The great storm is over

‘From the place where we are right, flowers will never grow in the spring.’ This line from a poem by Jewish writer Yehuda Amichai was quoted last week on Radio 4’s Thought for the day. The context was the heart-breaking conflict between Sunni and Shiite Moslems in Iraq, divided by political and religious differences. When we think we are right and everyone else is wrong Spring never comes, never mind flowers.

The other poem which spoke to me this week was a folk lyric by Bob Franke, Alleluiah, the great storm is over. A mother comforts her daughter as a storm batters their house, singing of a greater storm and the one who speaks it into silence. ‘Hush, little baby, a story I’ll tell of a love which had vanquished the powers of hell.’

We see the many contemporary expressions of the Great Storm, situations where it seems that ‘the powers of hell’ are let loose among us. Franke’s song brings context and comfort.

But we all have a tendency to believe ‘I’m right!’ and to belittle or demonise those who hold different view. We see it in our own relationships, in politics, between religious groups, even within churches. ‘I’m right! You’re wrong.’

As Amichai writes ‘the place where we are right is hard and trampled like a yard.’ When we think we’re right, there’s a lack of sensitivity in us: we shut ourselves off from alternative voices, and from the hearts of those around us. Our apparent confidence that we have the truth may mask a deep insecurity. There is no real communication, only silence in the place ‘where the ruined house once stood.’

Yet there are surely things about which we can say with conviction ‘This is right’? When, for example, we are choosing the way of goodness, integrity, courage and love, or seeking peace while opposing darkness, or creating calm places where folk can find shelter? And what about our faith, as Christians, in Jesus, the one whose sacrificial love we believe has ‘vanquished the powers of hell’?

Can we say believe we are right in the choices we are making and in entrusting ourselves to this Jesus while at the same time avoiding the destructive ‘I’m right!’ spirit which destroys both ourselves and others?

Yehuda Amichai holds out hope to his readers. ‘Doubts and loves dig up the world,’ he writes, softening hard hearts, breaking down barriers. Is there a way of believing we are right, while at the same time listening open-heartedly to others, accepting the limits of our understanding, acknowledging that reality is much bigger than we can ever imagine and even admitting that we may be wrong?  This kind of openness, says Amichai awakens whispers in the place where once stood the ruined house.

I think we are progressing as Christians when we are able to say not ‘I am right! I hold the truth,’ but rather ‘the truth holds me.’ This understanding that we are sustained by a truth far bigger than we can comprehend fills us with humility, gratitude and love.

As Christians we believe Truth has a name - the name ‘Jesus.’  We believe that insofar as any of us, regardless of our religion or spiritual beliefs, seeks goodness and peace we have caught a glimpse of Jesus, heard his whisper.

The Great Storm of opposition to goodness and peace has raged through history; it rages today in many parts of the world, including Syria and Iraq; it rages in the hearts of some in our communities; and if we are honest there are times when it rages within us.

Bob Franke’s song looks forward to a future when the Great Storm is finally over, when there will be healing and joy, freedom and peace, and ‘laughter in the house where the mourners had been.’ It’s a vision of the kingdom of heaven on earth, a future beyond the end of all things when the Great Storm will finally be stilled by the voice of Jesus.

‘The little lame children will dance and sing,’ sings the mother – a poignant line, for we’ve been told her restless baby is lame. But this reminds that in the coming kingdom whatever our particular issues are will be fully addressed.

But in the meantime, Jesus stills the storm in our lives, in our communities and in our world wherever people are open to love. Thus the mother sings ‘Hush little baby, let go of your fears.’ And thus when we experience the post-storm peace Jesus brings, a foretaste of the kingdom’s fullness we can honestly sing the refrain ‘Alleluiah, the great storm is over.’

And one day, what we now hear whispered will be proclaimed from the rooftops. The ruined house will be rebuilt. The party will begin.

(Christian Viewpoint column from the Highland News dated 26th June 2014)