Day 085q: Still no room at the Inn … (July 08, 2019)
I made it to the tiny town of San Juan de Ortega shortly thereafter, where the hamlet’s only hostel looked at first glance like one that would indeed shelter a peace pilgrim from the coming storm. And yet the hospitaleros therein proved top be as uninviting and as unsympathetic as the “darker” churches nearby, and I flowed onward (without anger, or even disappointment; feeling only a deep & heartfelt compassion for the town’s collective hospitality-failure, interestingly enough) into the gathering gloom, not sure whether I would be swallowed up the coming thunderous violence above, and somehow knowing that I would be fine in the end either way …
“In any story of weighty meaning there are always at least two stages – the initial stage, where love is expressed by the giving of gifts, and a stage that inevitably follows, when the proffering of blessings is no longer enough – when one has to be ready to willingly suffer for a beloved, even when the latter rejects or dismisses or ignores the same. For only in such moments of total submission to charity can love truly become real. In the story of one’s vocation there are always these same two stages as well. There is the initial stage of service, when, spurred on by grace and attracted by the ideal, one joyfully and enthusiastically shouts, ‘Here I am!’ to those nearby. And yet then always follows the inevitable time of heart-solitude – a time of disappointment – a time of weariness – a time of injury – a time of crisis. This is the time when, in order to maintain that initial exuberant “Yes” and allow it to properly blossom, one has to be joyfully willing to die.” ~ inspired by Raniero Cantalamessa
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