Where Hope Lives
Photo by KEEM IBARRA on Unsplash
Featured in the Dayton Daily News
The world weeps. In the aftermath of Paris’ Notre Dame Cathedral devastation, we are challenged to reset amidst grief. For centuries, the iconic gathering place welcomed millions of people regardless of religious tradition. I recall walking the periphery and interior of the grand church with awe, swept by sacred majesty. Woven between the hand-worn pews were unspoken intentions of the heart left to rest amidst the strength of the stone. Trust rose from the rafters, reassuring all who walked beneath to remain in the light of grandeur. And then, we watched from afar as destruction flexed its massive muscles. Notre Dame was collapsing. Coincidentally, it happened during Holy Week. Several years ago, my nephew suffered a severe traumatic brain injury following a senseless and random accident. Nothing could have prepared my sister’s family for the heartbreak and call to courage as she sat at her son’s intensive care bedside. Coincidentally, it happened during Holy Week. Consumed by her own grief, my sister lived a prolonged period of painful unknowing. Unlike the Gospel account of resurrection, she had no guarantee. Although she could have drowned by fear, her initial response was to envelop herself in a cloak of grit. Nothing, she said, would get in the way of her son’s healing. In Christian tradition, Holy Week marks a hallowed time. Millions attempt to understand more fully the suffering and search for greater meaning in the context of the human experience. The journey of the cross is an exercise in belief that good will rise. As we read scriptural passages describing the torture and despair of Christ’s experience, we already know that Easter provides a chance for new life to triumph over destruction and death. But what about those who are lost in the midst of unknowing, paralyzed by destruction or heartache? How can they be reassured?
The exercise of assuming a posture of determination goes a long way. Looking forward with your chin lifted cannot be underestimated. When we see those on their feet amidst the wreckage of a devastating storm committing to rebuild with nothing more than the clothes on their back, we all stand a bit taller. When a newly diagnosed cancer patient states she will claim victory over disease, we all believe too. Even the high school basketball team’s belief in their ability to win despite a losing season makes a blockbuster story we all want to be part of. Common denominator? Hope. Sometimes that’s all we have and offers a platform from where to begin a long and difficult trek.
This week, we witnessed this message of tenacity by the French people. They personified faith in resurrection through their infectious collective energy. The images of the candlelight vigils with distant flames threatening the heart of their city provided illumination in the middle of a very dark Parisian night. While the heroic firefighters pumped millions of gallons of water on 800 years of treasured memories, the concentric energy beyond Paris was already willing restoration. Rising was the belief that good will prevail. Notre Dame, they said, will be restored. Preparation yields confidence; and although we don’t feel prepared for some life events, we are stronger than we think. Amidst the ruins of Notre Dame, after all, remains the stone.No one wants to be an example of tenacity, but few of us dodge hard times. Adversity is not on our Christmas list, but may show up in an unexpected holy week. No one of us owns the patent on pain, so it makes sense to pay attention and learn from one another in how to rise up from the ashes. Hope, after all, is born beneath the rubble.