The Little Gate to God

 Friends, 

 

Lately I’ve circled back to read the writings of Walter Rauschenbusch, remembered chiefly for his tremendous influence on what became known as “the Social Gospel.” I would list Rauschenbusch’s Christianity and the Social Crisis (first published in 1907) as one of the most influential books in my own spiritual journey from the hyper-personalized approach to faith that I grew up with, to an expression of faith that reflects more adequately the call to justice that permeates the writings of the prophets and the preaching of Jesus. On the 100^thanniversary of the publication of Christianity and the Social Crisis, Rauschenbusch’s great-grandson, Paul Rauschenbusch, republished Christianity and the Social Crisis with accompanying responses to each chapter by a spectrum of Christian and non-Christian writers. In the Foreword to the book, Paul cites a poem that his great-grandfather had written at the end of this life about prayer, entitled “The Little Gate to God.” The poem is rather long, so I will only cite portions of it here. I cannot express how beautifully Rauschenbusch was able to meld together his biting social critique – partly informed by his work as a pastor in “Hell’s Kitchen” in New York – and his genuine, Christ-centered piety. This ode to prayer demonstrates that blend powerfully and has been a true influence in my own calling. And I will resist my temptation to make the words more inclusive, although I suspect Rauschenbusch himself would have been open to that progress in the use of language about both humanity and God.

 

The Little Gate to God

In the castle of my soul

Is a little postern gate,

Whearat, when I enter, 

I am in the presence of God. 

In a moment, in the turning of a thought,

I am where God is. 

This is a fact. 

 

This world of ours has length and breadth, 

A superficial and horizontal world.

When I am with God

I look deep down and high up. 

And all is changed. 

The world of man is made of jangling noises. 

With God it is a great silence. 

But that silence is a melody

Sweet as the contentment of love, 

Thrilling as a touch of flame. 

 

In this world my days are few

And full of trouble.

I strive and have not;

I seek and find not; 

I ask and learn not. 

Its joys are so fleeting,

Its pains are so enduring,

I am in doubt if life be worth living. 

When I enter into God, 

All life has a meaning. 
Without asking, I know; 

My desires are even now fulfilled, 

My fever is gone

In the great quiet of God. 

My troubles are but pebbles on the road,

My joys are like the everlasting hills, 

So it is when I step through the gate of prayer

From time to eternity.[1]

 

May we enter that postern gate regularly, 

Mark of St. Mark

 

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[1] Paul B. Rauschenbusch, Christianity and the Social Crisis in the 21^st Century: The Classic that Woke Up the Church, (New York: Harper Collins Publishers), 2007, pp. xv-xvi.