I was invited to a barn raising near Wooster, Ohio. A tornado had leveled 4 barns and acres of prime Amish timber. In just three weeks the downed trees were sawn into girders, posts and beams and the 4 barns rebuilt and filled with livestock donated by neighbors to replace those killed in the storm. I watched the raising of the last barn in open-mouthed awe. Some 400 Amish men and boys, acting and reacting like a hive of bees in absolute harmony of cooperation, started at sunrise with only a foundation and floor and by noon, BY NOON, had the huge edifice far enough along that you could put hay in it -- a vast work, born of the spirit.
The Great Mystery will draw closer and begin to reveal some of her secrets in silence. We hope, in the emptying that silence is, to discover a way of being present to what happens and to what is. To be totally open to apprehend the full impact of each moment and each encounter, the heart must be set free from all prejudices, pre-conceptions and expectations. The silence at the center of our reflections here is for emptying and for letting go of the images and knowledge that obscure the vision of our hearts and our ability to truly hear.