Friday 19 July 2013

Eternity in a dewdrop

This morning in chapel I saw a young brother offering a 'foot mat' to mother and to the others. Very thoughtful, really. And I thought to myself: perhaps this young brother might not make it to the perpetual profession. Perhaps he might never become a Salesian priest. And yet this act of thoughtfulness and kindness will remain what it is forever: a beautiful and noble act. And again I thought: is not life composed of such little acts, often so unconnected among themselves, rarely working themselves out into the tapestry of an entire life? And: is not, would not, God be content with every little flower, every green leaf, every act of love?

And then the same with the singing of My Jesus, My Saviour: beautiful, extraordinary, lovely, even if Dominic missed a beat. What a lovely song, and how lovely to sing it well, to hear it sung well. An act of sheer praise. A moment of music. Perhaps in the end only aesthetic, but is that it? Does it not soar above individual intentions and will into the truly religious? And, once again, is this also not a deeply spiritual moment, an 'experience'? I think it is.

I was thinking later of Lonergan and what he and Thomas say about God's wisdom: that it is not piecemeal. And yet eternity is also often captured, and refracted, in a moment, in a dewdrop, in the song of a bird.

And then also the news, so sudden, so dramatic, of Bosco Pereira: he's dead. Difficult to believe that BP is no more. With his sharpness and his strong character, it looked like he would be around forever. But no. He is gone. RIP. Into the heaven which perhaps he did not quite know how to think about, into that heaven of freedom he has gone. 

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