Civilization rests on faith not technology. Faith leads to the belief in human goodness and equality, to trust in our neighbor, a sense of the common good rather than just selfish advantage, a passion for justice and a courage for compassion extended to the vulnerable. It empowers forgiveness and patience in times of betrayal and conflict.
Civilization also rests upon sustained faith in the future, believing that there is a point to it all, that we have not achieved perfection but we’re not going to give up. [ . . . . ] Civilized society rests on the belief born of faith that we have something worthwhile to leave for the next generation to perfect better than we were able to.
Meditation begins and ends in faith. It expresses the unity of all in the spirit, as do indeed all sacred acts inspired by love or compassion.
After meditation: “Terry Berrigan” by Anne Porter in LIVING THINGS: Collected Poems (Hanover, NH: Steerforth Press, 2006), pp. 31-33.
Terry Berrigan
The seven years we lived
On 52nd Street
We had a neighbor
Terry Berrigan
Who was the playmate
Of our youngest son
Terry was one of eight
Most of them boys
Who ran all through
The neighborhood
Dodging trucks
And scattering sparrows
Gap-toothed and freckle-faced
With ears
A size too big
Terry was little
For a boy of seven
His Irish mother told him
Terry you’re so small
That if the devil
Should ever catch you
He’d throw you back
For sure
He’s got no use at all
For little minnows
In my last year
On 52nd Street
When all the world around us
Was steeped in war
Terry and I
Each had a war at home
For Terry had
His drunken father
And my own house was filled
With anger and confusion
And Terry understood
I was in trouble
One day he brought me
A child-size plastic medal
On a scrap of ribbon
And in his husky brogue
He said it was the nuns
Had got it for him
He said it had a blessing on it
And I should keep it always
And that was all he said
After we moved away
From 52nd Street
I had no news of Terry
But I kept his medal
In a cracked saucer
On a pantry shelf
One day I picked it up
And looked at it
Intently in a way
I hadn’t looked before
And there in front of me
Was Terry’s Mary
And her wide-open hands
That streamed with blessings.
Image by Sasin Tipchai from Pixabay
