Heart

For hours, I would sit on the wooden bench focused on the one painting in the room. In the painting, a man, in profile, dressed simply in black, seated at table, head bowed; a round loaf of bread for his supper, the scene lit by a single tapered candle. ------- -- I would visit this painting often, so often in fact, I had become a regular in the viewing room. Almost always, I sat alone. It seemed this modest painting did not call out to the crowds. "Just as well," I thought. I enjoyed the hallowed space. -------- One day, to my surprise, a priest entered the room. He stared at me, even as I continued staring at the painting. Merely curious, or sincerely interested, the priest tilted his head, squinted his eyes, and asked, "What is it about this particular painting that intrigues you so? I kept looking at the image on the canvas. For a long time, I did not answer. I felt it was important to find the right word. the robe-garbed holy man shifted his weight. In the silence between us, time passed. Eventually, he sat down on the bench, as he waited patiently for my response. I felt the stillness in the room. I closed my eyes for a moment. The word made itself heard. "Grace," I answered. -------- "Grace?" The stranger beside me asked, one eyebrow raised. "The bearded man in the painting, his head is bowed. Though he has so little, lives so modestly, and is eating such a meager supper, he is not sad, or weighed down with grief. His head is bowed in silent prayer. He is giving thanks for the abundance of his blessings," I answered. -------- "You can see all that?" He asked. "Look at his face," I said. "There are two sources of light in the room, that of the half-spent candle, and that which emanates from him. The lines in his face denote a hard life. Yet, there is such a look of inner peace in his countenance. He is consciously grateful. I wish I could be like him, to be so content with my lot, and with whatever is before me." ------- The priest listened attentively. He looked at the painting once again, and sighed audibly. He stood up and left the room just as suddenly and quietly as he had entered. -------- Art is subjective. And prayer is deeply personal. God is able to speak to us in varied ways. He may even send a messenger or two, to challenge us. -------- Are we listening? Are we present? Are we willing to participate in God? Do we have eyes to see, and ears to hear? Finally, and perhaps just as importantly, do we allow our hearts to remain open to God in others, within ourselves, and to God in the world around us? -------- As we ponder these questions, let's spend a few moments in silent meditation.