Friday, August 03, 2007 |
Brink of Despair.
A young woman with shining eyes starts telling me the story. To begin with there was the city wall. The wall remained, but one part of it was used to build a chapel. Many years passed, and thr chapel became a church. Another century passed, and the church became a Gothic cathedral. The cathedral had had its moments of glory, there had been structural problems, for a time it had been abandoned, then restoration work had distorted the whole shape of the building, but each generation thought it had solved the problem and would rework the original plans.
Thus, in the centuries that followed, they raised a wall here, took down a beam there, added a buttress over there, created or bricked up stained-glass windows.
And the cathedral withstood it all.
I walk through the skeleton of the cathedral, studying the restoration work currently being carried out: this time the architects guarantee that they have found the prefect solution. Everywhere there are metal supports, scaffolding, grand theories about what to do next, and some criticism about what ws done in the past.
And suddenly, in the middle of the central nave, I realize something very important: the cathedral is me, it is all of us. We are all growing and changing shape, we notice certain weaknesses that need to be corrected, we don't always choose the best solution, but we carry on regardless, trying to remain upright and decent, in order to do honor not to the walls or the doors or the windows, but to the empty space inside, the space where we worship and venerate what is dearest and most important to us.
Yes, we are all cathedrals, there is no doubt about it; but what lies in the empty space of my inner cathedral?