In the past few weeks, I have had conversations with many of you about the recent losses of innocent life in Britain due to both terrorism and tragedy. These most recent barbarous attacks, as well as the Grenfell Tower fire have left my country reeling, with people struggling to make sense of such intense feelings of anger and the depth of sorrow after such loss.
I can tell you from the heart, that what makes Britain a wonderfully unique place to live and work, is its cosmopolitan identity and socially diverse peoples. Every corner of the earth is represented in the cities of Manchester and London where these tragedies have taken place. Cultures blend in the streets, in the markets, in the schools, and the very real way in which the communities affected by these tragedies have pulled together in these past weeks is a tribute to their dynamism. The one abiding blessing of these past few weeks is to have seen people of every faith, ethnicity and background supporting one another.
Photographs of a memorial wall on the façade of a church in London have been shared around the world to bear testimony to this spirit. Many of the prayers written on that wall, representing many faiths, are heartbreaking. They are raw. They are from the heart. They are a modern lament rooted in anger and confusion. “Our loss is heaven's gain,” says one – while another writes: “pray for our community”, and most simply and poignantly of all, perhaps – “we are one.”
As I have wrestled myself with the intensity of human suffering being felt in places which are so familiar to me, there is one part of the bible which has resonated with me as I have prayed for all involved.
The Book of Lamentations, in the Hebrew scripture, deals explicitly with the personal consequences of loss and mourning brought about by communal suffering – in that case the destruction of Jerusalem- : “The thought of the affliction weighs me down,” writes the author.. “I cannot get it out of my mind; I am bowed down by it.” And, just like many of us are perhaps feeling when we see again images of the burnt out tower block, or the aftermath of terrorist destruction he adds: “my soul is bereft of peace.”
It is only after he has truly expressed his anger and pain that the writer of lamentations can eventually move on to affirm, in hope and – despite everything – that: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end.” May we all, in whatever anguish or sorrow we face, remember that same truth, and share it readily with others.
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