But unfortunately, what's causing me to break my writing-silence are the shootings in Portland and Connecticut. For the last two weeks I've been telling my students about the celebration of peace and joy that is Christmas - the feeling in the air, the suspense of children, and the kindness of strangers. Then I read about the shooting at Clackamas Town Center, MY mall, the place where I go for everything - work, studying for school, hanging out with friends, preparing for life, food. It's one of my comfort zones. Also, it's really close to my house and my high school. When I heard, I immediately began shuffling through the list of everyone I know who works there, including all my coworkers at WHBM, my personal shoppers, and my favorite baristas, not to mention the people I know who shop there. At CHRISTMAS TIME.
Then there was the shooting in Connecticut. I don't even know how to comment on that. How can you make sense of the shooting of children? There's no sense to be had. Just awful, awful pain.
And yet - unless we personally know the victims, our cycle of grief is removed a step, and we [referring to all American residents and citizens with the collective 'we'] leap from shock to anger in a single bound. Anger is easier than grief. We then try to use these horrific tragedies as a platform to enact political change. But, as with anything political, we can hardly utter an idea without another person feeling nobly inclined to rip our throats out. So what do we get? Devastating murders and citizens who respond with contention and slashing words.
Gun control. The first response is always gun control. Here's my thought: if a person is a cutter, and you take away the knife, obviously they can no longer cut their body -- but they still carry self-destruction in their hearts. This is a one-dimensional result. If we want to protect our citizens, why don't we immediately think of increasing services for those who hurt and increasing security for those who are healthy? Probably because it's more expensive and feels less productive than passing a law. Every time we pass a law, we set a precedent. Currently, I presume that my government wants to protect me. If armed police invade my house, I know they're on my side. History shows us that this isn't always the case. Please, please remember your global history lessons: what happens when the government has all the firepower and the people are defenseless? Simple answer: bad stuff. The hurried changes in law made in response to pain can lay the ground work for future governmental action that no one wants.
In another forum, a complete stranger made a cutting comment, asking how I 'attended the needs' of other people. I think this is a good thing for all people to think about. In the past 10 years, I've been a photographer, a barista, a singer, a cook, a student, a teacher, and I've sold a whole lot of clothes. I have witnessed the happiness, pain, confusion, disillusionment, surprise, and tears of other people in every one of those jobs. (Okay, I've never seen a cook cry, but that's the only exception.) Distant husbands, fear for children, the ache of loneliness and being left behind, the quiet dullness of being unnoticed, and the even quieter panic of feeling alone in your fear - you see it at different levels every day of your life if you look at people's faces. Look at people! Empathize! Use your face to communicate that you see them. Speak more kindly. A genuine 'How are you?' will prompt a true response. If you aren't getting a real response, you need to learn how to really ask. Then when they tell you, listen to what they say!
All of the sudden, that person isn't invisible anymore. They aren't on their own. They can square their shoulders and face another day. This is how we 'attend the needs' of others.
As I've shared the Christmas story these past two weeks, I've said repeatedly that Jesus was born poor because God was showing that he wanted ALL the people, from the uneducated local shepherds to the highly educated powerful kings from distant lands. This Christmas we have a unique opportunity to grieve with our country in the light of these terrible shootings. As representative of Christ, our job isn't to tell people, 'It's okay, God can fix it.' Is that true? Of course! But if our only response to grief is knowledge-based, or anger-based, then people don't see God's heart of empathy for people.
The willingness to see one another, and in this time, to grieve with one another - friends and strangers alike - shows that Christ is alive in us. God is not absent just because evil is present. I encourage everyone (including myself now) to step away from political discussion for at least a week following these events. Be especially encouraging and thoughtful of those who have a lot of vocational human interaction: teachers, pastors, baristas (the pastors of non-church-goers), and waiters. Let's use the light of gunfire to see the lives of people around us. Go attend to people.
