Even after all these years in the priestly life, I am still humbled by the unexpected call, ringing like a fire bell, the rush to get to the bedside, anxious looks, hurried explanations. the first prayers rising from collected hope, patched together on the run, with no time for school taught words, when you say more with a look than with language. We are human not because we have power, but because we have tears. We are touched by the hurt of another, moved to love and to care, and in that single feeling arises all that makes us worthy to be stewards of the mystery of life.
Friday, March 22, 2013
What makes us human?
I am cruising through the wonderful Virginia Festival of the Book for a few days, and there is much to hear and think about. I will write something here when I get a chance. For now, here is an item my friend Steven Charleston, the retired bishop from Alaska, posted today: