Seen and Unseen
Keeping the Faith Can a mythic stone symbolize one’s spiritual beliefs?
By Chris Larsen
If I had known it was called a “fairy
stone,” my skinny insecure teen neck would have never known the comfort and security of the “cross” that has hung there, pretty much non-stop, since I was 10 years old.
I found it in a cigar box filled with my grandfather’s Army medals, ribbons and brass buttons. He could not remember ever seeing it before and was happy to give it to me. He was a pretty dedicated church guy, having helped found St. Paul’s in the Pines Episcopal church in Fayetteville and served as its senior warden for the first sixteen years. Having said that, necklaces were not his style. Spring forward some thirty-five years as I was getting an echocardiogram over at Pinehurst Medical, and the technician commented on what a beautiful “fairy stone” I was wearing. I had always thought it was petrified wood. She said they could only be found in a small area of the Shenandoah Valley. When learning of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, legend has it, fairies who lived in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains shed tears of sadness that turned to stone when they hit the ground. Remarkably they are shaped like tiny crosses. The one I have worn for most of my life is nearly perfect. The legend holds that possession of the fairy stone will ward off illness, accidents and even the curse of an angry witch. As far as good luck charms go, this one has been pretty weak. During the time I have worn this charm, plenty of bad luck has come my way — death of loved ones, near death for me, broken bones and a broken heart or two. But the cross is less about luck and more about faith — I have stopped
believing in the first and religiously embrace the second. Fact of the matter is, you have to believe in something. Many of the world’s religions celebrate their faith this time of year — the fairy stone cross I wear is a sign of my own beliefs and recognition of the Easter story. Myth, many proclaim, is something that never happened but is almost always true. Parables must be seen in much the same light. The object is to believe in something that cannot be proved. While the virgin birth and the Resurrection cannot be proven empirically, one can still believe. Scientists can prove the known universe began with the Big Bang. Hard to argue with that, but my question is simply this: Who lit the fuse? The great author J.M. Barrie once wrote, “The reason birds can fly and we can’t is they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings.” It is at this time of year with Lent and Passover and even a few pagan rituals of the season, many think about their belief structure. I love Easter because of the forty days of darkness leading to the pure joy of Resurrection. Alleluia. I much prefer it to the twenty-four days leading up to Christmas when we Christians celebrate the birth of our King. Don’t get me wrong, I am a big fan of overindulgence, but it does little to embrace the belief structure it purports to celebrate. I have a very close friend who is an atheist. She often tries to get me to explain my faith. Her very scientific mind cannot grasp concepts like the virgin birth or rising from the dead. Her natural cynicism hardened her views of the teachings of Christianity. This was always hard for me to understand, because she truly lived by the Golden Rule. Like a stone cross formed from the tears of native American fairies, belief in something makes us stronger, better, with a more complete life. PS Chris Larsen is a senior vestry member at Emmanuel Episcopal Church in Southern Pines and a PineStraw contributor.
PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . April 2015
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