On my way to work this morning I made my usual brief stop at a garage to buy The Guardian, which I like to read in my lunchbreak. As I made my way to the till to pay, glancing over the front page as I walked, I was literally stopped in my tracks by the image on the front page.
You can read the paper’s online version of the latest news about the war Israel is waging to bring down Hamas. It was the accompanying image that halted me in my steps though, which online is a video version (I couldn’t bring myself to watch it, the still was enough). It looks like the children are sleeping, but I can’t get out of my head how terrifying it must have been for them in the days and then the final moments leading up to their death.
I paid for my paper, with the photo now carefully folded inside so I couldn’t see it. A picture of a dead child is too raw, I just see my own child and recoil at the horror of that terrible thought. Once sat in the car I sat muttering to God, and then felt I just had to look again, to face this image and story that represents the awful reality of life today for those people in Gaza City. My hands were shaking as I unfolded the paper once again. I looked for a few careful moments and then found it unbearable. One picture that says just too much.
I began to drive to work again, and this time my mutterings to God had become ”I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”. Perhaps they were also directed at the dead children too, at their families who are grieving and living in the midst of a terrible nightmare (I’m aware that I’m writing in awful cliches but can’t find better words).
I have a very tenuous grasp of what’s going on with Israel and Hamas. And pictures like this just beg the question, can it really be worth it? I’d love someone to tell me.
It was with bitter reflection that I saw the emptiness of my own worrying about the economy this coming year, about job security for those I know and love. These things can be important, but 3 dead children amongst the bodies of so many others challenge that narrative as being the overriding one in 2009.
Blessed are the peacemakers.
5 comments
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January 7, 2009 at 1:18 pm
Lucy
Amen to that. Sometimes it is so hard to grasp the enormity of the suffering human beings cause each other. Sometimes I can’t find any words to pray, and have to visualise myself handing this great lump of feeling to God – and trust he knows the words. However, it is good to feel it. Apathy is so much worse.
Thanks for your lovely comment on my blog – it’s so good to encourage each other.
January 7, 2009 at 1:53 pm
bringonthejoy
Hey Lucy, nice to have you here. You’re right, apathy is so much worse, but feeling ain’t so much fun either. I like your idea for visualising the handing over of the lump of feeling to God – lump is certainly the right word. I’m going to have to try it.
January 8, 2009 at 4:59 pm
Keith
just looked at the picture too, and my heart is tearing too, I think God’s might be as well, when will we ever find peace?
shalom to you and yours!
K
January 9, 2009 at 10:34 am
bringonthejoy
Shalom backatcha!
(and a belated happy birthday too, I believe?)
The whole situation there just seems to get worse. I heard on the radio this morning that all UN countries are now united in calling for the conflict to end, and wonder how entangled we are all going to be – and how entangled we all should be in this war.
I remember many years ago an old friend went to work as an au pair in Israel and while she was there a similar conflict erupted. She wrote me a letter that told me how frightened she was, and that they had all been issued with gas masks and special suits to wear in the event of chemical warfare. It’s the only time I’ve ever had a really personal connection to a warzone, and it was awful.
But I wonder if we are actually called to actively seeking peace – I think we are – and what that then means we should do? Shane Claiborne from The Simple Way ended up in Iraq. Not sure if I’m that brave, nor that convicted.
January 9, 2009 at 2:55 pm
thestatethatiamin
I saw the picture last night. The children just look as if they are sleeping peacefully (although they aren’t).
I was talking to a client yesterday who got onto the whole issue of care for the elderly as he is planning a nursing home development. He told me of the honour of actually being there with his brothers when his Dad died of old age – his body slowly closing down functions over several months. He talked of how there is something inexplicably different as soon as the person dies. The body becomes a shell and the person is no longer there. Call it the soul or whatever you will…
But those children, look altogether different. Does God awake them from slumber in heaven into eternal rest with tear stained eyes looking at the mess we His creation are making of His creation?