Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Boston

I've been sitting here, looking at a blank page, wondering what to write about Boston.

A lot has been said, and I'm sure a lot more will be said. There are stories of heroism, kindness, and generosity. There are stories about a panicked reaction to nationality. There's theories of false flags, and foreign intervention, and domestic unrest, of malevolence and insanity. There are people who's hearts and prayers go out to the victims.

We know results, but we don't know causes. Nobody knows yet.

I take that back. One person, at least, knows. The individual or individuals that set the bombs.

The rest of us may not know for some time. And uncertainty makes us crazy. The idea that there's something we don't or can't know makes us proceed based on incomplete information, on hearsay, on prejudices or hunches or principles.

And we want to do something. We want to blame someone (if not the actual perpetrator, then our favorite enemies: terrorists, the government, unstable people, shapeshifting lizards). We want to comfort the wounded and those who've lost someone by punishing the wrongdoer, by picking up the pieces and saying "This wrong has been committed upon you and upon all of us, and we've punished this person because they're responsible".

At this exact moment, we can't know, so we can't do. All we can do is seek the knowledge, look for answers.

It's frustrating for almost everyone, I'm sure. The fact that with all our technology and all our surveillance, we haven't found the perpetrator yet! It's been two days!

Sometimes, we can't know right away. Sometimes, we never know. Often, when the moment is darkest, our knowledge is not only incomplete, but non-existent.

At a time like this, we seek, and we pray.

And in my hours of darkness,
when I am not even sure there is a Thou,
hearing my call,
I still call to Thee with all my heart.
Hear the cry of my voice,
clamoring from this desert,
for my soul is parched
and my heart can barely stand this longing.




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