Lament

As I return to my writing after a month-long sabbatical I am struck by the events of this summer, and especially this past weekend, that have left us shaking our heads and wondering, “Why?” From the seemingly every day tragedies reported on the news shows to the extreme cases like the shooting in Aurora, Colorado, the events surrounding the Penn State football program, and the disappearance of two young girls in a neighboring community we are faced with the various ways evil manifests itself in our life. Such a constant barrage of bad news leaves us in a precarious emotional state searching for some way to respond.

I don’t know any of the people who were killed or injured in the Aurora shooting. I don’t personally know any of the football players, coaches or even any Penn State students. I don’t know the girls who are missing nor do I know any of their family members. Yet these stories touch me in some visceral way. They make me worry about the state of our humanity, the safety of our communities and the direction of our culture. They pull hard on the bits of hope within me and try to get me to let go of them. I feel sadness and despair well up. Even though I believe that things will be better one day I can’t help but think that things will get a lot worse before then.

The shooting in Aurora doesn’t surprise me. Using violence to get attention or to wreak revenge is as old as life itself. What is different today is the increased concentration of people in urban areas coupled with the ability of individuals to obtain or produce weapons capable of mass injuries. The apparent randomness of the violence also leaves us feeling helpless.

This summer I am also grieving the turn of events at Penn State. As a conference rival of my favorite Big 10 team I begrudged their constant success. As a college football fan I respected a program that, from the outside, appeared to have held up academics and good citizenship above winning. The horror of the child abuse scandal was compounded by the actions of those who glossed it over and covered it up for the sake of the program’s reputation. I was let down to learn that those in charge, those who could have made a difference, didn’t live up to the very things they said they believed in the most.

The missing girls from Evansdale, IA, just 50 or so miles from where I live, once again reminds me of how vulnerable our children are and that we live in a time and a place where they aren’t safe in our own neighborhoods. It causes me to look suspiciously at strangers and wonder about the secret lives of people that I think I know well.

Why? Why do these kind of things have to happen?

I know there are reasons. I understand that there are series of causes, events and decisions that lead up to these types of tragedies. People speculate on what the reasons might be all the time. They fill up the hours on network talk and news shows. They become the basis for books and documentaries.

Figuring out why these things happen so that we can prevent them from happening again is a good thing. But it’s not the first thing we need to do. There is something more important that needs to be done first.

We need to lament. We need to sit in the pain and discomfort of these tragedies along with the victims and feel the emptiness. We have to cry out to heaven, “Why?” and then sit in the deafening silence.

Lamenting is more than grieving. It’s grieving out loud. Lamenting calls God into account. It demands that a silent God remain silent no longer. It expects and response. A lament demands that a situation be fixed but, more importantly, calls out for God to be present with us in the midst of the present evil. A lament is the recognition that in the midst of pain and suffering we feel isolated and alone and that we need someone to be with us until it is over.

We Americans are not very good at lamenting. We don’t like to ask for help. We don’t want to appear weak or unable to cope. So we don’t cry out. We try to figure things out. We try to fix them. We rush to make changes in policies and laws that make us feel safer. We don’t admit that these things hurt us. We swallow the pain and repress it and hope it goes away.

When we do that, we never give it a chance to heal.

If the Psalms are any indication, lamenting is an acceptable form of prayer. The fact that we are hurt by the pain and injustice caused by violence, corruption and illness and can’t ignore it is a good thing.  Being honest about it and asking where God is in all of the mess is a healthy spiritual exercise. We need to lament.

Help, O Lord, for there is no longer anyone who is godly;

   the faithful have disappeared from humankind.

They utter lies to each other;

   with flattering lips and a double heart they speak.

May the Lord cut off all flattering lips,

   the tongue that makes great boasts,

those who say, ‘With our tongues we will prevail;

   our lips are our own—who is our master?’

‘Because the poor are despoiled, because the needy groan,

   I will now rise up,’ says the Lord;

   ‘I will place them in the safety for which they long.’

The promises of the Lord are promises that are pure,

   silver refined in a furnace on the ground,

   purified seven times.

You, O Lord, will protect us;

   you will guard us from this generation forever.

On every side the wicked prowl,

   as vileness is exalted among humankind.

                                                -Psalm 12 NRSV