(St. Teresa of Avila
wrote the Interior Castle, referring to the interior life of man. The Beloved
is at the heart of the Castle. Those souls who have moved into the Castle can
hear His Voice. Those outside are deaf to the Beloved. It explains how two
people can be arguing religion out of two totally different perceptions and
states of being. The atheist, running away from the Castle, will never perceive what the Christian profoundly
experiences -- unless he turns around.)
by Susan Fox
You have walled yourself inside
glass
and you cannot hear Him.
You live outside the Castle
with brute beasts and
tumultuous passion.
But I live within.
On the outside
you see a useless housewife,
with four degrees
waiting in pain to see a
doctor.
You cannot imagine
the ambrosia within.
This Water is welling up pure
and sweet
in a dry desert -- in a husk
of an old housewife.
Like at Meribah and Massah,
Water gushing from the Rock.
Drink, brother, drink.
It is gift for us both!
My God, my God,
this Life is so sweet
I cannot even bear it.
But the skeptic is deaf to
thunder,
blind to lightning from the
throne of God.
I wear his unhappiness like a
disheveled glove
trading tweet for tweet in short
Twitter speak.
The Voice is sweet and clear
If only he could hear!
I used to look for Him
everywhere.
I wandered many alleys and
byways,
absently rambling through English hedgerows,
happily dancing around the stranger's grave,
I played intricate jokes on my friends,
read T. S. Eliot to my mother walking backwards on the beach,
I hitchhiked in foreign countries.
I hitchhiked in foreign countries.
I did find Him in these
pleasures,
but to my surprise, when I completely
stopped walking
and stopped talking...
He was waiting within.
Dear skeptic,
will you not hear?
His voice is sweet like
nectar from a flower --
such subtle flavor, exotic.
He tastes of everything I
ever longed for
like manna from the desert
containing all delight.
And it is here within me --
the Water, the Bread so sweet
I cannot bear it.
Inside my heart
an ocean swells.
Its beauty is indescribable.
I live on a tranquil island
in a tropical paradise.
I am never alone.
Everything you ever longed
for is right here:
Food for the poor – “meat to
eat you know not of;”
Living Water shared with the woman by the well;
Living Water shared with the woman by the well;
Justice as you have not
understood it;
such thirst for justice as you cannot even describe it;
such thirst for justice as you cannot even describe it;
Peace in the heart
where now you ride the stormy
waves of anguish.
We were not raised together.
We are from different
families,
but we are related.
I call you brother
and this disturbs you.
You call me a crazy housewife
--
useless by anyone’s measure
in life.
But I have a little hammer.
And I am patiently tapping those
glass walls
entombing your heart.
The hammer’s name is “Prayer.”
rises out of the writhing guts
of the Red Light District known as “Pig Alley.”
At the top of Montmartre,
the Beloved’s heart beats for
120 years.
Do not walk away, brother.
Let us go together to defend the
Castle of the Sacred Heart!
You have more right to Him
than I.
You have more right to His
Mercy.
Together, we will cuddle with
Jesus crowned by thorns.
We will all be mocked
together.
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| The climb up to the Castle of the Sacred Heart Montmartre, Paris |
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| Paris night skyline: Sacré Cœur de Paris at the top of Montmartre Eiffel Tower on the left. |
(*The
Basilica of the Sacred Heart sits on top of the hill in Paris called
Montmartre. Around the base of the hill is the famous seedy neighborhood of
Pigalle, dubbed “Pig Alley” by American servicemen in World War II. Often
simply called Sacré-Cœur,
the Basilica has constantly held the Real Presence of Jesus Christ displayed in
a huge monstrance since 1885. It is amazing for this and the large number of
first class relics of martyrs contained in the Church.)
 |
| Sacré Cœur de Paris by day |
