Jacques Review

The country was still reeling from the May 24 mass shooting at Robb Elementary in Uvalde, Texas, when the 2022 Memorial Day arrived. While all the usual celebratory processions to honor America’s fallen soldiers were in effect, another pair of fallen laid unburied on the national stage. All the pouring of condolences, prayers, and demands for changes in access to guns didn’t change the paralyzed state of mourning that the parents of the victims were and are still feeling. 

I say this not to shun the responders. They were simply empathizing. They felt compelled to reach out and grab anything at their disposal to try to alleviate the suffering. This is a natural response. In great tragedies, communities respond universally in ways that attempt to make the hurt feel that their pain is shared and that they are not alone. Communities seek to comfort. This is simultaneously beneficial for both the hurt and the community (who then begins to hurt as well). The truth of the matter is that the identifiable hurt of one tends to vibrate to the extent that it compels those being touched to emote as in locked in a shared pensive embrace. 

Yet there is also space for sitting in the dust, so to speak. There is a space for saying nothing and simply sitting with the hurt in a state of emotional and psychological fatigue. 

The biblical book of Job starts out with horrific tragedies that resulted in his three friends joining “together to come to show him sympathy and comfort him” (2:11). Upon seeing his state of being they “raised their voices and wept, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads toward heaven” (2:12). They are then said to have “ sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great” (2:13). 

To certain people, pain can be so great that wisdom dictates a moment of silence. Others may want to hear something that breaks the inner silence (or, inner scream). Cutting off external noises can go a long way in helping one wrest with getting their bearings. That should have been the extent of the involvement of Job’s friends in the matter. Sitting quietly with the hurt may not alleviate the suffering but it does not add to it. In the void of silence, there is no pressure to wax empathetically eloquent. 

But, What of the children? 

The children weren’t killed while they were in the process of performing war-like acts. They weren’t soldiers. Yet, they found themselves involved in a shared end that is likened unto those of modern soldiers. Their deaths, being more egregious and horrific than what takes place on a battlefield. For one, these babies with barely a few years under their belts did not have any of the protections that soldiers do. No bulletproof armor of any kind. Not even a warning message of possible brutality quickly approaching. Small exposed bodies were ravaged by a weapon of mass destruction capable of 45 rounds per minute. 

How do we memorialize them? 

Talks of gun control laws and purchasing requirements are running into the same issue they have always had. There isn’t sufficient support from the American populace to force contrary legislators into action. There is no uproar. An uproar would have amounted to unbearable and forceful posturing by a considerable amount of citizens. It would have been noisy out there to a deafening degree. There is crying but not enough political will to scare politicians into necessary considerations. 

Why is there no noise? The reason may simply be that while some see even one instance of innocence being killed by assault weapons as being too much, others (while very well being shocked) may not necessarily be willing to alter weapons access. 

Let’s not put aside that some Americans believe that they should have ready access to weapons of any kind because their interpretation of the constitution allows for them to be ready to rise against a government that becomes tyrannical. It then exists a patriotic duty to have access to what is considered to be necessary arms. 

Let’s also consider, for instance, the back and forth on whether or not armed police and/or teachers should be allowed to function in school settings. Whereas there is a substantial amount of people who are frustrated with policing in general and feel that mental health has been largely neglected to the extent that a great deal of killings could have been prevented, there is another group that is focused on what happens when one sneaks through the cracks. 

What do you do when one did not get counseling? What do you do when one started but left counseling? What do you do when the killing starts? What happens when all the warning signs were missed, ignored, or not thought of being worthy of a follow-up?

In other words, there are many groups with differing perspectives with no reconciling midway point. As it stands today, the likelihood of this occurring again, despite recent talks of changes to gun laws, is a very real and present possibility. While the changes are necessary and will stop some, they won’t stop the determined. The effectiveness of all the preventive pre-measures do not account for what happens when the situation is live and targets are locked in. 

Guns flow freely through the streets of the American republic with no worries about issues of legality. We’ve been hearing them roar for a long time. Even in periods of memorializing, they observe no moments of silence. 

The Uvalde killing field should cause us to join in some sort of collective silence or pause. Not that we should stop the campaigns or the urgent discussions to sort out some type of multifaceted approach. Inspite of all the necessary doings, the working out of a resolution requires silence to sit and reflect so that in this fast-paced world of one event being forgotten for the ever-increasing view of a new killer on the horizon does not hinder our capacity to think through effectively. 

There is a space for sitting in the dust. There is a space for saying nothing and simply sitting with the hurt. 

Image Credit: Photo by Maurício Mascaro