Recalling The Polish Tragedy

On Sunday after worship as I was making my way to my office to change for the congregational meeting about our draft covenant, one of our leaders came up to me and said there was a young woman in the “newcomer’s cafe” who was weeping. She said she was a Polish national.

I changed direction and went into the parlor we reserve as a bit less busy spot for newcomers on Sundays.

We spoke a bit then walked to my office.

She’s an undergraduate at the large Ivy League which largely surrounds our church. While she’s lived in the States for sometime she, of course, has deep feelings for her home country.

And she’d been devastated by the news. And more devastated by her friends who didn’t seem to understand her sense of grief.

We spoke of many things, of how people so often say the wrong thing in the face of tragedy. For instance those who didn’t even notice the news stories, and had no idea why she might be upset. For instance those who thought, hey, just politicians. For those who knew a bit more and knew the president represented a political stance at odds with our student. And, again, what was the big deal?

We spoke of deep connections.

The best I could do was confirm her grief as natural and right.

And confirm her in her read that her friends were all jerks.

And caution that most of us are, given the chance.

And hold up that mystery of forgiveness, at least down the line.

And, then, embarrassed, I admitted I had to get to the meeting. Fortunately, she understood.

Still, I felt awkward.

As we started out the door, another member who had been given a head’s up was there. She introduced herself to our student as also being from the university and worked with the international students, and would she like to talk just a bit more.

I left them, feeling our student was in good hands.

But I found myself thinking about us as people, about our deep connections, and the sadness of the human condition.

Particularly, I thought of our member who shifted gears on a dime to be of use to someone hurting.

I thought of Poland.

I thought of my home.

I thought of us all…