Ha ha I ACCIDENTALLY (on purpose?) posted the draft of a post yesterday with the definition of “immurement” (walling someone, or more to the point yourself, up in a tiny enclosure till you die of starvation or thirst, undertaken I believe by certain anchorite types in the way olden days, though they would have a little window through which people could pass food and water, and seek spiritual advice), then added, That’s how I feel in Tucson!
I unpublished it right away (I’d meant to make it into something funny down the line), promptly forgot about the whole thing , then received a couple of beautiful messages from friends that made me think, How strange, they are reading my mind about some of the things upon which I’m reflecting here on retreat, and mulling with my director. Then I realized…And now I’ve received a few more emails from commiserating readers, wondering if they missed part of the post…
Anyway, not to worry.
I did take note, however, of today’s First Reading from the Office of Readings: Ezekiel 12:1-6:
“Now, son of man, during the day while they are looking on, prepeare your baggage as if for exile, and again while they are looking on, migrate from where you live to another place…”
“I did as I was told. During the day I brought out my baggage as though t were that of an exile, and at evening I dug a hole through the wall with my hand and, while they looked on, set out in the darkness, shouldering my burden.”
How I love to cast myselt as hero of my own story! Hail, Don Quixote!
We’ve been in silence all week (some of us obviously more than others). Yesterday Sr. Kathleen passed me the brown bread in the tenderest way and then whispered Did I want butter?
This morning Fr. Michael, another retreatant, crept over to our breakfast table, held a tiny packet of preserves aloft, and whispered: “I found an orange marmalade! Does anyone want it?”
In silence, such seemingly small gestures are like benedictions.
Leave a Reply