Echoes of the Divine

On my pilgrimage, I have sometimes seen moments of real goodness. They come quietly and without much notice. I have seen someone give without reward. I have seen a man who forgave when revenge would have been easier. These acts do not demand attention. They shine with their own light. There was no need for explanation. Their goodness was apparent.

When I witness cruelty or injustice, I feel something within me draw back. That reaction is not a matter of taste. It reveals my belief that there is a difference between what ought to be and what ought not. I have heard people who do not believe in God speak with passion against evil. I have felt that same passion in myself. It reveals a truth one cannot escape. Good and evil are not inventions. They are real. They reflect a law that was not made by man.

I have not learned this through study. More often it has reached me through the lives of others. When someone loves with patience, suffers with dignity, or serves without being seen, something holy stands before me. Not in theory, but in flesh and blood. The human person, however ordinary, becomes a living icon of what is good.

To encounter such a person is, in a way, to brush against the sacred. My neighbor, no matter how unremarkable or secular he may seem, bears the imprint of the divine. He is not only made by God. He carries within him the capacity to reveal God, especially when he chooses what is right.

This is why goodness moves me. It is not simply admirable. It is revealing. It uncovers the presence of the divine, even in places where His name is never spoken. And it calls something out of me. It stirs my conscience. It awakens desire. It reminds me that I was made for more than comfort or gain.

Even many of those who do not profess faith often live as if the person beside them is sacred. They cherish justice. They despise cruelty. They honor sacrifice. In doing so, they quietly affirm that the world is not an accident. There is a moral order. Behind that order stands a will greater than our own.

In the end, it is the quiet presence of goodness lived in everyday moments that changes the world. Each act of kindness, each choice for what is right, becomes a sign if only we pay attention. On this journey, I have learned that when I watch carefully and listen closely, these moments can guide me forward and invite me to live not for myself but for the good I have seen in others. This is the hope that sustains the soul, the knowledge that by paying attention, we discover the divine quietly present in each ordinary moment of life.


When any signal act of charity or of gratitude, for instance, is presented either to our sight or imagination, we are deeply impressed with it’s beauty and feel a strong desire in ourselves of doing charitable and grateful acts also. On the contrary when we see or read of any atrocious deed, we are disgusted with it’s deformity and conceive an abhorrence of vice. (Jefferson, A Private Letter to Robert Skipwith)

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