Original sin is alive and well, and
continues to define our experiences here in Silver Spring, as throughout the
world.
No, no, I am not talking about actual sin. I am not going to point fingers or name names,
not even my own, for anyone’s most grievous fault, in thoughts or in words, in
what they have done, or in what they have failed to do.
No, right now I am basking in the
afterglow of a perfect example of what I have preached and written about: that
whatever we build will crumble, whatever we fix will break, and everything we
do, with craft and pride, will be undone. Sometimes it is a bitter thing when one’s own
words prove true.
The winter storm that graced us last
week with a thick blanket of snow was welcomed by many for the deliverance it
gave from school and work. I have
already warned of the costs of such liberty, which will needs be paid in
summer.
But it proved to be the gift that keeps
on giving. As the temperatures climbed
above freezing, a zone they have not much visited of late, the snow and ice
began to melt, and slide. And Monday
night, slide it did from the slate roof of our fine school building, with roar
and crash, all of a piece, and of a sudden.
Smack into our brand new heating and
air conditioning units for the school.
Two of the outdoor exchange units of
our heat-pump system for the school were destroyed. Of course, this meant that part of the school
went unheated, and although all that masonry does hold heat, the cold quickly
gained ground. When I visited the middle-school
on Wednesday and found Mrs. Riazi, our science teacher, clutching a cup of hot
water to keep alive the flame of hope in her heart, I realized that something
had to be done, and soon. The kids, for
the most part, were fine (they run hot); but the teachers were the canaries in
the coal mine.
So, portable heating units have been
brought in, and new machinery will be delivered and installed soon -- much
sooner than we originally thought possible.
But, dang! All that beautiful
work! That transformative, marvelous
change in the (literal) climate of our school, all that effort and cost, undone
-- in an instant. Fie!
Yes, we have insurance, and yes, that
will cover most of it. But it just
stinks to be reminded of the ultimate futility of our every effort to perfect
the circumstances of our life on earth.
This is why we need Jesus. If you build it, it will fall down; but if you call upon Him, He will come
– and He will at last stand forth upon
the dust, … (and our) own eyes, not another’s, will behold Him. (with apologies to Field of Dreams, and Job 19:26).
Father McDonell would be better than I
am at characterizing the Scotsman’s take on life, the universe, and everything,
but I can echo Robert Burns in his 1785 poem, To a Mouse, on turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough:
The best-laid schemes
o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought
but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
To that insightful summary of the
reality of our lives, I shall add only that the encounter with the mouse,
herein described, occurred in winter. God deliver us!
Monsignor Smith
