The lament I wrote last week seemed to strike a chord.
It was prompted by Lois and I watching an episode of Victoria, focused on Ireland and the potato famine. It may only have been an historical television programme, but it left us both feeling upset and angry, crushed by the sheer injustice of it all.
We were angry about the horrendous suffering experienced by so many millions; angry at the wealthy landlords trampling on the heads of the labourers while greedily holding onto their privileges and comforts; angry with the politicians callously looking after their own political interests while gambling with people’s lives; angry with the bishops, twisting religion for their own power and control, distorting the gospel, and turning a blind eye to the suffering of ordinary people.
And angry with God for creating a world in which children die of starvation and millions suffer to feed the greed and violence of others.
And we felt crushed and angry because this was not just something that happened 150 years ago, but remains a reality today: in Yemen, in Syria, in South Sudan; in China, Russia and Myanmar; and, in different ways, but much closer to home, in the UK, USA, Australia and Europe.
We hear on the news of millions starving and made homeless because of conflicts in the Middle East. And our own government continues to fuel this with arms sales to Saudi Arabia. We hear of lives ruined through gambling and addictions; of aggressive, arrogant men ignoring both laws and morality, and treating others with disdain; of big multinationals treating their workers without respect, destroying our environment, and brazenly evading and twisting tax laws; of the dignity and rights of children, women, and those who are ‘different’ being trampled on; of individuals and families in our own city left homeless, sitting in the shadow of the ever-growing forest of cranes building flash new student accommodation.
Sometimes it is right to get angry.
Sometimes it is right to lament.