A hazy drizzle fell on the cemetery in the backyard of the church.
Christopher dragged his body and struggled to hold up the stone tablet. The name of the owner was engraved on the tablet: Raymond Pune.
"Raymond..." The priest murmured in the drizzle, picked up the wet soil and tamped it under the monument.
On the third day after the fall of the Holy Land, Raymond's body was found. The surrendered soldiers brought the knight of Resurrection Town to the cathedral, with blood all over his body. Christopher remembers smoothing his eyelids.
Raymond was buried next to his daughter, as he had previously requested.
Christopher opened his dry lips. He should be reciting scriptures at this moment, but he couldn't speak.
The Lord will bless you, that's what the priest was going to say, and he had said it countless times before.
However, Raymond died in the battle and rested under the monument.
"Raymond," Christopher said slowly after a long time, "you are the best among us."
The priest slapped the dirt off the monk's robe, got up and returned to the church hall.
In the dark sky, the dark clouds were low, as if they were about to overturn the holy land.
This is a holy land, and it is supposed to be heaven on earth.
"Old friend, you buried Raymond." Christopher heard the dying voice of his best friend Kaloyan behind him, "It's time to bury me too."
Christopher stared at him, not knowing how to reply.
"This is the Holy Land, the place closest to the Lord. Don't worry, I will go to the Kingdom of Heaven. There, both true believers and pagans will lay down their swords and set up plowshares for each other." Time is running out, Ka Luo Yang raised his head and looked at the ceiling. On the light-transmitting stained glass windows, the broken glass was filled with the goodness of faith.
Kaloyan closed his eyes. He didn't breathe. He was too dizzy, so he just closed his eyes and took a rest.
The priest stood up and looked around the church, which had lost its former glory.
Familiar and unfamiliar refugees leaned together, trembling movements, miserable and panicked, crowded under the icon of the saint. They kissed the icon, clasped their hands, and recited scriptures in a low voice with their own voices. Tears dried on their faces. .
The Holy Land fell.
Each of them knew it, so they prayed that the Lord would know it.
Christopher sees Anne.
The girl nestled in her mother's arms. Under her mother's breathing, she stared uneasily and curiously at the injured soldier with severed limbs beside her.
Stepping over the refugees lying on the ground, the priest walked to the wounded soldier and examined his wounds.
The wounded soldier burned for two days.
"Father, I'm going to die, I'm going to die... Where is the Lord?" the wounded soldier cried, his consciousness blurred, and the pupils in his eyes gradually lost focus.
He stretched out his hands unconsciously, his nails were broken and his fingertips twitched and trembled.
Christopher could only try his best to comfort him and recite scriptures for him. The scriptures of the mass told him that this was a holy place, the place closest to the Lord, and the confessions here could be spread to the kingdom of heaven.
The wounded soldier did not repent to the Lord.
He slapped his head in pain, stretched out one hand, and shouted: "Mom, mom... Where is the Lord?... Mom... Go home... Mom."
The wounded soldier called for his mother.
Christopher's face was stagnant, and the priest could not read the scriptures, and every syllable was stuck in his throat. There were tears in his eyes.
A pair of small hands held the outstretched hand of the wounded soldier.
Annie, she carefully walked out of her sleeping mother.
She held the hand of the wounded soldier.
The refugees were shocked by the screams of the wounded soldiers. They listened to the wounded soldiers thinking about their mother and hometown. When they turned around, they saw the dried tears on each other's faces.
"Go home, mom...go home quickly...mom." The wounded soldier did not think of the Lord, but called his mother.
Where is the Lord?
In the church, they looked at each other in confusion, rubbing the icon. They stared at each other's expressions. On their numb faces, they had the same confusion, the same panic, the same suffering... they could not find the answer.
...countless eyes, eager for answers, they looked at the priest and at Christopher.
The priest clutched the icon and wanted to find the answer from the scriptures, but he didn't know where to start.
Where is the Lord?
our lord,
Why do people in the world suffer?
Christopher was silent.
There was silence for a long time.
Listening over and over again, the unconscious shouts of the wounded soldiers.
“Lord, are you with us?”
With a childish and ethereal tone, Anne held the wounded soldier's hand, lowered her body, and sang softly.
“Can you hear the singing?
That is the human world,
All the suffering people stood up and sang. "
"Where is the Lord?" That is a song that every child has learned.
"Lord, why is the night so long?
Far away and difficult,
Where is our angel's hometown?
There are rolling green mountains.
There are beautiful girls there.
When will I return home victorious?
Return to mother. "
At first, the girl sang in a low voice, shyly and softly. Her mother faintly woke up, hugged the girl in a hazy state, and gently echoed.
Refugees leaning against the saint's statue trembled violently.
After days of suffering and layers of numbness, the girl's singing awakened something.
They pursed their lips, and the string called hope trembled.
“Lord, are you with us?”
I don’t know who took the lead next, and the singing was picked up.
One, two...thousands of singing voices gathered together, singing loudly in an instant.
“Can you hear the singing?
That is the human world,
All the suffering people stood up and sang. "
There were an unknown number of people in the church. The believers held each other's shoulders, stood up, and sang loudly, involuntarily and uncontrollably.
"Lord, why is the night so long?
Far away and difficult,
Where is our angel's hometown?
There are rolling green mountains.
There are beautiful girls there.
When will I return home victorious?
Return to mother. "
Anne, who had been singing in a low voice, her cheeks were blushing shyly, her voice was not scrupulous, and she let it go completely. She seemed to be a conductor, leading everyone in the chorus.
“Lord, you hear everyone singing,
the blood of suffering,
the goodness of the world,
all beliefs,
Until every inch of hot land is covered with dawn.
Even though the smoke is thick and the haze is high,
Our voices are still loud,
Because all injustices in the world will eventually be judged.
Because all the suffering in the world will eventually be measured. "
People helped each other up, stood up in front of the icon, shouted and sang in chorus.
The songs are united and endlessly loud.
Forget the pain and poverty for the time being.
Clinging to hope with song.
In front of the statues of saints and among the crowd singing, Christopher looked around at this church that was no longer lit by candlelight, this church that had been lit with countless candlelights.
However, all the past has never been as brilliant as this moment.
Even the wounded soldiers in front of him were singing softly in a daze.
During the singing, Christopher slowly stood up.
The priest walked slowly out of the hall.
"What are you going to do?" Kaloyan called him as he passed the corner.
Kaloyan saw something on his best friend's face.
"Nora Rich." Christopher said slowly.
save.
"Stop, Christopher, stop, you are just moved by temporary emotions." Kaloyan pressed his painful forehead and shouted.
However, the priest did not stop. In the hall, he faced the dark room where the holy relics were stored.
The priest's hand held down the door that only he could push open.
"Why have you betrayed our Lord! Abandoned our faith!" Kaloyan roared in a low voice, "You will be cursed, you will not be able to go to heaven, you will fall into hell, and the pain will be cruel and long! Inside, you will die again and again. !”
"You are wrong. Faith is never about seeking something." Christopher looked at it intently. "Death is never difficult, but life is always like this, and faith is always like this."
In his ears, strings of songs resounded one after another.
Christopher stood in the midst of thousands of songs and looked back, as if he was suddenly transported into the distant past.
As a child, I broke into a church just to steal a piece of bread from the icon.
The monks pushed him to the ground, insulted him, spurned him, and tore the bread from his mouth.
A pair of broad hands pushed the monk away, and a priest held the scripture and helped him up.
Christopher knew it from the moment he took the bread.
Maybe faith,
All it takes is a priest, a piece of bread, and a book of scripture.
then save,
that is it.
