“You do not need to know precisely what
is happening, or exactly where it is all going. What you need is to recognize
the possibilities and challenges offered by the present moment, and to embrace
them with courage, faith and hope.”
I sat in a Catholic cathedral a few mornings ago, gold stars
shining from the celestial blue of its ceiling, stained glass window in front
of me, and a quality of reverent silence in the air that only a church can
hold. I prayed, and let the peace of that sacred space spill over me, gently
washing away the tension I only vaguely realized that I was carrying.
Places like that, places of holiness and quiet, have always
been my refuge, the space for which my soul longs amidst the business and
busyness of the workaday world. And a cathedral, spires soaring to heaven and
stained glass windows pouring in a garden of light, is the image I hold of this
refuge.
But a few moments before, I had been sitting on a bench in a
little urban meditation garden next door to the cathedral. The small park
honors Thomas Merton, the Catholic monk, social activist, and mystic who wrote
movingly of his conversion experience and his rich work and conversations with
Asian religious figures such as the Dalai Lama and Thic Naht Hanh at a time
when most people were deeply suspicious of anything that might now be called
“interfaith”. The little park was well shaded, with two lovely fountains adding
the soothing sound of running water to the street noises from the road running
alongside, and a mural of Merton and Hanh together. It is just a bit of quiet
and serenity placed smack in the middle of the clamor and commotion of urban
life.
Sitting on that park bench, glancing up at the church spire
visible above the trees, I realized that I am always going to find my refuge in
the cathedral but that nonetheless I am called to be like the little urban
park. For much of my life I have wanted to flee to the quiet, secluded refuge,
to be alone with books and thinking and God in my cathedral with the doors shut
firmly behind me. But God will not let me shut those doors. Instead, I must
carry that holy space with me into the world, create it around me as a bit of
refuge for myself and maybe also for others who need it. It is not my work
alone to do – one person does not build a park, even a small one – but
nonetheless it is my work. So I
will pray amidst the street noises, watch close for the tranquil flow of water
when all I am seeing is concrete, and know that everything I touch is just as
holy as light pouring through stained glass windows. Cathedral and concrete,
fountain and fire hydrant, it is all beautiful, it is all God, and I will go
where I am called to be.
Quotation
from
http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/1711.Thomas_Merton?page=1
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