On a recent road trip, I saw birds flying in perfect formation against a clear blue sky. These birds balancing so perfectly on the horizon where heaven and earth meet are a perfect image of the contemplative vocation.
Children love to think about what it would be like to fly. The grandeur and mystery of soaring up from the earth and into the heavens are enough to capture every young imagination (and those not so young as well!) The childish dream of flying, based on wanting to be lifted up out of the mundane and into the glorious, is fulfilled in the contemplative's blessed vocation.
The contemplative's dwelling where her fantastic mission takes place is the cloister. This enclosed dwelling has rightly been called the womb of Holy Mother Church. "What we cherish, we hold close," said Mother Mary Francis. The Church zealously cherishes her contemplatives as they are the love in the Church's heart, pumping lifeblood to every part of the Mystical Body through their prayers and sacrifices.
The cloister represents Zion, the city on a hill, both a part of earth and yet distinct from it. Both her cloister and her being are set apart, or consecrated, to God and therefore her life is lived solely for eternity where all the Saints will participate in the "one thing necessary": the contemplation of God while sitting at His feet, as Martha did while sitting at the feet of Jesus when He visited her home in Bethany. This passage is especially close to the contemplative's heart.
In a utilitarian world, God tells her that just being His is quite enough, and she believes Him.
"Everything is a mouthpiece through which the eternal speaks," said Romano Guardini. Much like God's use of birds to image the contemplative's vocation, the stars in the sky image the hidden contemplative life as well. The stars, like the contemplative, seem to be hidden in the heavenly realm, though science reveals that they are very much a part of the earth.
Star gazing has been popular since the dawn of time. Stargazers love to admire the countless twinkling stars, and much like flying, a feeling of awe and grandeur washes over those who take the time to admire this cosmic decor. The contemplative, like the star, has a luminescence of spirit that few of us manage to grasp in the rushed pace of our society.
"From the ivory palace comes music," the psalmist says.
"There have been remarks for centuries past about people who 'dwell in ivory towers.' We know what is meant when it is said in the way it is said. Exasperation. Condemnation. A certain contempt. That they are unaware of other persons. I always thought that was a very strange figure of speech. For one thing, one sees very well from a tower, much better than when one is in the midst of a crowd. If you really want to see the needs of everyone, a tower would be a very good place to go for perspective.
And then I thought, 'Ivory tower?' Well, what could give more joy to the poor who have so little than the sight of an ivory tower? How it would draw them! How it would beguile them. How it would uplift them. How it would make them surge toward it to investigate this beautiful thing. So an ivory palace is a very beautiful place to dwell in, - and that is your enclosure. Out of it must always come music, the music of Jesus. The one is very pre-eminently doing God's work.
So always from your life of prayer, from the ivory palace of your enclosure, may God hear music, for from the heart of true prayer comes stringed music to God and to the world. To all the grinding hatreds and frustrations of the world must come the stringed music of our enclosed life of prayer." -Walls Around the World by Mother Francis, PCC
Those who take the time to visit a cloister and let the prayers of the nuns wash over them are left with a renewed appreciation for inner peace, silence, and the grandeur of God. From the light of those dwelling within, the cloister itself radiates God's love, and will continue to do so as long as there are contemplatives to dwell therein, for "a city on a hill cannot be hidden."
