OF YOU MY HEART HAS SPOKEN

  Meditation in the Sahara Desert Through a glass darkly. A phrase from 1 Corinthians 13 which was the last piece of Scripture I read to John the day before he died. The same phrase came to me separately and independently from Derry and Tom yesterday so it seems an appropriate place from which to start. In his unconsciousness John’s eyes remained open and, though he could not see us or anything around him in this world, it seemed to me that he was gazing into the Beyond, perceiving dim reflections of the reality towards which he was travelling, the God whom he loved all his life, the God by whom he was touched. "He touched me" was a phrase he liked to use. The Father was uncovering His face to His child and like a new-born baby learning to see, John sometimes looked a bit puzzled as if he was trying to work something out, trying to understand. But the end of that gazing is this, “…we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been

 

 

Flying To Warsaw - January 25, 1997   I’m on my way to a meeting of Pallottine Directors of Formation. Dreading it! Taking my window seat in row 14, I wait to see who my flying companions will be. It’s a nice morning but I’m tired, apprehensive and lonely. Loneliness always accompanies me on a trip like this - when I’m going alone to a strange place. Loneliness is for God.   A tall woman with short blond hair takes the seat beside me and simply asks, “How are you?” Her tone is really sincere and it makes me realize that it would be all right talking to her all the way to Amsterdam. As it turned out very little was spoken between us after the initial few words. Her little son sits next to her, while her husband and daughter are across the aisle. There is something of Australia in the woman’s voice and at some stage before take-off she cries quietly with her head turned away from me. The priest in me wants to help but it strikes me that she has the right to privacy in this moment, so

  i The Hour had not yet come And still here it is Brought forward at Her behest Just do what He tells you She says It will be well And all that seemed perfect before   And all the blemished, run-out days Are cheap merriment in the face Of what is taking place here You have kept the best wine till now Said the maître d' Having no idea how or Who You really are ii I do not deserve it but I know that You have given me This untimely time of my life As if I had been born too soon From the womb before the dawn Begotten You knew me first Eternally Consecrating Claiming me For Yourself and I  At last letting myself Be Cana Claimed Espousal of my soul to You I will be run out empty  A marvellous longing capacity Gallons of abundance I will be the water You will be the wine