12 February 2021

Coming and going – 12 February 2021

 

The Lord will watch your going out and your coming in… (Psalm 121:8)

Do you sometimes have guests who don’t know how to leave?  They say, “Well, we really should be on our way…”  They say, “Good heavens, look at the time!”  They may even stand up.  But they don’t go.  They linger.  They talk.  In the worst case scenario they sit down again…  When you do get them outside, they hang around the car and chatter.  In the days of Jane Austen there was the aunt or cousin who came for a week and stayed for a month.  My point is that knowing when and how to leave, simply and without fuss, is a virtue.

Arriving also is something to consider.  I am thinking of the person who comes in the door and yells up the stairs, “It’s me…!”  Rather like Bertie Wooster who would not marry Madeline Bassett (or was it Honoria Glossop?) because she would come up behind him at the breakfast table, put her hands over his eyes and say, “Guess who…?”  I imagine we can all think of the person who invariably enters a room talking loudly, making an entrance, coming at you like a blitzkrieg.   Whatever is already happening in the room, it may all be summarily interrupted.

Esther de Waal, years ago, moved into the ancient mansion at Canterbury Cathedral where her husband had been appointed Dean.  The Deanery was where the Benedictine monks had once lived.  Esther began to cope with this place by finding out all she could about local Benedictine history and what it taught.  She became a wonderful teacher of both Benedictine and Celtic spirituality.  In later years she moved to live on the Welsh Borders, and it is there that she wrote a little book called “To Pause At the Threshold”.[1]  It is lovely study of Benedictine sensitivity, how to enter a new situation, in her case going to live on the border… to pause at the threshold, with an open heart and an open mind, a quiet heart and mind.

A threshold is a special place, a transition space from one place to another.  Any threshold is a place to pause… at any rate interiorly.  Jewish homes have a small device on their doorpost, called a mezuzah – a little cylinder usually containing some words from the Torah, the Law.  You pause and touch the mezuzah as you enter.   Another threshold is surely the transition from life to death, or from unmarried to married (these days, perhaps the reverse), child to adult…. Or the doorway of baptism.  The transition for instance to caring for a loved one disappearing into senility… someone called it the long goodbye… is a threshold to be reckoned with.  Many transitions may seem trivial, and yet… it’s as well to pause.  The hour before dawn is a threshold.  Any threshold is a place of ambiguity – there is a lot we don’t know at that moment, that kairos.  It is a place to watch and listen.  Every time of meditation, of contemplative prayer, is a threshold – we are at the edge of what we know and understand, we are waiting (one of the Psalmist’s favourite words) for whatever is to come in life, and therefore we are being still in faith and love.  As the Psalmist says:  The Lord will guard you from evil, will guard your soul.  The Lord will watch your going out and your coming in, now and for ever.



[1] An expanded version of this theme by Esther de Waal is published as Living On The Border (2014).

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