COMMENTARY
Woman's selflessness a life lesson for students
Thursday, January 18, 2007
MIKE HARDEN
They arrived in clutches of three and four, self-conscious and pulling at the knots of their neckties. After they filled the pews facing the four sides of the altar at St. Catharine Church in Eastmoor, others crowded shoulder to shoulder along the cool marble slabs that frame the sanctuary walls.
An estimated 400 of Bishop Hartley High School's 650 students turned the funeral of Christina Allwein into a standing room-only affair. None of that would have been surprising were she a classmate torn from their midst. But she was a mom who died Saturday after a protracted battle with cancer.
Semester exams at the school were pushed back in honor of her final rites.
"She touched so many people's lives that they would have taken a zero to be at her funeral," Hartley senior Zack Byers said of the 49-year-old mother of nine.
"Semester exams are important," Hartley Principal Mike Winters said yesterday. "But, in perspective, they are not as important as some of the other things we teach here."
Youth is too frequently a canvas upon which the artist paints self-portraits with one hand while juggling an iPod and a cell phone with the other.
"You talk about the antithesis of being stuck on oneself," Winters marveled of the mother of two Hartley students.
Of Allwein's November pilgrimage to France to appeal for healing, Byers recalled that, "Even when she was at Lourdes, she was lighting candles for other people."
Marriage, family and friends were the second holy trinity of Allwein's life. It might seem both callous and dismissive to tie a flowing bow around a finished life and present it as an object lesson for others. Yet whatever posterity holds for Allwein trades upon her great selflessness, her generosity of heart.
I don't know that she would have minded seeing the brief light of her span on this sphere elevated to serve as a beacon to guide the moral navigation of others.
Nor do I know whether the students of Bishop Hartley will learn any lesson more vital in school this year than those they learned yesterday in church: Give as the Samaritan gave. Take as though what you leave untouched must feed an orphanage. Understand the paradoxes — that wealth comes from giving, victory from surrender and self-knowledge from the study of others.
Of such paradox, Gary Allwein said of his wife in her waning days, "As I looked and stared at Tina, she was majestic, radiant, strong, yet so gentle. She had become the most courageous woman I would ever know."
"She made you feel like you were one of her children," Hartley junior Anna Vonau said.
Soprano Leah McCallister delivered an achingly beautiful Ave Maria just before Msgr. David Sorohan invited the faithful, "In peace, let us take our sister to her place of rest."
The chains of the censer imitated the soft chime of a janitor's keys.
As the hearse departed under an uncharacteristically sunspangled winter sky, it was hard not to think of a line from Kansas newspaper editor William White's farewell to his daughter:
A rift in the clouds in a gray day threw a shaft of sunlight upon her coffin as her nervous, energetic little body sank to its last sleep. But the soul of her, the glowing, gorgeous, fervent soul of her, surely was flaming in eager joy upon some other dawn.
COMMENTARY
Woman's selflessness a life lesson for students
Thursday, January 18, 2007
MIKE HARDEN
They arrived in clutches of three and four, self-conscious and pulling at the knots of their neckties. After they filled the pews facing the four sides of the altar at St. Catharine Church in Eastmoor, others crowded shoulder to shoulder along the cool marble slabs that frame the sanctuary walls.
An estimated 400 of Bishop Hartley High School's 650 students turned the funeral of Christina Allwein into a standing room-only affair. None of that would have been surprising were she a classmate torn from their midst. But she was a mom who died Saturday after a protracted battle with cancer.
Semester exams at the school were pushed back in honor of her final rites.
"She touched so many people's lives that they would have taken a zero to be at her funeral," Hartley senior Zack Byers said of the 49-year-old mother of nine.
"Semester exams are important," Hartley Principal Mike Winters said yesterday. "But, in perspective, they are not as important as some of the other things we teach here."
Youth is too frequently a canvas upon which the artist paints self-portraits with one hand while juggling an iPod and a cell phone with the other.
"You talk about the antithesis of being stuck on oneself," Winters marveled of the mother of two Hartley students.
Of Allwein's November pilgrimage to France to appeal for healing, Byers recalled that, "Even when she was at Lourdes, she was lighting candles for other people."
Marriage, family and friends were the second holy trinity of Allwein's life. It might seem both callous and dismissive to tie a flowing bow around a finished life and present it as an object lesson for others. Yet whatever posterity holds for Allwein trades upon her great selflessness, her generosity of heart.
I don't know that she would have minded seeing the brief light of her span on this sphere elevated to serve as a beacon to guide the moral navigation of others.
Nor do I know whether the students of Bishop Hartley will learn any lesson more vital in school this year than those they learned yesterday in church: Give as the Samaritan gave. Take as though what you leave untouched must feed an orphanage. Understand the paradoxes — that wealth comes from giving, victory from surrender and self-knowledge from the study of others.
Of such paradox, Gary Allwein said of his wife in her waning days, "As I looked and stared at Tina, she was majestic, radiant, strong, yet so gentle. She had become the most courageous woman I would ever know."
"She made you feel like you were one of her children," Hartley junior Anna Vonau said.
Soprano Leah McCallister delivered an achingly beautiful Ave Maria just before Msgr. David Sorohan invited the faithful, "In peace, let us take our sister to her place of rest."
The chains of the censer imitated the soft chime of a janitor's keys.
As the hearse departed under an uncharacteristically sunspangled winter sky, it was hard not to think of a line from Kansas newspaper editor William White's farewell to his daughter:
A rift in the clouds in a gray day threw a shaft of sunlight upon her coffin as her nervous, energetic little body sank to its last sleep. But the soul of her, the glowing, gorgeous, fervent soul of her, surely was flaming in eager joy upon some other dawn.
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