May 18, 2020

Dear people of Trinity -

Like everyone who has the occasion to be in front of the camera during a Zoom meeting, I pay attention to how the setting I’m in looks on camera: how is the lighting? Is the camera angle adjusted properly so that people see me and not my ceiling? And, what’s behind me - what background are people going to be subjected to?

On Sunday mornings, for our Zoom worship, I seat myself at my dining room , and aim my laptop’s camera so that the backdrop that folks see is one of my very favorite possessions: a framed /statistical illustration depicting Napoleon’s march on Moscow during the War of 1812. I have this illustration, hung in a place of prominence, not because I’m a 19th century history buff or a military aficionado, but because I love stories, and I appreciate when stories are told well.

What’s happening on this map, illustrated by the civil engineer-turned-cartographer , is that the strategy and tactics of Napoleon—and the response of the Russians—are made visible with just a few lines and even fewer words. Here’s a description of Minard’s : “The illustration depicts Napoleon's army departing the Polish-Russian border. A thick band illustrates the size of his army at specific geographic points during their advance and retreat. It displays six types of data in two dimensions: the number of Napoleon's troops; the distance traveled; temperature; latitude and longitude; direction of travel; and location relative to specific dates…” (1)

That’s the ‘what.’ But the story behind the data, that you can see at a glance, is that Napoleon began the campaign with 422,000 troops, and ended it with only 10,000 men, many of whom died of starvation and/or froze to death as they retreated from Moscow. It’s clear that part of Napoleon’s plan to resupply his troops was to pillage his way across the countryside, hopscotching from town to town between Poland and Moscow. However the Russians, who could also read a map, thwarted that plan by clearing their people out of the towns, and destroying crops and other provisions just ahead of the advancing French troops. Curiously, Minard’s illustration about this infamous turn in Napoleon’s military career never actually mentions Napoleon; it’s said that Minard’s interest in this event lay with the harsh conditions and sacrifices suffered by the soldiers. He made their sacrifices and sufferings visible, to tell their human story using the cartographic tools he knew best.

Which is why I love this illustration, and why I bring it up in this Monday message to our church: the power of making stories visible. But, which stories?

There are parts of the story we’re living through right now that are all too visible: the pandemic death tolls, essential workers without adequate protective equipment, armed protesters storming the Michigan state capitol building. Stories of heartbreak and fear and violence.

Yet there are other stories, oftentimes not quite so visible: stories of love, persistence, and hope, of creativity and joy, of generosity and self-sacrifice. Those are the stories that I want us to notice, highlight, share, and retell.

About how Trinity parishioners are taking care of one another by making calls, and checking in, and doing errands for those who can’t leave their homes. About the grace everyone has exhibited in rolling with the changes in the way we worship, and the occasional glitches and hiccups of . About the dedication of our staff, our prayer ministers and other worship ministers, our lay leadership. About the delight people have expressed in hearing each other’s stories and seeing each other’s faces during virtual coffee hour.

About how everyone I encountered on the Jesusita trail yesterday went through the logistical dance of making way for each other, keeping good distance on a narrow path. About how my 92-year old father has persisted in working through the challenges of signing on to Zoom for family happy hours. About how a dozen or so family members shaved their heads in solidarity with my nephew, currently undergoing cancer treatment, because they can’t be with him in person.

About the BBC sports commentator, Andrew Cotter, who, since he has no human sporting events on which to comment, has turned to commenting (in the breathless and excited tones of a sports broadcaster) on the everyday activities of his Labradors, Mabel and Olive, to great joy and effect. About actor John Krasinski’s hit “Some Good News” which highlights bits and pieces of joy and generosity that will never make the cut on the 6pm news. About Yo Yo Ma, and any number of other artists and musicians, who are sharing their talents online, available to everyone.

About a prayer, written by Rabbi Michael Knopf, to be prayed as you put on a mask—”Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Sovereign of the world, who has sanctified us with commandments, and commanded us to protect life”—which puts this somewhat inconvenient act into its bigger context.

And there it is: the big story that needs to be made visible. That our obligation is to one another, that our purpose is for one another: to protect each other, as the ultimate story of love.

With faith and confidence,

Elizabeth+

The Rev. Elizabeth Molitors, Rector [email protected] Trinity Episcopal Church

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(1) Corbett, John. "Charles Joseph Minard: Mapping Napoleon's March, 1861". Center for Spatially Integrated Social Science. Archived from the original on 12 March 2017. Retrieved 21 September 2014.