REACHING OUT WE CAN FIND MEANING
Reaching out we can find meaning
By the Rev Robert Herron, whose work involves a joint charge at Trinity Presbyterian church in Omagh and Gillygooley Presbyterian church on the outskirts of the town. Rev Herron took up the post in May 1993
ON August 15 the heart of Omagh, where I live and work, was transformed into a bomb site and I was plunged into a strange new reality.
In that moment, sunshine became darkness; joy, sorrow; laughter, screams of pain; health, disability; life, death; and those stark contrasts unleased by the bomb have since dominated my ministry in the same way that they have dominated life for everyone in Omagh.
Everything I have done in the past year has resonated with emotion.
There have been feelings of great intensity that have at times been difficult to control.
Some emotions have readily been recognisable but others have surprised me, such as a deep sense of vulnerability, even shame, as tender flesh has been blasted to pieces. I have a sense of violation.
I cannot step on to the main street in Omagh without the involuntary thought coming: "This is the town. This is the place where the idealism of a few found expression in the defilement of our people."
Surprising too has been a new depth of joy. The 'ordinary' things for a minister have been very special this year - baptisms, weddings,
reception of new communicants, Sunday school prize-giving, have all been occasions of quiet joy as we have witnessed the love shared among our people.
I have a sharpened sense of the value of the individual. Just as my own reaction to the bombing has surprised me, I have discovered that every member of this community has a unique experience of this tragedy.
There is a sense in which we have become better listeners to one another. And in listening, we are learning a greater tolerance because we are recognising that we must be willing to allow people to address their problems and pain in their own way.
I listened to a woman telling me how she had lost two members of her family in the bombing. She explained that she found herself drawn to visit the graves every day and was concerned that this was very strange and that perhaps she was losing her mind.
I shared with her the fact that in over 20 years I have never visited the grave of my father, concluding my story by asking her "Which of us is
mad?"
We've all been wounded by this bomb. As we try to support the healing process for each other all sorts of partnerships have been established.
Out of our sense of helplessness, we have recognised that only by sharing resources and by affirming each other as we each try to contribute something can this debilitating evil be turned to good.
By the Rev Robert Herron, whose work involves a joint charge at Trinity Presbyterian church in Omagh and Gillygooley Presbyterian church on the outskirts of the town. Rev Herron took up the post in May 1993
ON August 15 the heart of Omagh, where I live and work, was transformed into a bomb site and I was plunged into a strange new reality.
In that moment, sunshine became darkness; joy, sorrow; laughter, screams of pain; health, disability; life, death; and those stark contrasts unleased by the bomb have since dominated my ministry in the same way that they have dominated life for everyone in Omagh.
Everything I have done in the past year has resonated with emotion.
There have been feelings of great intensity that have at times been difficult to control.
Some emotions have readily been recognisable but others have surprised me, such as a deep sense of vulnerability, even shame, as tender flesh has been blasted to pieces. I have a sense of violation.
I cannot step on to the main street in Omagh without the involuntary thought coming: "This is the town. This is the place where the idealism of a few found expression in the defilement of our people."
Surprising too has been a new depth of joy. The 'ordinary' things for a minister have been very special this year - baptisms, weddings,
reception of new communicants, Sunday school prize-giving, have all been occasions of quiet joy as we have witnessed the love shared among our people.
I have a sharpened sense of the value of the individual. Just as my own reaction to the bombing has surprised me, I have discovered that every member of this community has a unique experience of this tragedy.
There is a sense in which we have become better listeners to one another. And in listening, we are learning a greater tolerance because we are recognising that we must be willing to allow people to address their problems and pain in their own way.
I listened to a woman telling me how she had lost two members of her family in the bombing. She explained that she found herself drawn to visit the graves every day and was concerned that this was very strange and that perhaps she was losing her mind.
I shared with her the fact that in over 20 years I have never visited the grave of my father, concluding my story by asking her "Which of us is
mad?"
We've all been wounded by this bomb. As we try to support the healing process for each other all sorts of partnerships have been established.
Out of our sense of helplessness, we have recognised that only by sharing resources and by affirming each other as we each try to contribute something can this debilitating evil be turned to good.
Further Information
Publisher: THE IRISH NEWS
Ref: IN/0307
Published Date: 14-Aug-99
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