Maybe it was the owl's gentle hooting. It could have been the gentle sway of the earth's tendrils, high above our heads as their leaves fell on us. The flicker of the myriad of candles? Maybe. I'm not sure exactly what it was but something shifted that night on the seminary's motte.
It had been eight months since the community at the Seminary of the Southwest gathered to break bread and drink wine. For some, it was the first time they had joined the gathered body since starting their formation. For the rest, it was certainly different than what they had experienced thus far. That night we traded a chapel built by man, for a chapel built by God.
Was it the birds chirping? Or the night insects making their no-rhyme-no-rhythm song? It might have been the moon giving us a silvery light. I'm not sure exactly what it was, but something shifted that night on the seminary's motte.
The Eucharist points us to the mystical reality of the Trinity and it gives us a glimpse of what we will be doing once we have passed from this mortal life. The writer of Revelation in their fourth chapter gives us a glimpse of this heavenly worship. Angels, animal-like creatures, the writer records substances like gemstones, fantastical fabrics all give shape to what one can expect when we make our way to our home. Until then, we have the earthly physical reality that gives us a foretaste of that heavenly scene. I like to think of the Eucharist as a training session for what you and I will be doing for eternity.
Stars that flickered the heavens? The softness of the grass under my feet? I won't forget the reverb of the sound off the stone creations. I'm not sure exactly what it was, but something shifted that night on the seminary's motte.
A hymn that has been ringing through the ages wafted through the trees that night. We opened our mouths and waves of sound shaped and twisted into a hymn. It was then, looking around, while we came to the line "heaven and earth are full of your glory", that where once I would see windows and stones, I saw the trees, the birds, and the heavens dancing and celebrating their creator. I saw the faces of those who longed for that moment that eluded us for so, so long.
And that night, on the seminary's motte I saw, for just a moment a fullness of that scene of John. I saw heaven. Hosanna in the highest.
