美麗

There were sensitivity and a beauty to her that have nothing to do with looks. She was one to be listened to， whose words were so easy to take to heart.

It is said that the true nature of being is veiled. The labor of words， the expression of art， the seemingly ceaseless buzz that is human thought all have in common the need to get at what really is so. The hope to draw close to and possess the truth of being can be a feverish one. In some cases it can even be fatal， if pleasure is one' s truth and its attainment more important than life itself. In other lives， though， the search for what is truthful gives life.

I used to find notes left in the collection basket， beautiful notes about my homilies and about the writer's thoughts on the daily scriptural readings. The person who penned the notes would add reflections to my thoughts and would always include some quotes from poets and mystics he or she had read and remembered and loved. The notes fascinated me. Here was someone immersed in a search for truth and beauty. Words had been treasured， words that were beautiful. And I felt as if the words somehow delighted in being discovered， for they were obviously verygenerous to the as yet anonymous writer of the notes. And now this person was in turn learning the secret of sharing them. Beauty so shines when given way. The only truth that exists is， in that sense， free.

It was a long time before I met the author of the notes.

One Sunday morning， I was told that someone was waiting for me in the office. The young person who answered the rectory door said that it was \"the woman who said she left all the notes.\" When I saw her I was shocked， since I immediately recognized her from church but had no idea that it was she who wrote the notes. She was sitting in a chair in the office with her hands folded in her lap. Her head was bowed and when she raised it to look at me， she could barely smile without pain. Her face was disfigured， and the skin so tight from surgical procedures that smiling or laughing was very difficult for her. She had suffered terribly from treatment to remove the growths that had so marred her face.

We chatted for a while that Sunday morning and agreed to meet for lunch later that week. As it turned out we went to lunch several times， and she always wore a hat during the meal. I think that treatments of some sort had caused a lot of her hair to fall out. We shared things about our lives. I told her about my schooling and growing up. She told me that she had worked for years for an insurance company. She never mentioned family， and I did not ask.

We spoke of authors we both had read， and it was easy to tell that books are a great love of hers. I have thought about her often over the years and how she struggled in a society that places an incredible premium on looks， class， wealth and all the other fineries of life.

She suffered from a disfigurement that cannot be made to look attractive. I know that her condition hurt her deeply.

Would her life have been different had she been pretty? Chances are it would have. And yet there were a sensitivity and a beauty to her that had nothing to do with looks. She was one to be listened to， whose words were so easy to take to heart. Her words came from a wounded but loving heart， very much like all hearts， but she had more of a need to be aware of it， to live with it and learn from it.

She possessed a fine-tuned sense of beauty. Her only fear in life was the loss of a friend.

How long does it take most of us to reach that level of human growth， if we ever get there? We get so consumed and diminished， worrying about all the things that need improving， we can easily forget to cherish those things that last. Friendship， so rare and so good， just needs our care--maybe even the simple gesture of writing a little note now and then， or the dropping of some beautiful words in a basket， in the hope that such beauty will be shared and taken to heart.

The truth of her life was a desire to see beyond the surface for a glimpse of what it is that matters. She found beauty and grace and they befriended her， and showed her what is real.

她透著一種靈氣和美麗，這和外表無關。人心可以被她的言語輕而易舉地征服，她是我們想要聆聽的聲音。

很多人都認為人生的真諦永遠是未知的。用言詞詳盡的解釋，用夸張的手法表現藝術，還有人類那似乎永無休止的紛繁思考，三者都盡力探求人生的真正意義。希望走近，并且完全把握存在的真諦，會使人變得狂熱。有時候，有些人以自己篤信的真理為志，追尋真理超過保全生命，于是就做出某種舉動，舍生取義。然而，在尋求真諦的過程中他們同時灌溉了生命，這完全是另一種人生。

過去，我在教堂的心意籃里面常會發現一些優美的小短文，有些是關于我的布道，有些是作者讀《圣經》的感想。寫這些短文的人不僅反思我的某些觀點，同時還能引用一些曾經讀過的詩人或者神秘主義者的話，這是他(她)曾經難忘又喜愛的。我被這些短文迷住了。我看到了一個個執著于追尋真與美的人。那采擷珍珠般的字句，優美動人。我們也似乎發現那些字句，它們無所保留地，慷慨地被這無名氏作者借用，而現在這位無名氏來學習同人分享這些美文的奧秘。分享把光輝帶給美麗，從某個意義上說，其實世上唯一的真理是很容易得到的。

很久以后，我才見到這些短文的作者。一個星期天早上，有人告訴我，一個人正在辦公室等我。幫我看門的年輕人說：“是個女人，告訴我留言是她放的?！蔽覍λ械胶艹泽@，因為我馬上就認出她是我的教區信徒，只不過我一直不知道那些短文是她所寫的。坐在辦公室的一張椅子上，她兩手相扣放在大腿上，頭低垂著。她抬頭看了看我，很勉強地笑了一下。那是一張毀了容的臉，她的臉皮因外科手術而繃得緊緊的，笑對她來說因此特別困難。她接受了手術治療，卻導致臉上難看的肉瘤，結果讓她受盡了罪。

那個早上，我們聊了一會兒，并商量好那個星期再約時間一起吃頓午飯。

后來我們在一起吃了好幾次午飯，不止一頓。一起吃飯的時候她總是戴著帽子。我想，可能是因為接受的某種治療，她掉了不少頭發。我們分享了我們經歷過的點滴生活。我給她講了我讀書和成長的故事，她對我說她在一家保險公司工作了很多年。她從來沒提自己的家庭，我也從沒有問過。

我們還談到大家都讀過的作家作品，很顯然她非常喜歡讀書。

這些年我經常想起她，在這個憑外表、地位和財富等虛名浮利開路的社會中，她是怎樣一路走來的呢?她再也無法變得耀眼迷人，因為她的容顏已被毀掉。我知道這一定深深刺痛著她。

如果容顏嬌好，她的生命軌跡會不會有所改變呢?很有可能。不過她的那種特有的靈氣和美麗，完全與外表無關。她的話可以很輕松地征服人心，她就如同我們想要聆聽的聲音。她的雋語出自一顆受過傷卻仍存有愛的心，同其他所有人一樣，只不過她比別人更關注自己的心靈，用心去體會生活并學習生活。她的美感是細膩的，她生命里唯一的恐懼是失去朋友。

究竟需要多長時間，我們才能達到如此完美的成就?而最終能否達到還是個未知數呢。我們總覺得身心疲憊，懷才不遇，只顧為眼前的不足憂心忡忡，卻忘了珍視那些富有新意的東西。友誼是珍貴和美好，我們只需用心呵護，有時極為簡單的表示就足夠了，譬如偶爾給朋友寫幾句話，或者在籃子里放一些優美動人的字條，期盼大家都能分享，記住美妙的回憶、美好的感覺。

她生命的真諦就是要透過事物的表面，親眼看到它真實的本質。她看到了美和上帝的慈愛，而美和慈愛也把她當做朋友，把生命的真諦呈現給她。