The past two weeks, after coming back, have been largely a time full of catching back up on the Catholic blog-o-sphere, which really never stops, and which for the reasons of our times, often has more gusto than ever before. And of course, it’s back to the usual work of music and Latin and digital desiderata. But what’s different after my summer travels is that often times I have real faces and smiles and conversations to put to photographs and behind essays and webpages.
It’s so strange and blessed, and I can’t think about it without smiling. Because I am listening to Peter Kwasniewski’s latest talk at Silverstream Priory and I remember daring myself to talk to him at the Sacred Music Colloquium. I remember wondering why on earth all these people looked so familiar, until I visited New Liturgical Movement during the week and realised that I’d been subliminally registering their faces for months. When I listen to the Benedictines of Mary, I remember the slow unfurling revelation as Mr H said, “My daughter’s a nun, you might’ve heard them before.” Then there was reading the attendees’ list and recognising someone whose blog I had often enjoyed! The lofty “people on the Internet I care to read” were humanised, and new people were met and similarly loved. Places and hobbies and viewpoints formerly so distant, were given distinct faces and names and histories by those I met who loved and held them.
I still hesitate to claim the viewpoint that travel will bring the world together or patch over all divisions in mankind. I still don’t think that’s true. Only the truth can do that–only the Truth can do that. But meeting people, knowing them and learning to love them before you must shortly part again, weaves through the world with the well wishes that follow them home. I will never look at Orange, CA, or Clearwater, Florida, or Spokane, Washington, with the same eye again–“I’ve met someone from there before,” and yes, she still lives there and I hope she is well.
the lexical form 