In the Name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
As I was drinking my coffee early this week, I opened the laptop and logged on to CNN. What I saw on the screen scared me to death because my cousin is a school teacher in Cleveland, Ohio. So, I immediately whipped off an email to her to see if she was OK. Within a few minutes, I received a response telling me that she was fine...physically. The school at which she works is one of the closer schools to Chardon High School. Needless to say, she and everyone else in the area were in a state of shock, horror, disbelief and grief. No one had expected anything like this. When I asked her what we could do from this far away, she said, "Pray." So, last night we did.
As I was preparing the liturgy for the Mass, my mind went to the Blessed Mother standing at the foot of the cross watching her first-born being brutally executed. It is said that the death of a child is the worst grief one can ever experience, especially for the mother - for the child who had once been biologically a part of her own body. My mind went to Our Lady sitting at the foot of the cross cradling the lifeless head of her son in her lap and wailing to the sky as the rain fell and lightening split the sky. And she would not be comforted.
Later that day, I received an email from a fellow clergyman asking why God can allow such things to occur. Of course, she remarked, it isn't God's fault. And she's right. For better or for worse, we humans are built with a free will and sometimes that free will gets out of hand and we perpetrate the most hideous actions on one another. And sometimes, it doesn't rear its ugly head until years, generations or centuries later. But when it does, it's never pretty. People are scarred for life and some just cease to exist. The Twentieth Century is littered with such people.
And wondering where God was in all of this made me think. If only God would come down out of the sky and fix all of this. But, alas, such is not the nature of the Divine though we want it to be. What I realized from my own life was that while God never comes down from the sky and fixes our lives, God is present...and in the midst of the carnage, we are not alone. God is present with us giving us courage and hope and giving us the ability to give it to each other.
I was drawn back to many years ago as a chaplain in the local county hospital. I'd been assigned to the AIDS ward - lucky me. It was during the days when the AIDS epidemic was just revving up and people were scared $#i+less - not just the straight folks, but the gay community as well.
There was a young man there in his early thirties with whom I'd spoken once. He was a nice guy, but soon went into a coma from which he never awoke. Every day of his hospital visit, his mother would show up at 8am and stay until visiting hours were over. In her hands were a set of well-worn Rosary beads which never left her hand. As the days and weeks oozed by, I would sit in the room with the young man and his mother and the woman I got to know was one of the kindest people I've ever met. And she loved her son - her only child - more than even life itself. She was a good Roman Catholic and extremely devout, but she was convinced that His Holiness was wrong about gay people. It wasn't what Jesus would've done. So much for papal infallibility.
The day before the young man died, a woman walked into the room from the hall. She was wearing a grey blouse and a grey sweater with a grey skirt, grey shoes and a grey over-coat. It was winter. Her hair was battle-ship grey as was her pallor. She was the most lifeless living person I'd ever seen.
She walked into the room about two steps, looked at the young an in the bed and then looked at his mother. Then she said, with a sarcasm that could shatter glass, "Where the hell is your loving God now?" The young man's mother didn't miss a beat. This was her sister whom she knew to the core. And with a smile on her face, she responded to this grey woman: "Sitting right here next to me, weeping with me."
Mrs. Grey turned around an left in a huff. I couldn't say a thing. But then, what else needed be said?
This kind, gracious woman taught me what Jesus had taught her...that in the midst of the most gut-wrenching of times, God is there. But God isn't there to fix everything. Rather God is there to give us the courage and the love and the compassion to do what we can and in many instances to be the Divine Light for someone for whom it seems to have gone out.
As the days and weeks go by, those who must heal from this - tragedy is too light of a word, but let's go with it - will not have their lives fixed. It'll take time and for many the healing will only ever be partial. And T.J. Lane and his family will live with this for the rest of their lives. And yet, in the midst of such chaos and pain and suffering, they are not alone. God is there whether they acknowledge Him/Her or not - God doesn't care about things like that. And someday healing and reconciliation will come. Things won't ever be the same as they were, but something new, vital and vibrant will emerge.
We celebrate this Mass this evening even though this event is not our own personal tragedy. But, it's important that we celebrate it to remind ourselves that when our own personal tragedies come, and they surely will, we will not be alone. Christ will be with us while we await resurrection.
May the souls of the faithful departed through the mercies of God rest in peace.
And may light perpetual shine upon them. Amen.
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