(Tell-Tale Heart/Town Crier Ray Brandes explores the nature of faith. What do you see when you look up?)
On the evening of June 19, 1991, nine-year-old Laura Arroyo answered the door at her family’s two-story apartment in Chula Vista and was never heard from again. Several hours later and a few miles away, her body was found, still dressed in pink pajamas. She had been sexually assaulted, stabbed 11 times and hacked with a pickax.
It was a heartbreaking crime. For a couple of days, the third-grader’s parents appeared on television, their faces drawn and pale, pleading for help from the public in finding their daughter’s killer. The police had no leads, though, and it appeared the story would soon quietly disappear from the headlines.
Something curious happened next. Within a couple of weeks of Laura’s murder, rumors began circulating about an image of a young girl that had appeared on a blank billboard near Broadway and Main streets in Chula Vista. The image, it was said, was that of Laura Arroyo.
At first, the gawkers arrived in twos and threes. They snapped photographs and erected a makeshift altar at the foot of the billboard. Luis and Laura Arroyo, the girl’s parents, were interviewed on the local news and gave the apparition their approval. As the story began to attract the national media, thousands more flocked to the site, and within a couple of days, a two-mile long line of cars jammed the road along Beyer Blvd. in Chula Vista. San Diego had its very own mini-Medjugorje, a beacon to both the faithful and the skeptical.
I sat in my car in the line leading to the billboard, not sure which category I fell into. While my instincts told me I’d see only light and shadows, I was excited about the prospect of seeing something. I parked in the emergency lane, flicked on my hazard lights and joined the flow of people headed towards the sign, which police estimated to be more than 25,000. Parents carried children on their shoulders, couples holding hands giggled excitedly, and the elderly made their way along the path with the help of canes and walkers. One huckster had commandeered a vacant lot and was charging $3 a car for parking. Venders sold tamales and ice cream from carts. It occurred to be that the only thing missing was a carnival barker.
Everywhere, of course, the talk was of the image on the billboard. “I saw it!” screeched a teenage girl to no one in particular. “You can totally see it if you squint your eyes!” said another. One young man, surprised even at his own reaction, declared: “If you put on your sunglasses, it looks a lot clearer.” Others chattered about the crime’s details, positive that Laura herself were speaking to the public, demanding that justice be served.
As I approached the blank sign, I couldn’t help but feel more than a little cynical. After all, what kind of miracle required one to squint his eyes or put on a pair of sunglasses? To make matters worse, what I had seen along the roadside appeared to me to be nothing more than rank capitalism, the exploitative American free-enterprise system at its worst. I expected to linger no more than a few seconds at the billboard, and then go home disappointed.
I tried, I really did, but for the life of me I couldn’t see a thing on that billboard. I gave it a few minutes, but I was reminded of how frustrated I usually become looking at those Magic Eye books which were so popular at the time, and which I could never get. But I stood dumbstruck, nevertheless, looking not upwards but around me. The people in the crowd had fallen silent as they reached the sign. An old woman, her head covered in a black veil, knelt to place a candle next to the scores of others flickering beneath the sign. The murmuring of hundreds of prayers buzzed in my ears. There was pure joy in the faces I saw. The sense of hope I felt in the presence of so many of such strong faith reminded me that while humans often want to be dazzled by their miracles, they often miss the wonder in simple demonstrations of love.
I recount this little story because in many ways it reflects my own search for enlightenment over the past 25 years or so. In that time I have found much more evidence to support the existence of something greater than myself in the beauty of the natural world, the kindness of strangers, and the smile of an infant than in all of the rituals and practices of the religion in which I was raised combined. I certainly don’t remember faith being an important part of anyone’s life during the period we were going to shows, hanging out in the park and finding ourselves as teenagers. Perhaps there were those who kept that part of their lives private. Or perhaps the same forces that drove many of us to rebel also caused us to reject spirituality outright.
I’ve often wondered what has happened with us over the past couple of decades. The discussions of our humble online community reveal a wisdom and maturity that comes only with age and life experience. They reflect a diversity of beliefs ranging from Buddhism to Catholicism, Atheism to Fundamentalism, as well as a whole lot of us who continue to seek Truth.
Where has your spiritual journey taken you over the past couple of decades? Remember that the interesting part of your story is the road you have traveled, not the destination at which you have arrived.
Everyone’s story is welcome, so let’s avoid proselytizing here!
— Ray Brandes