mystery

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My communion would be incomplete—would, quite simply, not be Christian—if, together with the gains which the new day brings me, I did not also accept, in my own name and in the name of the world as the most immediate sharing in your own being, those processes, hidden or manifest, of enfeeblement, of aging, of death, which unceasingly consume the universe, to its salvation or its condemnation. 

My God, I deliver myself up with utter abandon to those fearful forces of dissolution which, I blindly believe, will this day cause my narrow ego to be replaced by your divine presence.

Over every living thing which is to spring up, to grow, to flower, to ripen during this day say again the words: This is my Body.  And over every death-force which waits in readiness to corrode, to wither, to cut down, speak again your commanding words which express the supreme mystery of faith: This is my Blood.   

—Teilhard de Chardin

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buffleheadcabin

dailymeditationswithmatthewfox

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