Glory


The Te Deum window of the cathedral around which a great Antiphonal Organ is being built the week.

My favorite writer on the spiritual life, Maggie Ross reveals  in The Fire of your Life, that the two comments she receives most are “You don’t look like a hermit,” followed by “What do you do in solitude?” She answers, “I don’t do, I be.” “It is that my sin and your sin consists not in isolated small or gross acts committed or omitted by our choices and actions, or in some vague, isolated theoretical attitude, but instead that we, you and I, by virtue of our common humanity, and in the solitude from which true relationship springs, come to realize that we are implicated in every sin.

“I am the pimp on 42nd Street, dealing in bodies. I am the pusher, selling drugs to an addict nodding and drooling in Needle Park. I am the employee ripping off my corporation. I am the industrialist pouring poison into the bodies and, by advertising, into the souls of my sisters and brothers. I am the driver of the military juggernaut, careening wildly out of control. I struggle impotently to express who I really am.”

And all of this in the context of God’s Glory.

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