On Forgetting to "Find God in All Things"
Your advice makes sense to me, St. Ignatius. For I find that when I’m immersed in the raw materials of His creation, I’m most open to Him, most likely to pray;
I prefer to imagine a laborer’s wife, clothed in coarse fabric whose chafing she hasn’t felt since the fisherman said her son was taken away. She fell to her knees, unable to breathe.
When her son’s pain has ended she doesn’t know how hers will. His body wasn’t this long or heavy the last time she cradled it. His weight brings hers to the dust, too. Her frame, stooped from years of the same household chores, is wracked. Hers is the face of righteous rage. This is the Pietà of my imagination.
Meanwhile, my reason knows I haven’t found God in all things. My affection for my own sacred images shows this to be true. For God made Calvary, caves, and creatures and is present in any prison, attic, or gold-festooned cathedral. He breathed life into Michelangelo, Caravaggio, and their gifts, as He breathes life into me and mine.
The architects and adorners of basilicas accepted the call to express God’s glory in the grandiosity of their work.
Help my heart find God in the motionless constructions of man.
Published on the Ancient Paths Facebook page on July 13, 2019.