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It’s been a few days since the disturbing violence at Fort Hood, Texas. The Web of Life writhes again in agony over this recent outburst of human brokenness. There is so much sadness for so many aspects of this unusual shooting. Our fellow patriots have died. And, however distinct he may have been, it was one of our own who killed, wounded, and traumatized them.
We are flooded with emotions, questions, and impulses. The sadness and grief of life cut short. Frustration and anger over this violation to our sense of security and civility. Despair in knowing that, as strange and unfathomable as this event seems, it is part of a pattern in our violent, crowded culture.
What shall we do? There are no easy answers.
A crime has been committed, and the shooter should be subject to a criminal investigation and prosecution. But we must never lose sight of either the victims’ or the shooter’s humanity. To do that would be to lose sight of our own. To do that would be to never know what really happened that day.
We have been cast into being, not as isolated individuals, but as members of communities. We must seek each other out and come together as a community of support – each of us helping the other in our particular needs. My heart goes out to the friends and families of the victims. I struggle to imagine the spiritual burden that the survivors will carry with them for the rest of their lives. I pray for all of the victims, the survivors and the slain – that they and their families be surrounded by a community of love with the courage to walk with them through this grief.
When I first heard the news, I found myself singing Spirit of Life over and over again. It was as if I was inviting… or imploring… some power of love back into this world – a power that seemed somehow absent on November 5th at Fort Hood, Texas. If love was what was needed in order to prevent that tragedy, what form would such love take? Let us all keenly feel the obligation to build a world capable of redeeming this tragedy.
In faith and service,
In sadness,
And yet still, in hope,
Seanan |