The outward part of the inward-outward journey

A Poem by Teresa of Avila
Christ has no body now on earth but yours,
no hands but yours,
no feet but yours,
Yours are the eyes through which to look out
Christ's compassion to the world
Yours are the feet with which he is to go about
doing good;
Yours are the hands with which he is to bless men now.
I've had an interesting experience looking for a poem for today.  I wanted something on the outward journey part of the see saw of contemplative life.  There's plenty of poetry about the inward journey but I was hard pressed to find a poem about what often comes out of a practice of silence, the enhanced sense of connection, deeper compassion, an abundance of gratitude.  And as I have other work I want to get done this evening, after several hours of searching I finally decided to fall back on this old favorite by Teresa of Avila. 

I used to share this poem a lot when I would lead pilgrimages at Washington National Cathedral, particularly with youth groups.  I liked to link it with a line from an interview I read from a peace worker in Palestine.  She said that while we are called to be the body of Christ in the world, she was pretty sure it means the eyes, hands, feet, and not the rear end.  Her advice was that although the problems of the world sometimes seem overwhelming, we shouldn't just sit around and do nothing.  We should listen for the ways we're being called to serve each and every day. 

The ways we bless others don't have to involve grand gestures.  One thing I have heard over and over from people who regularly do some form of meditation or contemplative prayer is that they become more aware of and open to what some call promptings of the Spirit, those internal nudges that push us to smile at a stranger, phone a friend, act on some impulse that comes from out of the blue.  So what nudge are you sensing today?