A WORD FROM THE VOID
FOR VICTIMS
In the beginning the elohim created skies and
earth.
Welcome
back. Last time when I ended my post, I shared that I would write about Christian politicians, but I must write about the Lesbian Gay Bi-sexual and Trans-gendered men and women who were murdered in Orlando on June 12.
My heart, my mind, and my spirit have been in the
void. That is the place where no words or thoughts stir. It is the place where
the breath of God moves until God speaks.
Do
not be deceived. I can write a lot of words, and I will. I’ll talk a lot too. But
I am compelled to not remain silent when a disaster occurs, so these words pour
out of my mind, not the void.
I’ve
known the void before. It was a year ago on June 17th. I could not
believe my eyes would see and my ears would hear of such a massacre as what
happened in the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina.
Nine
of my Christian brothers and sisters were slaughtered by a young man who looked
as old as the high school students I teach. He walked into their church, listened to their Bible Study and prayer, and murdered them.
The
void presented itself to me then; it presents itself to me now for Orlando.
When
an unspeakable tragedy happens, a shroud of inexpressible silence blanks the
mind as if the cosmos has become such a place where nothing can ever be uttered
again.
For
Christians, this is a dreadful nothingness. The word is everything to us. The
Greek word “logos” is translated as “word,” and it points to that presence of
God that created everything.
“In
the beginning was the Word: the Word was with God and
the Word was God. He
was with God in the beginning. Through
him all things came to be, not
one thing had its being but through him. All
that came to be had life in him and
that life was the light of men, a
light that shines in the dark, a
light that darkness could not grasp.”
No
Word means no creation, no life, and no salvation.
A
lot of words will be said about Orlando. A lot are being said already about
Orlando. Many words sound insincere, spoken for the sake of public bluster by
those who have everlastingly fought or fretted for the rights of gun makers and
owners, but who have habitually come up blank for LGBT people except to condemn
them. Their words sound rehearsed. Maybe they are rehearsed. Maybe they’ve
articulated their rote revulsion too often after young Americans, very young
Americans, and all the rest are massacred.
We
can tell when someone speaks words that are authentic, and we know they are
true when the emotional loss flows from their bodies as much as from their voices.
We
also know their words are true when they are transformed by tragedy. So
often words abound about “these heinous acts,” but I see no transformation among the proclaimers.
I
wonder if the void does not seize us all when, “blood and destruction become so
in use, and dreadful objects so familiar.” It can be a long time before the
inexpressible is forthcoming. The word lies in silent abeyance.
So
we must wait. The word when it comes will explode in a big bang or glide in a gentle
breath. It will create from our hearts, from our scriptures, our wisdom, our
worship, our hands and feet, our work, our God of love.
The
victims who died were dancers, singers, tour guides, retail sales people, managers, a McDonald’s worker, salon workers, business owners, a lot of students, an Army
reserve captain, and a mother who went to The Pulse to show support for her son
by dancing with him.
She is gone, and he lives.
She is gone, and he lives.
Let
us multiply by forty-nine the number of years these victims might have lived
before dreadful murder ended them. Calculate the thousands of life years lost—void.
These
words are all I have written. I wait for another word. It could be a long wait.
My soul feels as broken up as Anderson Cooper’s voice when he told us the names
and occupations of those massacred.
Next
time, I hope to write about Buddhists and Christian politicians.
Blessings…
No comments:
Post a Comment