Sometimes silence is the very best
During my return to Curahuasi I am thinking about the next subject for our website. At the bus stop in Cusco we are waiting 90 minutes for additional guests and I quickly read the headlines at FAZ online. Right away I know, that neither the clearance of our container nor the donation by some teenagers can be the actual news of the day.
30 deaths, 30 people die, because other people want it that way. Everything is planned and well prepared. We are speechless. The profound hatred, the brutal cruelty, the unlimited sorrow of the families. We are frozen stiff.
And yet it is not the death of those 30 people that is the causal problem. Yesterday thousands died a natural death and thousands died of violence, age and suffering, disease and shortness of breath. And then the end. Why?
6 months before his death I took a picture of my dad. He crossed a street in Wiesbaden and automatically I wanted to capture the scene. He walked bent over, because the metastasis broke some of his spinal vertebrae. He walked slow, because his strength faided. In the middle of the intersection I felt the cumulative melancholy of a sound family, that is falling apart. A few months earlier my mom had died and he had taken care of her for a long time.
I had flown in from Peru to be there for the funeral. “Even when everyone is crying, I won’t cry!” That’ s what I declared to those in my friend’s circle. But it came very differently. Nobody cried after the funeral, only me.
And my view slides over to the cross and for hours I could be absorbed in thought. No religious slogans. And please no theological correctness.
In 4 days we will know again, that there is a deep power that comes only from the cross of Christ, because the grave was empty 3 days later. There is no better consolation than this. And I guess, that we will only find real peace at the cross of Jesus Christ./KDJ