That we human beings are meaning-seeking creatures is never clearer when, in truth, we find ourselves in situations where little or no meaning can be found. This is surely the case following the hideous killing spree in Cumbria. The media reflects our own tendencies: first it establishes the basic facts, then the search for explanation begins.

Most of the explanations we’re reading, though, are really just different kinds of description of what happened. There are emerging accounts of arguments Derrick Bird had with others. But they beg the question of why an argument, which for most of us would lead to passing upset, led him to kill. Some commentators talk of adrenalin and disturbances in the brain. But that is only to say we are psychosomatic creatures. Why Bird experienced his terrible, lethal rush remains unanswered. Others again will relate what happened yesterday to mass killings in history, Dunblane and Hungerford being the obvious candidates. There will be some similarities, some differences. But these patterns too are just another kind of description, not an explanation.

That said, descriptions help us come to terms with what’s happened. And different kinds of description will help different kinds of people. Gradually, individuals build up their account of what happened, and it becomes a story. Stories are the way we give shape to the world, even when that shape is so deep a shadow. They offer narrative possibilities against which we can assess the actuality of life. That comparison helps to clarify what is truly evil — the indiscriminate nature of the deaths, say. And where moments of hope and compassion can be found — those who were there to help and provide comfort.

Religion will be of use to some too. At its best, religious traditions provide resources that allow people to express what is otherwise inexpressible pain. The ritual of lighting a candle. A visit to a quiet, sacred place. They are things people can do when words are inadequate. There is solace to be found in that.

Others again, mourning loved ones, will want to remember a life that gave them so much. They will celebrate even as they weep. It’s an ancient idea of life, the notion that we all belong to a stream of life, which we hand on to our children. We look back with thanks, simultaneously conscious of loss. And we look forward with hope, for whilst there will be not be much closure for those closest to the tragedy, time will help them to live with the void.

That the Cumbria killings admit to no complete explanation makes it much like the other horrors that human beings inflict on others. ‘Babylon in all its desolation,’ wrote Scrope Davies, a friend of the poet Lord Byron, ‘is a sight not so awful as that of the human mind in ruins.’

Mark Vernon is a former Anglican priest, and the author of The Meaning Of Friendship

www.markvernon.com