As the day approached I became distinctly anxious. How was I to relate to these young criminals whose way of life on the streets had got them into court and now into this place of correction? My own growing up was quite different and we had nothing in common except age. As we approached the prison I remember wishing the earth would swallow me up or the bus would have a breakdown or that the whole thing would be called off. In the account of the great promise to Abraham (Genesis 15) the future joy is combined with present terror. ‘Look up to heaven and count the stars if you can. Such will be your descendants.’ But a little later on we are told ‘a great terror seized him.’
We all have our own moments of terror. Ones that are most vividly in my mind at the moment come from A Tragedy of Lives, Women in Prison in Zimbabwe, a collection of the stories of 33 women who suddenly found themselves in prison.
The women were driven by domestic violence or economic hardship to commit crimes. The shock they experienced on landing in prison and the separation from their children ‘seized them with terror.’ They were too numb to eat or sleep or even think of their legal rights.
Terror comes in different ways and the man chosen to succeed Pope Benedict will have his moment of terror. What can we say of this human experience we have all had at one moment or another? A friend of mine was attacked and robbed last week in a lonely dark place. He was totally at the mercy of his assailants and had his moment of terror.
The only thing I can find to say, and it may sound crazy, is that terror hollows us out – like a man making a drum. It strips away all our assurance and confidence in ourselves and opens us to what is beyond. ‘Look up to heaven and count the stars if you can.’ It makes us humble and reminds us how much we depend on others and on God. In some strange way terror is a vehicle of promise.
Post published in: Opinions