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1. Every human life is irreplaceable
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
Psalm 42:2
Longing for someone can be a powerful feeling that occupies our thoughts, our dreams, even our whole life. In one of his prison letters to Eberhard Bethge, before his first Christmas in prison, Bonhoeffer writes, âIn my experience there is no greater torment than longingâ (18 December 1943).
It is not hard to imagine that someone in prison can feel an intense longing for other people, especially during the family festival of Christmas. You do not have to be in a prison cell, however, to feel a great longing.
When we are separated from someone we love, or when someone close to us falls ill and dies, it is natural to be filled with an intense longing for that person. There is perhaps no worse feeling than to be abandoned by someone who means a great deal to us.
Nothing can compensate for the absence of a person we love. We cannot turn other people into substitutes for someone we miss. No one can replace someone who is irreplaceable. God has made every human life irreplaceable.
In the Christian tradition, there is a risk that, albeit with good intentions, we point to faith in God as a replacement for the person we have lost. But God does not fill that void. God cannot be reduced to become a replacement for someone beyond our reach.
God leaves empty the void left by a missing person. This might sound harsh, but it is the only way. We must continue to live through our longing.
Memories, then, become important. They are like precious gifts we treasure deep inside. Now and then we can bring them out and be glad and grateful for them.
Prayer
God, help me to live with respect for every human life
as a gift from you.
Let my longing for you make me love your gifts.
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2. Time
How long, O Lord? Will you forget me for ever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long?
Psalm 13:1â2
Sometimes we perceive time as something empty. Ahead of me are open days, hours, and minutes. It is up to me to fill the time that awaits me. Each one of us fills the time we have in our own unique way. But we also share many experiences in life. We wake up, we wash, we eat, we read, we reflect, we work, we socialize, we relax.
Bonhoeffer reflects on this in prison and decides to write an essay on time, about our sense of time (ZeitgefĂŒhl).
Sometimes time carries with it an ambush. Seemingly for no reason, without warning, an attack comes from nowhere, stealing our time, invading and occupying the mind. It can be called a tribulation, a word not often used today. But I think we can all relate to this phenomenon. Suddenly matters are brought to a head and the foundations of life start to shake. Everything is laid open to doubt and we question the meaning of life.
The effects of such difficult or dramatic experiences often haunt us during the night. Bonhoeffer writes that he tries to overcome these nocturnal tribulations by reading hymn verses as a sort of shield.
Above the door in Bonhoefferâs cell, a predecessor had etched the words, âIn one hundred years everything will be overâ. This was one manâs attempt at surviving and enduring hardship. The psalms present two other perspectives. âMy times are in your handâ (Ps. 31:15): a token of trust, something we can hold on to. But there is another way of seeing things: âHow long?â (Ps. 13:1). It is often easier to relate to the latter.
When life is turbulent and our lifelines seem too fragile to hold, the question becomes acute: âHow long? How long will you hide your face?â I find the image of the hidden face deeply moving. When no one sees me, when not even God sees me, it is as if I disappear completely. I long to be seen and appreciated as a human being. But more than anything, to be seen by God, by Life itself.
Prayer
God, let your face shine upon me.
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3. Despair
Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.
Lord, hear my voice!
Psalm 130:1â2
Among the sculptures of Ancient Greece, we find figures of great men, often with superhuman proportions, muscular, impressive, and seemingly radiating great pride and satisfaction.
One of the few exceptions is the statue of âLaocoön and His Sonsâ. When Bonhoeffer was eighteen years old, he spent a few months in Rome with his brother Klaus. They studied, learned more about the antiquity and the history of Rome, and enjoyed Italian culture. His encounter with Laocoön was striking.
Laocoönâs face expresses deep despair. If you see the statue you will easily understand why: a man is holding his two sons close to him while venomous snakes are coiling around their three figures. He realizes that all hope is gone; there is no chance of survival.
Bonhoeffer recalls his first encounter with Laocoön and writes about it twenty years later in his prison cell. He thinks Laocoönâs face may have inspired later images of Christ. Other statues in the Greek antique tradition hardly convey the suffering Christ.
The image of Laocoön is still a challenging sight. It is not easy to be confronted by depictions of great despair. I have also stood in front of the statue for a long time. The look of despair goes deeper and deeper. Inside all of us, there is a room in which despair, sorrow, and tears dwell. But we have become experts at keeping this room locked and its contents out of sight.
Perhaps we should rather help each other to open the door to this room. We should not strive to live in its infinite darkness. But we should have the courage to acknowledge that in my life there is a dark room, a room in which all I want to do is cry.
Prayer
God, teach me to shed all the tears
so that there are none left.
You, giver of life, let me believe that you dwell in me
also in my dark despair.
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4. Prayer in times of trouble
Call on me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me.
Psalm 50:15
Times of trouble unsettle us and make our prayers desperate. This is human. In our greatest need our prayers are immediate and obvious.
Some people say that you should not name the same topic of prayer more than once when you pray. God knows all of our needs without us having to mention them.
For some, and I am one of them, praying in times of emergency is like a lifeline that I fill with the same old prayers.
Jesus himself tells the story of a person who knocks on his friendâs door in the middle of the night. Because he is so persistent, the one who knocks shall have âwhatever he needsâ (Luke 11:5â10). God does not help us based on the number of prayers we lay at his door. I think the amount of prayers is more important to the one who is praying.
Many years ago I spent a few weeks on a personal retreat on the island of Patmos in Greece. Every evening I joined the sisters in their vespers in the convent named Evangelismos, or the Convent of the Annunciation. They followed the old order of prayer from the time of Chrysostomos. If I counted correctly, the plea âLord, have mercyâ (Kyrie eleison) was repeate...
