This has NOT been a quiet week. Beginning with the tragic death of DU student Wilson King, followed several days later by the horrific bombing at the Boston Marathon, and then the terrible explosion in West, Texas -- this has been a week of shock, anger, tears, and terror. And, then, this morning, when I turned on my computer, I learned of the death of a campus police officer at MIT in Boston, the death of one of the bombing suspects, and the lock-down of multiple suburbs as the manhunt for the second bombing suspect continues. And I know, because it is always the case, that there are innumerable individual, unexpected, losses. In all of these situations, the natural questions that arise are all some variation of "Why?".
In the aftermath of the bombing in Boston, many people posted, or re-posted, links on Facebook to speeches or essays that had been meaningful to them in past, similar, situations. I went back to see how I had responded to the Aurora shootings last summer. I don't think I can add anything to that; it still represents my theology. So, I repost it here, today. I invite you to make the appropriate adjustments in circumstances.
------------- From July 20, 2012
This morning, before I turned on the computer, I was pretty certain what I would be writing today. It had to do with living on the boundaries (inspired by a radio show on Autism and the Divine). But, once the computer was on, my inbox was full of "Breaking News Updates" about the shooting early this morning at a nearby theater. As of this writing, 71 people were either killed or wounded. I immediately thought of two earlier situations when, having a Sunday morning sermon already written, I awoke to tragedies that demanded something else (an airplane crash in Charlotte, and Lady Diana's death). So, boundaries and autism will have to wait. Or, at least, autism.
Because, it seems to me, we are always on boundaries, existing on a very thin edge. As a road cyclist, I'm very aware of the fact that a couple of skinny tires, and my ability to balance in an emergency, are all that keep me from serious injury -- and I certainly know what happens when something affects traction that even my balance-skills can't correct! The folks who attended last night's midnight showing of the latest Batman movie probably had no idea of the thin boundary they were walking -- nor should it have been on their minds. None of us can live effective, productive lives if we're constantly looking for monsters under the bed.
Tragedies like last night, however, do remind us that the unthinkable happens. And, once it does, we begin to try to connect the dots that might help us explain it. As I've said many times before, in many different circumstances (including the two tragedies to which I alluded above), the answer to the "why" question is ultimately unsatisfying. Blaming violent movies, or too-lax gun laws (if indeed, they are), will not, in the end, explain the actions of folks who are in a psychological/mental state that would lead them to commit such crimes.
For those reasons I can't ask "Why?" or "Why would God allow . . .?" I cannot, with all good conscience say "God must have had a good reason for this." That would not be a God I would want to worship, or serve, or devote my life's work. I believe in a God who challenges me to ask "Given the tragedy, what's next?" Mourn, grieve, certainly; there is loss! But there's more!
Certainly there are some socio-cultural institutions or practices that probably ought be challenged; that's one next step -- a possible next step that will probably be a very steep uphill climb. Another, more manageable, next step would be simply to realize how thin are the boundaries that separate us and our loved ones from some unthinkable tragedy. And to remember that our time together is extremely precious. And to take action in that regard.
There is a vigil scheduled tonight in Aurora for those who wish to join in solidarity. I was asked by an editor of a national blog-site whether I was going to be there, and, if so, would I sent some reports? Recognizing how it might sound, I responded that, "No, as one who has not been directly affected, I'm not going. I'm going to be with my family, and hug my wife and kids extra hard." The editor, also a friend/colleague, understood completely.
I think that rather than living life looking for monsters under the bed, or in airplanes, or in movie theaters, or asking questions to which there is no satisfactory answer, I'd rather we live life appreciating and celebrating the fleeting beauty that is our life together. That is one of my best answers to the "What next?" question.
Because we never expect the unthinkable.
My prayers are with all of those affected by this horrible traged[ies]: those who've died, those who were injured in body, those who've been injured in mind and spirit, the [bombers], and all of their families. My thanks go out to all of the first responders: police, fire-fighters, ambulance crews, doctors and nurses . . . as well as those who will continue the care for all affected: medical personnel, counselors, clergy, friends and family members.