Ashes

Last night, a cathedral burned down in New York.

The Serbian Orthodox Cathedral of Saint Sava.

May 1st. Resurrection Sunday — most holy day in the Christian faith.

Four alarms. One-hundred and seventy firefighters. Barricades and caution tape. Bright lights. Service vehicles. The pavement was littered with random debris. Oreo's and office supplies. There were cops, firefighters, construction workers, and swarms of gawkers who had just come to see. A bar across 26th Street had a great view and was packed with a happy hour congregation sipping drinks and snapping selfies.

Karaoke night.

Across 25th, a restaurant had put out a bucket of menus and extra signs. Taste Good Restaurant — Authentic Chinese Cuisine.

Free advertising.

One guy in the crowd had a beard and shaved head except for one long braid that went down to the middle of his back. The all-seeing-eye on his corporate t-shirt was staring at the wreckage. He turned to the girl next to him and asked, “What do you see?”

“Ashes,” the woman answered.

“I see Freedom.”

Then he held up two flowers and took a picture of them and the church.

The flowers were made of plastic and wax.

He kissed her and they walked away.

***

The whole block smelled like a burned-out campfire.

Steaming black water was being pumped into the gutters.

Slowly going down the drain.

I searched up and down the streets looking for someone who was praying. In a city of ten million people that had just lost a landmark cathedral, there had to be someone who was praying.

I only found one.

Helena was standing alone. Jeans, tired shoes, simple jacket, and a backpack. Tears on worry-lines. No make-up. Her red, shaking hands were clamped together so tight they whited her knuckles. People were pointing and staring — someone laughed. She looked like a crazy homeless lady. I prayed with her for a while then she just started talking.

“I was born in Serbia and raised by my grandparents. I was only there for a few years, but they were such happy memories. I came to America to go to school, and then stayed for university. Then I went back to Serbia to see my grandparents and it was awful. Bomb holes from the landmines where we went to get water. Running from snipers. They burned my grandfather’s church. Awful fighting and wars. So much fear.”

“I came back to live here because of this church. Because for me it means Hope. I’ve seen it every day when I wake up since I first came here. I learned English here. So many services, and weddings, and funerals, and christenings. This is my home, you understand? This is my home in this country. And seeing it like this I just — they said no one was injured, but how can you say that? How could anyone look at this and say no one was injured? It breaks my heart because it will never stop, this madness. The torture, and the violence, and the bloodshed. It will never stop until everything is gone.”

Helena wept.

I hugged her.

A man came up and spoke to her in Serbian.

We prayed.

It got late.

I told her I had to go. She hugged me again and begged me to keep praying.

They don’t know what caused the fire that burned down the 143-year-old Serbian Orthodox Cathedral of Saint Sava in New York City.

Or the one that gutted the Macedonian Orthodox Church of the Resurrection in Sydney.

The cause of the one that destroyed the Valaam Monastary in Russia hasn’t been established.

No one knows why the 115-year-old Holy Church of Annunciation of Our Lady in Melbourne went up in flames either.

The official theory is the fires were started accidentally by ceremonial candles.

Four churches. Three continents. One Easter Sunday.

Coincidence.

If you’d like to make a donation here’s a link: http://stsavanyc.org/our-church-has-burned-down/

They’re going to use the money to restore the building.

I don’t know how they plan to rebuild The Church.

I ate the Oreo’s — the ones that had been washed out of the church and were sitting in the drain — I ate them.

I bent down and ate the melted, soaked cookies right there in the street.

One of the cops watched me. I guess he’d never seen a guy in a suit eat ruined cookies off the street before.

But I felt like someone should eat them.

And no one else was going to.

So, I ate them, Goddamn it.

He stared at me like I was crazy.