Today, when I was going with my mother to do a bit of scrap metal, we witnessed black smoke not too far from where I live. Well, we went a bit further up, and noticed there were no fire engines, nor firefighters in that locale. I wanted to run in, but mother warned me against it. Eventually, however, the fire got so bad, that I couldn't just wait, so I, another two men, and my mother all rushed in. Now, there was no one in there (Thanks be to God!), but I couldn't let someone else's life be on my conscience. Even if I would have died (I obviously did not), I would know that at the moment of my death, I'd have died doing the right thing. I found out who owned the house, though I had never met him, I'd most certainly have risked my life for him. And why would that be the right thing to do? Well, we know Jesus is still alive, correct? We know he is alive in the Eucharist, no? But we don't know him in the same way his Apostles knew him, yet he saw fit to die for the sinner typing this and the sinners reading this. He died to save our lives. And I would have gladly done that for this man.