Glimpses by night
Walking into town for an admin meeting at the church as light faded last night, I found this little Prayer of St Jude carefully tucked into the perspex on a notice at the bus stop. This was by no means a casual act. Somebody had slid it carefully in, making sure that its text could be read by anyone waiting for their bus opposite the hospital.
For those unfamiliar with the text, it reads as follows:
Saint Jude, glorious Apostle, faithful servant and friend of Jesus: The name of the traitor has caused you to be forgotten by many, but the true Church invokes you universally as the Patron of things despaired of. Pray for me, that finally I may receive the consolations and the succor of Heaven in all my necessities, tribulations and sufferings, particularly (here make your request), and that I may bless God with the Elect throughout eternity. Amen.
An hour or so later, darkness had fallen, and I walked past another church. The lights were blazing, and through the door I could see a solitary figure (the Vicar) praying alone. I found myself involuntarily reminded of Edward Hopper’s “nighthawks” below – figures bathed in light but somehow sealed off from the world.
Image: 2bp.blogspot.com
Passing by the same bus stop again, the paper was now scudding across the pavement in the swash of air from passing traffic. Had it been ripped out in anger, read and discarded, or simply lost the ability to cling on, I wondered? Only one person would know, I suppose.
Nearing home, I looked up to see a perfect crescent moon overhead – like a curved slash in the night sky ripped by the sharpest blade. Like God, hearing the prayers in the church and the prayers at the bus stop it was a silent witness to it all.
