By KATE HENNING
Columnist
Given the recent tragic events in Paris, it’s impossible to not dwell on the state of the world and what roles we play in it.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we were given a pamphlet when adulthood hits that was titled something like “What it All Means: The Truth and What To Do!”
There are many strict religious groups that will try to convince you their Scriptures hold answers to these questions. Isn’t that nice?
There will be recruiting these next few weeks by these religious groups to join their cause in shaking their fists at the sky. Instead of yelling “BUTTONS!” they will yell “VENGENCE!” Since, you know, this always works.
I don’t know where to start today. Where do I start when I get a call from a crying friend, studying overseas, at 3:30 a.m. her time? She is upset because the world is doomed, the future is bleak, and when we try to reach for that thing that has helped us get through this before, we come up empty. Frances Bacon wrote, “‘What is Truth?’ asked jesting Pilate, and would not stay for an answer.” That about sums it up, huh?
Can’t we do better than that? I believe we each have shards of truth; a different piece that we can put together to make something beautiful.
The world is dangerous, but you don’t need a reminder from me. I also don’t have to remind you humans aren’t infallible, and literally speaking, Cain is still killing Abel.
Asking “why?” isn’t useful. “God has a plan” sounds like a cheap cop-out.
I don’t have to remind you that it is the marginalized that carry the weight of this depravity.
Where is grace and hope? Depends on the when, I think. If you are talking about right now, the answer is nowhere.
Like when a parent or sibling dies. Grace bats last, and the world’s goodness will always outshine the hate and darkness. Always. But not 24 hours later. Or after lunch. Or tonight when your sleep is delayed at 12:43 a.m. The music group Over the Rhine has a Christmas album, “The Darkest Night of the Year.”
For me, it shines light on this darkness. The days get shorter; the nights come quicker and quicker. But then, hope. The sun stays out longer. The promise of spring keeps us going on those blistery cold February mornings. But it’s only November 14. It’s going to get darker before it gets lighter.
What answers do I have? Ruth Bader Ginsburg is usually the answer. Or Anne Frank in that card game. The love for the poor and the displaced that is represented in Jesus is the answer. Adding your own positivity in the dark days that are sure to follow this event in Paris won’t hurt either. The shut-ins of this town would love some company, I’m sure.
When I was nine, Mr. Rogers told me something that has stuck with me: Grace will always show up in the helpers.
But today, if you have a motto that you feel can make sense of what happened in Paris, I would recommend you keep it to yourself. At least, keep it from me. It will cause me to cringe, and if I see you in Wal-Mart later this week I will run in the other direction. I know I’m not alone in this. In the midst of the political agendas, where is truth?
For me, truth is that the shootings at Sandy Hook were the end of the world. It was evil, or at least extreme mental illness. A dialogue started, but the answers didn’t come that snowy day in December. Or the next. Or the day after that. There were some Tweets that shouted from their metaphorical rooftops that there is only one Truth (theirs). To be clear: not helpful. What was helpful, however, was that our shared horror. In our questioning, we stuck together. Our grief came in hiccups, we feared for the meaning of this, and raged against the loss of innocence. We flailed about, grasping for any help we could find, and I see nothing wrong with these responses. My recommendation is that we do that. Today and tomorrow. The emotional wounds that were discovered healed (eventually). Some of us could not get out of bed; others remained as busy as possible for distraction. Some of us turned off the car radio; others soaked in every word. Nothing wrong with this.
We felt like bovine excrement, let the days pass slowly, talked and stuck together. And pulled through.
Talking and sticking together was the answer, don’t you think? We were kinder, more patient with each other, and believe me that’s asking a lot of some people (raises hand). That, my friend, is grace. I know it doesn’t come naturally or even all at once. What comes naturally is yelling “VENGENCE!” After Sandy Hook, when we found a moment, we inhaled deeply. We sighed and felt our stomachs tighten as the death toll climbed. But we came through. Our hearts were forever scarred, but they began to heal. We laughed again; tentatively at first but it became more comfortable, eventually. Despite the despair, we chose joy. Together we began to limp through life once more. Like after you break your leg and it heals, but acts up on occasion when a storm front is comes. We are still limping.
Peace will come again. I cannot give you the words to express how much I absolutely, unequivocally hate this. Is there an alternative? No. The truth: it will take time. That’s the one thing I can say about time: it goes on. Today, however, we can smile at those we love and despise. We can be a bit more patient with our advisors and the student center workers.
What I’m saying is after time has passed, and the reality of real life sets back in, we show up. We do the right thing, whatever is next. We organize food drives for the shut-ins, we call our mothers, return those library books and smiles. We make eye contact. We take action, knowing insight will follow. We are basically powerless, my friends, but we are not helpless.
I’m sorry I have no answers for you. But the absurdity is that in the midst of all this, we discover that in the smallest moments of wonder– kindness to lonely people who take their insecurities out on us, a mighty oak turning from green to gold to rust, — we will be saved.