Today is the feast of St. John of the Cross, which always reminds me of putting our house at rest. To be fair, this place is more a house at dust, disarray, and disillusionment (will we ever be finished…).
The painter comes tomorrow, the backsplash is in, the appliances are slowly making their way from the garage to the kitchen. The bathroom walls are up, the finishing touches are slowly appearing, and soon, very soon, the house can be put back together and be at rest.
In the meantime, I am reminded of John of the Cross:
On a dark night
Kindled in love with yearnings –
Oh, happy chance!
I went forth unobserved,
My house being now at rest.
Now I know John was speaking metaphorically about the perfection we seek for our souls, but it works for the physical house too, no matter how chaotic it becomes. Reflecting on John’s words led me to a poem by Jessica Powers, a Carmelite nun who wrote well into her eighties and was introduced to me by a bishop-friend. They are both gone now, yet her words continue to inspire.
How does one hush one’s house,
Each proud possessive wall, each sighing rafter,
The rooms made restless with remembered laughter
Or wounding echoes, the permissive doors,
The stairs that vacillate from up to down,
Windows that bring in color and event
From countryside or town,
Oppressive ceilings and complaining floors?
The house must first of all accept the night.
Let it erase the walls and their display,
Impoverish the rooms till they are filled
With humble silences; let clocks be stilled
And all the selfish urgencies of day.
Midnight is not the time to greet a guest,
Caution the doors against both foes and friends
And try to make the windows understand
Their unimportance when the daylight ends
Persuade the stairs to patience, and deny
The passages their aimless to and fro.
Virtue it is that puts a house at rest.
How well repaid that tenant is, how blest
Who, when the call is heard,
Is free to take his kindled heart and go.
As we look to the day when we will welcome the Christ child into our hearts and homes, we also look to the day when this nine-month advent will end, our families will be back together for celebrations, and when Zoom gives way to true communion.
In the meantime, may our houses be at rest – inside and out.