On Raging

The pandemic is raging. Somewhere beneath the sea, the volcano is raging; sea rages; winds rage; the waters washing out about the islands and sending the frail crust into the infinite transformational properties of the earth. The nations raging – furiously – and then we ask why? Why do they do it? I would really like to know.

The rich rage at failing to increase their already plutocratic wealth. Religious rage with zeal for their godly houses.  Politicians, despite the cults they profess, the corruptions they practice, the ideologies they idolise, rage against the intractabilities of governing.

Some are raging with joy. Transposed into another dimension by drugs, dance, or drumming. Dionysus on the dance floor. Raging with beauty, like avian flocks lighting up from the lakes at sunrise. Raging with grief, flooding tears of hopelessness and loss. The earth rages, shaking.

Wrath, a raging deadly sin, so common. We rage because so much fails us, so little contains us, we feel responsible for it all.

We can’t control the earth, the wind or sea. In the face of all this raging, we might try controlling ourselves: our temper, our envy and greed. The raging within. With God’s help.