Personal narratives matter. The willingness to turn toward the pain of others matters. And prayer, whatever you embrace that to mean, also matters.
I felt fortunate to take part in a prayer circle for India recently. The zoom call, with people from all over the world and from many faith traditions, was two hours long and so incredibly moving.
One volunteer described his team as “ground soldiers of love” visiting remote areas with a mobile clinic to provide medical care and groceries for some of India’s most vulnerable. He described crowds of people lined up outside hospitals waiting for care or waiting to hear of news of loved ones who had been admitted. Volunteers handed out water in the heat.
One woman shared that people she knew had loved ones go into the hospital, die from Covid and be sent straight to a crematorium without their involvement. She described the real fear around lack of food and the impact of isolation and suspicion within close-knit communities. She also shared her own transformation as a witness of the willingness of others to keep an open heart alongside pain; to share resources, information and sorrow.
The themes that emerged were beautiful. Human beings have an enduring capacity to reach toward each other and to be creative for the greater good.
Suffering and the awareness of suffering
I have often struggled in my own life to take in news coverage that capitalizes on the brain’s negativity bias, to watch violent movies as entertainment, or listen to music with messages aimed to shut down rather than to open.
There is real suffering in the world. There are genuine opportunities to face what is difficult.
One woman in the prayer circle said,
“When we are in complete darkness, we hear one another with a kind of acuteness that’s very rare.”
I believe that too. Difficulty and pain cuts through the clutter like nothing else. In darkness, questions effortlessly emerge about personal needs as well: What and who do I really care about? Why am I wasting my time hiding?
Don’t we have choices about where to place our energy? Presence can bring forth something greater in all of us; a kind of rising up. Maybe this, in part, is what I believe prayer to be: a decision to ‘turn toward’ with intention and to create more space in the heart for goodness. That matters.
Ground soldiers of love are necessary. Soldiers of the heart are also necessary.
This week, consider ways you can choose how and where to direct your attention. As a deliberate act toward the greater good, start with yourself.
