Joan Chittister writes: “… you have to make an oratory for yourself somehow. Take a long walk alone, perhaps, where the whipping wind or the bursting of trees can bring you back to the essentials, the basics of life. The point is that your “oratory” is whatever invites you, lifts your soul beyond the daily and the mundane. The oratories of the heart are any place that recalls you to your spiritual self.”

I have continued to return to Joan Chittister’s words in the chapter “The Oratory – On Holy Space” from her book The Monastic Heart.

I landed in the oratory during February and continued to return to the pages due to its resonance. Why do these words speak to me? Initially, I thought it was the discovery of the word, “oratory” for chapel. I remembered the Chapel of the Palms. This small, simple oratory sits by the Edisto River, which flows—within eyesight—into the Atlantic Ocean.   To be there—even on the ground of remembrance—is to notice hidden transitions.

And still, the oratory resonated, so I wanted to share this chapter with others. It was the timing of my decision to share that finally illuminated a deeper understanding and meaning. 

March 13, 2022, the two-year mark

It is March 13, 2022, the two-year mark since all organized activities were cancelled for two weeks in March 2020 due to the unknowns of COVID virus. Those two weeks transformed into a stay at home mandate in April 2020. Routines were swept away and life upended.

As I reflected on those early months, I realized the oratory speaks to my heart and spirit because I created an oratory but wasn’t aware of the creation until I read about the oratory. 

Now I understand that COVID restrictions didn’t block access to this space. Visiting hours remained open. There wasn’t any mask mandate.  The only requirement was to find time to visit—to pause, to settle, to rest, to find peace—and finally, to be at peace.  

I entered a variety of oratories during these two years.  There was a back yard deck, the detailed memory of the Chapel of the Palms by the water, the neighbor’s backyard garden with the koi pond, a friend’s covered dock with unexpected sightings of dolphins, walks on the beach, a porch swing on a river walk, a bench at a church’s columbarium, a yoga mat, but most importantly, the space within the heart. In these past two years, I have visited the oratory in my heart more than I have ever visited it before. Maybe that’s the truth I needed to discover this week as the world faces another challenge.  And this I know with great certainty in this uncertain world: There is an expansive network of hidden oratories. The community of prayer has grown stronger during these two years.  Where is your oratory? How many have you created and visited during these past two years? 

Excerpts from “The Oratory – On Holy Space” from Joan Chittister’s book The Monastic Heart:

… Now, in these times, we are at the very same kind of moment: Churches are closing as congregations move or disappear. Massive cathedrals stand alone in the cities, still cavernous, too often empty. Now, perhaps more than ever, we need to “let the oratory be what it is called.” We must let it call us beyond our present overwhelmed selves. What will happen to our hearts if there is no place for us to find the beauty of emptiness in an overstuffed world? We live in an overnoisy, overcrowded, overstimulating round of events, with hardly a break to think through the important questions of life: What is life about? What is the purpose of our lives? How can we possibly make things better, more whole, for our families, for our world, for ourselves?

… The oratory tells you that you yourself must reach out, stop, sink down inside yourself, and let the weariness, the pain, the fear of abandonment evaporate and go to dust in the presence of the soothing warmth of faith and the promises of security, beauty, joy, and happiness that come with the presence of God in your life.