Apparently our bodies never completely lose the scars that we acquire during the course of our lives.  Visible scars are created as part of the healing process after skin has been cut or damaged.  The skin repairs itself by growing new tissue to pull together the wound and fill in any gaps caused by the injury.  Scar tissue is made primarily of a protein called collagen.  Over time, most scars fade away, but it would seem that underneath the skin the damaged tissue still bears the marks of our wounds.  I doubt that anyone is immune to this: all of us bear some scars of living.  Not all of them are physical, of course.  We are complex beings, and just as I remind couples preparing for marriage that love can be manifest in different ways, physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual, so too can we be wounded in each of those ways.  And any of those scars might be visible, and may or may not disappear over time, while leaving some sort of permanent reminder of the damage that caused them.  

I was reminded of the communal aspect of this during a visit the Guernica in the north of Spain.  It is a place closely associated with one of the worst aspects of ‘man’s inhumanity to man;’ on 26 April 1937 General Franco’s Nationalist rebels invited the German Luftwaffe to bomb the town - on a Monday, the market day, when the local population was swelled to nearly five times its normal size.  It is possible to go into one of the air raid shelters underground and experience the sound of air raid sirens, the whine of bombs, and the shuddering of the earth as they exploded.  Our group was in the tunnel for several minutes, but as one of our group reminded us: ‘That went on for three and a half hours.’  It was a sobering experience.  

That was nearly 90 years ago.  The Basque country of northern Spain now has sufficient autonomy to have pacified some of the nationalist extremism that found its expression in the terrorism of the latter part of the twentieth century.  But the scars of the oppression of the Basques and the suppression of their language and culture still remain.  Our guide, who was born in the year that Franco died, is determined not to forget the history of suffering - yet while determined to preserve the identity and culture of the region, she firmly rejects violence as any kind of option.  Wars are seldom fought by the people who initiate them. 

All of this reminded me that Menorca bears its own scars from the same period of oppression.  The Spanish civil seems to have been a long time ago, yet the defensive bunkers remain along the coast in many places.  It is possible to go to La Mola and see the places where prisoners were executed by firing squads.  There are air raid shelters under churches in Alaior and Es Migjorn Gran, and under the Esplanada in Es Castell.  These are physical signs of the past - outward and visible scars on the landscape.  But what about the unseen scars, or the damage that lies buried beneath layers of the passage of time?  For example, sometimes those of us who do our best to communicate in Spanish can become frustrated when we receive something in Menorquin.  But do we pause to think about the deeper historical background?  There are underlying wounds that influence the commitment of the native population of Menorca to language and culture.  

All of this points us towards one of the basic precepts of human life.  We are communal beings, and inevitably have to live collectively together.  We can do so more harmoniously if we apply some sensitivity to the thoughts, feelings, beliefs and experiences of our neighbours.  The world is a melting pot, probably more so today than at any time as we have become more mobile, and so our neighbours might have very different backgrounds.  As one who has lived in four different countries, each with its own culture, I have tried to become more accepting of the differences of those around me, and more appreciative of what they have to offer.  And we can, if we try, accept that identity is complex.  As a man from Bilbao said to me: ‘I am proud to be Spanish, proud to be Basque and proud to be Bilbaino!’  There is none of us so wise that we have nothing to learn from someone else.  Otherwise we run the risk of descending into a sort of neo-tribalism, fuelled by suspicion of what seems unfamiliar to us.  And the resulting divisions do nothing to promote peace in the world. 

The Basque guide, reflecting sadly upon our failure to learn from events such as the bombing of Guernica, looking at the violence rampant in the world today, remarked upon the death and damage caused to the innocent because of the sins of a few.  I wanted to invite her to join me on Good Friday, or to walk the way of the cross (Via Crucis) which relives the journey of Jesus to his crucifixion.  There we see a graphic representation of what happens when those whose sense of stability is threatened by someone who challenges the status quo and threatens to undermine the prestige and power of those who feel their sense of control is at risk.  Of course, there is hope intrinsically embedded in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, which is that the suffering, death and oppression will not have the last word.  Nevertheless, it is not coincidental that when Jesus appeared to his followers after the resurrection he still bore the scars of his crucifixion.  While offering forgiveness and redemption, the damage done to his body could not be undone.  The scars were symbols of trauma that had been overcome - but not forgotten. 

Our world, like almost all human beings, bears vast numbers of scars that are testimony to suffering that may or may not have been overcome.  Healing is possible, but forgetting is unwise.  All of us bear scars that others cannot see - so we all need to be gentle with ourselves and each other.  I am reminded of a passage from the Apostle Paul’s letter to the church in Colossae: ‘As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another … just as Christ has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.  Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.  And let the peace of God rule in your hearts.’  Perhaps peace, like charity, has to begin at home.  But it cannot and should not end there.  We cannot eradicate scars, but we can at least try to avoid inflicting more of them.