There’s a term for what I believe many, if not most, of the world’s population have been experiencing for well over a year, but even more acutely during this last year. A pandemic starting in 2020 might have kicked-started the process for many, but since then, the invasion of Ukraine by Russia, the terrorist attack in Israel and the brutal genocide in Palestine, with the ripple effects of antisemitism and more related violence, have greatly deepened the experience. The attack on immigrants, the poor, schoolchildren, the sick and other marginalized people south of the border has ratcheted up the tension. And more recently, the overt acts of war on sovereign states, assassination, bombing of innocents and threats of genocide as a geo-political tool … the list goes on. It feels like chaos! And even if few of us have directly experienced physical violence against ourselves or our family, we have been wounded in another way. Other writers and experts I’ve read have referred to this experience as “moral injury.” It’s ubiquitous, and it affects us all in ways most of us do not understand. It can lead to feelings of helplessness and hopelessness, which, in turn, can start to affect all other aspects of our lives. It can numb us into inaction. We are injured!
The world has experienced this before, though perhaps it hasn’t been this widespread since the Second World War and all of the following results through the Cold War. The world was remixed and subdivided then by borders which didn’t make sense and didn’t ultimately work.
Thirty-six years ago, for my thirtieth birthday, I did a grand, though frugal, tour through Europe with a Eurail ticket in my hand and couch-surfing with friends and family from England to Geneva to Sevilla and returning to celebrate my actual birthday in Paris, the city of my birth. I went on to visit friends in Hamburg and Berlin. The most incredible extended event had been happening in Berlin during the previous half-year. The Berlin Wall was falling! It was being dismantled piece by piece. Shards of it, decorated with the graffiti of decades, made their way around the world as travellers took the mementos home to remember this historic event, including the colourful piece, which I keep in my office. The word of the year on the street in Berlin was “unglaublich,” which means “unbelievable!” The wall had stood for almost 30 years. It was a symbol of the Cold War, and its dismantling marked the collapse of the Soviet Union. But more archetypal than that, it stood as a symbol of the division which has marred the human condition from the time of Cain and Abel, the tower of Babel (the division of the world into linguistic groups), nation-states at war, and so much more.
A wonderful thing happened over the last decade of the Berlin Wall. Paint was splashed and spilled on the West Berlin side: colours of all kinds with simple words or beautiful images. Most of it was in resistance to the wall itself and the division of humans that it represented. When the wall came down, some of the art was saved, including the piece in this photo I took, which was preserved and displayed at Checkpoint Charlie, the famous crossing between East and West Berlin. I took the photo just before I entered East Berlin. Through a crack in the wall, a hand offers a rose to someone on the other side. They cannot even see each other, but the giver simply trusts that there is someone to receive. Both hands have restraining bonds which inhibit. But despite the solidity of the concrete wall draped with barbed wire, a human gesture of compassion and solidarity transcends the reality and the dove of peace witnesses it all.
Pentecost, which we just celebrated, marks the breaking down of barriers. The language barrier of the Tower of Babel is transcended by the apostles miraculously speaking all the languages of the world. Christians, as people of the Pentecost, are to be those who break down divisions and barriers of all kinds. While many powerful people around the world are building more walls, both figuratively and literally, ours is the task to resist with acts of compassion which transcend all barriers.
So, what can one do when experiencing moral injury? I highly recommend the practice of contemplation. Try Centering Prayer or Christian Meditation, not as a way to isolate yourself from humanity, but as a way to immerse yourself in the ground of all being, which connects all people, and indeed all of creation. And then return from your contemplation with renewed energy and compassion to do acts of peaceful resistance against the power of division, selfishness and hatred. In the midst of the symbols of concrete walls and barbed wire, let yours be the hand which thrusts the rose of compassion and peace to the other who is bound on the other side. Know you are not alone, but join with others in the resistance with acts of love and compassion, with community building and courage. Never cease praying for the least, the lost, the bullied and the oppressed. Ultimately, the walls of division will fall. Be one of those who break them down.
Contemplation in Chaos
There’s a term for what I believe many, if not most, of the world’s population have been experiencing for well over a year, but even more acutely during this last year. A pandemic starting in 2020 might have kicked-started the process for many, but since then, the invasion of Ukraine by Russia, the terrorist attack in Israel and the brutal genocide in Palestine, with the ripple effects of antisemitism and more related violence, have greatly deepened the experience. The attack on immigrants, the poor, schoolchildren, the sick and other marginalized people south of the border has ratcheted up the tension. And more recently, the overt acts of war on sovereign states, assassination, bombing of innocents and threats of genocide as a geo-political tool … the list goes on. It feels like chaos! And even if few of us have directly experienced physical violence against ourselves or our family, we have been wounded in another way. Other writers and experts I’ve read have referred to this experience as “moral injury.” It’s ubiquitous, and it affects us all in ways most of us do not understand. It can lead to feelings of helplessness and hopelessness, which, in turn, can start to affect all other aspects of our lives. It can numb us into inaction. We are injured!
The world has experienced this before, though perhaps it hasn’t been this widespread since the Second World War and all of the following results through the Cold War. The world was remixed and subdivided then by borders which didn’t make sense and didn’t ultimately work.
Thirty-six years ago, for my thirtieth birthday, I did a grand, though frugal, tour through Europe with a Eurail ticket in my hand and couch-surfing with friends and family from England to Geneva to Sevilla and returning to celebrate my actual birthday in Paris, the city of my birth. I went on to visit friends in Hamburg and Berlin. The most incredible extended event had been happening in Berlin during the previous half-year. The Berlin Wall was falling! It was being dismantled piece by piece. Shards of it, decorated with the graffiti of decades, made their way around the world as travellers took the mementos home to remember this historic event, including the colourful piece, which I keep in my office. The word of the year on the street in Berlin was “unglaublich,” which means “unbelievable!” The wall had stood for almost 30 years. It was a symbol of the Cold War, and its dismantling marked the collapse of the Soviet Union. But more archetypal than that, it stood as a symbol of the division which has marred the human condition from the time of Cain and Abel, the tower of Babel (the division of the world into linguistic groups), nation-states at war, and so much more.
A wonderful thing happened over the last decade of the Berlin Wall. Paint was splashed and spilled on the West Berlin side: colours of all kinds with simple words or beautiful images. Most of it was in resistance to the wall itself and the division of humans that it represented. When the wall came down, some of the art was saved, including the piece in this photo I took, which was preserved and displayed at Checkpoint Charlie, the famous crossing between East and West Berlin. I took the photo just before I entered East Berlin. Through a crack in the wall, a hand offers a rose to someone on the other side. They cannot even see each other, but the giver simply trusts that there is someone to receive. Both hands have restraining bonds which inhibit. But despite the solidity of the concrete wall draped with barbed wire, a human gesture of compassion and solidarity transcends the reality and the dove of peace witnesses it all.
Pentecost, which we just celebrated, marks the breaking down of barriers. The language barrier of the Tower of Babel is transcended by the apostles miraculously speaking all the languages of the world. Christians, as people of the Pentecost, are to be those who break down divisions and barriers of all kinds. While many powerful people around the world are building more walls, both figuratively and literally, ours is the task to resist with acts of compassion which transcend all barriers.
So, what can one do when experiencing moral injury? I highly recommend the practice of contemplation. Try Centering Prayer or Christian Meditation, not as a way to isolate yourself from humanity, but as a way to immerse yourself in the ground of all being, which connects all people, and indeed all of creation. And then return from your contemplation with renewed energy and compassion to do acts of peaceful resistance against the power of division, selfishness and hatred. In the midst of the symbols of concrete walls and barbed wire, let yours be the hand which thrusts the rose of compassion and peace to the other who is bound on the other side. Know you are not alone, but join with others in the resistance with acts of love and compassion, with community building and courage. Never cease praying for the least, the lost, the bullied and the oppressed. Ultimately, the walls of division will fall. Be one of those who break them down.
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