The Heart Has its Reasons

by Margaret Byrne, CSJP

The horrific fire that took 72 lives and destroyed Grenfell Tower in London in June 2017 has faded from the media, but for those following the story much has been happening. However, to ask if there has been a transformation is surely premature. A transformation of what? Among whom, where? And what would a transformation look like in any of a multitude of places and people, individuals or collectively? Superficially, one could judge that there’s been no transformation, not if one thinks in terms of some great change, a reorientation, a lasting conversion or a happy ever after scenario. History may well see the fire as a turning point but, a year and a bit on, it is surely too early to say. For now, and for too many, change has been slow in coming.

At the time of the first anniversary of the fire, we heard that more than half of the families who had been living in Grenfell Tower or the immediate neighbourhood were still waiting to be rehoused in permanent accommodation. Although this figure is being steadily reduced, the catalogue of broken promises on the part of the Government and the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea erodes trust at a time when mutual trust is so greatly needed. One pertinent example: the announcement at the end of July 2018 that the Borough Council would soon take control of the site was greeted with outrage on the part of many survivors who blame the Council itself for the cheapskate refurbishment that, it seems, contributed to the fire and for the coldness, not to speak of tardiness, of the official response afterwards. Very quickly, however, that decision about handing control to the Council was rescinded with the Government itself taking over responsibility and re-committing to putting the bereaved, survivors and the local community at the heart of all decisions on the future of the site. So, a change of heart there, but hardly a transformation. Very significant tensions remain and the public inquiry which is still in its early stages will surely increase the strains as it focuses on a long list of issues that may or may not have contributed to the tragedy. 

However, the aftermath of the fire has led to several wonderfully generous and creative initiatives. They called to mind something I read recently in Daniel G. Groody’s book, Globalization, Spirituality, and Justice: Navigating a Path to Peace. He says that “Spirituality begins in the human heart… Lived out in its personal and public dimensions, spirituality is the way in which the invisible heart of God is made visible to the world.” Yes, the heart has its reasons and many responses to Grenfell touch into that deep place which only the heart can know. Even to enumerate some of these responses risks robbing them of their deepest meaning. But I shall list a few.

First, there is the pervasive presence of the heart symbol for Grenfell, a green heart in this case, to remember those who died and as a sign of hope. In the days the fire, a trail of hearts appeared along the pavement near Grenfell leading to the place where a local artist sat making heart-shaped frames out of willow, one for each floor of the tower. Of what use are woven hearts at such a time? Given the enormity of the tragedy what else could the artist contribute from her own talents and from her own breaking heart? Today the heart symbol is ubiquitous around Grenfell and willow hearts bearing the words Dignity, Unity, Grace, Peace, Justice, Love are carried in silent walks round the site.

Then there is music. Seraphima Kennedy, writing in the Guardian newspaper at the time of the first anniversary, quoted Bertold Brecht, “In the dark times will there also be singing? Yes, there will also be singing” said Brecht. “About the dark times.” And singing there is, mostly of determination not to let the darkness win. The congregation gathered at St Clement’s Church made it clear, “We shall go out, from strength to strength go on… We’ll make the tunes for those who sing no longer.”

Several Grenfell songs, including one written and recorded by two teenagers in tribute to friends they had lost, attest to the power of music to bring people together in their efforts to express the inexpressible. The cover of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” by Artists for Grenfell Towers touches into this need to express oneself even while one can’t find the words.

Yeah, I don’t know where to begin
So I’ll start by saying I refuse to forget you
I refuse to be silenced
I refuse to neglect you
That’s for every last soul up in Grenfell.

The song’s producer, Simon Cowell, listened to that song, spoke of how moved he was and said the one word it brought to mind was simply “community”. And community is so deeply a matter of the heart, a step towards the transformation of today’s overly individualised and privatised society.

Another beautiful song, “GRENFELL from Today,” was created by Philip Stopford and Andrew Longfield on the initiative of Cornwall Hugs Grenfell. The young choristers of Truro Cathedral sing of the search for “a new day, a new way” where we “create a world we’re worthy of…, where we listen and learn to love…, where we all play a part…, where a stranger turns into a friend”. You listen to that song and know these are not empty aspirations but real heart-felt commitments to build a better world.

Then there is the project called Cornwall Hugs Grenfell. Down in beautiful Cornwall, Esme Page watched the awful inferno, but did not allow the horrific scenes to overwhelm her. Instead, she thought of the needs of the survivors and allowed her heart to be convinced that, yes, something could be done, not by after Esme Page alone but with the tremendous support of the Cornish people and thousands more. So Cornwall Hugs Grenfell was created to offer free holidays to survivors and to the firefighters involved. Following the fire itself many of the survivors could not even weep, could hardly feel, so busy were they in holding together what remained of their families. But a week in the tranquil beauty of Cornwall was cathartic. “Cornwall gave me the time and space to deal with my ‘true’ emotions. There was no more suppressing,” wrote one survivor. “The calm and gentle atmosphere of Cornwall encouraged me to let out the pain and take in some of the healing.” Some of the healing… – not it all, but it had begun. Likewise, a grandmother shared: “I’ve felt a transformation in myself. I’ve felt myself unwind… the knots in my shoulders, the rocks on my shoulders, dissipated. I’ve seen my daughter transform from feeling weepy all the time into someone who feels and looks elevated.” A transformation surely. I see the generous response from Cornwall as a way in which the invisible heart of God is made visible to the world. 

There is so much more one could say about the many “small” responses. Why not google Cornwall Hugs Grenfell or Grenfell United or the many other organisations that sprang up after the fire? Most definitely, the community spirit is alive and well.

So, to return to the idea of transformation, yes, thank God, many individuals and small groups are experiencing the loving heart of God through the loving actions of others. This is a transformation we can celebrate

This article appeared in the Autumn 2018 issue of Living Peace.