The chapel occupies only a small space within my home. My home, in turn, occupies only a small corner of the city. The city rests within the country. The country finds its place within the Caribbean basin. The Caribbean belongs to the Western Hemisphere. The hemisphere is but a portion of the Earth. Earth circles instinctively within a solar system. The solar system drifts within a galaxy. And our galaxy is only one among billions whose number continues to elude even the most brilliant scientific minds.
With each widening circle, I feel myself becoming smaller.
What I first considered substantial is revealed to be remarkably small. My chapel, my home, my city, my nation, my concerns, my ambitions, all become grains of sand scattered across the immeasurable shoreline of creation.
Yet another realisation follows.
A beach is not made by one magnificent stone. It is formed by countless grains of sand. Each grain is almost invisible when held in isolation. Each seems insignificant. Yet remove enough grains, and the beach itself ceases to exist. The vastness depends upon the smallness. The whole depends upon the parts.
And so my thoughts turn to our human lives.
We arrive briefly. We flourish for a moment. Then we die.
Our bodies return to the earth from which they came. Some slowly become dust through the patient work of time. Others become ash in the swift fire of cremation. Eventually, our names fade from living memory. We become first a cherished recollection, then a distant memory, and finally no memory at all in the long history of the created world.
At first, this seems a sobering truth. But in prayer, it becomes a liberating one.
For if I am only a grain of sand, then I do not need to carry the weight of the entire beach.
I do not need to be the centre of the human story. I do not need to conquer the world, control the future, or leave behind monuments to my importance. My task is far simpler and far more beautiful. I am invited to make my contribution, however small, however hidden, to the ongoing work of creation.
A word of kindness. A child nurtured. A wound healed. A truth spoken. A prayer offered. A community strengthened. An act of justice. A gesture of love.
These may appear insignificant in the vastness of the universe. Yet they are grains of sand that help form the shoreline of God’s creation.
Perhaps this is one of the great lessons of wisdom in life: humility is not thinking less of ourselves; it is seeing ourselves truthfully. We are neither the whole beach nor its architect. We are grains of sand fashioned by the Creator and placed where we are needed.
Do not live as though you are the beach.
Live knowing that you are a grain of sand upon it.
Small, finite, and destined to return to dust. Yet necessary. Significant. Beloved.
For the Creator who fashioned the galaxies also fashioned the grain. And in the mystery of divine wisdom, the beauty of the beach depends upon both.
The chapel occupies only a small space within my home. My home, in turn, occupies only a small corner of the city. The city rests within the country. The country finds its place within the Caribbean basin. The Caribbean belongs to the Western Hemisphere. The hemisphere is but a portion of the Earth. Earth circles instinctively within a solar system. The solar system drifts within a galaxy. And our galaxy is only one among billions whose number continues to elude even the most brilliant scientific minds.
With each widening circle, I feel myself becoming smaller.
What I first considered substantial is revealed to be remarkably small. My chapel, my home, my city, my nation, my concerns, my ambitions, all become grains of sand scattered across the immeasurable shoreline of creation.
Yet another realisation follows.
A beach is not made by one magnificent stone. It is formed by countless grains of sand. Each grain is almost invisible when held in isolation. Each seems insignificant. Yet remove enough grains, and the beach itself ceases to exist. The vastness depends upon the smallness. The whole depends upon the parts.
And so my thoughts turn to our human lives.
We arrive briefly. We flourish for a moment. Then we die.
Our bodies return to the earth from which they came. Some slowly become dust through the patient work of time. Others become ash in the swift fire of cremation. Eventually, our names fade from living memory. We become first a cherished recollection, then a distant memory, and finally no memory at all in the long history of the created world.
At first, this seems a sobering truth. But in prayer, it becomes a liberating one.
For if I am only a grain of sand, then I do not need to carry the weight of the entire beach.
I do not need to be the centre of the human story. I do not need to conquer the world, control the future, or leave behind monuments to my importance. My task is far simpler and far more beautiful. I am invited to make my contribution, however small, however hidden, to the ongoing work of creation.
A word of kindness. A child nurtured. A wound healed. A truth spoken. A prayer offered. A community strengthened. An act of justice. A gesture of love.
These may appear insignificant in the vastness of the universe. Yet they are grains of sand that help form the shoreline of God’s creation.
Perhaps this is one of the great lessons of wisdom in life: humility is not thinking less of ourselves; it is seeing ourselves truthfully. We are neither the whole beach nor its architect. We are grains of sand fashioned by the Creator and placed where we are needed.
Do not live as though you are the beach.
Live knowing that you are a grain of sand upon it.
Small, finite, and destined to return to dust. Yet necessary. Significant. Beloved.
For the Creator who fashioned the galaxies also fashioned the grain. And in the mystery of divine wisdom, the beauty of the beach depends upon both.
I sit quietly in the small chapel of my home. The room is modest, scarcely large enough for a few chairs, a crucifix, an altar, and the silence that gathers there. Yet as I pray, my awareness begins to stretch beyond its walls.
The chapel occupies only a small space within my home. My home, in turn, occupies only a small corner of the city. The city rests within the country. The country finds its place within the Caribbean basin. The Caribbean belongs to the Western Hemisphere. The hemisphere is but a portion of the Earth. Earth circles instinctively within a solar system. The solar system drifts within a galaxy. And our galaxy is only one among billions whose number continues to elude even the most brilliant scientific minds.
With each widening circle, I feel myself becoming smaller.
What I first considered substantial is revealed to be remarkably small. My chapel, my home, my city, my nation, my concerns, my ambitions, all become grains of sand scattered across the immeasurable shoreline of creation.
Yet another realisation follows.
A beach is not made by one magnificent stone. It is formed by countless grains of sand. Each grain is almost invisible when held in isolation. Each seems insignificant. Yet remove enough grains, and the beach itself ceases to exist. The vastness depends upon the smallness. The whole depends upon the parts.
And so my thoughts turn to our human lives.
We arrive briefly. We flourish for a moment. Then we die.
Our bodies return to the earth from which they came. Some slowly become dust through the patient work of time. Others become ash in the swift fire of cremation. Eventually, our names fade from living memory. We become first a cherished recollection, then a distant memory, and finally no memory at all in the long history of the created world.
At first, this seems a sobering truth. But in prayer, it becomes a liberating one.
For if I am only a grain of sand, then I do not need to carry the weight of the entire beach.
I do not need to be the centre of the human story. I do not need to conquer the world, control the future, or leave behind monuments to my importance. My task is far simpler and far more beautiful. I am invited to make my contribution, however small, however hidden, to the ongoing work of creation.
A word of kindness. A child nurtured. A wound healed. A truth spoken. A prayer offered. A community strengthened. An act of justice. A gesture of love.
These may appear insignificant in the vastness of the universe. Yet they are grains of sand that help form the shoreline of God’s creation.
Perhaps this is one of the great lessons of wisdom in life: humility is not thinking less of ourselves; it is seeing ourselves truthfully. We are neither the whole beach nor its architect. We are grains of sand fashioned by the Creator and placed where we are needed.
Do not live as though you are the beach.
Live knowing that you are a grain of sand upon it.
Small, finite, and destined to return to dust. Yet necessary. Significant. Beloved.
For the Creator who fashioned the galaxies also fashioned the grain. And in the mystery of divine wisdom, the beauty of the beach depends upon both.
Beloved Reflections 