The Accompanying Presence of God:
A Reflection on the Recent Attack in New Orleans
 
One of the things our mother would say at times was, “Son, nothing surprises me anymore.”  As much as I wish I could say the same thing and genuinely mean it, some things do surprise me.  In fact, there are those things that shock me.  Such was the case on the morning of January 1, 2025. I had walked to church for Mass and was met by one of our parishioners who almost immediately told me of the attack that had occurred in the early hours of the morning in New Orleans.   At that point, my focus was on preparing for Mass. I did not receive much detail before we began. As soon as I returned to my office after, however, I began to learn a lot more. That, my friends, is where the shock started to set in.  To preserve the personal nature of communication that I started to receive at that time, and to assist those involved with mourning and working their way through it, I will simply say that, no, we did not lose any of our parishioners in the attack.  Some of our parishioners, however, lost friends.  Good friends.  It was so hard for me to only be able to communicate with them by phone, as they sat in the hospital in New Orleans.  The emotion was so intense, we could barely speak.  Now, as we have been able to visit in person and begin the movement forward through the aftermath of so traumatic an experience, I find myself wondering many things.  Some survived. Some did not. Life, for many, was going so well.  Now, things will be different.  Why did it happen this way?  Why did it happen to him or her?  And, most mysterious of all, why did it happen—period?  Please allow me the opportunity to offer a few thoughts here, not just about the reality of bad things happening, but about what we do next.
 
I am very passionate about the mystery of suffering, specifically, when it comes to how we talk to one another about it and the language we use.  I honestly feel that we need to tread carefully.   Everyone processes suffering and grief and loss differently. While there may be common denominators in how we do so, in the end, it is we who choose how we will process it for ourselves.  Statements such as, “You’re gonna be ok,” or “You have to turn to God,” or “The Lord will see you through” are all valuable statements and crucial to the healing process.  I do not feel, however, that these are necessarily the first things someone needs to hear when they have endured—or are enduring—an experience of intense suffering.  When the mother of a dear friend of mine died while I was in college and I went to visit them, I was afraid.  My mother told me, “Son, you just need to be there. Listen.  You do not have to say anything.”  In moments of tragedy and acute suffering, the most valuable gift that we have to offer is the gift of our presence. Faith is obviously paramount, but it would not be good, healthy, or fair to, in any way, tell someone how they should be feeling at any given moment.  “Just being there” is the best place to start.  We need to allow each other the freedom to doubt, to question, and to be angry—even if that anger is at God.  If you look to Jesus at the death of Lazarus his friend, we clearly see his human side, if you will.  Like us in all things but sin, Jesus felt everything we could ever feel.  It is from that moment in his life, in fact, that we read the shortest verse in all of scripture. “Jesus wept.”   Christ knows better than anyone what we feel, the questions that we have, and the doubts that we struggle with.   And in all of this, he does not curse us but blesses us and invites us to take his hand.
 
In 2016, Pope Francis wrote, “Faith is not a light which scatters all our darkness, but a lamp which guides our steps in the night and suffices for the journey. To those who suffer, God does not provide arguments which explain everything; rather, his response is that of an accompanying presence, a history of goodness which touches every story of suffering and opens up a ray of light.” (Pope Francis. 2016. I Believe: The Promise of the Creed. p.114. Orbis Books.) There have been moments in my own life when I knew I needed to recommit myself to trust in God. At the same time, some of those moments were so scary and filled with such intense doubt, that I felt like I was taking a risk:
 
Is it true?  
 
All of it? 
 
Everything we have been taught since we were children? 
 
Whenever my mind went through that process of questioning and wondering, I did, at the same time, feel a bit guilty. While no one ever told me, “Never doubt,” part of me sometimes feels like I should not. Then again, I return to the belief that God accepts us where we are and will, as Pope Francis stated, light our way to a new dawn.
 
In a moment, I would like to conclude with the words of my good friend, Brother Barry Landry, a Brother of the Sacred Heart.  Before I do that, though, I would like state a few things, plainly and simply:
 
Be honest with yourself about your feelings. I have, at times, had the tendency to proceed forward as if nothing had happened.  I dive back into work, stay busy, and so on.  I have, at times, made excuses to not allow myself to grieve.  Honesty with how and what we are feeling must come first.
 
There is no sin in doubt.  If we get stuck there, then the problem sets in. Be honest about where you are with that.
 
It is not wrong to question and ask why.   It is, however, important to not go it alone. Spend time with and speak with someone you trust.
 
Anger in and of itself is not a sin. We just need to be aware of how we process it. Sometimes we deal with it well.   Sometimes we do not.  Be as self-aware as possible as to how you are dealing with anger especially.
 
Watch out for our life-traps and pitfalls.  There are numerous things we can turn to when processing anger, pain, and anxiety. Many of them are not good. Be aware.
 
And lastly, sometimes we will be disappointed in and angry with God.  The Lord understands.  Again, however, if we remain locked there, stuck there, our unhappiness will intensify and increase.  It is so extremely important to be able to share this with someone else—free from judgment.  We need to give each other the opportunity and permission to be honest about how we feel, especially when it has to do with God.
 
CONCLUSION:
 
In August of 2005, the City of New Orleans, along with other regions on the Gulf coast, were hit with Hurricane Katrina.  One of the schools almost devastated was Brother Martin High School in New Orleans.  It is a Brothers of the Sacred Heart School.  In partnership with them, Catholic High School in Baton Rouge—another Brothers’ school—opened up their campus to the Brother Martin students and faculty.  Catholic High students would attend class during the day, and Brother Martin students would attend in the late afternoon and evening.  The principal at the time, Brother Barry Landry, asked me if I could come by every now and then in the evening to be available for any of the students who might need to talk. Some of them were away from their families.  Some of their parents had to leave the State to find work, and so on.  It was a hard time, to say the least.  
 
One evening after I arrived, Brother Barry asked if he could speak with me in the chapel.  I asked him how he was doing, and he replied with something I have never forgotten. “Trey, I’m so ready for the resurrection side of this thing.”  I have never forgotten his words, and I have embraced them as an integral part of my core belief about suffering.  In Christ Jesus, we are promised that there is a resurrection side to any experience of suffering.  We may not know when it will come or what it will look like.  What we do know, by faith, is that it will come. We will do more than just endure and get through. We will rise again, stronger, more resilient, and, hopefully, even more grateful for the precious gift of life.
 
I do not know why someone would do what he did in New Orleans on January 1, 2025. Like you, I have no idea what comes next.  Here is what I do know: God is ever-faithful and most patient.  Wherever you are in your processing of an experience such as this, be honest with what you are feeling. Talk with someone about it. Bring it to prayer, even though you may have absolutely no idea whatsoever how to pray or what to say.  It is my firm belief that God will indeed do what Pope Francis said. God will always “be our accompanying presence and goodness which touches every story of suffering and opens up a ray of light.”
 
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord.  Let perpetual light shine upon them.
 
Amen.