the candles of saint mary.

there we are, gathered before a corner of the college campus that is alight with rows and rows of candles on racks.

this is saint mary's place, the tour guide says. this is where students can say a prayer and just let go of all the worries in our lives.

or at least something along those lines. i'm barely listening.

she invites us to each light a candle, if we like. she assures us that even though the school is catholic, it's okay if we're jewish. it's okay if we don't even reflect about god if we don't want to.

i follow all the other girls to the crate of unlit candles,

watch each of the girls in front of me take one.

but when it is my turn to take a candle, i start to reach for one and pause.

i know the light is supposed to symbolize hope and spirituality and all, but all i can think about is the not the light, but the candles. there are hundreds of them burning in this place. hundreds of candles made of tons of wax. and as i stand there, i can't help but question. if there's a god, then why is he letting all of this candle wax be consumed by college kids and visitors for a symbolic manifestation of prayer when there are other places in this world where symbolism is useless because real warmth and comfort is so impossible to come by?

i can't keep standing here for much longer. there are people waiting behind me who want their candles too. a small part of me still wants to take that lump of wax, just to experience lighting its fresh, unburnt wick and seeing the little flame blossom from nothing. but it seems pointless now. i put my hand back into my coat pocket and step towards the racks of candles. i watch the other girls light theirs with wooden sticks provided for that purpose, placing them in empty places in the rows. each candle in this array of illumination is meant to embody a different person's hopes and prayers. can a candle really do that?

as the other girls kneel at the gate and pray, i stare for a while at the sight before me. it feels like so much human emotion is put into these dots of flickering light, but the candles themselves are solemn. they themselves don't feel a thing. for some reason it reminds me of the vietnam memorial, with all those names on a stone wall expressing loss. no matter what it's supposed to represent, the engravings in the stone are cold. silent. nothing more than a tool for man to help come to terms with himself. that's all it really is, in the end.

continuing to look at the candles seems useless now. standing apart from everyone else, i turn to face the night sky. it's silent, starless, indifferent, and the air is quivering with the chill. but i have more faith in this than i have in the countless candles flickering behind me.

it's time to go. the girls are wordless as they rise from their prayers. there's no sound as we gather around our chaperones. and as we slowly walk out of the place with saint mary's candles, we don't say a thing.