Mostly I don’t know how to pray. I went into St Paul’s Church in Covent Garden last Wednesday to try. There was no peace. Visitors trundling in and out and a young man standing on a ladder fixing one of the chandeliers. Is peace a requisite? I pray in bed but invariably fall asleep. I want to hold them – all those in Gaza, Lebanon, Israel, Iran, Sudan, Afghanistan – the list is endless. I want to stand with them. Feel with and for them. But it is hard. There is no individual to relate to. Just numbers and a memory of sorrow.
