The Stoning of Soraya M.

I just finished watching the movie The Stoning of Soraya M. and it completely tore my heart open. How drastically different are the cultures of the world — and in some ways, how horribly tragic. As a woman I have known freedom and independence since I could talk. I have always known I could pursue any dream I chose. And I have always learned to expect respect — from men and women alike.

I've never really thought much about the practice of stoning. The word brings to mind a Bible passage in which Jesus tells a group of people about to stone a woman, "Whoever is without sin, throw the first stone." I've never put it into modern perspective — for me, it's never lived in the realm of the present. Until now. I've never actually imagined a stoning. I've never imagined a person (likely a woman), being buried up to her waist in the ground with her hands bound. At first those personally offended throw stones — one by one. Her father. Her husband. Her sons. Her spiritual leader. God, I can't imagine the pain of each stone striking her face. And then the rest of the town has their turn. I never realized how long it could take for a person to die this way. And they all watch. Even the kids. They cheer. It makes me want to be sick, knowing that such evil exists. I wish Jesus could have been there in person for Soraya. But that's impossible. Why? Because it happened in 1986. Nineteen eighty six. Unbelievable.

Of course, much of what makes me want to scream through my sobbing is the fact that in this particular instance, the woman is wrongly accused. In a world where women have no rights, it is impossible for Soraya to prove her innocence. As the mayor of her town explains, "When a man accuses his wife, she must prove her innocence. That is the law. On the other hand, if a wife accuses her husband, she must prove his guilt. Do you understand?" It's so hard for me to imagine a place where women are so small. I love Soraya's aunt in the movie. She is fierce and wonderfully courageous. In a country like the US, she would have been a great leader.

Now I'm sitting here not quite knowing what to do with myself. On one hand, I feel utterly grateful. Grateful and undeserving. Why was I lucky enough to be born in a country where I would have every opportunity to find love and success and happiness? And if I have daughters, they will know all the same freedom — for that, I am already thankful.

I also feel stuck. It's a problem so outside of me and my sphere of influence. I feel like I have no idea where I'd even begin to make a difference. And then, of course, I start thinking about all the places in the world where change needs to happen. Including on my own street. It's so overwhelming to think of all the need that it makes me want to pretend like it doesn't exist. Do all the tears I've shed over Japan help? Will God hear my small, naive prayers about a city and a problem I can't even begin to comprehend? What difference does it make that at present my heart is broken for women throughout the world who have no voice? I glance at the muted TV and see celebrities and diamonds and cleavage (and in light of the topic, what might be seen as an absolute waste of female independence). How do I balance the tragedy with the joy? How do I begin to make a difference?

I believe God wanted us to live in paradise and that someday we will. My prayer is that in the meantime all of us will get to experience and savor glimpses of Eden and that out of our gratefulness we will be able to take steps to repair all that is broken.