Chapter One: Soldier of Light (partial)
March 31, 2008 Clara stood alone in one corner of the Basilica del Santo Niño, her eyes fixed on the burnished golden altar several feet away. She was silently praying; an act that would have been totally alien to her only three months ago, when she had nearly ended her miserable, graceless existence.
Mouthing the last of her prayers, Clara turned her eyes on the few people – more women than men – shambling along the lengthy aisle, on their knees. Each little step was slow and labored, but these people didn’t mind. Their eyes were intent on the altar, their lips constantly moving, murmuring woeful laments and earnest advocations. It was like a tradition, a ritual done with strange precision, from making the sign of the cross at the entrance to finally reaching the foot of the altar, knees bearing the brunt of more than a hundred little steps.
It was nothing to them, these devotees of the Holy Child Jesus. She could never fathom the depth of their devotion; never understand what it was that truly drove them to such lengths of piety. Was this faith? Must she have this kind of faith as well?
She was a Catholic. She had been baptized when still a baby, as all children of Catholic parents are. It was one of those things that one just accepted without question. She had never felt obliged to be pious or religious. She never really gave it any thought. She was like many young Christians her age – drifting, hovering between what was taught and what they thought – and in the end choosing not to commit to either one.
Until that moment.
