From an old Magnificat…
February 12, 2007 § 1 Comment
Some pious ramblings today.
There is not one avenue of sense or thought, but the figure of Christ stands in it; not one activity open to man, but the “Carpenter’s Son” is there; beneath the stone, and in the heart of the wood.
The more minute our search, the more delicate is His presence. The more wide our vision, the more illimitable is His power.
So, little by little as we go through life, following with a hundred infidelities and a thousand blunders, with open defiances and secret sins, yet following, as Peter followed through the gloom of penitence where Christ’s eyes could shine – as we go, blinded by our own sorrow, to the ecstasy of His joy, thinking to find Him dead, hoping to live on a memory, instead of confident that He is living and looking to the “today” in which He is even more than yesterday – little by little we find that there is no garden where He does not walk, no doors that can shut Him out, no country road where our hearts cannot burn in His company.
And, as we find Him ever more and more without us, in the eyes of those we love, in the voice that rebukes us, the spear that pierces us, the friends that betray us, and the grave that waits for us: as we find Him in His sacraments, in His saints – in all those august things which He Himself designed as trysting-places with Himself; at once we find Him more and more within us, enwound in every fiber of our lives, fragrant in every dear association and memory, deep buried in the depths of that heart of ours that seems most wholly neglectful of Him.
– Msgr. Robert Hugh Benson
Personally, I think that is a beautiful piece, and my favorite meditation. I carry it around with me everywhere, and have practically memorized it at this point.
My other favorite:
God has created me to do him some definite service; he has committed some work to me which he has not committed to another. I have my mission – I never may it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next. Somehow I am necessary for his purposes, as necessary in my place as an Archangel in his – if, indeed, I fail, he can raise another, as he could make the stones children of Abraham. Yet I have a part in this great work; I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between person. He has not created me for naught. I shall do good, I shall do his work; I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place, while not intending it, if I do but keep his commandments and serve him in my calling.
– Venerable John Henry Cardinal Newman
This passage comes to my mind many times every day: every contact we make with another human being – even if it be so slight as looking in one another’s eyes or a smile as you pass on the sidewalk – is for a reason. We must always remain open to all of our fellow travellers on the journey through this life.
I can’t even begin to list the times in my life where a few minutes talking to a stranger or a friend has changed my life dramatically. One such moment came over the retreat two weeks ago, when I had a chance to talk with Deacon Jon, who I have mentioned before in these posts. What a blessed conversation! Honestly, it took my breath away. God was present in every word said: it really was incredible.
Believe me. Take Mother Theresa’s advice and just smile at others. It could be the only love of God that they feel today, a flood of sunlight in an otherwise often dreary and confusing existence.
Enough of my preaching. I need to work on my Newman paper…this time on Intellectual Sin. I think I will have a number of meditation to post on that over the next week or so.