I’ve spent most of my life with the delusion that I could cope with whatever life might throw at me. I might not like it. It might, in fact, be agonizing. But it would not break me. I would still be me, no matter what happened.
Then I listened to Amanda Lindhout being interviewed by Anna Maria Tremonte on CBC’s The Current. Amanda, you may recall, was the freelance journalist captured by rebels in Somalia and held for 460 days. Fifteen months. Solitary. In chains. Locked in a windowless room.
Her captors wanted $2.5 million in ransom.
Amanda’s mother Lorinda Stewart did everything she could to raise the ransom money. She sold their house. She pestered friends, family, neighbours, co-workers. She had about $500,000 raised. She started negotiating with Amanda’s captors.
The RCMP recorded the calls.
One day the Somalis called Lorinda Stewart. Amanda’s captors had beaten her for three days, non-stop. Amanda says they assaulted her -- I assume that includes rape. They starved her. They kicked her. They tortured her.
Then they handed Amanda a phone, to talk to her mother in Canada.
And the cry, the wail, that came through will haunt me for the rest of my life: “Oh mummy mummy mummeee make them stop mummy mummy get me out of here mummy mummy please please pleeeeeeeeeeeeze….”
Some of the words above are guesswork. A lot of what Amanda cried was indecipherable.
This was no self-confident journalist, no world-changing crusader. This was a gut-wrenching wail of utter despair and abandonment.
I have never heard anything like it before; I hope I never hear anything like it again.
But don’t take my word for it. Listen to it yourself: http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/calgary/amanda-lindhout-and-mother-canada-ransom-1.3562431
It was the cry of someone for whom nothing is left. Nothing.
I think I know what Jesus cried out on the cross. In his final words, he didn’t quote scripture. He didn’t offer forgiveness, or lofty theological advice. He released his equivalent of “mummy mummy mummeee…”
And I no longer believe that I cannot be broken. I can be. Anyone can be. Put together enough malice, enough sadism, enough hatred, and anyone can be broken.
Amanda Lindhout’s wail of anguish reminds me that humanity has a tragic capacity for inhumanity. I don’t like to admit that it’s there. I believe, deeply, that most of us would rather be kind to each other. That as individuals, we can respond to each other with compassion. That this is what Jesus called “the kingdom of God” -- which is already here, and is always waiting to happen.
But my Pollyanna perspective shatters when I’m confronted by Amanda Lindhout’s desperation. I cannot deny that there is a stain within us humans, perhaps within all of us, perhaps even within me. The opening of a long-ago radio program called The Shadow intoned these words: “Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of man?”
From the bottom of my heart, I hope and I pray that no one I love ever has to find out.
(Footnote for Okanagan residents: Amanda Lindhout will be speaking at Trinity Baptist Church in Kelowna at 7:00 p.m. on the evening of June 6. Tickets cost $35.)
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Copyright © 2016 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.
To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca
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YOUR TURN
Isabel Gibson thought that connecting the tactics of terrorists with those of the early church, as I did last week, was, “A provocative analogy. I'll be fascinated to see the comments - and whether there's any sputtering . . .”
There wasn’t as much response as I had expected.
David Martyn was a young minister serving in northern BC for several years: “I always had a feeling that up north the Methodists worked with the disaffected in native communities, while the Anglicans worked with the chiefs. Was never able to do the research to back this up but always wondered.”
I wrote about the Christian invasion of Europe as "the most successful act of subversion in history.” Lee d’Anjou replied, “I'm not sure that singularity is accurate. Some students of history might claim the Peloponnesian Wars were equally radical.”
I refreshed my memory about the Peloponnesian Wars. They seemed to be marked mainly by tactics, the Athenians relying on their navy, the Spartans on their army. So I asked Lee to clarify her reason for calling the wars “radical.”
Lee wrote, “Those differences in tactics seem to have developed because of differences in family organization and thus in land ownership and land use and in group decision-making.”
I live in Lake Country, BC. I discovered that there is also a Lake Country in Wisconsin, when Sandra Neuens sent me this advice about couch grass: “As a fellow gardener I want to offer you a tip a Master gardener shared with me. The gentlemen helped save my flower beds and limit my grass-pulling frustrations. The product is Ortho GRASS-B GON. Below is a link to purchase through Amazon. Not sure if it is sold in Canada.
http://www.amazon.com/Ortho-0438580-Garden-Killer-24-Ounce/dp/B001693OLQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1462383911&sr=8-1&keywords=grass+killer+for+gardens
The Master Gardener informed me that it kills one cell plants (grass) without harming two cell plants (annuals and perennials.) I have used it for three years now to great success.”
And neighbour Stewart Detzler stopped me on the street. “I want to put in a good word for couch grass,” he said. “When I was young, we had a lawn entirely of couch grass. We parked our cars on it played on it; it was indestructible.”
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PSALM PARAPHRASES
This coming Sunday is Pentecost Sunday, an event the Hebrew psalmists could not have anticipated. Nevertheless, we have to have a psalm every Sunday. Someone decided that Psalm 104 fitted the occasion. I’ve updated the images.
24 You made everything, God.
You imagine it, and it happens.
You breathe on it, and give it life.
25 The oceans are the amniotic fluid of the earth.
In their womb we share our origins.
26 We like to think we look after ourselves with trade and commerce;
With boats that plow the seas,
with trains and trucks and planes
we braid the earth with busy-ness.
27 Yet everything owes its life to you;
Everything depends on you for life.
28 You bring forth food from the earth, from the seas, from the skies.
By your bounty all are fed.
29 If you withdraw your favor, we will all perish.
Without you, we are no more than a collection of chemicals,
30 But you put your breath of life into us;
With each new generation, you renew us.
31 Our living bodies reveal your spirit.
May our living be acceptable to you, our Lord.
32 You create the volcanos and the earthquakes, the hurricanes and glaciers;
You shape the earth itself.
33 Yet you care about us.
We are no more than ants and sparrows in your creation;
we are overwhelmed with gratitude.
34 This is our understanding--
may it meet with your approval.
For paraphrases of most of the psalms used by the Revised Common Lectionary, you can order my book Everyday Psalms from Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com.
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YOU SCRATCH MY BACK…
Ralph Milton has a new project, called Sing Hallelujah – the world’s first video hymnal. It consists of 100 popular hymns, both new and old, on five DVDs that can be played using a standard DVD player and TV screen, for use in congregations who lack skilled musicians to play piano or organ. More details at www.singhallelujah.ca
Isabel Gibson's thoughtful and well-written blog, www.traditionaliconoclast.com
Wayne Irwin's "Churchweb Canada," an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. <http://www.churchwebcanada.ca>
Alva Wood's satiric stories about incompetent bureaucrats and prejudiced attitudes in a small town are not particularly religious, but they are fun; write alvawood@gmail.com to get onto her mailing list.
Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony” – ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’s readers. Write him at twatson@sentex.net
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TECHNICAL STUFF
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I write a second column each Sunday called Sharp Edges, which tends to be somewhat more cutting about social and justice issues. To sign up for Sharp Edges, write to me directly, jimt@quixotic.ca, or send a note to sharpedges-subscribe@quixotic.ca
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