Last Monday morning, I went up to Tottenham. Ikea is up that way, and we were short on juice glasses. With the in-laws about to arrive, more glasses seemed like a reasonable idea. And, though my big-box-rejecting soul quivers as I type this, Ikea is a good way to spend some time out of the house with the kids. Which is fairly essential at present. The Spouse is writing up the Dissertation, and so quiet at home is at a premium.
As it turns out, Tottenham last Monday wasn’t the best place to be. Don’t worry – we were fine. Just faced bus diversions and got to see some burnt out buildings. There was a lull in looting until later in the afternoon. But people were a bit edgy. And, of course, nobody really knew then that the riots were going to keep going.
On Tuesday, the in-laws arrived. They’d seen some London footage in transit, and we’d read a bit of the news by then. It all sounded shocking and horrendous. But also far away. Even up close, this city is enormous. Jet lag and the inundation of the big city were starting to settle by late afternoon, so we thought a walk up on Hampstead Heath sounded like a good antidote. As we walked out of our door, the sounds of carpentry met our ears. The pizza shop underneath us was boarding up their large glass windows. Later, up on the Heath, we could see smoke in the sky to the north.
Throughout the week, there have been a lot of police on the streets. A few nights ago, I got a bit of a scare, coming home and seeing a line of police officers walking quickly towards my building. But they filed into the pizza shop and the last few looked quite jovial as they passed me. Dinner time, I guess.
One week on, people aren’t too scared any more. These riots seem to have run their course, we’ve all swapped our stories, and worried about people in the north of the city and the south, in Birmingham and Manchester and everywhere else. Now it’s time for interpretation. A difficult task because none of this seems to make much sense.
It is illogical to ransack your community as a protest against lack of opportunity. Just like it’s illogical to ransack your community when a hockey team loses. Or to steal from others because the world isn’t fair. Or because you think you can get away with it. Nothing is gained from this kind of destructive self-indulgence. But that doesn’t mean that those of us who don’t steal things or throw things through windows get to beat up on those who do. That would be just as illogical.
Brokenness can’t be fought with heavy hands.
This week, there have been the inevitable questions about where Jesus was during the riots. I’m worried about this question – firstly because we hear permutations of it so frequently. In the face of any disaster – natural or political – the question comes out loud and clear. But it doesn’t sound like we’re asking where is God, but where might God be. As if we were grown children wondering about the possible actions of a deceased parent. If he had lived so long as to see this, what would his thoughts have been?
The question is also problematic because it demands an answer. The question makes you draw lines. God is here, not there. God would be there, not here.
Perhaps we need better questions.
What breaks God’s heart about this situation?
Where can we stand with others in the midst of this brokenness?
Where is the way forward through all this?
How should we talk about this? How do we feel?
What should we pray for? Order? Or justice? Or peace?
And what should we do?
“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, competing against one another, envying one another.” Galatians 5:22-26
