Christchurch Cathedral stood proud on the square that carries its name. Sitting at the heart of the city, this Kiwi icon has developed a tradition of welcoming all comers, religious or not.
When the tower of this beloved, gothic church crumbled in the 6.3 magnitude earthquake that rocked Christchurch this week, it was more than just another building down. Without that distinctive spire to connect to, Cantabrians lost one of their traditional points of reference in a world that is becoming, as one of my friends said, 'absolute hell'.
Christchurch has experienced nearly 5000 quakes since the 7.1 shake that raced through the city in the dead of night last September. Although there were injuries and significant damage to buildings and infrastructure, that night, there were no deaths.
This time it was different. The quake struck at lunchtime when pedestrians were in full stride and schools back in full swing after the holidays. So far, 75 people have been confirmed dead and Christchurch hospital is overflowing with casualties, which are transferred to other centres as needed.
Buildings have collapsed and emergency services are progressively freeing those trapped inside, while others wait for news of loved ones. The long haul of recovery beckons.
Living with uncertainty is the reality of existence. We pretend otherwise by constructing systems and traditions that look reliable, until we are stopped in our tracks by a disaster such as that which has struck Christchurch. At times like this, when all our usual reference points have disintegrated, people can react in unusual ways.
Trawling the blogs, Facebook, media reports and tweets I've been interested by how many times the phrase 'Our thoughts and prayers are with you' pops up. This from people, including New Zealand's Prime Minister, who claim no religion, though appear to be edging towards some form of spirituality.
When trouble overwhelms us it is instinctive to call out to God. It matters little what your theology is, or if you believe in God or not. What matters is the ability and freedom to express powerlessness in the face of tragedy and ongoing uncertainty. It's like yelling to the universe, I have no hope. Help!
Kaethe Weingarten, an associate clinical