Our Lady of the “Incurable” Wound

Every year on this feast-day I ask myself if the blood of our children would have flowed with the blood of the holy innocents. Would their last little screams echo in our ears forever? Would my own voice and the voice of my wife have been mingled with the cries of the grieving parents of Bethlehem? Would a voice be heard in the suburbs and the shopping malls, sobbing and loudly lamenting –– our own cry, disconnected, weeping for our children because they are no more? And when the soldiers wipe their swords and go home and the rulers go back to their affairs of state, and when in the world of commerce it is business as usual, would we just stand there with holes in our hearts, bleeding from an incurable wound?

Continue reading