Anger

Ministerial Meandering

Anger

Just the other day I was on the phone to one of those dragons who are called ‘receptionists’ at doctors’ surgeries.  I am sure that these ladies go into one of two schools; one is to be a sweet and helpful person, and the other is to be a complete obnoxious and obstructive bitch.  For some reason, Sheila almost always manages to obtain one of the first school on the phone, whilst I almost always encounter the hydra-headed monster, possessing poisonous breath and blood.  Not being Hercules (who defeated this monster), I had to try and maintain my calm as she persistently told me that my very reasonable request for a simple blood form was impossible to provide.  We should, for decency’s sake (and there might be children watching!) draw a veil over what happened next, but if a carrier pigeon had had to transport my message, he would probably have burned up during his flight.

I do not think I am an angry man, but it surprising how many of my small flock have wanted to talk to me about their concerns - most of which also involve anger at what is happening in the world around us at present.

We seem to be met with une grande insouciance for our fellow human beings, a total lack of concern for their well-being or future, of what is right or wrong in their management - or even whether they live or die.  Indeed, in some parts of the world (and not far from here), it now seems to perfectly acceptable to deploy masked and armed men and women on the streets to terrorise and harass those who appear to be from another country, and fail to have the same colour skin or political outlook to them.  Meeting such people in one’s neighbourhood does not promote an environment for discussion, but a reaction of fear.  Such a response may then be taken as ‘resistance to questioning’ or flight - and therefore guilty as charged - and thus a legitimate target for instant execution by automatic weapons.

It is no wonder, then, that reasonable people should be afraid that they would be unable to survive if approached in such a way - particularly where there is no opportunity for any sort of dialogue - except for the stutter of repeated gunfire.

If this were confined to one area of the globe, one might hope that the international community would gather together in a united front to combat such inexplicable violence; but where such violence is already on a global scale, and the international community bodies tasked with policing such behaviour prove effete or ignored, there is left but the gleanings of hope and the lees of the cellar to cheer us.

This anger is fanned by the wind of frustration - and that is the frustration of helplessness.  “What can I do?”, is the repeated cry I hear - and I find myself utterly empathetic to that rhetorical question.  Except, is it rhetorical?   To say so would imply that it has been made only to stress a point, rather than realistically expect an answer - as in “Is nothing sacred?”

So “No,” I don’t think for one minute it is rhetorical - because ordinary people are now truly asking what they can do to stem the flood of evil and violence that threaten to overwhelm the world as they understand it.  And they are exhausted by being perpetually angry and in fear.  Someone once said, ‘Fear knocked at the door - Faith answered.  There was no-one there.’

My answer is therefore both practical and risky; stand up, speak out, and - for God’s sake PRAY.

Philip+