Echoes

I can remember when I first entered a cathedral and let out a yelp in hopes of hearing the sound come back to me the way they do in big spaces. It seems I’ve always had a thing for echoes. Lying in bed at camp during storms I eagerly waited for the echoing response of each clap of thunder. I still find magic is echoes and delight whenever a choir finishes a piece of music with a triumphant note and then waits for it to return from the rafters of the church. Echoes seem to have a life of their own. Whether in a big space like a cathedral, or against a mountain cliff, or off a lake, echoes return and sound like whatever gave them birth, but not exactly. They come from a source but have a voice of their own. 

As I listened to a particularly animated echo recently, I thought of the relationship between the source and the echo. There’s a connection, or dance, between the two, and it made me reflect on all the echoes I hear. A person speaks, and I hear not only what they said but hear it anew moments or hours later. I remember things my parents said to me as a child and hear them anew as they return as an echo within. 

One of the great stories in the Bible is the description of the creation of the world. Once I got past the struggle of whether the creation stories (there are two) are literally true, I was able to appreciate the truth within the imagery provided. God speaks to creation and out of the word comes life, like an echo. I think, if we are quiet and attentive enough, we can hear that echo bouncing off creation, still. It bounces off the trees as we walk along a path, bounces of mountain cliffs, and mingles with the ocean’s waves. It also bounces off the people we love, and also those we find difficult to love. We can hear it when a child whispers, and someone weeps.

The question is not whether the echo is there, but whether we have ears to hear. When we do, the world suddenly becomes one big, wonderful cathedral.