Red Rover, Red Rover

I who write this am Thomas, the Double, the Twin, Yeshua, the Living Master spoke, and his secret sayings I have written down.

Gospels of Thomas, Logion 1

In October 2019, I embarked on an adventure with an intrepid group of fellow seekers at Retreat House to study the Gospels of Thomas using Lynn Bauman’s book, In Trouble and Wonder. Given that Thomas wrote 114 logions, that meant more than two years of weekly study. For the sake of integrity, I left the group in May 2021 when I entered the yearlong Certificate of Eco-Ministry program at Seminary of the Wild. While preparing to move to Belize, two intensive studies seemed excessive, although I clearly miss my Gospel of Thomas friends.

The obvious way to attack this ancient text was an intellectual endeavor. But, the first exercise accompanying the first logion invited me to engage with the living Jesus, who would talk to me, the reader, personally. Bauman asked me to '“meet the teacher” and establish a personal connection with the living Jesus. For Christians, this might seem like a no-brainer. But as a God-centered Buddhist and intuitive energy healer, this was a novel invitation that immediately put a large knot in my stomach.

I have always acknowledged Jesus as an important historical figure and wisdom teacher. But, given my many experiences with the searingly judgmental side of l Christianity, Jesus had always seem unapproachable. In truth, I was more than a bit intimidated to directly meet with Jesus. But, taking the assignment seriously, I took a deep breath and dove in.

I settled my Self down for an extended period of meditation, journal at the ready. I entered a space known in every healing as the fifth plane of existence. It’s the place I go to call on my spirit guides and explore specific questions. For reasons I can’t explain, the fifth plane of existence manifests as Trout Lake in Yellowstone National Park, a place I visited in the summer of 2016. Equally inexplicable, these words popped into my head,” Red rover, red rover, send Jesus on over.” I was a bit shocked that I would be so irreverent in asking for a first audience with Jesus Himself. But, much to my surprise, Jesus appeared, hovering in the middle of Trout Lake. Dressed in a long off-white robe, hands extended, head encircled with a golden halo, light radiating down on Him from the clouds, He could have stepped out of a Renaissance painting.

But, this image of Jesus evoked too many painful memories, and I couldn’t connect with Him. I found my Self saying, “I can’t do this. There are too many laden meanings for me.” Instantly Jesus accommodated, shapeshifting into hiking boots, jeans, and a plaid flannel shirt. And I found my Self sitting next to Jesus on a simple wooden bench in the fifth plane of existence which looked like Trout Lake.

But, as I turned to look at Jesus, He reminded me of my college boyfriend, Pete, who did bear a striking resemblance to Jesus. “I can’t do this either,” I found myself saying.

And, Jesus, ever accommodating, morphed into his robe and sandals, minus the halo and the radiating light. This was an easy-going, playful, accommodating Jesus I never could have imagined.

We sat on that bench wordlessly, breathing in the crisp, clean mountain air. I could feel the bright sunlight warming my face and shoulders. We stared at the crystal-clear water; the mountains, trees and clouds reflected on the surface of the tranquil waters. Much to my surprise, hanging out with Jesus at Trout Lake felt comfortable, even natural.

A tiny water bug skimmed by, making a minuscule ripple. A gentle breeze arrived, ruffling the surface of the placid waters. A child skipped a stone nearby, shattering the reflection of the mountains in a chorus of growing ripples. A storm approached, darkening the sun behind ominous clouds. The temperature dropped. Rain poured down in torrents. Hailed pelted us.

But Jesus and I sat, unperturbed by the maelstrom. I was cold and soaked to the skin. Yet I was safe in my secret knowledge, the wisdom that had just been revealed wordlessly, there in the company of my new buddy Jesus…

Whether we can see our reflection or not, whether we can see Jesus or not, we are still present in the water. Like the drops of rain, we are still water and thus always home. In the disruption of stillness, the chaos of ripples, we move from twinness to wholeness, oneness, unity.

We recognize our shared humanity most profoundly through the Universal web of challenge and pain. Like a prism, the water of life ripples and shifts until we learn to see the w hole amid the pieces, the unity in the chaos, the pure light of God in the rainbow shards.

And, if we wait patiently enough, long enough, stillness re-emerges. And you see your Self and the Divine, your Self in the Holy, however you hold that. The challenge is to remember the wholeness when twinness is all that is visible.

Red rover, red rover, send Jesus on over. It was through lightness, irreverence, and play that I learned to connect with one of the world’s great wisdom teachers. I experienced the interdependent web of the Universe in an embodied way that now lives in my Soul. I learned important lessons about oneness and twinness, the dualities we create around what is visible and what is invisible, what is temporal and what is eternal. And, perhaps most significantly, I experienced the patience, love and compassion of the living Jesus in a way that had never been accessible before.

Red Rover, Red Rover was written by Gretchen Martens and originally published in House of Play, the 11th book in the Retreat House House of series. You can purchase it here.