My father found grace in Sister Marie Joseph’s smile, a smile that told him everything was all right, that he was loved, no matter what, that he did not have to atone, and thus a heavy burden was removed.
He said to me once, perhaps recalling that moment when he’d felt so blessed, that there was nothing I could do that would alienate him from me. Nothing to confess, nothing to forgive. It was if he were saying you needn’t wait for transcendence, it is here and now.
And so I’ve come to believe, in my best moments, that rather than get wrapped up in the whys and wherefores, which can, because of all the codifying, divide, we should simply breathe in the animating spirit that abounds and take part in the creation — strive for the light, like the trees, the flowers, the weeds, and, yes, even the flies.
Perhaps a black hole awaits at the end, but for the moment the beauty and harmony in the world are compelling and instructive as we, mirroring nature, reach toward the light.
What does it matter whether it was a clockmaker or an accident that got us going? An animating spirit is everywhere, which says, in effect, connect — a commandment that can become all the more insistent, I think, at least it’s so in my case, as our own energy wanes.