She got a call. “Your brother was at the Bataclan.” Tomorrow’s lunch is off. She won’t ever meet him for lunch again.
How do we make sense of such evil? How do we pray?
Photo courtesy of CreationSwap via creationwsap.com
Over breakfast, I read Psalm 82—a poem by King David where his trust and confusion bleed together—a space for struggling with God.
It is a psalm worth stealing for Paris.
Psalm 82, Stolen for Paris
God has taken his place in the divine counsel,
while ISIS ravaged Paris he held judgement.
How long will you unjustly judge, O God,
and let ISIS kill and grow?
Give justice to the peaceful, not the violent,
maintain the rights of those who love their neighbors.
Comfort those whose lives
were forever changed by suicide bombs and guns.
For ISIS rejects Love and Understanding,
it storms around in darkness.
The foundations of the earth are shaking.
“They are too powerful,” I say, “and seem unstoppable.”
But we feared the same of Hitler
and its end will be like his.
Arise, O God, and intervene,
for the earth is yours
and full of people you died for.
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