January 26, 2008 The pieta in the church is small, and old and well-touched. When people conclude their prayer, they like to caress the Virgin. I believe that they are offering her condolences, and that that gesture is a part of their prayer.
As a result, the little statue has become chipped in places and looks like it could use a touch up. I like it that way; it is a sign that others have been here and have prayed here as well.
The pious lady who comes to daily Mass and who will not say hello to anyone and who refuses to hold hands during the Our Father or offer a sign of peace and who will only take communion from the priest (all of this within her rights) wants to take the statue home to have it re-touched. “It looks horrible and is disrespectful,” she tells me. She will not tell me her name.
A neighbor is going through our garbage. She is pulling out the remains of a very picked over roast chicken when Br. Albert walks out the door. She looks up at him with a question, “Can I have this?” He says, “Well it has been in the refrigerator for more than a week. It’s your call.”
There are more pietas than I can count.
Some of them need different kinds of re-touching. Some of them can’t share even their names. Some of them just need a meal.
