By now you may be overwhelmed
by the media coverage, preponderance of talking heads, tweets, twits (?), and a
vast realm of deep and even conflicting emotions and thoughts related to the
brutal killings in Newtown, Connecticut this past Friday. I hope you will indulge me in a bit of time
and a few more words. I write them in
the hope that they may be of use to you in your journey. Writing them is of use to me in mine.
There is no phrase, no
combinations of words, that exists in any language to express our grief,
brokenheartedness, anger, shock, disbelief, confusion or desire to do something
to make the hurt go away in us, in the families of the victims, in the
community. Scripture anticipates this
limitation of words and the need to express ourselves beyond them. “The Spirit helps us in our weakness when we
do not know how to pray … that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for
words” (Romans 8:26).
There is no way to turn back
time, and thereby preempt this event.
Time at the moment can be both an enemy and a friend. The Psalmist recognized this, I think, in the
observation that “weeping spends the night, but joy comes in the morning”
(Psalm 30:5). It will be a very long
night, a very long collection of nights, for very many people, and the emerging
light of a new morning’s dawn will come far too slowly. But, with a profound and sustained outpouring
of love in all its forms, good counseling and care, medical attentiveness, and bowls
of tears, it can come. With all the
healing power that God can bring to bear, it can come.
The Scriptures of the
Christian tradition, including the Scriptures we share with our Hebrew
forebearers, are cognizant of such tragedy and grief. One only has to look as far as Rachel’s
inconsolable grief in the writings of the prophet Jeremiah. Jacob’s heartbreak when he is told that
Joseph is dead. The Scriptures do not
pretend this to be heaven, and recognize the anguish that exists in a broken
and difficult world. Whether we want to
hear it or not, we are told that in this earthly time life-giving rains fall on
both the just and the unjust. Jesus
reflects on the collapse of the tower at Siloam and the righteousness of those
who died tragically.
We do well not to forget that
the Holy Writings of Christianity make intimately clear the vulnerability with
which God enters into the world. Even as
we prepare for, and celebrate, that Incarnation, we find it juxtaposed with the
chilling remembrance of the Holy Innocents, the children, killed on Herod’s
order. Our Heavenly Father, as Jesus
knew our Divine Creator, is equally and intimately understanding of the death
of an only child to brutal violence.
Perhaps this is what stands behind the words of Paul Claudel when he
wrote, “Jesus did not come to explain away suffering or remove it. He came to
fill it with his presence.”
I am often visual in my
prayers, seeing images that I am hard pressed to later describe in words. A vivid image of this tragedy has been one of
Our Lord wrapping himself around each person under attack in Sandy Hook School,
each round passing through him first. In
my acceptance of human bodies as finite and transitional vessels of our true
being, I recognize that ultimately healing comes not in any earthly fashion,
but rather in a place where pain and suffering are no more, neither sighing but
life everlasting. At times that comforts
me. At times I wish to bury my head in
Aslan’s mane sobbing in grief and anger, because I am, as are others, still in
the darkest hours of the night; it is not yet morning. (Aslan is a lion and the Christ figure in
C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia.)
Now I must speak of something
unfashionable in this conversation: the role of evil. I am certain that evil is real. Our tradition of Christianity believes it
too. We renounce cosmic evil, societal
evil and individual evil every time we prepare to baptize. I do believe that evil came to Newtown and
Sandy Hook School on December 14th, in fact I am certain of it. In what form is another question.
There is no doubt in my mind
or heart that the Evil One preys on vulnerability. It never dresses in a red suit with pointy
horns and a pointy red tail. That would
be too easy. Could Evil have convinced a
twenty year old, in what may have been an immeasurable amount of mental anguish, that the actions we have seen would stop the pain? Of course.
Far more pervasive, and I believe greater pervasiveness is a desire of
the Evil One, is the possibility that it is Evil that has convinced a society
that insufficient attention to mental health care is a cost we can live
with. Put another way, it is Evil that
convinces us to close mental health hospitals, marginally fund, if at all, treatment via health care coverages, claim
that there is not enough money to fund group homes where individuals who
function at high levels, but with complex problems, can cared for and have
their wellbeing monitored.
There is no doubt that Evil
causes us to believe that we have some sort of “right” to possess assault
rifles and other devices with faster, more immediate, killing power than an RPG
(rock propelled grenade). The crafters
of our nation’s Bill of Rights never anticipated such weaponry. Musket ball (hear single shot) rifles and
pistols were the norm. Rifling was not
commonplace until the nineteenth century, Colt’s multi-shot revolver in 1835
and the shotgun in 1850.
I grew up in a household
where one of my father’s greatest joys was passing on to me the 22 (short)
caliber rifle that his father had given to him.
I could field dress (disassemble, clean and reassemble) a German Luger
with my eyes closed at the age of 10. I
have carried a sidearm, the rounds of ammunition in it having been custom
loaded by me or my father, when hunting in the Carolina woods and swamps. The
snakes there do not have early warning systems.
I am not a “teetotaler” with respect to this issue. I still enjoy the challenge and skill of an
occasional round of shooting skeet. But
there is no deer so fierce as to need to be hunted with an AK-47. There is no snake that requires a Glock with
a forty round magazine. It is time to
put away the automatic and semi-automatic handguns, and all forms of assault
rifles and weaponry. Every state has a
well ordered militia. It is called the National Guard.
Christians in the Episcopal
tradition vow before God to persevere in resisting evil, to seek and serve
Christ in all persons, loving neighbor as self, and to strive for justice and
peace, and to respect the dignity of every human being. We renew these vows as a part of every
service of Holy Baptism. Does that mean
that we sometimes have to put aside self-serving wants masking as pseudo-rights
for the benefit of others? Absolutely!
In the wake of similar
tragedies in Dunblane, Scotland (1996) and in Australia (1996), both nations
took actions limiting the possession of handguns. Both of these nations continue a culture
where hunting and various shooting sports are integral and accessible. The evidence of the effectiveness of these actions
is remarkable. Let us also note,
however, that, while not “outstanding,” there is in place a concurrent
accessible level of mental health care as well.
In the Great Litany (Book of Common Prayer p. 148ff) we again bury our head in Aslan’s
mane and pray, “From all blindness of heart; from pride, vainglory, and
hypocrisy; from envy, hatred, and malice; and from all want of charity, Good
Lord, deliver us.” It is time to remove
the blinders and confront our hypocrisy.
The Great Litany continues, “From all inordinate and sinful affections;
from all the deceits of the world, the flesh, and the devil, Good Lord, deliver
us.” The time is now to put down our
inordinate affection, it is time to put down the guns and take up the cross and
walk with Aslan.
We all have an individual and
collective responsibility to help heal Newtown, and by the removal of threat
and increased commitment to health and wholeness, heal our neighbor and our
nation.
God’s peace, shalom and
salaam,
Scott+
