It's Sunday in Calhoun County and most of the people have gone to church. Down at Our Blessed Redeemer, Father Jackson is giving a sermon on waste. Not the waste we have when we throw away garbage but the waste of human life.

"Far too many of our young men have returned home to be buried," He began. "I have to wonder if the war that they are fighting is worth the lives that we are giving for it.  I know, as a priest, I am not supposed to be political, but I do not see this as political, I see it as the arrogance of those that think they should be able to do as they please without account."

Normally, Father Jackson would pause here to let his first words sink in, but this time he just sat down unable to go on. Two days ago he had to give a funeral mass for his brother who had died in Iraq the week before.

Father Johnson had given lots of funeral masses in the past it was part of his job, but to have to lay his own brother, who was 5 years younger than him, to rest had been the hardest one of all. He had said the funeral mass as he looked into the tear stained eyes of his mother and father, thinking that no parent should have to go through this, no parent should have to see their son die in a far away land - for what?

God had always given Father Jackson answers; he had always been able to comfort the grieving with the proper words from his heart, or the Bible. This time there were no answers - just questions that had no answers, and a brother he loved so very much lying in his grave, and his parents grieving as he had never seen them grieve before and hoped to never see them do so again.

Father Johnson could not go on, as he knew if he did he might upset those in his congregation who believed in the lies they had been told and did not have to suffer from the losses that others did.  So he sat there, his head in his hands and cried.

The congregation didn't know what to do. They had never faced a situation like this before. Their priest was supposed to be strong, he was supposed to have the answers, not raise the questions. He was supposed to be strong and not weak. So the congregation sat there and waited for something, anything, to happen.

Down the street at the Baptist Church Pastor Wilson is preaching on the hope for the future, and as he is preaching his sermon he is thinking of Father Jackson and the loss he has suffered and wondering if it were he, would he have the strength to be as strong as Father Jackson had been? Or would he be able to find answers were none were to be found.

Outside, the sun is shining brightly and the world is moving on at its usual pace. The restaurants in Calhoun County are getting ready for the after church crowds and Joe, the day manager at the Handy Mart, is putting out the Sunday papers for those who will drop by on their way home or on the way for a bite to eat.

At Our Blessed Redeemer the congregation is shuffling in the seats and Father Jackson finally gets up and walks back to the pulpit.

"Please forgive me, for today I have no sermon. I have no words to express what God means in the world today. Simply put, forgive me, for today I have no faith."  That being said, father Jackson left the pulpit, walked down the aisle and out of Our Blessed Redeemer and into the sunshine. Looking for the answers he knew he would not find today or perhaps tomorrow or the next day. Still thinking hard about his brother and the waste of it all.