Three hours ago, two planes crashed into the World Trade Center in New York, one attacked the Pentagon, and yet another went down near Pittsburgh. There is nothing I can do.
How could we not now ask God, "Why did you let this happen?" I sit here, stewing in anxiety, fear, concern, grief, and I watch the TV. Where are we going? Why did this happen? What is the larger meaning here? How could this event be woven into the fabric of all our life-events in any way that has redemptive meaning? After all, I believe that God is in the process of redeeming this world. How could this be part of that process? This is insane, a radical departure from all that is holy; it seems like we are abandoned, forgotten, alone in the universe, left here to battle it out with one another.
I wish I could say something to make sense of this, to inspire, to assure myself and others that God's loving hand really is at work in the world. This is no time for melodrama, but I believe it is a time for passion. This may, in fact, be a time for all of us who believe in a good and just Power governing the universe to step up and follow, and to follow passionately, desperately, as if the very world depended on it. We are not alone, but we are agents; we are God's servants in this mixed-up crazy world, even when we feel like there is nothing we can do. There is something we can do.
In Wendell Berry's poem "The Wild Geese," he says that he prays "not/for new earth or heaven, but to be/quiet in heart and in eye/clear." Right now, I want a new earth so much; I want to pray for a totally different earth, one in which horrific violent acts do not take place. But no, stop. The violence must stop with me. I think Berry is saying that we cannot exchange this earth for a new one. To me, right now, this means: We can never keep others from committing violent acts. We cannot change what has happened or take pain away. But by becoming "quiet in heart and in eye clear" we can cultivate deep gentleness in our own souls, so that our anger and grief do not spill out to feed a never-ending violent spiral. Peace. In the midst of all the chaos and grief, we must find the God-given peace within. We must embody peace.
I believe this is what it means to follow God through such a horrible experience. It does not mean that we do not feel grief, anger, confusion, possibly even despair. We feel and accept those feelings, and then we go deeper, to the place where God abides and grieves with us. We touch the deep peace that lives in us. Then, and only then, we begin to live God's peace in the world. And by living peace, whatever that means for each of us, I believe we will each participate in God's world-redeeming work. There is something we can do.
Peace be with all of us.
Sarah Parsons is Home Page Editor for The Upper Room.
Copyright © 2001 by The Upper Room. This reflection may be duplicated for personal use or for church-related events; please include the following copyright line: "This material is reprinted from The Upper Room Online (http://www.upperroom.org), copyright (c) 2001 by The Upper Room, Inc., P.O. Box 340004, Nashville, TN 37203-0004, and is used by permission of the publisher."
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