listen to what I am saying! The children I brought up have rebelled against me. Cattle know who owns them, and donkeys know where their master feeds them. But that is more than my people Israel know. They don’t understand at all.”
“Why do you keep on rebelling? Do you want to be punished even more? Israel, your head is already covered with wounds, and your heart and mind are sick. From head to foot there is not a healthy spot on your body. You are covered with bruises and sores and open wounds. Your wounds have not been cleaned or bandaged. No medicine has been put on them” (Is 1:2-3,5-6).
The whole oracle (Is 1:2-9) condemns Israel as a “corrupt and evil people” (v.4). Yet God’s tender love shines through his exasperation. Only a loving father could describe Israel’s wounds in such sorrowful and compassionate words. Noticing this rasa-dhvani is more important than just paying attention to the external message. Without it we would miss what God is really trying to say. Having become aware of the rasa-dhvani we will now ask: “Is God, perhaps, expressing his love for Israel in this way?” Reflecting on the text again, we see it confirmed in God’s punishment itself. God seems a hard master when he punishes his people. But in reality it is a sign of love. Israelite law allowed parents to hand over a rebellious son to the leaders of the town. These would then stone him to death. God does not want this to happen to his child, so he takes upon himself the slow and ungrateful task of personal correction. He is a loving father precisely because he is prepared to punish, and punish again.
At times the suggested meaning, the rasa-dhvani, is just the opposite of the explicit meaning. In the following discussion with Isaiah, God seems to be determined to destroy Israel:
So he [God] told me to go and give the people this message: “No matter how much you listen, you will not understand. No matter how much you look, you will not know what is happening.” Then he said to me: “Make the minds of these people dull, their ears deaf, and their eyes blind, so that they cannot see or hear or understand. If they did, they might turn to me and be healed.”
I asked. “How long will it be like this, Lord?”
He answered, “Until the cities are ruined and empty - until the houses are uninhabited - until the land itself is a desolate waste” (Is 6:9-11).
The literal meaning of the prophecy answers the question: How can people be so deaf, so dull and so blind that they don’t heed the prophet’s warnings? Because God has made up his mind that they should be punished! But underlying this discussion we find another level of meaning, hinted at by the phrase, “they might turn to me and be healed.” If Israel were to turn back with sorrow and contrition, God in his goodness would not be able to refuse forgiveness! Through this suggested meaning, the rasa-dhvani, we discover God’s real intention, which is that Israel be converted and forgiven. The whole passage, therefore, expresses both God’s willingness to forgive and the mystery of people’s blindness.
Jesus himself had meditated on these verses and had drawn the conclusion that people’s blindness had to be accepted as a fact. When the disciples ask him why he teaches through parables, he replies:
“You have been given the secret of the Kingdom of God. But the others, who are on the outside, hear all things by means of parables, so that,
‘They may look and look,
yet not see;
they may listen and listen,
yet not understand.
For if they did, they would turn to God
and he would forgive them!’ ” (Mk 4:11-12).
A superficial reading of these verses (see also Mt 13:14-15 and Lk 8:10) might give the impression that Jesus taught in parables to hide the meaning from the ordinary people. But that would be far from Jesus’ intention and from that of the prophecy he quotes. No, Jesus has understood the rasa-dhvani of the oracle and knows God is anxious to show mercy. But the people are blind and deaf and dull. So unfortunately he cannot speak directly to them, as he could to his disciples. He has to speak in parables, hoping that their eyes and ears will gradually be opened.
The unbelief of the Jews was interpreted by the early Christians in the light of Jesus’ understanding of Isaiah 6:9-11. John quotes the prophecy to reflect on the extraordinary blindness of the scribes and Pharisees: “Even though he had performed all these miracles in their presence, they did not believe in him" (Jn 12:37, cf.vv. 36-41). Paul refers to the same Isaian oracle when addressing the unbelieving Jews in Rome (Acts 28:24-28). There is no question in any of these texts of God being at fault, as if he did not want Israel to believe. No, what they mean to say is this: Don’t be surprised to find unbelief. God himself is anxious that Israel be converted, yet he told Isaiah to be prepared for people’s blindness. And what God told Isaiah applies to Jesus too. “Isaiah said this because he saw Jesus’ glory and spoke about him” (Jn 12 :41 )
To fully appreciate Jesus’ sayings we often need to go back to the Old Testament texts that inspired him and to their heart, their rasa-dhvani. When the townspeople accuse Jesus of doing fewer miracles in Nazareth than in Capernaum, he replies:
Listen to me: “it is true that there were many widows in Israel during the time of Elijah, when there was no rain for three and a half years and a severe famine spread throughout the whole land. Yet Elijah was not sent to anyone in Israel, but only to a widow living in Zarephath in the territory of Sidon” (Lk 4:25-26).
When we turn to the Old Testament story, we actually find a different stress in the text. God tells Elijah: “Go to Zarephath....I have commanded a widow who lives there to feed you” (1 Kgs 17:9). In the book of Kings, God is concerned about Elijah; he wants his prophet to survive. But Elijah’’s coming to Zarephath saves the widow and her son from starvation and leads to the miraculous raising of the son from death. Though the literal meaning speaks of feeding the prophet, the rasa-dhvani points to the special mercy shown to the widow.
Jesus had meditated on this inner meaning. Why had God reserved this favor to a stranger, to someone outside God’s people? Because God found more faith in her than with anyone among his own people. Similarly, the Syrian Naaman had more faith than the lepers of Israel. That is why he, not they, was cured. The inner meaning led Jesus to recognize that “a prophet is never welcomed in his home town” (Lk 4:24). It helped him cope with the lack of faith among his relatives and family. He was sad about it, but through rasa-dhvani he knew that Elijah and Elisha had felt the same sadness.
Again, we need to be aware of the rasa-dhvani in one of Ezekiel’s loveliest poems, a poem singing the greatness of Egypt:
“You are like a cedar in Lebanon,
With beautiful, shady branches,
A tree so tall it reaches the clouds....
Every kind of bird built nests in its branches;
The wild animals bore their young in its shelter;
The nations of the world rested in its shade.
How beautiful the tree was-
So tall, with such long branches.
Its roots reached down to the deep-flowing streams.
No cedar in God’s garden could compare with it.
No fir tree ever had such branches,
And no plane tree had ever such limbs” (Ez 31:3, 6-8).
The second half of the oracle announces God’s intention, regretfullv, to cut down the tree because of its wickedness. But the description of the tree has its own rasa-dhuani. We feel the prophet’s awe and admiration when faced with such a marvelous creation as a cedar of Lebanon. He finds it majestic, splendid, beautiful. It is overwhelming, like ancient Egypt with its palaces, temples and pyramids. His wonder and pleasure in seeing such splendor is clear. The kingdom of Egypt was as overpowering a creation of God as a mighty cedar of Lebanon!
It is only when we have internalized this rasa-dhvani that we get the right feel of Jesus’ parable:
“What shall we say the Kingdom of God is like? What parable shall we use to explain it? It is like this. A man takes a mustard seed, the smallest seed in the world, and plants it in the ground. After a while it grows up and becomes the biggest of all plants. It puts out such large branches that the birds come and make their nests in its shade” (Mk 4:30-32).
A mustard tree is not a cedar of Lebanon. Jesus undoubtedly chose the former for the parable, because its seed was proverbially small and because it was an ordinary plant in Palestine. But in Jesus’ eyes, the plant truly becomes a tree and, with some poetic exaggeration, assumes the properties of a cedar. The kingdom of God, too, though small in the beginning will become so big as to inspire awe and admiration.
Our human mind has the power to transcend material reality and grasp lasting values underlying it. We can perceive beauty, greatness, harmony, dignity, tenderness, and similar values. It is this same ability which enables authors to incorporate rasa-dhvani in their writings, and which allows us to discover and savour it. It opens a level of communication all its own and all the more exciting when we are dealing with a text God is using to communicate with us!