An Open Door

By Chad Glang

Hurrying is not of the devil; hurrying is the devil. C.G. Jung

The Chinese character for busyness comprises two symbols: heart and killing.

Be still, and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10

The cobblestone square in Venice is surrounded by walls built during the 13th and 14th centuries. Though behind the facades are distinct buildings, what one sees from the square is an oddly graceful, hodge-podge continuity. Vivaldi composed his Four Seasons here, and behind me is a grand hall where I’ll hear it performed this evening. This large space began as a medieval soup kitchen and homeless shelter. After a couple of centuries, it was appropriated by the upper class to become a school for Venice’s best and brightest . . . adorned with a parquet marble floor, and magnificent paintings on walls and ceiling.

In front of me is an unassuming wooden door, just slightly open. I enter. A small, warm sanctuary. More homey and welcoming than the many imposing cathedrals which are all towers and marble and gold. I want to be here; I want to rest. Post-Gregorian sacred chant music softly fills the space. A dozen tourists from several countries mill and murmur.

I am drawn to a simple carved wooden crucifix, perhaps three feet tall, in the back. I sit before it. Having stumbled across Jesus in my wanderings, I reflect on how he made his historical appearance in another easy-to-miss place . . . a far corner of the Roman Empire. “Feed my sheep,” he said; and for this he was killed. How inconvenient to be reminded of hungry sheep, when there are religious and political hierarchies to maintain. For those in power, there are places to go, people to see. Membership has its privileges, as American Express reminds us. How inconvenient when Jesus says “In God’s Kingdom, there are no outsiders…everyone is on the inside.” So, we killed him. Silence that voice, please, when it interferes with business as usual.

And so it is with the “still small voice within.” Our ego, seat of self-focus, has its Pharisaic business to attend to. “Hey! Can’t you see how busy (important) I am? I can’t possibly stop, sit and listen.” So, each day, we replay the Passion. The Sanhedrin convenes, the vote is clear. Ego says one more time, “I’m in power, and I have important things to do.” In fact, we’re so busy doing them that we don’t even know we are silencing that quiet voice of goodness, somewhere off in a far corner of our inner Empire. Until one day, when we are somehow drawn to a partially-open door…

Prayer: Grant us the grace of rest and remembering.