I did a little something tonight, mostly for a selfish reason --- I wanted to feel better.
I went to an ecumenical community services of prayers for the people of Haiti, held at St. Julian's Catholic Church in Middlesboro, Kentucky.
I was one of three people from St. Mary's Episcopal Church in Middlesboro who attended. The other two were lesbian couple, one of whom provided the music for the service.
There were about 100 people present, mostly Catholic, but I'm sure other religious denominations were represented.
At the beginning of the service, those gathered were asked for names of people who might be affected by the earthquake in Haiti. I was surprised to learn that there were three people from the Middlesboro area, which includes parts of southwest Virginia and northeast Tennessee. who were in harm's way when the earthquake hit.
I said I did not know any names, but had read of 85 survivors from an old folks' home that had collapsed and were now out on the streets, injured. They had come to the nursing home to die peacefully and now would have to finish the process with broken backs and limbs, amidst rats sniffing at their not-dead bodies.
These unknown elderly were added to the list, with a notation that they were less than one fraction of the total number of people suffering.
And then I did the only other thing I could do. I prayed, along with the others who were present, for God's love and peace to come upon all of his children, here and in Haiti, now and at the hour of our death.
My friend, who provided music, played Samuel Barber's "Adagio for Strings" on the piano. A melancholy piece, often used for events of public mourning.
During the service, we lit candles in memory of the dead and held them for the remainder of the hour of worship. Afterwards, I went to the front of the chapel and lit several candles in memory of specific people who are constantly in my prayers. My parents; three deceased friends; my crazy sister; myself. And one for the people of Haiti.
When I stepped back from lighting the candles, I saw, to my surprise, that combined with the candles that were already lit by others, they formed a perfect peace sign.
I left the service with a calmness I haven't felt for some time. However long it lasts, it was a good little experience.
James, I wish you many moments of calm in your journey--without one moment of complacency; peace, but not the lack of challenges.
ReplyDeleteI envy your religiosity (now, THAT is an oxy-moronic sentence, if there ever was one--eh?). A militant, fundamental, militant, independent, militant, right-wing, militant, Baptist (did I mention...militant?) Church, is what I've parted with after 40 years; and having a hard time relating to my Creator outside of that secure, familiar box. Trying to find the harmony to my soul-song.
Saw a church marquee the other day that read, "Pray for Haiti", and I thought, 'It would've been much more impressive if you had prayed for Haiti DURING the catastrophe, and God had answered you by turning back time and reversing the effects (like Superman did when Lois' car fell into the fault)...all caught on CNN, of course.' I mean, why would God care about getting a bottle of water to a Haitian orphan, after having MISSED the opportunity to save a million people from trauma and pain? **Kinda swung a bit late, there, Big Guy. Keep your eye on the ball, next time.** Besides, anyone can be of help AFTER a crisis, but, only an Almighty, Creator of the Universe--who cares about each and every one of His creatures (like the Bible says)--can STOP a natural disaster to prove His power and love.
People talk about the 'miracles' of finding survivors amoung the rubble. That's not a miracle; the randomness of that possibility is equivalent to winning the lottery--it happens. A miracle would've been if every crushed body was elevated to the height of the TV trucks' antenas, healed in front of the world, and set to walking through the city streets--handing out water to the rescuers.
My cynicism is not malicious, albeit, somewhat sarcastic. I mean no harm to another's faith; just a little jealous.