Yesterday, I walked the 2200 block of 1st St. SW. I was joined by one other person and my dog. We started at the corner of Taft and 1st St. SW, and we read together this prayer from The Common Book of Prayer for Ordinary Radicals
The Death of Someone Killed in The Neighborhood
Lamb of God
You take away the sins of the world
Have mercy on us.
Grant us peace.
For the unbearable toil of our sinful world,
We plead for remission.
For the terror of absence from our beloved,
We plead for your comfort.
For the scandalous presence of death in your Creation,
We pleased for the resurrection.
Lamb of God
You take away the sins of the world
Have mercy on us.
Grant us peace
As we walked, I noted that this is a wonderful, Iowa neighborhood. The drivers of every car that passed us waved. There were dogs and young people outside enjoying the sun. Someone was washing her car in the driveway and another house had a sheriff's car parked in the driveway. At the end of the street, near the house where murder happened, we stopped for a moment of prayer and my companion shared concern for the family left behind, for the surviving spouse and mother, and for the cleaning woman who removed linens and cleaned up the house after it had been released from crime scene status.
I am reminded that almost all violence in the US occurs within close relationships. Random killings and roving bands of murderous thieves are rare enough to be myths. It is the people closest to us who are most likely to do us harm. I am reminded that not only people, but cultures and societies can experience symptoms of mental distress and disease. Yet, a society cannot take medication for its bipolar disorders, its ADHD, its paranoid and compulsive behaviors.
So, what are we to do in the face of such madness, the unexpected emergence of violence in our midst, and the sudden transformation of the known patterns of our lives into chaos and fear by the acts of our neighbors? Some might argue that we need to heighten our security-purchase handguns, put bars on our windows, punish perpetrators, and shrink our circles of trust. Yet, it seems that violence is primarily a dysfunction of the human heart. It seems it emerges from within us, not from without. So, while we are busy building fortresses to hold outside evils at bay, we are locking ourselves into prisons where anxiety, alienation and paranoid division flourish and grow.
In Matthew and Luke, Jesus says, "Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Jesus walked. He traveled. He visited. He lived in pilgrimage and traded security to witness to God's dream for this world. And so, rather than holing up, I am going to walk. Rather than building up my defenses, I am going to pray. I am going to tune the steps of my life and the beats of my heart to the meters and the rhythms of the Divine. Whether it will make any outward difference, I do not know, but I do know that it makes an inward difference. It makes me feel less afraid. It makes me feel less helpless. It makes the world look a lot less hopeless, and it connects me more deeply to the idea of neighbor, to neighborhood, and the very real ways that each action we take has true impact on the world that surrounds us-even on people who never even know our names.
So, what are we to do in the face of such madness, the unexpected emergence of violence in our midst, and the sudden transformation of the known patterns of our lives into chaos and fear by the acts of our neighbors? Some might argue that we need to heighten our security-purchase handguns, put bars on our windows, punish perpetrators, and shrink our circles of trust. Yet, it seems that violence is primarily a dysfunction of the human heart. It seems it emerges from within us, not from without. So, while we are busy building fortresses to hold outside evils at bay, we are locking ourselves into prisons where anxiety, alienation and paranoid division flourish and grow.
In Matthew and Luke, Jesus says, "Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Jesus walked. He traveled. He visited. He lived in pilgrimage and traded security to witness to God's dream for this world. And so, rather than holing up, I am going to walk. Rather than building up my defenses, I am going to pray. I am going to tune the steps of my life and the beats of my heart to the meters and the rhythms of the Divine. Whether it will make any outward difference, I do not know, but I do know that it makes an inward difference. It makes me feel less afraid. It makes me feel less helpless. It makes the world look a lot less hopeless, and it connects me more deeply to the idea of neighbor, to neighborhood, and the very real ways that each action we take has true impact on the world that surrounds us-even on people who never even know our names.
No comments:
Post a Comment