Where is God? A Question of Eschatology

The leaves are mostly gone from the trees now at Boston College, but some still lay scattered upon the pathways of campus in a brilliant carpet lining the way to class, to a conversation with a fellow student or a professor, to campus events, and various other opportunities each day.

Leaves and the late fall chill lined the way to the cozy and mysterious St. Mary’s Chapel, to the Taizé prayer service held there last fall for All Souls Day, in which deceased loved ones were remembered and prayers were offered in their name. Candles surrounded the altar, and the congregation lingered after the service in reflective silence before re-emerging onto the warm, lamplit campus.

Advertisements

Young Joshua looked out into the quiet and cold concentration camp in the late days of WWII, imprisoned there with his father and mother since they were taken from their home in Italy. The Nazis had fled, and Allied troops were on their way. Joshua looked out into this empty space with hope, waiting for the reward his father had promised him, convinced by his father that the whole ordeal was a game and he had just won as the last one standing.

Georgia sat at her kitchen table, unable to control her tears as she looked through the scrapbook of possibilities she had created for her life, including marriage, travel, and other joys. She could think of nothing but the diagnosis she had just received of terminal illness. She took her pain, sorrow, and confusion with her to Sunday service, bursting out in the middle of the sermon with a helpless cry of “Why, God?” She went home, took out all her savings, packed her bags, and flew first class to spend the remainder of her days living her view of life to the fullest at the luxurious mountain hotel she had always dreamed of visiting.

I stood with fellow students mourning at St. Mary’s chapel, next to Joshua in Roberto Benigni’s film Life is Beautiful, and with Georgia by her kitchen table in the Queen Latifah romantic comedy Last Holiday, not sure where to go or what to do. Each had a paradoxical optimism: Joshua’s innocence in the light of irreconcilable evil, Georgia’s reckless embrace of the good things of life despite knowing a tragic end awaited her, my fellow students walking in the footsteps of loved ones only to know that their own journeys must also eventually come to an end.

I stepped out of St. Mary’s Chapel, left Joshua and Georgia, and walked back down the leaf-lined path to the next great thing going on at this campus, privileged and oblivious. Where does it all lead? What will come when the bright colors of the leaves lining my way fade? How do I live in the footsteps of all who have lived before me, and where are they now, they who suffered, who fought, who loved, who strove to live life to the fullest, who looked for God and hopefully found Him? Only God knows.

Thomas Pauloz

Join the Conversation!