Bridges connect us. Their very function is to deliver us to our destinations, our workplaces, and each other. They exist to expedite our journeys, and often across difficult or perilous terrain.
But Baltimore’s Francis Scott Key Bridge was no ordinary bridge. It was a majestic steel structure, the third longest continuous truss bridge in the world, and had just celebrated its 47th anniversary not more than a week ago.
More notably, it was our bridge. It was a gateway to the city, for those traversing above and below its mile and a half span across the Patapsco River. It was a richly symbolic structure, erected where citizens of Baltimore defended our fledgling nation from the most powerful naval fleet in the world. It stood where the Star-Spangled Banner was penned to commemorate our nation’s independence and resilience. It stood for all of us.
And suddenly, it didn’t.
When we awoke on Tuesday, the tremors of its collapse were felt by everyone here. Everyone who had traveled that bridge for family vacations, for daily commuting, for visiting our city, was aware of its significance, as it transported 31 thousand vehicles a day across the river. It was a familiar structure that reminded us, united us, guided us and welcomed us. It was a constant beacon on the skyline for residents and visitors alike.
The feelings of loss are real, and as we reflect on this somber Good Friday, our thoughts are with this tragedy. When the US Transportation Secretary referred to the Key Bridge as “one of the cathedrals of American infrastructure” he was on to something.
Concrete and steel are given meaning by their function, and like all bridges, the function of the Key Bridge was to bring us together. Not just geographically, but for a common cause. Which brings me to our point of emphasis: This week, we were witness to everyday people engaged in heroic acts.
The pilot that issued a mayday. Transportation officers that closed the bridge with seconds to spare. First responders that mobilized emergency crews. Hospital staff that volunteered on their day off. Churches that offered provisions and prayers. And, most tragically, the road construction workers that perished in the early morning darkness.
They were all just doing their jobs.
Just as we came together to build it, we will come together to rebuild it. The spirit of our Savior is alive in Baltimore, and the outpouring of love and support from Presbyteries and churches across the nation has been nothing short of remarkable. The recovery will be long and difficult, but if the unity, compassion, and resilience we’ve seen this week is any indication of our future, hope shines brightly.
