God of My Dai­ly Routine (6)
The Path to You 

That’s why I now see clear­ly that, if there is any path at all on which I can approach You, it must lead through the very mid­dle of my ordi­nary dai­ly life. If I should try to flee to You by any oth­er way, I’d actu­al­ly be leav­ing myself behind, and that, aside from being quite impos­si­ble, would accom­plish noth­ing at all. 

But is there a path through my dai­ly life that leads to You? Doesn’t this road take me ever far­ther away from You? Doesn’t it immerse me all the more deeply in the emp­ty noise of world­ly activ­i­ty, where You, God of Qui­et, do not dwell? 

I real­ize that we grad­u­al­ly get tired of the fever­ish activ­i­ty that seems so impor­tant to a young mind and heart. I know that the taedi­um vitae, of which the moral philoso­phers speak, and the feel­ing of sati­ety with life, which Your Scrip­ture reports as the final earth­ly expe­ri­ence of Your patri­archs, will also become more and more my own lot. My dai­ly rou­tine will auto­mat­i­cal­ly turn into the great melan­choly of life, thus indi­rect­ly lead­ing me to You, the infi­nite coun­ter­part of this earth­ly emptiness.

But I don’t have to be a Chris­t­ian to know that — don’t the pagans expe­ri­ence it too? Is this the way my every­day life is sup­posed to lead to You? Do I come into Your pres­ence just because this life has revealed its true face to me, final­ly admit­ting that all is van­i­ty, all is misery? 

Isn’t that the road to despair rather than the way to You? Isn’t it the crown­ing vic­to­ry for rou­tine, when a man’s burned-out heart no longer finds the least bit of joy in things that for­mer­ly gave him relief, when even the sim­ple things of his ordi­nary life, which he used to be able to call upon to help him over the peri­ods of bore­dom and empti­ness, have now become taste­less to him? 

Rah­n­er, Karl. ​“Encoun­ters with Silence.” In Spir­i­tu­al Clas­sics: Select­ed Read­ings on the Twelve Spir­i­tu­al Dis­ci­plines. Edit­ed by Richard J. Fos­ter and Emi­lie Grif­fin. New York: Harper­One, 2000
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