Over the last year and a half I have begun to appreciate the
power of poetry, the ability of words to create images, capture feelings, speak
deep truths that go beyond the rational to the emotional and spiritual. Mostly
I have been reading Ranier Marie Rilke, Mary Oliver, Langston Hughes and poems
of former students. Here I share a poem that speaks to me about my relationship
to God; it is called “Neighbors.”
You, God, who live next door:
If at times through the long night, I
trouble you
with my urgent knocking ---
this is why: I hear you breathe so seldom
I know you’re all alone in that room.
If you should be thirsty, there’s no one
to get you a glass of water.
I wait listening, always. Just give me a
sign!
I’m right here.
As it happens, the wall between us
is very thin. Why couldn’t a cry
from one of us
break it down? It would crumble
easily,
it would barely make a sound.
(Rilke, Book of Hours I, 6)
For a long
time I have sensed that God is near but not talking to me. I am particularly
taken by the thin wall the separates the neighbors, so much so that they can
listen for each other’s breaths. Yet there is no sound, no communication, no
acknowledgement of the One on the other side of the wall.
My faith has
taught me God is near, God hears my cries and God cares for my deepest needs.
God is my neighbor and in my neighbor, and yet like Rilke’s neighbor, God seems
silent. Why don’t my cries break down the wall? I am listening for God, but
hear only the faint sound of a breath. Is it God’s or is it mine?
I am not
sure.
No comments:
Post a Comment