Word trickled down the aisle that he had died.
My first response: how did they even know?
Grief was an afterthought. He’d long been gone;
had only just sufficiently revived
to totter to his feet and say hello
(or else goodbye)”impossibly removed,
frail, struggling to sit or stand or speak.
The rumor rippled down my little row,
but soon the audience at the recital
recomposed itself. The music closed
like water over a floundering swimmer’s head,
filling the lacuna in the chair,
braiding an order in attentive air,
cleansing us of the news that he was dead.
Time is short, so I’ll be direct: FIRST THINGS needs you. And we need you by December 31 at 11:59 p.m., when the clock will strike zero. Give now at supportfirstthings.com.
First Things does not hesitate to call out what is bad. Today, there is much to call out. Yet our editors, authors, and readers like you share a greater purpose. And we are guided by a deeper, more enduring hope.
Your gift of $50, $100, or even $250 or more will bring this message of hope to many more people in the new year.
Make your gift now at supportfirstthings.com.
First Things needs you. I’m confident you’ll answer the call.
