A Night's Vigil

I'm about to get to sleep -- I hope -- but I've already heard from a great many people who are simply devastated about Frere Roger, many of whom just can't sleep. What a vicious juxtaposition with everything going on in Cologne.

Our own Gyrovagus writes of the Taize founder:

He wrote in one of his journals (years ago; still Protestant): "I had the strangest dream last night . . . I was in a huge church that had blown up or been demolished somehow . . . everything was tottering precariously . . . it the midst of the wreckage was Pope Paul VI, seated, his head in his hands weeping . . . I struggled to get to him, to put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him . . . how odd, even in the night, when we are not conscious, the Church we love weighs upon us and we worry about her and care for her . . . "

I don't often write about the hard-core spirituality stuff here, because that can best be found somewhere else -- I'm not Father Rock -- but something very eerie happened yesterday afternoon and it deserves a mention.

As you do, I was sitting on the porch of my house watching the rain, listening to the iPod (the ninth sacrament). And something, literally, came over me -- the time was about 3.30 in the afternoon here (8.30 France), the moment the attack happened -- this vibe that said, "Put on the Taize."

I have a collection of the Chants de la Priere that fit particular moments, so I went with the vibe and put it on... Little did I know what was unfolding at the music's place of origin.

Could it have been an unwitting impetus to immediate solidarity? Well, that's what Roger lived for.... The meaning hit me when the sad news arrived.

Try and get some rest, snowflakes.

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