The rectory chapel at Star of the Sea Everyone loves the story of Tobit, a love story with a supremely happy ending. The story ends at tomorrow’s Mass in these words from the Angel Raphael: “Behold, I am about to ascend to Him who sent me.” Tobit has regained his eyesight, Sarah has found her perfect husband, and Tobias has gotten the girl and the gold. But the story ends with Raphael ascending back to God, which is the final end of every story, let us hope. Tobit’s family has seen and now know The Way.
We are trying to establish an Oratory here in San Francisco, and it sure seems like I cannot see the way to do it. I think of Blessed John Henry Newman’s words:
Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th'encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.
That Kindly Light seems pleased to lead us sometimes into obscurity.
A few years ago I was visiting my sister and her husband in Hawaii, and decided to climb the Pali at dusk. Up I went through a dense forest and at last stood upon a jagged promontory overlooking the bay. It was fairly dark when I reentered the forest to make my way down, and before long, in a black tangle of trees, I didn’t know which way to turn. Each way sent me steeper down the cliff edge. So I backed up and plopped down in the slippery leaves to pray a rosary. After this prayer I got up and—behold, the path opened before me. It was truly marvelous. In deep serenity I made my way down again, reaching the house just in time for dinner.
Here in our parish rectory we have a beautiful chapel. I go there when I don’t know where to turn or what to do. When I can’t sleep, I go there. Recall how Tobias and his new wife Sarah got out of bed on the honeymoon, knelt down and blessed God before taking another step into their new life. It is in praising God—not even in asking for his guidance but simply in praising Him—that we will find our way.
We are trying to establish an Oratory here in San Francisco, and it sure seems like I cannot see the way to do it. I think of Blessed John Henry Newman’s words:
Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th'encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.
That Kindly Light seems pleased to lead us sometimes into obscurity.
A few years ago I was visiting my sister and her husband in Hawaii, and decided to climb the Pali at dusk. Up I went through a dense forest and at last stood upon a jagged promontory overlooking the bay. It was fairly dark when I reentered the forest to make my way down, and before long, in a black tangle of trees, I didn’t know which way to turn. Each way sent me steeper down the cliff edge. So I backed up and plopped down in the slippery leaves to pray a rosary. After this prayer I got up and—behold, the path opened before me. It was truly marvelous. In deep serenity I made my way down again, reaching the house just in time for dinner.
Here in our parish rectory we have a beautiful chapel. I go there when I don’t know where to turn or what to do. When I can’t sleep, I go there. Recall how Tobias and his new wife Sarah got out of bed on the honeymoon, knelt down and blessed God before taking another step into their new life. It is in praising God—not even in asking for his guidance but simply in praising Him—that we will find our way.
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