It's taken me almost a full week to be able to write about the horrific events of last Friday, which I still can't comprehend and feel so much grief for the 26 families of Newtown, CT. As a parent of a child the same age, this feels so close to home, and so terribly, terribly scary. When sending Sprocket off on the school bus each day this week, a lump forms, a hole is felt, an unsettled air. I know that each day it will seem more natural, more normal, after all - this is what is supposed to be. Not the unthinkable.
I remember so clearly after 9/11 being completly on edge and freaked out everytime it seemed that an airplane was "too low" or seemingly off it's usual flight path. I sat with my students at URI for weeks and healed along with them, most of us being from New York and New Jersey, unable to reach family and friends for hours post-attack. It was surreal and awful, yet there was so much hope and resilance. Someone had done something awful to our country, yet we banded together and seemed to become one. I'll never forget where I was, or what I was doing when the events of 9/11 unfolded and changed life as we know it, much like any of you reading this.
Yet life as I know it is forever changed once again by Friday's senseless act of violence. While I appreciate the power of social media (as I sit here blogging...), it's a painful reminder of innocence lost - and how much our political and religious opinions still divide us. What I write here might be unpopular, or for all I know you might cheer along. But they are my words, my thoughts, and my right to have these opinions.
In time of crisis, it's natural to embrace faith - after all - many of us choose to pray to a higher power, whatever that may be, and look to our religion for an answer. I'm glad that so many of us have found comfort in the walls of our churches, synagogues, mosques, altars, prayer groups, etc. etc. etc. because to me it means you have community, which I think is so important, regardless of your belief system. Yet what social media has taught me is the general assumption that there is a all-knowing, go to answer in this crisis. I keep hearing over and over how terrible it is that these families have lost their children right before Christmas. How these angels are now in heaven and Jesus is watching over them. People have created multitudes of memes being shared with these concepts, and I'm having a hard time with it. Because not all these families celebrated Christmas. Some of the kids were Jewish, in the middle of celebrating Hanukah. The night before they lit their menorah, they likely opened presents, they reveled in family celebration. Some of these families might not even celebrate either. But in our society, everyone just assumes, which I'm acutely aware of this time of year. After all, I'm a Jew who lives in Maine. Lets face it, there's not exactly a lot of us. I'm realistic, I am secure in my identity and faith, and my young children are too. While disappointed that Santa doesn't visit our house, they get it. I try not to push my faith views on others, and am happy to explain Jewish customs, holidays and thoughts when asked (which around here is A LOT.). Yet I'm feeling strange seeing these assumptions, and am focused on these families, who have a long road of healing ahead of them (if they CAN find a way to heal)...way past any holiday past or future. For the Jewish families (I obviously can't speak for other traditions here), at the funeral service of their children, they said a prayer that they will say every day for a year, called the Mourners Kaddish. I'm sharing this link from the Jewish Reform Movement about bereavement in case you want to learn more about concepts *I* grew up with, and what kinds of things happen when a Jewish family mourns. I mention the Mourner's Kaddish specifically, because what always struck me is that in this prayer, it actually says nothing about death. It thanks G-d. It blesses G-d. It praises G-d. But most of all, it asks for peace. Peace to all. Peace for self. Peace on the world. Amen.
One last thought: Judaism has a morning prayer called Yotzeir Or, which is translated as a prayer for morning sun. The concept of the Yotzeir prayer is thanking G-d (however one might translate what G-d is for them) for creating light after darkness. It's a prayer that is supposed to be said every day, and holds special meaning for me outside of the Mourner's Kaddish, which I have said every day since the first funeral happened. The idea that each day, we can find light from darkness...well that's a powerful thought to me. So today I'll continue to pray. I'll pray that what divides us can still make us one. That these families will find peace. That the kids and teachers that lost their lives on Friday are in a safe place now, whatever that concept/place may be. That their light will forever live on. And that we will ALL be able to find light after darkness.
Yitgadal, V'yitkadash...
Charlotte
Rachel
Olivia
Dylan
Dawn
Jesse
Ana
Grace
Anne
Emilie
Noah
Jessica
Lauren
Mary
Victoria
Daniel
Josephine
Madeleine
Catherine
Chase
James
Jack
Caroline
Avielle
Benjamin
Allison
Please click here to visit the Newtown Patch's website on how you can help.
AMEN.
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