At the first stair, lifting the feet of her affections from the earth, [the soul] stripped herself of sin. At the second she dressed herself in love for virtue. And at the third stage she tasted peace.
In fact, his divinity is kneaded in the clay of your humanity like one bread.
For he proved his unspeakable love, and the human heart is always drawn by love. . . . You can hardly resist being drawn by love, unless you foolishly refuse to be drawn.
All virtue draws life from him, nor is there any virtue that has not been tested in him. So no one can have any life-giving virtue but from him, that is, by following his example and his teaching.
The hostelry [lodging] of holy Church is there to serve the bread of life and blood lest the journeying pilgrims, my creatures, grow weary and faint on the way.
When he says that he is the Way, he is speaking the truth. . . . He says he is the Truth, and so he is, and whoever follows him goes the way of truth. And he is Life. If you follow his truth, you will have the life of grace and never die of hunger, for the Word has himself become your food.Although the images seem scattered as I read some pieces from The Dialogue, I am touched by the "earthiness" of her descriptions. Bread comes up a lot. Christ himself is like divinity kneaded into the dough of humanity. The Church is viewed as a lodging where people might come to eat. Life itself is given through bread, so that none of us will starve.
In all these things, Christ is himself the bread of life. His deity is what leavens and raises his humanity. It is perfectly kneaded into a human life and also into all human life through his Spirit. Our existence need not be flat and hard, but can be light and full of flavor in his presence.
His love draws us into life. The only way to escape is to refuse. For life, he gives himself as our sustenance, our bread, our food. He is the Life in that he keeps us alive through his continued love and grace and wisdom being taken and "eaten" by us. He grants life; we need only consume what he gives.
He left a place where such feasting happens. Some hospitality is better than others, but Jesus gives us rest and food when we gather and abide together. The church is such a place. There is no other public place that honors Christ directly and gathers in order to worship and serve him. This is the lodging where we can stay and rest on our journeys.
Compassion is not much else than hospitality: a welcome, a meal, and a place to rest. Jesus is all of these things. Bread, lodging, and other parts of hospitality are the reflections.
Lord, may my hands be full of your goodness so that I might offer hospitality. May I offer a loving welcome that draws others in, a meal of bread that satisfies the soul, and a lodging where the rest of kindness lives. In all these things may I reflect you, our true Host and Friend. Amen.
Compassion suffers when it loses intimacy. I cannot offer such hospitality at all times, but I would love to find ways of showing compassion in a more intimate, personal way, so that people leave with more than a full belly or a rested body: a comforted soul.
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