Cantate Domino

Just to the west of Mexicali, which is so unbelievably flat, stands a mountain pushed up from the sea floor (many eons ago). It is appropriately named “El Centinela” which means in English, The Sentinel. So far I’ve climbed this mountain twice, though it was only just today that I actually made it to the top. Believe it or not, February is an ideal time to climb because its in the 60s or 70s, rather than the 100s or 110s as it would be in the summer. It’s difficult not to recall Psalm 130 (129) because of its references to the sentinels waiting for daybreak. Indeed, this mountain is just there, keeping watch like a true sentinel. This psalm is also a liturgical prayer for the dead, and is also prayed by us Dominicans before our main meal, for the intention of all our dead.

An ascent of “El Centinela” was particularly appropriate today because just this morning I received news that William Gross, the father of Mark Gross (a Lay Dominican in Idaho), had passed away only the day before. The combination of the name of the mountain and the remembrance of a soul passing from this world to the next was not lost on me.

But before I wax too sentimental, I want to say something about mountains. As far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted to ascend these things. I’m also not alone in these attempts. The question has always been “Why?” And the stock answer has always been “Because it’s there.” I contend that this isn’t good enough. There is of course, the whole concept of bragging rights, but if that were the case, then why do people do it over and over. Humanists will want to say that it’s a huge achievement on the part of the climber; and though that is true, it’s only part of it. They still want to be there.

I believe that we go to these high places to enjoy the view. That’s a curt answer; and as brusque as it sounds, it goes a little deeper than that. Scripture tells us that we were made in the image an likeness of God, which of course is a basic tenet. But it’s just not physical, it’s also mental. We want to see creation from a high view. It’s easy to see why. Whether you’re 100 feet up or 20,000 feet up, it is difficult not to be awed by the greatness of God’s creation. And here we want to take part in God’s view of creation. It is at the same time quite humbling—seeing that we are but a speck in the whole of creation.

When I crested the final cornice the view of a great white cross atop a plateau came into view—an awesome sight to see. It seems that this area has other uses—because embedded in the rocks were other monuments placed by people over the years to remember their departed loved ones. Even though we know that God is everywhere, somehow from our perspective we want to make certain our thoughts are known to Him—and the highest places we can reach are a sign of this yearning. It was within this context that I said a chaplet of the Divine Mercy for Bill. “Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One, have mercy on us and on the whole world.”