"His aunt had just passed.
"She was young, only in her 30s, and
with two small children. She had cancer. It could have been treated, but
the doctors found it too late.
"A group of us were in the living room
of a mutual friend. Dim, warm light flowed from a few lamps,
illuminating the dark wood paneling before being lost in the darkness of
the vaulted ceiling. We were talking and laughing, having a delightful
time.
"Then he walked through the door. A
rush of winter air scoured the room before he could close it behind him.
He was very late. Some friends had already gone home for the night. . . .
"Then, standing just past the threshold, he dropped the news on us.
"Everyone was quiet, and he didn't move. Somebody said, 'I'm so sorry, man.'
"Then he shot his gaze toward me. He
was normally a very meek and soft-spoken man, but in this moment a
confused mix of sadness and anger flared up into indignation - all he
managed to get out was, 'She was good! She went to Church every Sunday!
What kind of God lets this happen?'"
In a recent commentary, Brother Dominic Koester, O.P.,
reflected on how God can't give us the reason for some of the things He allows to happen: "our
minds are too little to comprehend it" and how knowing our human limitations, "God's answer is to give us supernatural sight: the bright obscurity of faith."
To access Br. Dominic's complete post, please visit:
Dominicana: A Dim Light (11 MAY 20)
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