God's tears
God's tears
Dear Scottie --
That's truly devastating. If our sharing your pain is of any help, we truly do so. May God's spirit of comfort be with you and your son and all the family and friends of the lost companion.
I can only think in circumstances like these that God, too, is crying. In the Christian tradition, after all, God too lost a Child in horribly tragic circumstances. Though we have the assurance of faith that all will be healed and reunited in the end, if in ways we can't understand, that doesn't reduce the powerful grief that I -- or, I think, God -- feel when the tragedy strikes. Why couldn't God prevent it? Maybe it's a consequence of the freedom and risk that was built into our universe, without which we probably wouldn't be human. The only remedy I find lies in the love we have for each other and our ability to build out of tragedy new relationships and new ways of protecting against it.
There is a wonderful story at the end of the first section of Jan de Hartog's history of the Quaker movement, "The Peaceable Kingdom," that has helped me. George Fox, one of the founders of Quaker Christianity in Britain, converted among others Margaret Fell, widow of a rich Judge and resident of Swarthmore Hall. As Margaret became more aware of her social surroundings, she discovered in the dungeon of the castle a series of cells where pauper children who had simply trespassed on the property or stolen a single apple were held in the dark and on starvation rations for years, subsisting as virtual animals when they didn't die of inanition. The experience shook her to the core and she just about lost her faith. George Fox happened by at that time, realized the crisis she was going through and took her on an evening carriage ride for comfort and support.
Margaret spilled out the horror and bitterness she had felt at her discovery. "How," she asked, "can there be a just God in Heaven if such pain and suffering exist under our very noses? Why doesn't God do something to prevent this, to save these children?"
The culminating moment of the first section of the book comes when George reaches over in the dark carriage to grasp her by the wrist. "Margaret," he cries, "don't you see?! He only has you to reach them!"
So maybe God, too, mourns and needs us to bandage these wounds and help make a world where our risks and tragedies are better handled, to be "instruments of His peace," as Saint Francis of Assisi said in the famous prayer. Perhaps He (She?)* strengthens us, shares our sorrows (feels them even more acutely) and yearns to act through and with us -- while abstaining, like a good parent, from forcing the act. Certainly love is the first step -- yours for your son, his for his friend, ours for you.
Sorry for the length. Please ignore any part of this that is not helpful. Your experience and what comes of it is more important than anything I say.
Peter
* I presume our God is above gender distinctions! (The problem doesn't arise in my wife's Persian culture -- though it's predominantly Muslim -- because 3rd person pronouns have no gender, so God is by grammatical definition both male and female!)
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