An American Tragedy

On Friday, I saw a FB post about children being killed in Newtown, CT.  The first thing that entered my mind was BELK (y'all know who you are), who live on New Town Road in a different CT town.  After rummaging through my duplicate phone and pc contacts, I finally got hold of B and determined that, although E's mom has some health issues, the kids are ok.

The day went on, full of its own unrelated tragedies.  By midafternoon, I didn't feel like going to a holiday party, even though it was to have been one of the increasingly rare (for me now) midtown overindulgent fetes; I just wasn't in the mood to celebrate. A few hours later, I called BELK back on some invented excuse.  As I told B, I just wanted to hear the kids' voices.  I was in the mood for an evening workout and now, 48 hours later, I'm down 4 lbs and my abs still hurt.  That's good.

Part of the reason I'm down some pounds, of course, is that I lay in bed all day yesterday.  Despite dozens of papers to grade and a house that has not seen a thorough cleaning since I let my housekeepers go (because they weren't really cleaning it, they were just organizing my clutter.  Of course, there may be something to that...) -- despite all that, I stayed in bed all day.  Early in the morning my legs were too cramped to try to swim, and as the day wore on -- I guess my body needed the rest.

I had the TV on for much of the day, flipping, as usual, between ID, MSNBC, and NatGeo. MSNBC often held my attention:  the governor of CT came out and made a statement, as did the first selectman and as did the medical examiner.  They all tried to express and sum up and quantify an indescribable horror that has been visited upon their quaint New England town.

It is horrible. It's horrible whenever a child dies; it's horrible whenever anyone's life is taken away in an untimely manner.  It's equally horrible when our young inner city kids have their lives taken away suddenly and tragically.  Who mourns for them?  Where is the national outcry for them?  It's horrible that our mentally ill are no longer able to receive the treatment they need, and end up out on the streets or incarcerated, neither of which is a truly viable alternative.  Who mourns for them?  Who assists them?  Where is the national outcry for them?  It's equally horrible that we, a nation built on the idea of rugged individualism, appear to lack the critical facilities to recognize that the second amendment to the Constitution, the one which preserves the right of the people to keep and bear arms (presumably as a corollary to the fact that a well regulated milita is necessary to the security of a free state) may not have the same social context and, by extension application, it did when it was written.  It's as if we have lost the ability to contextualize that statement, and cannot recognize the prior, but no longer existing, interdependencies between a well-regulated militia, maintaining the security of a free state, and the right of the people to keep and bear arms. Who mourns for our lack of critical interpretation?  Where is the national outcry over that?

Whether I share in my father's emotional traits, or whether I have succumbed to the overstimulation of the city in which I live, I don't know.  What I do know is that my reaction to this horror is similar to my reactions in the weeks after 9/11.  In the early 2000s, I worked on Manhattan's Fifth Avenue, within sight of St. Patrick's Cathedral.  For weeks after 9/11, it seemed that every day there was at least one funeral.  There they came up Fifth Avenue, with the kilts and the drums and the bagpipes, walking rhythmically, bagpipes wailing, carrying their dead, uniformed officers lining the streets, and all traffic coming to a halt.  There were sometimes one, sometimes two, and sometimes more each day.  And there was the overwhelming emotion -- strangers stopping to hug, cry, and pray with one another.  Just as there were more and more random acts of kindness, there were also more and more seemingly unprovoked outbursts of tears or other emotions.  It just got to be too much for me.  My emotions were frayed, and I began to seek solace in the church and in the gym.  Each place helped me to channel the emotions until I thought I could control them.

When I first heard the story of the Sandy Hook principal, Dawn Hochsprung, losing her life as she sprang to take the rifle from the gunman's hand, the emotions welled up again inside me, and a trickle seemed to break through the dam.  Having become fairly good at dam maintenance, I switched the channel, did some Bible studies, turned off the tv, and/or went to sleep. I didn't make it out of the bed, though.   And while I wanted to at least do planks and pushups, I couldn't summon the motivation.  Later in the day, when I saw the handmade sign saying "Our Hearts are Broken.  Our Spirits are Strong," the dam burst, and the emotions flowed uncontrollably.

I weep for the children who lost their lives and who lost their innocence, and not just those in Newtown, CT.  I weep for the children of Harlem and the Bronx who, at the age of 6, know the difference between a firecracker and a gunshot.  I weep for the children of New York City who know that even if they are sitting in their homes doing their homework, that they cannot escape the violence of a random bullet.  I weep for the people who suffer from mental illness.  While I am happy to say I can serve some of them, there are far more whom I cannot serve, and who, falling in between the cracks of our healthcare support system, roam the streets tilting at imaginary windmills, battling imaginary aggressors, until they are either incarcerated, killed, or visit unimaginable horror upon others.  I weep for the youth who sincerely want to change their conditions, but have neither opportunity nor direction.  I weep and moan that we, a nation, as I said before, built on the idea of rugged individualism, seem to have lost not only the ability to critically review the Constitution, but the simple ability to recognize that assault weapons are instruments of war and have no place in civilian hands.  Ever.  I weep for our spirits, that in our diversity we appear to have lost our authenticity.  Instead of being a place where everyone can come, coexist, and celebrate the beauty of their cultural, ethnic, and religious traditions, the US seems to be headed into a Dali-esque not-quite-melted pot were everyone's cultural, ethnic, and religious traditions are re-molded and re-shaped to fit into some politically correct dynamic that has nothing to do with their genesis.  In that remolding and reshaping, we are losing the boundaries of fundamental cultural, ethnic, and religious identities -- as well as the values shaping those identities.  We are also losing our collective sense of belonging and our sense of a collective self.  I weep that we are becoming, not a nation of individualists so much as a nation of isolated individuals. 

Mostly I weep from fear. I fear that we, as a nation, appear to be afflicted with some sort of mass Attention Deficit Disorder.  I fear that this, combined with our lack of critical facilities, our lack of values, our lack of opportunities, our lack of care, and our lack of sense of self -- all this lack in the land of plenty -- I fear that this will ultimately derail or detour our conversations for positive change.  We may talk about gun control for a couple of months; we may even pass a law banning assault weapons.  But will we take a look at our mentally ill?  Will we take a look at our cultural celebration of violence?  Will we take a look at the systems in place that offer so little in the way of remediation or alternatives for people who aren't part of the homogenous American model?  Will our outrage over the Sandy Hook tragedy survive the latest celebrity gossip?  Will we still press for gun control or healthcare for the mentally ill if it impacts our bottom lines?  Will we ultimately be able to put our partisan differences aside to work together towards solutions for America?

I weep because I'm not sure we can.  I pray that I'm wrong, but lately it seems we are degenerating from those things which have made America great.  We're experiencing a cultural shift, one that appears to value the payoff of the individual over the good of the many.  I pray that we can work together to keep America a great nation, but I'm not sure we can.  If we are unable to make this better, that would be the real American tragedy.  Because this is the Advent season, because Jesus gives us Hope even in the midst of despair, and because God has promised to keep us even in seasons such as this, I have to end this post with the Hope that America can avert that national tragedy.  My hope and faith far exceed my rational beliefset, so perhaps the time for my weeping is done, and the time has come to walk on in hope.

In the meantime, I'ma go do some ab work.

Another WOW Moment

Sometimes I see God working in my life, and all I can do is go “Wow…” Today was one of those sometimes.


I stayed in bed a bit longer than I should have. While I pray upon first waking, I didn’t do my morning devotions when I got up. Instead, I went to the dark place, the place where I can’t think or speak about some people without wanting to use the word “stupid,” or “deceitful,” the place where I entertain revengeful behaviors, and the place where I know I’m not supposed to be because it’s so toxic.

But I was there, and I lingered there longer than I should have. When you’re in your head and when you’re in the dark place, the toxicity builds exponentially, so that by the time I saw the guy whose car had disappeared, I decided he’d been parked there too long and it had been towed. (I have no idea what happened; I’m simply commenting on my lack of compassion).

I remember a conversation that went something like this: “God, I’m not doing this because I love Your people. I’m doing this because You called me. When you first called me, I invoked the whole free will thing and chose not to be responsive. After you let me go my own way and allowed that way to beat me into submission, I finally decided to try obedience to You. It’s not cause I love the people. So I’m at that point where I’ve given all I have to give, and I’m still hurt and wounded. I don’t have any great love or compassion to fall back on God, it’s just obedience to You. God, You know me. I need some help here, please? I don’t know how I can keep doing this.”

So that’s where I was.  All in my head, angry, and on the dark side.

And then, my jam played. It’s “What’s Coming is Better," by Deon Kipping. The words are:

I see you cryin,

And you’re about to lose control

But you can’t give up

Just because your future’s not worth letting go.

Let go Frustration,

Soon it will all come to an end.

Just endure what you’re going through –

What’s coming is much better than what’s been!

(repeat)

There has been pain

And you can’t describe

Something inside speaks to your life

And it’s saying

What’s coming is better, What’s coming is better,

What’s coming is better than what’s been

(repeat)

What’s coming is better, What’s coming is better,

What’s coming is better than what’s been

(repeat 4 x)

So I’ll endure

I know what’s coming

I won’t move

I know what’s coming

I’ll believe

I know what’s coming --

What’s coming is better than what’s been

(repeat 3X)

What’s coming is better, What’s coming is better,

What’s coming is better than what’s been

(repeat 4X)

Here’s the video. It’s a great song.

By now I’m feeling like I got a Word from the Lord. The song ministered to my spirit, you know how when something hits you way down in your belly, sends tingles all through your body, and floods your eyes with tears? It was one of those times.  So I drove around with it for a while, did my car happy-dance, and thanked God.

That would have been enough, but remember I didn’t do my morning devotion. So I come into the office and while the computer is turning on, I turn to today’s Bible reading. I note that the title is “Making Known the Wisdom of God,” so I’m like, OK, God. I’m listening and I’m hearing you. The passage is Ephesians 3:7-13. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but that wasn’t what I read. For some reason, I read Ephesians 3:14-21 (which is actually tomorrow’s reading, about Spiritual Power). But it was incredibly appropriate for today, and certainly DEMONSTRATES both the Power and Wisdom of God. I’m pasting it in here:

A Prayer for the Ephesians

"14 For this reason I kneel before the Father, 15 from whom every family[a] in heaven and on earth derives its name. 16 I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18 may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

20 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
(this is from the New International Version, copied in from BibleGateway)

At that point, I decided just to post this. There’s nothing more to say – in my spirit, I was down for the count. Christ came and met me right where I was, and strengthened me in my inner being.

No words, really; just Another WOW moment….