Each age has its own tasks. For most of us now, our monasteries have no walls except the silence our meditation gathers to the center of our lives, and this is enough—it is more than enough. Our hermitage is the act of living with attention in the midst of things; amid the rhythms of work and love, the bath with the child, the endlessly growing paperwork, the ever-present likelihood of war, the necessity for taking action to help the world. For us, a good spiritual life is permeable and robust. It faces things squarely knowing the smallest moments are all we have, and that even the smallest moment is full of happiness.
When Sarah gathered herself together enough to speak without weeping, she had to ask:
"How did you know my most terrible secret? Is my lack of faith in God so obvious?"
"My lady, I assumed that you would have such thoughts simply because any human being in your position would HAVE to have them. You give no outward sign of it. And it is not lack of faith. You can't stop thoughts like that from entering your head. Faith doesn't mean that you never doubt. Faith only means that you never act upon your doubts."