On Faith and Values: Get a room!
The Catholic nun and mystic Teresa of Avila is said to have observed, “In light of heaven, the worst suffering on earth will be seen to be no more serious than one bad night in an inconvenient hotel.” She lived in the 16th century, and I suspect, as a 21st-century guy, that “inconvenient” is probably the best that can be said of most of the hotels of the time.
It’s still quite possible, though, to have a most unpleasant night in a hotel—just ask my friend Jason. A few years back, he flew into Dallas late one night and by the time he made it to his downtown hotel, it was after midnight. His room had been reserved for him by a business associate but, at that hour, no one was on duty in the lobby. Instead, Jason was met with a locked door and instructions to call on an outside phone provided by the hotel.
He did so, and was buzzed into the actual lobby, also staffed only by a phone and written instructions. Upon using the inside phone, he was told to take his room key from a row of cubbyholes on the wall. However, when he finally got to his third-floor room, his key wouldn’t open the door.
Back on the phone, Jason seemed to wake the night manager from a sound sleep, and he got to stand around in the hallway for about a half-hour before the drowsy fellow showed up. After checking ID, Night Man informed Jason that he couldn’t let him into the room, after all, because his name wasn’t on the reservation. He remained unmoved when Jason produced a printout of the reservation that included his name. So, as Night Man prepared to leave the scene, Jason informed him that he’d just go ahead and sleep in the third-floor lounge. Night Man seemed displeased with this option and graciously offered him another nearby room, which Jason and luggage then settled into.
The dilemma appeared solved and Jason attempted to bed down, only to be interrupted by the urgent ring of the room phone as the clock approached 2 a.m. It was Night Man, alerting him that he’d have to vacate the room, as he hadn’t paid for it. Calmly and patiently, in much the way that I imagine a cornered grizzly bear is calm and patient, Jason explained that he wasn’t especially interested in paying for the second room, given that the one that had already been paid for had been declared off limits for him.
Night Man was adamant, mentioning that he’d have to call the police to resolve the matter, which Jason cordially invited him to do before hanging up and rolling back over. After one more phone call rolled in—a cheery chat with the hotel’s Day Man—and no appearances by local law enforcement, Jason emerged the “winner” and attempted to grab a couple hours of sleep before his 7 a.m. breakfast meeting.
Despite the temptation many of us would have had to burn the hotel down on our way out, the now-sainted Teresa has a point. If one attempts to look at life from an eternal perspective, as my faith teaches, the time we spend here, in retrospect, is but a moment. I admit that it can be a challenge to maintain that mindset at times, as I’ve grown rather attached to life on this planet and don’t really have a picture in my head of what the next step looks like.
Neither does anyone else, though: The apostle Paul wrote to the early Christians in the city of Corinth that, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.” That’s more than comforting, I have to say. Paul also seems to have paved the way for Teresa by calling our current trials and tribulations “light and momentary” in a follow-up letter to the Corinthians. They sure don’t feel that way, though, when suffering visits—as it has and will for all of us. “In this world you will have trouble,” Jesus noted, but added, “Take heart—I have overcome the world.”
So I try to trust him in that, and to take the long view. In the meantime, I find hope in the idea that the room service where we’re headed is going to be pretty amazing.
