On Religion
And an old priest said, "Speak to us of Religion."
And he said:
Have I spoken this day of aught else?
Is not religion all deeds and all reflection,
And that which is neither deed nor reflection, but a
wonder and a surprise ever springing in the soul, even while the hands
hew the stone or tend the loom?
Who can separate his faith from his actions, or his
belief from his occupations?
Who can spread his hours before him, saying, "This for
God and this for myself; This for my soul, and this other for my body?"
All your hours are wings that beat through space from
self to self.
He who wears his morality but as his best garment were
better naked.
The wind and the sun will tear no holes in his skin.
And he who defines his conduct by ethics imprisons his
song-bird in a cage.
The freest song comes not through bars and wires.
And he to whom worshipping is a window, to open but also
to shut, has not yet visited the house of his soul whose windows are
from dawn to dawn.
Your daily life is your temple and your religion.
Whenever you enter into it take with you your all.
Take the plough and the forge and the mallet and the
lute,
The things you have fashioned in necessity or for
delight.
For in revery you cannot rise above your achievements
nor fall lower than your failures.
And take with you all men:
For in adoration you cannot fly higher than their hopes
nor humble yourself lower than their despair.
And if you would know God be not therefore a solver of
riddles.
Rather look about you and you shall see Him playing with
your children.
And look into space; you shall see Him walking in the
cloud, outstretching His arms in the lightning and descending in rain.
You shall see Him smiling in flowers, then rising and
waving His hands in trees.