On Tuesday, the mother of Krystle Campbell, the 29 year old woman from Medford who was killed, gasped between sobs, "This doesn't make any sense."  She's right.  There is no way to make sense of people who would fill pressure cookers with nails, pellets, and gunpowder, and set  them to unleash death and injuries and terror on innocent people.  There is no way to make sense of a situation in which stopping for ice cream or not, lingering at the Marathon's finish line or heading home, slowing a finish in the Boston Marathon due to a cramp, meant the difference between life and death.  Evil doesn't make sense.

My son turned 18 this week, and I was remembering that 18 years ago, the day after he was born, two men bombed a federal building in Oklahoma City, knowing that the first floor of that building housed a daycare center, and timing the blast to make sure that as many people as possible would be killed or hurt.  In the aftermath of that act of terrorism, Fred Rogers, the beloved Mr. Rogers, said, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers.  You will always find people who are helping.'"

Leave it to Mr. Rogers to get it just right.  An act of evil and cowardice like the bombings on Monday makes no sense because most people would never do such a thing.  Many theologians have written about human depravity, about a state of sin into which humans are born.  And certainly there's evidence of that; but I believe that there's a lot more evidence that most humans' instinct is to do good and to be generous.  That was evident in these past few days, as people in the Boston area lined up to give blood or to donate money or to offer their homes to total strangers who were displaced by the bombings.  The courage and strength of our fellow human beings was manifest in the scores of people who ran into danger and not away from it, as they tried to help the people injured in the blasts: in the EMS providers, the doctors and nurses and firefighters and police officers who put their lives at risk to help others, and in the ordinary people who were simply spectators at the Marathon, who used their own clothes to fashion tourniquets and who held the hands of the injured and offered them comfort.

Boston native and novelist Dennis Lehane wrote in The New York Times that when the bombers chose Boston, "they messed with the wrong city."  Nobody would mistake me for a native Bostonian, but I know exactly what he means.  The people of this area are tough and resilient and proud of our city and our region.  That was abundantly clear in something as simple as the fact that Boston's next road race, a Memorial Day half marathon, will not only go on as scheduled, but has turned into a Run to Remember, and has had a record number of people signing up to run.  Governor Patrick put it beautifully when he talked about our citizens and our commitment to seek accountability for the bombers, but not vengeance; our ability to be vigilant without being fearful.

Each week, we honor people whom our church has chosen as examples of faith and courage, the Holy Men and Women whom we call Saints.  This week, though, it seems appropriate to remember the three people who died in Monday's bombings in Boston, and to pray for them and for their families. 

Krystle Campbell was 29, and grew up in Medford.  She had recently moved to her own apartment in Arlington, and was excited about her work and future.  She had big blue eyes and blond hair, and a mass of freckles sprinkled across her face.  Her mother described her as the best daughter a mother could ask for.  She loved Boston, and attended the Marathon every year; she always tried to find a place near the finish so that she could cheer on the runners.

Lingzi Lu was a Chinese, a visiting scholar, studying Mathematics and Statistics at BU, working towards a graduate degree.  She was not just intelligent, but beautiful as well, and her embassy said in a statement that she had fallen in love with Boston and with its people.  She had gone with friends to see her first Boston Marathon.  She was her parents' only child.

Martin Richard was only eight years old, but he had already made a lot of friends.  He was tall for his age, an avid athlete, and one of the best readers in his third grade class.  He had been to the Marathon to cheer for his dad, who was running.  His mom, Denise, and sister, Jane, were grievously injured in the blast, and his sister lost a leg.  Martin's family was a mainstay of the Ashmont, Dorchester community.

Family camp will be held June 27-30 at 
the Barbara C. Harris Camp in 
Greenfield, NH.   This year's theme is Peace, Love & Jesus.  Families are invited to come and learn ways that they can work together
as a family to promote peace and justice
in the world.  Time for conversation and
fun is offered for all ages.  For more information go to www.diomass.org/events/familycamp.

Chuck and Ginny Barthel, Dorothy Brown, Nancy Campara, Christine Camper, George Chace, Betty Fraser, Gloria Graves, Bernice Herrick, Allan Johnson, Deborah Katt-Lloyd, Lisa Kimball, Robert Knoettner, Mary Anna Krause, Tony Lopes, Carole Lutton, Maureen Manzelli, Jim McCallum, Lynn McDonald, Rheta C. McKinley, Sara O'Brien, Rhonda O'Keefe, Eleanor Schott, Kevin Smith, Ralph Ventola, Stephen Wagner and Ashley Westerman.