Barbarians At The Gate
I was well into my afternoon walk when I noticed a destruction taking place on the corner of Detroit and Arthur that took my breath away.
No, it was not the razing of the Lutheran church, which in itself saddened me, for it vividly spoke of the changing character of our society, but a wanton destruction of it's spire. Yes, that beautiful, copper spire, resembling a witches hat, that Lutheran congregation of time past found to be a suitable representation of finger of man touching the heavenly finger of God.
Okay, so it was not Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel ceiling, but it was just as worthy. I'm positive that had Michelangelo had his druthers, he would have placed all other frescoes someplace else, leaving only the one of a man touching the finger of God, for it alone expressed man's feeble attempts with church towers and spires to touch the hand of God.
This particular spire, clad in copper sheeting, winding slowly upwards towards heavenly home, made a tentative but determined statement of it's intention to reach for God's grace. I liked it!
And so, as I pased by, I noticed that it was carefully removed from it's perch atop the tower, and placed intact on the ground. It gave the impression that it was on it's way to a new and loving home, perhaps to an art collection, perhaps to a museum of old church spires, or at least, to a Vegas yard of discarded casino neon signs.
But, alas, it was not to be. The jaws of the monster wrecker mercilessly bit into it's fragile form, pulverizing it into a pile of so much trash, and unceremoniously dumping it into a recycling bin.
What a shock that was, what a shame! Do barbarians have no sense of beauty, no understanding that the value is not in the metal but in the work? Would they tear down the Sistine Chapel for the bricks?
Ah, progress, progress, what price it extracts!
Resigned, I continued on my walk. Should I hope that the new CVS building, maybe in it's own commercial way, would have one, some, feature reaching out and upwards to God, even if only to it's commercial god?
Hope springs eternal! Go Lakewood, go!
retired racouner, swashbuckler and bulevardeer