A recurring thought and a prayer that has been on my mind and heart has been of city walls. I’ve seen all manner of self protection and governance, from the walls and Papal power of Avignon and Rome to the Medici dynasty and walls of Florence. From the trenches and tunnels of Vimy Ridge to the high house and bunker of Adolf Hitler at Eagle’s Nest. All of these methods are used to keep beauty and life in, and safe; to keep “others” out.
We each experience things in our lives that we believe no one could understand or appreciate. We build walls and trenches to keep our hearts safe. The more in depth, the thicker and higher our walls get. But the beauty of our lives still deserves to be seen and heard. If we let visitors in, though the line might be long and trying, they will see beauty beyond compare.
This applies, too, to a bus full of people that call themselves community.
I see high walls in people, fortified with standing armies.
I am no exception.
Yet I pray for true community, when the walls come crashing down and the treasure of life and the tombs of experience are opened, when all of that wonder seeps through the cracks and holes in the walls, and, like so many of the cities I have seen, a road leads a visitor gently in, and is not stopped for fear of an imaginary foe.
When this is shared, and the “others” allowed in to see and experience wonder, it is called LOVE. And that relationship is called community.