When tragedy strikes

I hugged my students a little tighter this afternoon as they walked out my doors.  Tragedies sure have a way of putting things in perspective, don't they?  The disaster in Newtown, Connecticut, hit especially close to home for me, an elementary teacher.  The faces on the news immediately brought to mind the faces in my classroom.  As much as I sometimes despise grading papers, writing IEP's, and updating data sheets, I would do all of that a hundred times over rather than lose a single one of those precious children to the hands of a wicked man.  My heart hurts.  Such devastated parents.  Such lost siblings.  Such a broken world!

Facebook has blown up with all of this, naturally.  I can hardly read my NewsFeed without tearing up at the gut-wrenching sadness that is being manifested.  I can also hardly read it without feeling angry at the fact that people can be so insensitive as to ignore the hurt of this tragedy in order to promote their own agendas.  I'm sure you won't have any trouble thinking of examples.

We are on our way to Dallas for my Uncle Ross's funeral, and I can't help but think of how wildly inappropriate it would be to walk up to my aunt tomorrow and tell her about other matters which should concern her more than her husband's passing.

How, then, should we react to death?  When Jesus's friend, Lazarus, died, Jesus was "deeply moved." He wept. He hurt.  In that moment, Jesus did not promote other agendas.  He knew anguish, and he showed that Emmanuel ("God with us") means entering into people's heartache.  Jesus, of course, cared about "issues".  But he cared about sorrow, too, and he knew that there is a time for both.  Lazarus's funeral was not the time to discuss gun control, because the answer to tragedy is not more or less legislation but God himself.

I am awkward in sad situations.  I don't quite know what to offer, so I have a tendency to say something ridiculous and immediately wish I could hide under the nearest table.  Friends, in the midst of this tragedy, perhaps we would do well to be silent.  Now is a poorly chosen moment for debating issues and stirring unnecessary controversy.  Out of respect for the families affected, let us do our best to understand their hurt, to "be deeply moved" by their sadness, and to grieve over lost lives.  Let's step off our platforms and allow our silence to scream that people matter and that all is not right with the world.