Ironic, isn't it? Now, of course, I only have as much information as what the bbc presents; the impetus and the beginning of the conflict unknown. Glancing through the archives, this is not a freak occurrence. It would seem tensions tend to build high this time of year.
It is strange to recognize the walls of the Church of the Nativity, where I was for during the Armenian observance of Christmas, and to see the Armenian and Orthodox priests fighting with each other when, outside the walls of Bethlehem, Israel has approved plans for a new housing settlement in East Jerusalem, which is occupied territory (as the West Bank), further deteriorating relationships between Israelis and Palestinians. Whereas, in Nigeria, "Nigerian Christians will have "no other option" but to defend themselves if Islamist attacks continue, a church coalition says," (bbc.com). And this is only today's news.
Most of us are rendered ambivalent by our own worries, by our own cares, and by our own darkness. What can we do? I think it takes a bit of imagination.
So often, we approach reading the Bible, prayer, and faith as something as creative and as imaginative as brushing our teeth (maybe brushing our teeth is more interesting). Bear with me: I am not saying this as a fluffy response, nor am I simply stating, "I love Jesus, so everything is fine." What I am saying is actually a question: what would our lives of faith look like, approached creatively and imaginatively? What would our vision of God look like if we believed each sunrise, each new day, each new breath, exists because - in that very moment - it was created to do so?
We have traded our curiousity for fear and our imagination for demonstrable fact. We want to prescribe God's actions rather than describe them. Our imagination for God extends only as far as our vision of a divine vending machine or (for those of a different persuasion) an unmoved mover or (for those of yet a different persuasion) a wrathful judge. In response, we develop rather small imaginations for what it possible for people of faith. So, our responses to violence are not very creative or generative: our response tends to be more violence, perpetuating the system.
Viewed with curiousity, viewed with creativity, viewed with imagination, our lives of faith stem out of the generative and creative work and Word of God. It is in this imagination we find we are not only connected to those we meet in our homes, in our chuches, on our computers, or when we travel; we are connected much more intimately and much more deeply than we imagined. Just as a butterfly flapping her wings in the Gulf Coast may send a hurricane careening off the coast of Florida (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterfly_effect), so a person of faith who places a spoke in the wheel of oppression, to borrow from Bonhoeffer, can change the course of history.
How, you ask? Well, that takes a lot of faith and a little bit of imagination.
It is with faith and imagination we can hope for and expect a different response than the ones we see today: in which people of faith persecute people whose faith is different from their own. It is with faith and imagination we reach across all of the aisles in our lives: whether religious, political, or the aisles that exist between who we are and who we'd like to be, to take hold of something that generates and creates, letting go of that which breaks down and destroys.
I'm going to say it again: the Light shines in the darkness. I'm going to imagine that, by the simple act of speech, the shadows will descend. Perhaps it's silly; perhaps it is naieve... but perhaps it is, finally, the simplest gift of speech that will enable our tongues to speak and our minds to dream of a different reality.
“We are not to simply bandage the wounds of victims beneath the wheels of injustice, we are to drive a spoke into the wheel itself.” -D. Bonhoeffer
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