When there are no words…

Writing the next post for this blog has been on my jobs list all week. It is now Saturday, and it is still on my jobs list.

Because I have no words.

I can’t think of anything to say right now which doesn’t sound empty and meaningless.

I have no words for the people of Gaza.

Nor for the people Of Ukraine. Of Iraq. Of Syria. Of the Central African Republic. Of South Sudan …

I have no words.

What words can I speak or write into these situations in this world which we have created? What words which do not feel like the meaningless platitudes of someone who lives a safe and comfortable life? What words that do not sound cheap and hollow in the face of the senseless pain and death which surrounds us?

But maybe this is exactly what I have to say. To acknowledge that sometimes there are no words, no simple answers, no easy clichés to cover a multitude of sins, no “it’ll all be all right in the end”s. There is just a litany of death and pain and suffering and anguish.

There are too many wounds that words won’t heal.

But in my wordlessness, in my inarticulate horror at the world outside my window, somewhere in a place in my heart that has no words, I cling to the knowledge that if it is true that there are no words, it isn’t because bombs or weaponry should be allowed to speak instead.

I cling to the hope of other possibilities inspired by those who have the courage and determination to break the infernal cycle by answering war and violence with peace, destruction with creativity, fear with a trusting hope, hatred with forgiveness.

In the midst of the harrowing crucifixion scenes, I cling to a belief in the God of resurrection and life.

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