Being With

I have felt at a loss for words, I have not known what to say. With Paris, with San Bernardino, with the refugee crisis, with the nasty conversation, if it can be called that, among presidential candidates, and with the recent events at Calvin. I feel stuck between two equally uncomfortable places. One is to care, the other is to not care.

Let me explain the struggle with both those choices. First, if I let myself care, if I don’t turn that switch off, I find myself in a place where I can’t actually do anything. I can’t actually act on that decision to care, and if I’m not able to do that, I’m stuck in a place of sentimentality. I try to avoid sentimentality.

On the other hand, I could try to not care. I could choose to believe I can’t do anything anyway. Why cause myself distress in caring? I didn’t know the 14 people massacred in San Bernardino. I didn’t know the college student from California who was studying abroad and died in the Paris attack. Why not just let it go? Swoosh. Done. Forgotten.

Now, I’m not as binary and elementary as that--I know the world is not black and white, and I have more choices than to care or not to care. But I can’t quite figure out what the intermediate would be.

I’ll also say that among classes, homework, work, and studying, this question does not consume my time and attention. However, it has been persistent, popping up enough times that I can’t ignore it.

So, what to do?

Well, I prayed, kind of. It was not without feeling uncomfortable, inadequate. It’s easier for me to give prayers of thanks than prayers of supplication. I struggle to not feel cheap in saying “help them, be with them, Jesus.” It feels like I'm saying it more for my own benefit than for theirs. With my head, I know that it’s not like that, so I keep on.

The article Jeff gave us before Thanksgiving (http://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/22/opinion/sunday/choose-to-be-grateful-it-will-make-you-happier.html?_r=0) was encouraging. It said “don’t express gratitude only when you feel it. Give thanks especially when you don’t feel it. Rebel against the emotional ‘authenticity…’” Rebel against the emotional authenticity. And isn’t that what we should do? “Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances,” says 1 Thessalonians 5:16. Pray constantly.

I do want to throw out this disclaimer, a tidbit from my mental health nursing rotation: feelings are important, and should not be ignored. Rebelling against emotional authenticity does not mean ignoring your feelings. On the contrary, it means being aware of your feelings, and deciding to act apart from them (because sometimes feelings are not facts. Another tidbit).

So, I was sad when I read an article on “prayer shaming” (http://www.npr.org/2015/12/05/458505532/after-mass-shootings-people-turn-to-prayer-and-prayer-shaming). I was sad because, well, prayer is already hard to begin with, and I can’t say that I hadn’t thought about arguments against prayer myself. I can see why people would think them. "Your 'thoughts' should be about steps to take to stop this carnage," "Your ‘prayers’ should be for forgiveness if you do nothing — again," read some tweets.

The article ends with this paragraph:

I think a lot of people who pray don't think of it as a replacement for deeds, or an occasion to utter a gift list of desires. They pray to open their minds and hearts. They pray when words won't come, and emotions overwhelm. They pray to mark a loss, and to try to make a moment of peace in a landscape of turmoil. They don't see prayer as a substitute for action, but the beginning. The merit of prayer is what people do after we say Amen.

Generally, I was glad the article ended this way. I was glad Scott shared that, and I mostly agree. But I would change the last sentence. The merit of prayer is not first the action, my action, that results from it; that is secondary. The merit of prayer is that I am giving up my prayer to Jesus. I am surrendering, placing it not in my control. It is an act of faith and hope.

Also, to care or to not care can be framed in terms of connection or disconnection. To choose to be connected, to care, to pray -- that is a choice that matters, regardless of the resulting action. Prayer is a way of being with, of holding, of connecting with. It is a way to be still in the midst of what is. It helps us to not become desensitized to the tragedies.

On Friday, students, staff, and faculty gathered on Commons Lawn to pray about the recent hate speech incident on campus. We stood in a circle, as a community, and prayed. I left feeling like I had finally exhaled. I left with hope. And I’ll continue to pray, even though I’m not good at it.

Amen.


--Mariana Pèrez