Today we speak of miracles: loaves and fishes; the total
remission of cancer; rising into heaven on a great white winged horse of fire; the
face of the Virgin on a sticky bun. I
don’t know about any of these miracles, but then miracles are not the kind of
thing one knows about. They are the kind
of thing one believes.
I seem to need miracles.
I find comfort in contemplation of the divine, in something that exists
outside those things that we can know. But
I think of fishes and winged horses and I get a sense that most folks are
looking for God in all the wrong places.
I seem to need miracles but I’m afraid that I am too
rational and lack the strength to believe in the traditional miracles.