Friday’s horrific national tragedy—the murder of 20 children and six adults at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut—has ignited a new discussion on violence in America. In kitchens and coffee shops across the country, we tearfully debate the many faces of violence in America: gun culture, media violence, lack of mental health services, overt and covert wars abroad, religion, politics and the way we raise our children. -The Blue Review
There has been a lot going on in the world of politics, society, and humanity in my home country since I left this last Autumn. I have no desire to make political arguments a part of my blog. I am wary of political culture - it's ugly, accusatory, and divisive. I do have my opinions, and I'll gladly share them with you personally if you ask.
Today, I just wanted to share the words of others addressing some issues from a personal and societal perspective. These messages struck a cord with me, and I think they speak to the humanity (not policy) within all of us. I found them significant, and I hope you may see their value as well - regardless of political or religious affiliations.
Once again,a piece of my perspective voiced through the eloquent words of others:
We,
as a nation, we are left with some hard questions. Someone once described the
joy and anxiety of parenthood as the equivalent of having your heart outside of
your body all the time, walking around. With their very first cry, this most
precious, vital part of ourselves — our child — is suddenly exposed to the
world, to possible mishap or malice. And every parent knows there is nothing we
will not do to shield our children from harm. And yet, we also know that with
that child's very first step, and each step after that, they are separating
from us; that we won't — that we can't always be there for them. They'll suffer
sickness and setbacks and broken hearts and disappointments. And we learn that
our most important job is to give them what they need to become self-reliant
and capable and resilient, ready to face the world without fear.
And
we know we can't do this by ourselves. It comes as a shock at a certain point
where you realize, no matter how much you love these kids, you can't do it by
yourself. That this job of keeping our children safe, and teaching them well,
is something we can only do together, with the help of friends and neighbors,
the help of a community, and the help of a nation. And in that way, we come to
realize that we bear a responsibility for every child because we're counting on
everybody else to help look after ours; that we're all parents; that they're
all our children.
This
is our first task — caring for our children. It's our first job. If we don't
get that right, we don't get anything right. That's how, as a society, we will
be judged.
And
by that measure, can we truly say, as a nation, that we are meeting our
obligations? Can we honestly say that we're doing enough to keep our children —
all of them — safe from harm? Can we claim, as a nation, that we're all
together there, letting them know that they are loved, and teaching them to
love in return? Can we say that we're truly doing enough to give all the
children of this country the chance they deserve to live out their lives in
happiness and with purpose?
I've
been reflecting on this the last few days, and if we're honest with ourselves,
the answer is no. We're not doing enough. And we will have to change.
We
can't tolerate this anymore. These tragedies must end. And to end them, we must
change. We will be told that the causes of such violence are complex, and that
is true. No single law — no set of laws can eliminate evil from the world, or
prevent every senseless act of violence in our society.
But that can't be an excuse for inaction. Surely, we can do better than this. If there is even one step we can take to save another child, or another parent, or another town, from the grief that has visited Tucson, and Aurora, and Oak Creek, and Newtown, and communities from Columbine to Blacksburg before that — then surely we have an obligation to try.
We can't accept events like this as routine. Are we really prepared to say that we're powerless in the face of such carnage, that the politics are too hard? Are we prepared to say that such violence visited on our children year after year after year is somehow the price of our freedom?
We know our time on this Earth is fleeting. We know that we will each have our share of pleasure and pain; that even after we chase after some earthly goal, whether it's wealth or power or fame, or just simple comfort, we will, in some fashion, fall short of what we had hoped. We know that no matter how good our intentions, we will all stumble sometimes, in some way. We will make mistakes, we will experience hardships. And even when we're trying to do the right thing, we know that much of our time will be spent groping through the darkness, so often unable to discern God's heavenly plans.
There's only one thing we can be sure of, and that is the love that we have — for our children, for our families, for each other. The warmth of a small child's embrace — that is true. The memories we have of them, the joy that they bring, the wonder we see through their eyes, that fierce and boundless love we feel for them, a love that takes us out of ourselves, and binds us to something larger — we know that's what matters. We know we're always doing right when we're taking care of them, when we're teaching them well, when we're showing acts of kindness. We don't go wrong when we do that.
-Pres Obama, excerpts from Sandy Hook Interfaith Prayer Vigil (full transcript: http://www.npr.org/2012/12/16/167412995/transcript-president-obama-at-sandy-hook-prayer-vigil)
Articles related to the complex issues that I find relevant:
Articles related to the complex issues that I find relevant:
