“Look at the streets of Cairo; this is what hope looks like.”
Ahdaf Soueif, author of the Booker prize nominated novel The Map of Love.
Yesterday, it was my job to pray in church. I had both the opening prayers (approach and confession) and the later prayers (dedication, thanksgiving and intercession) on my plate. And when I am leading prayer in church, I like to use words and images from the readings. Well, yesterday – being the Sunday before Valentine’s Day – we had a bit of a love theme going on. 1 Corinthians 13. John 15:7-17. Not lectionary, perhaps, but a pretty timely opportunity to think more broadly about what we mean by love.
Before the service, I distributed safety pins and red paper hearts, each printed with words from the 1 Corinthians passage. So, some in the congregation wore “Love is kind,” some “love does not envy,” and others “love rejoices in truth.” (Some ducked the whole game, telling me that they were too old for that sort of thing…) I had
nine different styles, and some people took their time choosing what they would wear. I tried to emphasize that the hearts weren’t meant to describe the wearer – they described the love of God. But some people still took their time. And I had far more “love is not proud” hearts left at the end, for what that’s worth. (Perhaps that one sounded a little too scolding.)
1 Corinthians provides a good structure for a prayer of confession. Love is patient, but we fill our days with hurry. Love is kind, but we think of ourselves. And when I stood up to lead the prayer, I could see the pews polka-dotted with read hearts, preaching back at me. I explained to the congregation that I wanted us not only to hear the words of scripture read but also to be able to see them as we looked at each other.
But when it came to the prayers of intercession, I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to pray for Egypt. It’s been amazing to watch and read about all that has been happening there. But I didn’t know how to put it into words. There were bound to be those in the congregation who had more intimate and in-depth knowledge of the politics, and I didn’t want my simplistic words to distract them in the middle of our prayers. Equally well, it is hard to know what exactly to pray for. I stuck with the things we always pray for: peace, wisdom, guidance, compassion. All the good gifts.
And freedom. Because it feels like freedom has come to Egypt – confusing, hopeful freedom. Ahdaf Soueif reported that before Mubarak left, the protestors in the streets of Cairo chanted “Come on, Egypt, One more Push, Freedom will be born tonight.” There are still protestors in Tahrir Square today, still holding on to their revolution, hoping that if they remain visibly steadfast, the military will not let them down. It’s hard for midwives to leave. And sometimes their abiding presence is the reassurance that is required. Sometimes, though, it’s best to let the new parents get on with the business of nurturing new life. I hope that the military, as temporary parents in a difficult time, have the wisdom to let others take over when the time is right.
I hope that they keep faith with the people.
“And now, faith, hope and love abide, these three; and the greatest of theses is love.”
There’s the prayer for Egypt – that love will abide most of all.
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For other parents’ thinking about these days, see Jonathan McLeod ‘s post on the commons.
