September 18, Ordinary 25C (Jeremiah 8:18–9:1)
Jeremiah has to learn to name the reality that is right in front of him.
There was no balm that year and no more water for tears. I was young enough to believe that God’s presence would prevent tragedy yet old enough to know better.
That June my grandmother died of a heart attack. That loss hit close to home—literally, as she’d lived next door for my entire life. Two months later, we received news that my other grandmother had also died. My family grieved those deaths deeply, though they were not unexpected. Death frequently comes as the long, slow consequence of age.
One month later, we were crushed by grief—along with our city and nation—when death arrived in a horrifying instant. Flashed on the news in dreadful detail came images of a flaming jetliner, flattened houses, and a field of debris with no survivors. More than 100 died, including Matt.
