Thursday, April 7, 2011

Rosary or Umbrella

Saturday began quietly. There was slight hesitation about whether to go to early Mass or not. The weather forecast was a confusing mixture of clouds and sunshine. A slight debate over which camera, which lenses, which camera bag began. There were more reasons to remain indoors than to leave, there were more reasons to do something else, anything else than to leave and be productive.




Outside there was sunlight caressing one side of the still silent, somehow wonderfully traffic free avenue. There was something gently beautiful about this view, something which provided hope. There was a brief debate over taking photograph or not.

The walk to the Cathedral of Saint Matthew the Apostle continued. There were few pedestrians moving about that Saturday morning. There were joggers and cyclists and dogs on leashes. The air was cool, the sky was blank. People looked liked statues or other inanimate objects.



There were trees without leaves, buses without riders, taxicabs without passengers. There were many things to think about, many things to remember. This was a time for silent prayer, silent reflection. This was a time to remember some of the people that I had promised to pray for. This was a time to remember my own search for my personal sense of humanity. This was a time to remember to pray for strangers. Mass had been missed, the second destination was plotted.

Walking on the sidewalks, jaywalking at some intersections provided a crazy sense of anonymity and anxiety. There was a second or two of calm carelessness as I looked at this glass and steel building. There was a second or two of casual thoughtlessness as I darted into traffic.

Walking south there was a moment when I wondered if I had the wrong date, if this event was going to occur on another future time.

Then, I saw them. It was about twenty people of all ages, standing there holding their rosaries. Some were holding sheets of paper.

Their voices were gentle, merciful, loving. Their manner was civil, polite. They were publicly praying in front of the local abortion clinic. There was one police vehicle on the street.


A priest with a microphone was leading those saying the Rosary. This was a moment of reverence. This was a moment of hope. This was a moment of charity. The voices gently said the Rosary, each mystery was clearly announced. Standing on the edge of a sidewalk near the entrance to the abortion clinic, these Christians peacefully, calmly prayed for life, prayed for those thinking about having an abortion, prayed for those who have had an abortion, prayed for those innocent children who were killed by abortion.

The Rosary is powerful. As Catholics we are taught to respect life, to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. A sign of that love is supporting life, supporting hope. We must remember God, remember goodness, holiness, and kindness.

We must encourage our friends to help with this fight. All human life is important. All human life contains the potential for beauty, for hope, for love.



All human life deserves a chance.