|Jonathan Toevs hoists the Stanley Cup for all to see;|
I can't help but think of it as an almost priestly gesture.
Our whole area was barricaded to traffic, even though (technically) the motorcade would not be coming our way. Instead, one block of Michigan Avenue (the next block south of us) was just a "through-way" for the team's double-decker buses as they went to a new staging area to resume the parade. That didn't stop the crowds from gathering on the corner to catch a glimpse. Sister Gemma and I had a birds-nest view from the balcony of a nearby condo building.
I was impressed at how many spontaneous entrepreneurs were out there, too: a small family selling armbands; the guy with the bottled water and air horns; the ice-cream carts; the pedi-cab drivers offering a rare ride down an empty Michigan Avenue. Even now, hours later, with the traffic freely running on Michigan Avenue, you can still hear the happy cheers (and the air horns) coming up from the sidewalk, where just about everyone is wearing red or black.
This atmosphere of shared exaltation is a happy hint of heaven, when we'll all be united in praise--and content with not just a glimpse, but with a beatific vision of the ultimate Victor. But for now, I think Jesus finds himself quite at home amid the crowds on the streets of Chicago.