In a little village up in the mountains in the middle of nowhere: The houses don't even have paint, no tile floors (mostly no floors at all), no glass windows and no iron fencing around the flowers growing outside in the longish grass. But here in the cemetery, the deceased have a paradise.
On a hill above a canyon with a roaring river below, I was drawn to this place in the middle of nowhere. It is a little graveyard dating from 1920s. A peaceful and moving place.
Why is it that where this life has very little to offer in terms of material luxuries, the next is more important? To be buried where friends and relatives remember you, put flowers on your grave and garden there - that is real wealth in both life and death and it shows in this place. We are alive for such a short time and dead for so long.
Thank you to my Education for Ministry friends for introducing me to the practice of Theological Reflection.
On a hill above a canyon with a roaring river below, I was drawn to this place in the middle of nowhere. It is a little graveyard dating from 1920s. A peaceful and moving place.
Why is it that where this life has very little to offer in terms of material luxuries, the next is more important? To be buried where friends and relatives remember you, put flowers on your grave and garden there - that is real wealth in both life and death and it shows in this place. We are alive for such a short time and dead for so long.
Thank you to my Education for Ministry friends for introducing me to the practice of Theological Reflection.
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