Tragic images,
a crying sound in my ear,
and I turn to ice.
Have you ever felt frozen after hearing the news of a traumatic event or catastrophe After the sadness and reality of the situation have settled in, you’ve probably also experienced the sinking feeling that there isn’t anything you can do to “fix” the problem.
We hate acknowledging that difficult truth.
Coming face to face with existential powerlessness turns our worldview upside-down. It confronts a sense of security that we depend on and, in fact, spend much of our time trying to build.
We appear to have control over so many aspects of life—and we like to increase the breadth of that appearance. But, appearances are deceiving and the control we think we have gained is typically ephemeral or a mere construct built on shifting sands that easily fall away.
Instead, we know more about powerlessness than we like to admit in very immediate and close-to-home ways: in our families, in our neighborhoods, and in our networks:
In these close-to-home experiences we can respond to this sense of powerlessness with direct “healthfulness.” Responding with direct healthfulness means finding the spiritual strength to be present, caring, and healing. And, the most fortunate amongst us will find that people who love us rally to provide the same to us in our own journeys through the valley of suffering. In either case, we are learning religious lessons, and hopefully bringing religious learnings to the traumatic moments that will inevitably follow.
These realities apply even more so in the global context: a context that is more mysterious than our local communities, a context we often haven’t experienced in a face-to-face way, a context in which responding with direct healthfulness is so much more challenging. In confrontations with catastrophes in far off places we face our powerlessness in uniquely challenging ways. These, too, are religious matters.
They are religious matters because they present us with choices in the midst of powerlessness—and the most important role of religion is to assist us in making choices of importance. My definition of religion is a pragmatic one: religion is that which inspires us to live as though our choices matter, even when we fear they don’t matter at all.
What are the choices global crises, traumas, and catastrophes present to us?
The most obvious potential choice is to ignore that they’ve happened. Or, to pretend that we aren’t all effected—that each and every one of us isn’t caught up in what Dr. King called an “inescapable network of mutuality”; to pretend that we aren’t hurt, pained and therefore are immune to compassion in the face of distant suffering.
I’m convinced that this is the most common response to an experience of powerlessness in the face of global catastrophe. And, its one of the reasons why we need religion.
Because religion—including our precious Unitarian Universaism—teaches that whenever another soul is injured, we are also injured. It explains why sorrow, despair, and even “frozen-ness” are natural and easily understood reactions to distant trauma. But it also teaches that the experience of powerlessness can be overcome by claiming power that previously appeared unrealistic.
One of the recent examples of a global catastrophe that touched American UUs was the earthquake and tsunami that struck Japan in March, 2011. As the stories, pictures and videos of the devastation arrived, that common experience of powerlessness hit most of us. Individually and collectively we wondered whether any helpful response was possible.
But we also looked to our relationships in Japan—both our individual relationships and our institutional relationships. And, as I recall, the icy sensation of powerlessness began to melt as those connections came into focus.
And that is the beginning: to refuse to ignore the suffering is a humane act in itself. It’s not the end, but it is the beginning.
The next steps are many and various. But, for religious people like us an early spiritual response is often helpful: bring the trauma to prayer or meditation or art. Not to solve the problem, but to integrate it—to understand it in your soul. And to express emotions about it.
Also in the middle is creativity: given the depth of our powerlessness to solve, what else is possible?
This often leads to messages of support, reminders of the wide community of caring—which are typically deeply cherished. Sometimes it leads to making financial contributions to joint efforts that are well designed to make a positive difference on behalf of many people who care. And, sometimes it even leads to a realization that, in fact, you’ve got some other direct healthfulness to provide. And in a matter of time, you’re there and providing it—wherever “there” is.
And, following these kinds of efforts and realizations there’s another important step—which is to not forget what happened or how you were involved. In other words, responding to a disaster or crisis isn’t like checking off an item on a to-do list—especially for the people in the midst of the crisis. Instead, we’re called to remember, to continue caring and praying and supporting in the creative ways that we find.
Traumas and crises will continue to strike at our hearts and souls from both near-by places and distant shores. And, as Unitarian Universalists we are called to respond religiously. May we remember that being powerless to “fix” the problem does not mean we are helpless. In fact, through acceptance and reflection we can respond with healthfulness.
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Quest for Meaning is a program of the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF).
As a Unitarian Universalist congregation with no geographical boundary, the CLF creates global spiritual community, rooted in profound love, which cultivates wonder, imagination, and the courage to act.