The news of the shootings at Fort Hood has come as I’m speaking in Washington, far away from what I would normally be very close to. I only want to say this: people who love guns have always told us that we need for guns to be widely available so that wrongdoers with guns can be countered effectively. I just want to ask this: if people on an army base aren’t safe from gun violence, then how can we say weapons can ever make us safer?
And that does nothing to help, I know. It’s just me screaming “I told you so, I keep telling you so, why doesn’t anyone listen?” And I’m just adding to the noise. Forgive me.
My friend Beth Wyndham wrote a poem that sheds some light in this darkness, and I share it with you with her permission. I am trying hard to listen to it. May God be with all those suffering–and with all of us.
In solidarity, silence, and prayer with those who are hurting tonight…
There are a thousand other things I should be doing…
Well okay, not a thousand exactly – it just feels like it.
But none of them seem very important right now.
What is important
is to stop
and
pray…
Not wordy prayers for my sense of peace and justice.
Not wordy prayers for my strength and guidance.
No.
Words will fail and there will be far too many used anyway.
I will hear about the shootings
in a thousand different ways
with a thousand different voices
with a thousand different opinions
for thousands of hours on end.
I will be tempted to add my voice.
I have an opinion.
I care!
Hear me.
Oh Lord.
Hear my prayer!
But if I am busy talking,
I’m not listening.
And listening is prayer too.
It is at times like this when the world needs to be listened to.
Because clearly, someone was not heard.
What am I listening to?
The World and God’s people?
Their voices, opinions, fears, pain, rage, loss, and grief?
Yes… I hear all of that.
I don’t need to say what is already being said.
What could I say that would be completely different?
By my silence…by my prayer…
Is it possible for my actions to scream louder than anything I could possibly say?
Will my sighs entreat the Holy Spirit?
Sighs that come when I cannot catch my breath
Let alone form a word
Sighs so soft, so still
They are like breath – in and out - too deep for anyone to hear
But the Spirit knows and comes…
Come, Holy Spirit, Come
Will my tears be the tears of silent solidarity?
Tears that flow freely down to the dust
Covering the dead and the dying
With the life giving waters of Christ
For my tears are not shed as one
But as the tears of a collective Body.
Come, Lord Jesus, Come
Will my gaze upon this world,
be that of a loving Father, overflowing with compassion?
Allowing my eyes to take in the pain of the day
Not fearful
Not turning away
But steady, steely,
Firm in the confidence that what I hear in what I see
Will Move me
Move me to open my arms and embrace God’s children.
Come, Father God, Come
Yes… there is much to say to the world
But first I must go and listen.
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