The New York Times has a series of articles that are simply fascinating in word and picture, called "The World through a Lens," where they are focusing on remote places. Yesterday’s essay was about an island in the south Atlantic, Tristan da Cunha, that is reachable by boat from Cape Town, but they say that you should pack to stay a while because that boat only makes a handful of trips a year. One Islander summed it up this way, “Tristanians will do business with the world; we understand it’s important to be in the world if you want something from it. … But the world can keep its bombs and bird flu. Whatever we’ve got here is under our control. It’s the remoteness of the island that has jelled us and brought us all together.”
A month ago there was an article that you really may want to read, savor, then cut and paste for future reference. It's about a convent, the Phoka Nunnery of St. Nino, in the Samtskhe-Javakheti region of the Republic of Georgia. I love the photos, black and white, which is entirely appropriate for the subject matter. Here is an example. It's the church that the nuns rebuilt there and it's perfect.
These stories are speaking to me right now, for various reasons, but likely because we are in a weirdly mixed space of virtual interaction and grids of interdependence, as well as isolation and separation. And yet, this space, this odd, odd space, can be where grace finds full expression. It's hard to imagine grace on a day when everyone in the house is sick of each other, or when someone really, really needs your presence and all you can do is make a phone call. There is confusion and there are problems, yes. But isn't that precisely the platform on which grace happens?
I hope today your isolation can become cloistering; your quarters an island of depth and meaning; and your quiet a spirit of prayer.
Mark of St. Mark
To read the essay about the Convent, click here.
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