A year ago the keeper had just returned from Jerusalem. She says she feels some deep attraction to that spot of so much intensity, tension. She says stones speak there. She couldn't go back this year because she was angry about how the Palestinians are being treated. Now she tells us that she wants to go back and visit with the Palestinians. We think it is good she travels, but we don't like the disruption in our routine. We suppose that is selfish. Anyway, the reason we are telling you all this is because she came home from the Cathedral tonight singing "Jerusalem, My Happy Home, God grant that I may see Your endless joy, and of the same, Partaker ever be." She told us that one day there would be endless joy there, but in the meantime it is something to long for.
On another note, the bishops are meeting at Notre Dame, and new appointments are being made, and perhaps we may hear something for better or worse about liturgical changes and new bishops. Meanwhile, she says, the people of God gather and try to form community, pray, try to live justly, and make moral sense out of their lives, all the while not knowing or worrying that bishops meet. She was telling us about a young adult group she is working with that within a month has grown from 4 to 25, and they are outgrowing the hotly contested meeting space. She also said that never once did the bishops' meeting come up in conversation, but what did was how the group could begin reaching out to the day laborers this winter who wait in the cold at Home Depot. They are wise, these young people, focused on the Gospel.
She also told us that the hills on the Eastside are still very colorful--oranges and golds and crimson flaming out against the gray sky.
Thanks for asking about us. Our day was boring. She was gone. We were in. It was dark and gray. She did take care of our litter box tonight, though. We are grateful for our happy home. Not exactly Jersusalem, but home.
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