The rain surrounded us
quietly and mysteriously, as comprehensively as grace or love can surround the
human spirit. Rain seems to have no origin except its own spontaneity, no
purpose except its own rhythm, no limit except its own boundary.
A human life gains
depth from the experiences it encounters. These experiences may be exotic,
extraordinary, like encountering the presence of one's deceased father or
praying in ecstasy before Our Lady`s image in days of need, or moments before
one`s own death. More often, the experiences which bring us depth are simple,
familiar, ordinary, -like praying in a quiet chapel, or standing in
traffic or simply staring into a candle flame, or just being enveloped in
absolute silence—as God is allowed into our space. During these times one contemplates
the glory, vastness and majesty of God. He comes to us in silence as well as in
the din of our daily lives-sadly it is only rarely that we allow Him.
The entire
sacramental theology of the Church is premised on the belief that the ordinary
is mysterious, eventually infinite, inevitably divine—which all is. Bread
and wine and oil and water are, at first sight, not extraordinary—after through
our internal vision, faith, prayers, and complete offering of ourselves, we,
ourselves transform it into Our Lord`s body and blood. Every poet knows,
however, what every good theologian affirms, namely that grace is everywhere
and that nothing which exists is superficial, only if we allow it, overlook it
and allow the present moment to flow by. Ordinary reality is an oxymoron.
Sacramental celebration is an encounter with the deepest dimensions of the
Sacred, with God—as the Holy Spirit expands our soul`s into God`s heart. The
bread and wine remind us of the endless possibilities of existence, of creation
and the material world which are simply the manifestation of the eternal.
If grace is
everywhere, then anything can be sacramental—and is. All is sacred –is
sacramental. On some nights, rain is the sacrament. For me rain always is—also
it is a direction towards God. A reminder of contemplation, of prayer, of
conversation and the connection to God. Listening to rain is holy, the
manifestation of God in the material, His Holy voice, Him in action. I do not
need other demonstration of the existence of God—He simply IS. Experiencing the
mystery, the sacred and the mystical in the depth of our hearts is why we
exist, why we were created.
I adore this
unrelenting rain especially at night—its pervasiveness and its gentleness, in
the relief it brings to the spirit. It poses many challenges of thought about
God, in its capacity to make me eager for understanding. Darkness always makes
the rain sacred especially when it is during Rumi`s time, like now—then there
is absolute silence. In a way it is like soul-moving music like “Canon in
D” which completely envelopes us in its sound as it creates “the” perfect
silence, the perfect peace in our souls.
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