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a lone voice in the wilderness
Jun. 8th, 2004 11:20 pmI took Massachusetts Ave on my way home from work today, and outside of the Vatican Embassy I saw a man. He's a slender man with white hair and glasses, looks to be in his early 60's. Above his head, he held a large sign: "CATHOLIC CHURCH MOLESTS LITTLE BOYS WORLDWIDE." When I saw this single man with his sign, my heart sank a little bit. But not because of his message.
I don't know how many of you have been down Mass. Ave, but if you have you might know the man I'm talking about. He's been out there for years. Ten, maybe more. I remember when I was much younger, going down to the museums with my brother or something, the man was there, always with the same sign. He wasn't there every day, but often enough that when he wasn't there, you noticed. I used to wonder about him, about what kind of life this sad, lonely man must have had. About what might have happened to him or to others he knew, and what drove him to maintain his solitary vigil protesting against a huge organization to whom he was but an annoying gnat. Truly David and Goliath. And I wondered about all the people who drove by him and wrote him off as a lone nut, or just chose to ignore him altogether. Yet there he was nonetheless, year after year.
And then the molestation scandal finally broke out. Accusations and confessions coming out left and right, more quickly than they could be silenced. And the next time I went down Mass. Ave, the man and his sign were gone.
To me, that was an instance of utter, even heartbreaking beauty. That after all the years of waiting and quiet protest and urging and hoping, this man's message could finally be heard and at the end of all things he could finally rest. His mission was completed. It was poetic in his beauty, really. I liked to think this poor soul had finally found peace.
But with the scandals dropping from the newspapers and the pressure lessening from the Vatican, leaving them open to start sweeping things back under the rug, the man has returned with a new sign. At first, I was disheartened to see him, almost like it was the death of a dream. After all that, he was back, and for a moment I thought like all his struggle had been for nothing.
But that's the thing. People were starting to forget about the scandals, to get distracted and move on. But not him. Never this man. He's never going to let anyone forget. Perhaps it is his fate that he remain there to remind the masses. And perhaps his peace is that now no one will ever think him a kook or a nut, because now his once solitary message has reached the general populace. And that, in itself, is another kind of beauty, isn't it?
That's what I like to think anyway.
I don't know how many of you have been down Mass. Ave, but if you have you might know the man I'm talking about. He's been out there for years. Ten, maybe more. I remember when I was much younger, going down to the museums with my brother or something, the man was there, always with the same sign. He wasn't there every day, but often enough that when he wasn't there, you noticed. I used to wonder about him, about what kind of life this sad, lonely man must have had. About what might have happened to him or to others he knew, and what drove him to maintain his solitary vigil protesting against a huge organization to whom he was but an annoying gnat. Truly David and Goliath. And I wondered about all the people who drove by him and wrote him off as a lone nut, or just chose to ignore him altogether. Yet there he was nonetheless, year after year.
And then the molestation scandal finally broke out. Accusations and confessions coming out left and right, more quickly than they could be silenced. And the next time I went down Mass. Ave, the man and his sign were gone.
To me, that was an instance of utter, even heartbreaking beauty. That after all the years of waiting and quiet protest and urging and hoping, this man's message could finally be heard and at the end of all things he could finally rest. His mission was completed. It was poetic in his beauty, really. I liked to think this poor soul had finally found peace.
But with the scandals dropping from the newspapers and the pressure lessening from the Vatican, leaving them open to start sweeping things back under the rug, the man has returned with a new sign. At first, I was disheartened to see him, almost like it was the death of a dream. After all that, he was back, and for a moment I thought like all his struggle had been for nothing.
But that's the thing. People were starting to forget about the scandals, to get distracted and move on. But not him. Never this man. He's never going to let anyone forget. Perhaps it is his fate that he remain there to remind the masses. And perhaps his peace is that now no one will ever think him a kook or a nut, because now his once solitary message has reached the general populace. And that, in itself, is another kind of beauty, isn't it?
That's what I like to think anyway.
