I occasionally put two pictures on a post. One may be of a church or monastery, the other might have a scene of life 'out in the world.'
Between these pictures of church and world is usually a quote, something making the point that we can adore Our Lord where we are: in rush hour traffic, in a busy office, or while wiping a table as we bounce Baby on our hip. We are not meant to disconnect from God while we're going about our daily round of duties. We're meant to connect with God through focused prayer as much as we can, and to maintain that connection IN our daily round of duties.
An illustration of this was shared with me some years ago, by a Sister who had read my first magazine article on The Cloistered Heart. In a letter, Sister wrote:
'Parallel to your vocation as a truly committed Christian, one called to a cloistered heart: I am called to the physical enclosure in which vowed life, community life, and apostolic ministry are but heading in the same direction as you. I like to refer to our prayer life as a cave. We need to enter that cave daily, often, regularly, despite any discomfort or darkness.... We are in this cave to find God - His presence - filling our soul with strength, light, courage, conviction... Staying in union with Him! Only then can we go out into the marketplace, our apostolate. As an RN, I have certainly realized how the professional life tends to pull me away from the cave into dis-equilibrium.
'It is the path in between where we meet our Lord so often. That path... cloistered heart. It's the path in between that must be worn out. This path in between is where I relate.'
The path in between, I now realize, is what I try to 'illustrate' when I place a picture of a quiet church next to a photo of a bustling city.
I like to see connections. I like to be struck by contrasts.
The truth is: I live in the contrasts. Quiet/noise... contemplation/busyness... serenity/chaos...
The path in between is where I live.
Reconciled To You and Theology Is A Verb
My calling is writing and politics (and writing about politics). The longer I do that, the more I'm drawn to the discipline of community prayer. I find that covering hours of legislative hearings without first having joined my parish community for morning prayer leaves me in a void. Still a community liturgy, not quite the cloistered heart of which you write, but essential to keep me mindful of God's presence and sovereignty. How easy it is to lose sight of that in a political maelstrom!
ReplyDeleteSuch a blessing that you can join in community prayer, Ellen. You go into the "maelstrom," then, with God Himself! What a much-needed apostolate.
DeleteSomething I've always noticed about you and me - we "walk between" words as well. I see this in very few bloggers but I always see this in your writing. I don't know how to explain it better than that :) Maybe you will know what I mean...
ReplyDeleteHmmm. Can't say that I do know, Mary! But if it means I write anything like you do, I am highly complimented. Maybe you could give me an example? Is it anything like "saying something between the lines..."?
DeleteYes, like saying something between the lines. More than that though - great hidden depths to your writing. It's the WAY you use words (and art). There are layers. I guess that's the best way to describe it. You "plumb" things really deeply. If that makes sense. Like reading between the lines of life - it's a deeper vision.
ReplyDeleteReading between the lines of life... sounds as if you and I don't just live, but write, from the "path in between." Thank you, Mary!
DeleteIt's the path in between that must be worn out.
ReplyDeleteFor me today, that was exactly the call to prayer that I needed. And despite any discomfort or darkness is God's Hand up against any whining or excuses from me. Nancy, thank you for this.
Thank you, Caitlynne Grace, and thanks be to God.
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