Writing and working on liturgies in the context of what came to be called Europe’s current migration crisis is not enough. For the people on the move, prayers are often all they have. But for us, prayers are not enough. Prayers must not be enough. Yet we keep praying. Perhaps we must keep praying.
I am grateful for everything this week has given me. For me, this includes a restored hope in what the Church in solidarity might achieve. Alongside that, I have a renewed will-to-hope in the face of a worsening political situation and my own paralyzing cynicism about what it is possible to achieve.
I will always remember the evening meal we shared with refugees and Christians in solidarity with them. The children screaming with laughter. It was a foretaste of heaven. I am grateful for the time to stand beside graves and to stand beside the seas. I needed this.
A challenging experience being in the midst of stories of horror, pain and death, fear and the unknown. There was also an amazing sense of hope and the possibilities of a new beginning to life, thanks to the resilience of the survivors, and the unreserved outreach of locals on the island who
could no longer witness to the nonsensical legislation of the EU (driven by the Italian government, but supported fully by most of the other 27 EU member states). Scicli brought challenges to the faith that we tried to articulate in prayer texts, in music and art, in drama and reflection. If this work is an authentic expression of faith after encountering migrants in Scicli, then these might become a worthy resource for Christians in various churches throughout the world when they deal with situations of marginalisation and injustice.