Yesterday started out in pouring rain. Buckets fell from the sky. It was a state holiday here, Patriot's Day. It was the annual running of the Boston Marathon, a day that has, since 1897, been significant and celebrated. Since 2013, the date has been remembered not only as one of victory and, but for tragedy and horror as the work of two extremists took the lives of four and changed the lives of scores of others who innocently waited at the finish line that day in April. The sun finally did come out and Boston was bathed in the glow as runners completed the course and the Red Sox played at Fenway Park. Victories and submissions to weaknesses, under the same sky.
The day ended with another story. The Marathon and the Red Sox game faded rapidly into the background as news came, first about a "fire" in one of the world's most iconic places, the Cathedral of Notre Dame, in Paris. As the minutes and then hours passed, what we thought might be a small fire, easily extinguished, became reports of a huge conflagration, a fire that was out of control and one that was changing history forever. We watched as Paris burned. We watched as the superstar of the Christian world, the most beloved of all monuments to the faith, and the most beautiful structure in all of Paris, if not all the world, became engulfed in flames and taken to her knees. Eight hundred years, gone in a few hours.
As the newscasters each related the stories to us, we heard about the response of the people who were on the scene, some having just exited the cathedral, some simply walking by. We heard of groups of those people, praying out loud, asking for God's mercy, begging the mother of God, for whom the cathedral is named, for help. Please. Please. One group broke out in song, together imploring the Our Lady, to intercede and to stop the horror before it was too late. Before the unthinkable happened as it did, we are told. The entire interior was totally destroyed. We still don't know the extent of the loss of artwork and relics. One can only imagine.
It's not easy to be a person of faith. It's increasingly difficult when technology begs for logical explanations to every move we make. Big brains work hard so that we don't have to. We point and shoot our way through life. Rarely do we have to think. It's all done for us and neatly packaged. The words "faith" and "belief" have been replaced by "solid" and "proven". If we can't see it, it simply does not exist. If we think differently, we're foolish and obsolete. It takes real courage to profess faith and stamina to get through a story of faith in action to an audience of modern minds. If you don't believe me, try explaining the birth of Christ at your next Thanksgiving dinner.
It's so hard to grasp the concept that God "allowed" this (and so many other tragic events) to happen before our eyes. Why, you may ask, did he not answer prayers, make it stop, end the fire. Why this huge and symbolic place? Why not a little chapel such as the tiny wooden structure that is housed on a sleepy little street in my town or yours? It brings to mind the question I ask over and over, about why some people outlive their brains and go on and on, into their hundreds, when children suffer and die. Why? For what purpose? God at work?
I don't propose to have answers. I only have a handful of tools. One of those is my blind faith. It was a gift that I received on the day I was born and as much as I try to ignore it, I can't. It is my go-to that gets me through. And today, it is causing me to think it through and to calm down, giving God a break and in my meditations, allowing Him to suggest that maybe there is a message here. That maybe, the loss of a little chapel might not have been noticed, but this one, this centuries-old, magnificent cathedral would not go un-noticed by anyone. Look!
Technology? It's the start of Holy Week. Think about it. Outside of the Think Tank.
The day ended with another story. The Marathon and the Red Sox game faded rapidly into the background as news came, first about a "fire" in one of the world's most iconic places, the Cathedral of Notre Dame, in Paris. As the minutes and then hours passed, what we thought might be a small fire, easily extinguished, became reports of a huge conflagration, a fire that was out of control and one that was changing history forever. We watched as Paris burned. We watched as the superstar of the Christian world, the most beloved of all monuments to the faith, and the most beautiful structure in all of Paris, if not all the world, became engulfed in flames and taken to her knees. Eight hundred years, gone in a few hours.
As the newscasters each related the stories to us, we heard about the response of the people who were on the scene, some having just exited the cathedral, some simply walking by. We heard of groups of those people, praying out loud, asking for God's mercy, begging the mother of God, for whom the cathedral is named, for help. Please. Please. One group broke out in song, together imploring the Our Lady, to intercede and to stop the horror before it was too late. Before the unthinkable happened as it did, we are told. The entire interior was totally destroyed. We still don't know the extent of the loss of artwork and relics. One can only imagine.
It's not easy to be a person of faith. It's increasingly difficult when technology begs for logical explanations to every move we make. Big brains work hard so that we don't have to. We point and shoot our way through life. Rarely do we have to think. It's all done for us and neatly packaged. The words "faith" and "belief" have been replaced by "solid" and "proven". If we can't see it, it simply does not exist. If we think differently, we're foolish and obsolete. It takes real courage to profess faith and stamina to get through a story of faith in action to an audience of modern minds. If you don't believe me, try explaining the birth of Christ at your next Thanksgiving dinner.
It's so hard to grasp the concept that God "allowed" this (and so many other tragic events) to happen before our eyes. Why, you may ask, did he not answer prayers, make it stop, end the fire. Why this huge and symbolic place? Why not a little chapel such as the tiny wooden structure that is housed on a sleepy little street in my town or yours? It brings to mind the question I ask over and over, about why some people outlive their brains and go on and on, into their hundreds, when children suffer and die. Why? For what purpose? God at work?
I don't propose to have answers. I only have a handful of tools. One of those is my blind faith. It was a gift that I received on the day I was born and as much as I try to ignore it, I can't. It is my go-to that gets me through. And today, it is causing me to think it through and to calm down, giving God a break and in my meditations, allowing Him to suggest that maybe there is a message here. That maybe, the loss of a little chapel might not have been noticed, but this one, this centuries-old, magnificent cathedral would not go un-noticed by anyone. Look!
Technology? It's the start of Holy Week. Think about it. Outside of the Think Tank.
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