Thoughts for the first week of Advent
"Mummy, who is that man?" he asked, pointing to a figure in a stained-glass window.
"That's St. Peter, darling", Mother replied.
"And that man?"
"That's St. Paul. Kit, would you like to know them all?"
"Yes please, Mummy."
"Well, here's St. Joseph, and this is Our Lady. Oh Kit, look here – here's your own saint, St. Christopher. Aren't the pictures beautiful?"
"Yes they are."
Next morning Christopher was in school. During Catechism class the teacher said, "Children, next Monday is the first of November, a holiday for the feast of All Saints. Who can tell me the meaning of 'saint'?"
Up shot Christopher's hand, catching Teacher's eye. "You are very eager this morning, Christopher. Tell us."
"Please ma'am, a saint is a beautiful window for the light to come in."
"Paul, . . . unto the church of God which is at Corinth, with all the saints which are in all Achaia" (2 Corinthians 1:1)
"But now I go unto Jerusalem to minister unto the saints" (Romans 15:25)
No, indeed, although some of us might yet achieve such blessedness, it is not to that state that we need aspire. But to be windows letting in the light – God's light – is not so impossible a dream. Difficult, yes, as difficult as it is to become a successful athlete, or sportsman, or performing artist, or engineer, or doctor. . . . Yet many achieve this and even more aspire to it.
À la fenêtre recelant
Le santal vieux qui se dédore
De sa viole étincelant
Jadis avec flûte ou mandore,
Est la Sainte pâle, étalant
Le livre vieux qui se déplie
Du Magnificat ruisselant
Jadis selon vêpre et complie :
À ce vitrage d’ostensoir
Que frôle une harpe par l’Ange
Formée avec son vol du soir
Pour la délicate phalange
Du doigt que, sans le vieux santal
Ni le vieux livre, elle balance
Sur le plumage instrumental,
Musicienne du silence.