But those hallways which are spiritual and physical time periods between one phase of our lives and the unknown next part, those hallways where we pace and we wait for God to open the next door, often contain great anxiety for us. Yet - maybe in God's eyes, they're really breathers. Not only breathers, but life phases all in themselves where unexpected, momentous, and wonderful things can happen.
In 1962, James Meredith, walked a school hallway which was also a spiritual hallway, connecting his past life with an event so momentous that it changed not only his life but his nation's. Meredith, an African American Air Force veteran, was so inspired by President John F. Kennedy's inauguration speech that he decided to exercise his constitutional rights, and he applied to the then-segregated University of Mississippi. He wrote in his application that he felt a Divine Responsibility to do so, for himself, for his race, for his country.
He was denied twice. After much legal maneuvering, he was finally allowed to enter the University. To protest his entrance, an unruly mob of white students and white segregationists who'd driven in for the event, rioted on campus for several days. Two men were killed and several injured.
Knowing the anger his action had provoked, walking the school's hallway was a difficult time for Meredith, who felt alone and frightened, anxious because he did not know what was about to happen in class.
Something unexpected and reassuring happened in that school hallway. He recounts:
"I noticed in the hallway a black janitor and I wondered why he was standing there. And he had a mop under his arm. And as I passed him, he turned his body, twisted his body, and touched me with the mop handle. Now this delivered a message and the message was clear: We are looking after you while you are here."
Meredith became the first black student to graduate from the University of Mississippi, an event which became a rallying point for the fledgling African American Civil Rights Movement.
Hallways can also be places and occasions for creative illumination.
"I remember when I was five, living on Pulaski Street in Brooklyn," says Barbra Streisand, "the hallway of our building had a brass banister and a great sound, a great echo system. I used to sing in the hallway." Those songs illumined her being with the stirrings of her creative genius.
I have a young relative whose great gift is music - singing, composing, performing, - which he has always done "on the side" while having a day job for consistent income for his family. He's currently trying to find a new job in a different field because of the unrelenting stress in his last job.
My husband and I pray daily for him, until he finds something new. Yet, while he waits in this particular hallway of "in between time," he's experiencing a breather, precious time to discern what his priorities are, what his life has been so far, where he would like it to go. And he's having precious time to experience an explosion of creative work.
Over the years, my husband and I have accompanied many friends as they move down the physical and spiritual hallway that stretches between life and death. The door God will open at the end of that corridor is the door into the Total Unknown - Eternity. They have all been men and women of God. They have believed in eternal life. But for each it has been a struggle, suffering that is physical, emotional, and spiritual. They grieve. They don't want to leave their lives here, family and friends here, their particular work and interests here, just yet.
They've all had their "janitors" in their particular hallway - the relatives and friends who are their family's practical and prayer support. But eventually something else momentous begins happening and will happen for as long as God chooses: a new inner movement toward deeper trust, deeper acceptance, deeper saying goodbye, deeper letting go.
This physical, emotional, and spiritual hallway is one that all of us will eventually walk, a natural process as much as birth is a natural process. It is not meant to be rushed, to be interrupted, by steps such as euthanasia. We need time for our whole selves to say goodbye, finish unfinished business, and learn how to die just as we at one time needed time to grow and learn how to be born.
During all of the spiritual hallways of our lives, may we discover unexpected messengers like James Meredith's janitor, offering us hope and encouragement and support. May we find in our hallways opportunities to examine our priorities and find creative outlets. And, like Barbra, may we find them ideal places for singing. May we sing God's praises in perfect love and trust for the One Who will, eventually, open a new door.