Ebenezer Road

If I ever wrote an autobiography, I'd have to call it Ebenezer Road.  (In fact, I wrote an account of my experience of Katrina in 2005, which I had planned to call Ebenezer Road were it ever published.)  In the Old Testament, as the Israelites made their way through the promised land after crossing the Red Sea, they periodically would build monuments made of stone, "...and they called it 'Ebenezer,' meaning 'thus far has God helped us'."  Those monuments remained throughout the land, and the next generations when seeing the monuments would ask, "What's the story here?"  Then the older generation would re-tell the miracles and glories they had witnessed on their journey--how God had been their Helper.

Toward the end of Jesus' earthly life, just before His arrest, He came into Jerusalem riding on a donkey, and "...the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen.... Some of the Pharisees in the crowd [told Jesus to rebuke His disciples]. 'I tell you,' He replied, 'if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out'."  I wonder if the Jews at the time would have recognized the reference to their Ebenezer stones.

Literally, Ebenezer means "stone of help."  Karl Rahner is considered the greatest theologian of the 20th century.  He was once asked if he believed in miracles.  "I do not believe in miracles," he said; "I count on them to get me through the day."  Were I to begin piling up stones to commemorate the small and large miracles I have experienced, I'm sure I'd have at least a small fortress.  God's help is so subtle that most of the time we fail to recognize His hand in the matter, although a good bit of the time we do say, "Thank God!"

Last year, I was in California during the time of the wildfire in Sonoma.  As we watched the news, we began making preparations for the power to be shut off in our area not far away.  The gas tank had to be filled in case we needed to evacuate, the animals had to be thought of, and we needed food that didn't need refrigeration.  In the meantime, I texted a friend in Mississippi who worked in our parish, asking for prayer.  That Sunday morning, I rose early as usual and around sunrise, I noticed a wall of smoke advancing our way.  It slowly came toward the property and surrounded us for about an hour or two.  But then, it began to clear all around us for about a quarter of a mile.  I was surprised to see the smoke encircle the area where we were, remaining at a distance for the rest of the day.  I was able to go out and feed the horses, walk the dogs, etc. without any problem.  Amazingly, the smoke continued to hover around the property, but at some distance.  Even the sky above us was clear.

When I got back to Mississippi, I heard that my friend had alerted our pastor about the situation.  That morning at Mass, he announced that one of the parishioners was in California near the Sonoma fires, and he prayed that the angels would blow back the flames and keep us safe.  People will call that a coincidence, but I call it one of many miracles that have encompassed my life.  I don't think of these miracles as exceptional; I think of them as normal.  I am sure that if we could gather a group of survivors who were directly impacted by those fires, we would hear one story after another of miraculous intervention and escape. 

Psalm 54 says, Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me. 

And Psalm 46: God is our refuge and our strength, an ever present help in distress.

And Isaiah 43:  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
                          and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.
                          When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned;
                           the flames will not set you ablaze.

Maybe I should start looking for some large stones!