Every Sunday morning, at exactly 9 A.M., the twenty members of a choir would assemble in the chapel of their small church for a one-hour rehearsal before services. The choir consisted of long-time members who were dedicated, enthusiastic and extremely punctual.

One Sunday morning, the tranquil air of the sleepy Southern town was suddenly pierced by a loud blast. Residents rushed outdoors to see what was happening, and then watched in anguish as flames spurted out the windows of the small church. They checked the time, glancing at their watches, the clocks on their kitchen walls, the alarms on the night tables in their bedrooms. It was ten minutes past nine.

Grasps, wails, and shrieks filled the air as the townspeople raced towards the church. The volunteer firemen who had preceded them by a few minutes shook their heads mournfully as they arrived. In just seconds, the church had been totally consumed by flames. “It probably was a gas explosion,” one of the firemen said. “It happened too fast. None of the choir members could have gotten out in time. I’m sorry. It doesn’t look like there are any survivors at all.”

Everyone reacted differently. Some people bowed their head and turned away in silence, grief-stricken. A few women crumpled onto the charred grass. Others collapsed into one another’s arms and emitted heartrending sobs. Paralyzed by shock, people didn’t seem to notice the sudden convergence of twenty automobiles pulling into the church’s parking lot at the same time. No one seemed to observe the twenty red frocked figures running towards the church.

“Hey, what happened?” they heard a familiar-sounding alto voice inquire, shattering the silence that had fallen over the mourners.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” chimed in another well-known voice, a mellifluous soprano. “My God, the church is in ruins!” shouted an unforgettable baritone. In wonder, astonishment, and dazed disbelief, the townspeople gazed at the miraculous sight of all twenty choir members – vital and alive – streaming in their direction.

For the first time in twelve years of ongoing choir practice, every single one them- for separate, different, and, seemingly, unconnected reasons – had come late.

Paul Harvey, Radio commentator.

Comment:

God works in mysterious ways. In the gospel of Matthew ( Matthew 10 : 30 ), Jesus asserts that, no matter what happens, “every hair on your head has been counted.” Sometimes, when it seems that things are going wrong, when we get stuck in traffic or when we forget to do what we want to do, there is a reason. God is watching over us. He is protecting us and shielding us from danger as the twenty choir members in this incredible, true story discovered.

—Fr. Hugh Duffy