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Tragedy at Christmas Time

              In this time of advent, as we race through work and seasonal duties, we are perplexed and saddened by the tragedy at a grammar school. We hear “Joy to the World”, then see pictures of six year old children and their teachers, and we wonder where is the joy? Where is peace on earth, when even little children die needlessly at the hands of a mentally ill person, whose empathy switch turned off. We hear of the heroism of the teachers who lost their lives trying to protect the children. We hear of the screams of the frightened children being shot. Then we ask, where was God when this happened?

               There are no easy answers. There aren’t even complicated answers that make sense. I do know that God’s heart is breaking, even as ours break. I know that joy is not the same thing as happiness. I know that our tears are nothing compared to God’s tears. He does not desire for us to hurt one another. We are made in his image, so that when we hurt, he hurts; when we grieve, he grieves. This is small consolation, but I believe Christmas does not make peace on earth a finished deal; it offers us hope of peace as a reality. It lets us know that even though we live in a crime-filled, painful world, God loved us so much that he became one of us, and endured our sorrows as a human. He KNOWS how we feel. He knows how those parents feel, how that community feels, how confused and scared the surviving children feel.

                This poem was written several hundred years ago by someone horrified by the living conditions of the poor in London. It shows that man has been grappling with these issues probably since the first concept of pain and suffering. These questions are not new. Man still struggles to understand why the innocent suffer, why evil and good exist side by side.

                I wish for you this Christmas, and always, peace in your heart, good will toward others, and the strength to see you through your sorrows.

On Another's Sorrow by William Blake

Can I see another's woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another's grief,
And not seek for kind relief.

Can I see a falling tear.
And not feel my sorrows share,
Can a father see his child,
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd.

Can a mother sit and hear.
An infant groan an infant fear--
No no never can it be,
Never never can it be.

And can he who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small.
Hear the small bird's grief & care
Hear the woes that infants bear--

And not sit beside the nest
Pouring pity in their breast.
And not sit the cradle near
Weeping tear on infant's tear.

And not sit both night & day.
Wiping all our tears away.
O! no never can it be.
Never never can it be.

He doth give his joy to all,
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe
He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not. thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy maker is not by.
Think not, thou canst weep a tear,
And thy maker is not near.

O! he gives to us his joy.
That our grief he may destroy
Till our grief is fled & gone
He doth sit by us and moan