Newtown

On Friday one of my co-workers came to my office door with tears in her eyes, "They think twenty kids have been killed at an elementary school in Connecticut."  The shock, the horror, the pit-of-my-stomach sorrow.  Eleven days till Christmas.  How many presents bought will remain unopened?  How many hands poised to rip through wrapping were raised in terror?  Lowered, now they rest.  We can't endure such things.  Our minds shards of broken glass.  They thrash, lurch, flail for meaning.  We find a voice rooted beyond our recognition crying out in primordial pain, "What the hell was wrong with that guy?  Why God why?  Why didn't you do something!?"  What we feel is beyond emotion and expression.  Only the yell that shreds our vocal cords or the groan that shatters our heart can approximate.  We have to do something.  We gotta make sense.  Some how...some way - anger, blame, apathy, excuse.  We've gotta push out, away from ourselves. We can't look in.  We dare not look in.  "In" there lurks something in the shadows - insidious, heinous, beastly.  It's too close, too near.  We must deflect.  We must resist, repel, reject.

"Stay back!  'In' your too damn close.  I'm not going to say it again."
It's too late; it's always been too late.

"In" speaks, "You know you're no different.  You're desperately lonely and scared.  You're angry, envious, and apathetic.  You foment lies, embrace deceit, and celebrate violence.  Your heart turns cold, your soul runs dry, and your morality rings false.  You too are human."

The events at Newtown leave me overwrought with emotion and the awareness that "In" my heart are not only the seeds of anguished empathy but the seeds of all that went wrong that tragic day.  Father forgive us for we know and know not what we do.

Commitment Sunday

Indelible,
You write,
Across the landscape of our souls.

Yet we have forgotten.
We wander instead, forgetful.
Our memories fail us.

We suppose the world was ours for the taking.
Oh how we have taken:
Innocence
  Truth
    Justice
      Love
        Life
All of these and more we have taken.

We have taken and returned them:
        Empty
      Hungry
    Starving
  Famished
Oh how we have taken.

But not you, no not you.
You give and give and give.
Some say, "Give till it hurts."

But you give till, "My God My God why have you forsaken me?"
You give till, "Father forgive them for they know not what they do."
You give till, "It is finished!"

Remove the fog of our forgetfulness.
Peel open our clinched fists.
Awaken our slumbering souls.

For there is a promise we have taken,
A promise we have forgotten,
"It is more blessed to give than to receive."

For Jeff

Words, empty
Fractured by the kiln:
Compacted, comminuted, compound.

Half empty?  If only.
Grief, tragedy, loss ricochet,
Movement without meaning.

These tools are useless,
Rusted, worn, stripped.
"I miss you" will never be enough.