I was standing in the east courtyard at St. Patrick. The red brick walls are high, and shade it from the sun. The thickness of the walls protect from the oppressive heat in downtown Columbus. There are wide stone benches to sit upon, and beautiful flower gardens tended by volunteers. There is a fountain in the priests yard, invisible behind the wrought iron fence, but you can still hear the fountain sing. Conversing with a pair of young, white habited, seminarians about their life and their call, and watching my grandson chase ants and romp about, I was struck at how beautiful this place is, and how so few people get to experience such beauty. After the Holy Brothers took leave and I went to my car, my imagination began to play. Were such conversations being had in similiar places on the eve of Henry VIIIs outlawing of religion? Or before the Ottoman forces swept across North Africa? It brings to mind the White City from LOTR. Very beautiful and cultured, but led by a clueless steward who was willing to allow the destruction of the City and its citizens before he bestirred himself to defend or lead. I am of little importance. The princes of the world do not listen to me no matter how I whisper or shout. But I can pray. I hope we are all praying for an end to the evil being wrought in the world.
Posted on: Tue, 12 Aug 2014 23:19:47 +0000
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