As I was riding Tram 41 back from Schottentor earlier to the mouthful of a stop Währinger Straße-Volksoper, the sun was just setting, bathing the grandiose Viennese facades in a rather magical light and drawing the final day of pre-lockdown freedom to its close. Perhaps I was just filled with the delicious pierogi an elderly Polish lady had cooked us for lunch in a dubious basement, but there seemed to be an almost tangible bittersweet and expectant atmosphere as we all trundled back from gemütlich cafés and last lunches with friends to face the impending month of the latest restrictive measures. There is something strangely unsettling about this second round of lockdown; the panic of hurriedly packing up my university room and indefinitely saying goodbye replaced by a surreal sense of calm as I prepare to hunker down once more, this time with a bunch of German-speaking flatmates and the experience gained from many months of Zoom quizzes and banana bread.
And that was as far as I had got on the latest blog post before I rushed out to an evening Mass for All Souls’ Day. As we were walking back from the Chaplaincy, having decided to head home instead of venturing further into the city for one last drink, as most of the student population did, police cars and ambulances started speeding past us in all directions. Safely back home, it soon became clear that a major incident was unfolding in different locations across the city centre, which as of this morning has tragically left four dead and several injured. We woke up to emails telling us to stay at home today, and a city numbed and shocked by the terrorist attack of last night. I mentioned in my previous post Mahler’s quip that everything happens fifty years later in Vienna, and there is definitely a sense of disbelief that such brutal scenes have reached the timeless and elegant streets of one of Europe’s safest capitals.
This is a blog post I never imagined I’d be writing, and one that I’m not entirely sure I should be writing either. I often fear that a lot of social-media activism ends up being performative, and that the hashtags and reposts that appear in the aftermath of such horrific terrorist attacks feel like a mediocre plaster on a hurt and wounded society. There seems to be a pressure to say the right things, to know how to respond, but the truth is that it’s hard. 2020 has been exhausting and just a quick look at the daily headlines is enough to trigger a serious bout of Weltschmerz to last for days. This week alone has seen fatal stabbings at the Basilica of Notre Dame in Nice and a devastating typhoon sweep through The Philippines. There is also a rather egoistic phenomenon on social media to relate everything back to oneself and post photos of times you visited the affected city, and so I’m hesitant to mention that I spent a wonderful month in the other Cathedral in Nice a few summers ago or that I’m half-Filipino. Yet these are places we know well, people we love and care deeply about, and so it’s only going to be distressing when there are gunshots fired in streets you had just walked through and laughed about in a few hours earlier.
A priest preached recently about how being a Christian was not about standing on the side-lines and watching from a safe distance, but diving straight in to difficult situations and responding with love, charity, and prayer to those who need it most. Yesterday I happened to stop by the Chapel of the Loretto Community, and on the wall was a map of Vienna where you could place a pin in the places you had prayed in around the city and stick post-it notes with prayer intentions. There were prayers for politicians, for office workers, for families. Prayers that students would be filled with strength and courage, prayers that the streets of this city would be filled with friendship and laughter. And now Vienna needs even more prayers. Prayers that a broken society would not be driven apart further but reconciled and healed. Prayers for the safety of this city, prayers that such attacks will not happen again. Being a young Catholic at times like this is hard - it sometimes seems impossible to find hope and encouragement in the world we’re living in, but amidst all the chaos our faith gives us something to draw strength from, a source of life and joy that is stronger than any of our earthly burdens.
When I started this ‘adventure log’ I committed to sharing the reality of being an Erasmus student in 2020 with you, and as much as I wish it was all ice-cream and larking around, last night’s events sadly mean that these 800 or so meagre words very much belong to the story.
Terrorism doesn’t have the last word; love does.
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