Afghanistan

How to describe that maelstrom of feelings about what is happening in Afghanistan? That aching blend of helpless, despairing, sickening, shame-filled anger; that anguish at the thought of what future awaits women and girls, journalists, activists, academics, interpreters...? Add to this the pain at the deaths and destruction in Haiti, the recent killings in Plymouth, the continuing pandemic, our ongoing injustices and poverty and much more, and it can all feel overwhelming. Of course, in parallel to this, normal life rumbles on: conversations and contacts, work, plans, delight in our newly-flowering passion flower... And then the latest news breaks in...

Our Constitutions say that The pierced Heart of Jesus opens our being to the depths of God, and to the anguish of humankind... and none of us need to search far for that piercing, happening today in our world. 

And how to bring all this to prayer? - even a prayer which is wordless, with a God for whom words are unnecessary, and who must surely weep with us? Judging by my Twitter feed I'm not the only one in this aching silence - and there is some comfort in that - and surely not the only one asking this question. An answer of sorts came yesterday evening via a tweet from @DigitalNun, who wrote: There is no need to try to find words for what is in our hearts as we see the suffering in Afghanistan and elsewhere. The Spirit has more eloquence than any of us. 

Once again I remind myself of the opening words in our Constitutions: God's mercy and faithfulness shine forth in a world wounded by sin. If they are the starting point in our Constitutions, then they have to be the starting point of everything that is at the very heart of our lives as RSCJ; everything that is at the heart of me. That faith-filled declaration, opening our Constitutions, must also open me: to deeper faith and hope, to the depths of God, and a foundational belief in God's life and activity in even the darkest, most wounding times and places.  

And so I pray - or rather, I attempt to pray. And I sign and share a petition about Afghan refugees... send a message to an Afghan family I know here in London... tweet a few times... and return to sit wordlessly with the God who has to be light and love in a world grown so much darker, trusting in the Spirit dwelling and praying within me; within all of us. Right now, this is all I can do; right now, it has to be enough.