Thoughts on Aurora and Beyond

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the recent shooting in Colorado -- it's hard not to...radio, TV, email, Twitter, Facebook, Internet news...it's everywhere. There's another reason, though...that keeps my thoughts turning to the Denver suburb -- both my sister and I were born near Aurora.  It was where we grew up and where we attended elementary school.  We walked and roller-skated on its streets, and passed lazy summers outside in backyards, parks, and on cracked sidewalks. 

Like so many others who have spent significant chunks of their lives there, our horror upon learning of recent events, combined with the devastation of the wildfires, left our emotions particularly raw and our hearts broken for the families and loved ones of those impacted.  We know the experience will remain seared into their brains, likely for the rest of their lives.

To my shame, I still find myself strangely attracted to any news about the shooting: the shooter, the victims, eyewitness reports, perspective, photos...I am addicted to the news feed, while inwardly wincing at each heart-searing detail.

And yet...

I find my thoughts turning to the slaughter and genocide in in Syria and Africa, terrorist acts in the Middle East and throughout the world (including the recent suicide bomb attack in Romania, targeted at Jewish vacationers)...the list goes on and on.  Hardly a day has gone by in the past several months, possibly years, when we have not heard about some new slaughter of innocents somewhere in world, and in some countries it is happening DAILY -- DAILY!  The horror that we have just experienced here in the U.S. is a regular occurrence for many in our world, and yet we seem to take it for granted and have almost become numb to it.  As we have just experienced a more local slaughter or innocents, we now cry out for justice, we ask why, and at the same time many of us are asking, "What can I do to help?"

What can I do to help?   What can any of us do to help?  We can't bring back the dead, most of us can't hop on a plane to offer comfort to strangers, assistance for medical personnel, psychiatric and  mental health support, grief counseling, pastoral care, or help to navigate the daunting practical tasks that await survivors.  No, most of us cannot offer direct assistance to these friends hundreds of miles away...but there is something we can do, and it doesn't have to cost us anything but time. 

We can actually love our neighbor.

I can see the eyes rolling, hear the protests...What does that mean, love our neighbor?  Should we butting into other people's lives?  What if they don't want us to love them?  And just how are we supposed to love our neighbor, to love strangers?

It doesn't have to be earth shattering.  It doesn't have to entail responsibility for the actions or decisions of others.  It definitely should not involve judgement.

How many times have you looked back and wished you had taken the time to speak a kind word, to call a friend in need, to reach out to a stranger?  Was it really as risky a proposition you thought at the time? 

Loving your neighbor, loving strangers, loving your enemy can be terrifying because it involves risk.  Our lives have become so compartmentalized and isolated that many would not even know where to begin, and the risk of emotional injury would be too great.  In order to change, really change, our world, we have to let go of that fear.

How many of us have passed a homeless person and thought, "They don't really want to get themselves out of that situation" or "It's their own fault -- I'll be they could get a job."  How many of us have passed judgement on others, allowing it justify denying them our company, our friendship, our love?  If we are ever going to be able to truly embrace our neighbors in other countries, to find peace between nations, it is going to have to start at home.

So, to those of you that feel helpless in the wake of this tragedy, to those that feel that hopelessness and violence are threatening to destroy the very fabric of our society, I challenge you to move out of your comfort zone.  I challenge you to make it your responsibility, your choice, to love where there is fear, love where there is hatred, love where there is violence...don't allow yourselves to wither in despair with each news story announcing some new horror.  Make the choice to love -- today, and tomorrow, and every day you breathe.

On pain

Today I am in pain. I was in pain yesterday – and the day before – and the day before that... Multiple days of pain tend to change your perspective. At one instant, I am angry, venomous, biting, acid, a rabid dog…and still in my pain, perhaps even in greater pain, I am moments later a doe – peaceful, gentle quiet, cautious, yet my words are soft and warm as mother’s milk. Prolonged pain is strange.

I found myself walking, struggling with each step and thinking about how what had become important to me in that very moment had changed – just getting to the door…just getting to my desk…just breathing for those first n# emails…just not getting sick as the early morning odors of food wafted into my cubicle.

Pain is at once exhausting and refreshing – the exhaustion is obvious, but the refreshment comes in refreshment of perspective. Pain, especially intense pain, forces you to stop. Just stop. There is no choice. From there you must recollect, you must refresh, you must reload and start anew. Pain startles and shifts and forces you to pay attention to it and nothing else. But if you are forced to pay attention to something else, if you want to pay attention to something else, the struggle and the reach to do so makes the exchange so much more precious – a child’s smile, a shared confidence, holding your loved one’s hand…

This pain is forcing me to think – is what I am doing THIS MOMENT really important? Isn’t this worry, well, ridiculous in the grand scheme of things? What am I doing, really? I am thankful for this pain because I didn’t really need this THING or that THING and I don’t care about that celebrity’s pregnant beach photos…NO! I am thankful for being reminded of THIS moment and why it is important, despite whatever pain my body is in as the universe shifts around me.