At a high school concert. In the row in front of us, a chair was broken. I have bad reputation when it comes to repairing things, but for some reason I could repair the chair. It wasn’t any philosophy, really, since it only took me two seconds. In my wisdom, however, I didn’t check whether it could hold someone. Of course, a high school student sat on it. And the chair seemed to work, but it was a bit wobbly.
My wife and I looked at each other. “Let’s tell her that the seat has problems,” my wife said. But all the other seats were taken, so I just replied, “no; let’s just support it.” So my wife and I placed our legs strongly against the back of the seat in front of us, to make sure that the student would not fall back.
Of course, she was completely oblivious during the entire concert. Moving all the time, speaking with her friends, she had not even one thought about the risk that she was facing and also about the support coming from our legs. When the concert ended, she got up and left.
And I remained wondering about the many “legs” that support my life while I have no awareness of it: direct ones, such as prayers, or indirect ones, such as a peaceful society.
Perhaps the heart of life is indeed eucharistia. For all things.