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Lamentations: From New York to Kabul and Beyond
On September 11, 2001 Daniel Berrigan sat at his desk in upper Manhattan writing a commentary on the Book of Genesis. As he explored the goodness of God's creation, the terrible events of that day stopped him cold.
With countless others, Berrigan―the tireless and often controversial peace activist―wondered how best to respond, articulate profound grief, and shape a response. In the midst of working with those ministering to rescue workers and families of the missing or dead, leading prayer vigils, and organizing protests against military retaliation, Father Berrigan looked to Lamentations for wisdom and insight. This book is the result of long, intense hours spend connecting that ancient text with the modern world.
In line with his critically acclaimed biblical commentaries, Berrigan uses the lens of Lamentations to explore the causes and repercussions of the events of September 11 and beyond. Here he asks, Where do we turn when the world around us seems to be inextricably enmeshed in violent conflict? How do we cry out for justice? Where do we find faith and hope to heal the immense human suffering that surrounds us?
Written in a style that captures the poetry and power of Lamentations, Berrigan cries out for peace in a militaristic world, calls for compassion instead of retribution, gives voice to those caught in the midst of war and strife, and names the evil in the world while lamenting the status quo.
Art by Robert McGovern illuminates the suffering of war and the hope of the faithful.
With countless others, Berrigan―the tireless and often controversial peace activist―wondered how best to respond, articulate profound grief, and shape a response. In the midst of working with those ministering to rescue workers and families of the missing or dead, leading prayer vigils, and organizing protests against military retaliation, Father Berrigan looked to Lamentations for wisdom and insight. This book is the result of long, intense hours spend connecting that ancient text with the modern world.
In line with his critically acclaimed biblical commentaries, Berrigan uses the lens of Lamentations to explore the causes and repercussions of the events of September 11 and beyond. Here he asks, Where do we turn when the world around us seems to be inextricably enmeshed in violent conflict? How do we cry out for justice? Where do we find faith and hope to heal the immense human suffering that surrounds us?
Written in a style that captures the poetry and power of Lamentations, Berrigan cries out for peace in a militaristic world, calls for compassion instead of retribution, gives voice to those caught in the midst of war and strife, and names the evil in the world while lamenting the status quo.
Art by Robert McGovern illuminates the suffering of war and the hope of the faithful.
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First published October 1, 2002
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About the author
Daniel Berrigan
154 books51 followersDaniel Joseph Berrigan (May 9, 1921 – April 30, 2016) was an American Jesuit priest, college professor, anti-war activist, Christian pacifist, playwright, poet, and author.
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March 12, 2024
The pathos and timeliness of this reflection is perhaps the most potent of all the reading I did during my sermon series on Lamentations. It's not quite a commentary but it is legitimate thought. The poetic prose of Berrigan portrays certain ideas more poignantly than any other commentaries.
That he wrote this in the months after 9/11 is remarkable. He demonstrates how it is possible to grieve an terroristic atrocity AND the horrific warlike response by an incensed, militarized nation. Reading in 2024, it was horrifying apt to see the same issue in the 10/7/2023 terror attacks on Israel and the disproportionate response of Israel to devastate Gaza, including the destruction of 10,000 children. Both events are to be lamented, but far many more will die at the hands of the militarized bombing campaign – people who are already poor, oppressed, and vulnerable – just like rural Afghani's in the winter of 2001.
Berrigan also isn't afraid to associate the calamitous suffering of America with American idolatry of wealth, consumerism, and military might. Such a critique is prophetic and few have the weight and courage to say a statement seriously, but Berrigan had been at it for 50 years when he wrote these reflections.
There were at times theological statements Berrigan made that I was uncomfortable with. However, he wasn't afraid to associate the uncomfortable content of Lamentations with the very real and fearsome judgment of God.
One of his best quotes:
On the destruction (and eating) of children: "In the iron age of war, an iron law is promulgated; it is the children who die first. War is mass cannibalism; we eat our own future. In the horrid banquet, all, victor and vanquished, have a sordid part." (61)
The end of the book really crescendoed very powerfully. Chapter 5 needs to be read slowly. I want to share so many quotes but a few must suffice:
"The God who sees all, surely sees ourselves, reduced to near nothing.”
“A last-ditch prayer, laved in a kind of wonderment. In shock, in near despair, we lorn ones, once the apple of God’s eyes, cannot take in the crushing depth of our predicament.
Still this is left to us: prayer. May You supply for our dire lack, for the memory and sight which faith us.
Let us confess. Long before disaster struck, we were dis-membered, spiritually. And afterward, we are blinded as to cause and outcome.
This be a mercy on our behalf. What we are incapable of, You please do on our behalf. ‘Remember,’ and ‘see.’" (113)
Warn turns all theories, even the most virtuous, to smoke….What is their offense [the women, children, elderly, non-combatant, neighborhoods who die], why are they disposed of? They get in the way of a clean outcome, that is the sum of it. Their offense is–existence.
Kill them, civilians. In large numbers. Such things happen. They are not exceptional; they are the random rule of the kingdom of chaos.” (124)
“War, the great leveler, in more senses than one.
War permits two categories of humans, two only: warrior and vanquished. Or another duet: survivors and the dead.
You were once somebody, a personage of note? War is declared. All former honors, achievements, emoluments are canceled. You are a near nobody – or worse, an enemy, someone to be removed from the world.” (124)
“The opaque God, this Flail and Reaper, Judge and Prosecutor, nonetheless must be acknowledged. Faith demands it, faith pronounces it. Brough low, counting for little or nothing on the scales of this world (or for that matter, another world), the exiles touch the heart of faith.
Is the heart cold, stilled? Not altogether.
The beat is slowed. Confess. We have sinned, have comported ourselves like ‘the nations,’ Despite Moses and Samuel and the great prophets and martyrs, we have lusted after the gods of empire and made of the Temple and idolatrous sanctuary. We have waged horrid wars, defrauded, lied, betrayed, despised (ever as our wars created) ‘widows and orphans and strangers at the gate.’" (128)
“A theology of grace starts with a theology of sin. We have gone willfully, repeatedly, astray – in wilderness first, then in temple and palace and market and home and battlefield.
Our sin, our twisted choices, invariably favored appetite and ego, violence and greed.
You, knowing us, know all this.
You, knowing Yourself, know something more – infinitely more; manna in the wilderness, waters struck from the rock. Mercy, patience, compassion.
We were gone astray. Only You can ‘lead us back.’
And You will initiate the restoration and return. The magnolia Dei, the “Great works of God,’ will be recorded, though not in this book, not in our lifetime. In promise and prospect.” (131)
That he wrote this in the months after 9/11 is remarkable. He demonstrates how it is possible to grieve an terroristic atrocity AND the horrific warlike response by an incensed, militarized nation. Reading in 2024, it was horrifying apt to see the same issue in the 10/7/2023 terror attacks on Israel and the disproportionate response of Israel to devastate Gaza, including the destruction of 10,000 children. Both events are to be lamented, but far many more will die at the hands of the militarized bombing campaign – people who are already poor, oppressed, and vulnerable – just like rural Afghani's in the winter of 2001.
Berrigan also isn't afraid to associate the calamitous suffering of America with American idolatry of wealth, consumerism, and military might. Such a critique is prophetic and few have the weight and courage to say a statement seriously, but Berrigan had been at it for 50 years when he wrote these reflections.
There were at times theological statements Berrigan made that I was uncomfortable with. However, he wasn't afraid to associate the uncomfortable content of Lamentations with the very real and fearsome judgment of God.
One of his best quotes:
On the destruction (and eating) of children: "In the iron age of war, an iron law is promulgated; it is the children who die first. War is mass cannibalism; we eat our own future. In the horrid banquet, all, victor and vanquished, have a sordid part." (61)
The end of the book really crescendoed very powerfully. Chapter 5 needs to be read slowly. I want to share so many quotes but a few must suffice:
"The God who sees all, surely sees ourselves, reduced to near nothing.”
“A last-ditch prayer, laved in a kind of wonderment. In shock, in near despair, we lorn ones, once the apple of God’s eyes, cannot take in the crushing depth of our predicament.
Still this is left to us: prayer. May You supply for our dire lack, for the memory and sight which faith us.
Let us confess. Long before disaster struck, we were dis-membered, spiritually. And afterward, we are blinded as to cause and outcome.
This be a mercy on our behalf. What we are incapable of, You please do on our behalf. ‘Remember,’ and ‘see.’" (113)
Warn turns all theories, even the most virtuous, to smoke….What is their offense [the women, children, elderly, non-combatant, neighborhoods who die], why are they disposed of? They get in the way of a clean outcome, that is the sum of it. Their offense is–existence.
Kill them, civilians. In large numbers. Such things happen. They are not exceptional; they are the random rule of the kingdom of chaos.” (124)
“War, the great leveler, in more senses than one.
War permits two categories of humans, two only: warrior and vanquished. Or another duet: survivors and the dead.
You were once somebody, a personage of note? War is declared. All former honors, achievements, emoluments are canceled. You are a near nobody – or worse, an enemy, someone to be removed from the world.” (124)
“The opaque God, this Flail and Reaper, Judge and Prosecutor, nonetheless must be acknowledged. Faith demands it, faith pronounces it. Brough low, counting for little or nothing on the scales of this world (or for that matter, another world), the exiles touch the heart of faith.
Is the heart cold, stilled? Not altogether.
The beat is slowed. Confess. We have sinned, have comported ourselves like ‘the nations,’ Despite Moses and Samuel and the great prophets and martyrs, we have lusted after the gods of empire and made of the Temple and idolatrous sanctuary. We have waged horrid wars, defrauded, lied, betrayed, despised (ever as our wars created) ‘widows and orphans and strangers at the gate.’" (128)
“A theology of grace starts with a theology of sin. We have gone willfully, repeatedly, astray – in wilderness first, then in temple and palace and market and home and battlefield.
Our sin, our twisted choices, invariably favored appetite and ego, violence and greed.
You, knowing us, know all this.
You, knowing Yourself, know something more – infinitely more; manna in the wilderness, waters struck from the rock. Mercy, patience, compassion.
We were gone astray. Only You can ‘lead us back.’
And You will initiate the restoration and return. The magnolia Dei, the “Great works of God,’ will be recorded, though not in this book, not in our lifetime. In promise and prospect.” (131)
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