True Sadness
“You are not big enough to accuse the whole age effectively, but let us say you are in dissent. You are in no position to issue commands, but you can speak words of hope. Shall this be the substance of your message? Be human in this most inhuman of ages; guard the image of man for it is the image of God. You agree? Good. Then go with my blessing. But I warn you, do not expect to make many friends...”
--Thomas Merton
The tragedies that have taken place in our world over the last several weeks have left me feeling overwhelmed and battered by unrelenting waves of sadness, anger, and fear. Senseless acts of evil keep coming with a pace and form so dark and ghastly, I can’t begin to take it all in. These days, one sickening event after the other seems to conspire and morph together creating a mental and emotional fog that looms, hangs, and swirls with a heaviness that cannot be cleared with slogans, pep-talks, or distraction. This fog won’t negotiate or even respond to gestures of optimism, hope, or reason. This fog is the presence of persistent evil.
The emotional terrain of senseless tragedy, once examined, reveals with a sad and lonely thud the existence of evil, which like fog, is a horrible conversation partner. Evil refuses realization at all costs. Evil only intends to further itself and is incapable of reflection or thoughtful response. And so, it follows that people, industries, and systems who intend only to further themselves, surviving upon the lifeblood of evil, will instantly and instinctively reject invitations to reflect, repent, and reform. This way of life, the refusal of reflection, is evil and it is also inhuman. In stark contrast to this response, to be fully and truly human, is to welcome reflection and feeling—it is to live with an openness to the possibility of repentance and reform. To be created by God with the sacred and staggering capacity to reflect, feel and reason rests at the very heart of what it means to be made in the image of God. The problem isn’t our humanity, as some suggest, but rather the rejection of it. The God given potential of humanity is never more on display than when we allow ourselves to be moved and changed by an event or realization. To do otherwise, to entrench ourselves in forms of cynicism that reject reflection and feeling, is to live woefully beneath our potential. And yet, this is a dangerous and tempting possibility right now.
When we’re overwhelmed by bad news, the pull to numb, pretend, or side with cynicism is so very strong. It’s only natural in the face of overwhelming grief to seek escape. But, if we stay there; if we settle in and eventually make quiet, hidden agreements with a way of life that would slowly diminish our ability to reflect and feel, we tragically experience a process of de-formation, which renders us less and less open, creative, and caring.
So, what am I suggesting? In addition to bold and righteous political engagement, social advocacy, and the unending work of peacemaking, I’m suggesting that we remember to be human. I’m suggesting that we reflect and feel long enough to cry, to weep, to mourn with those who mourn. I’m suggesting that we sit with the pain, sadness, and bewilderment, ensuring that we don’t miss the opportunity to be changed and deeply affected by what is taking place. I’m suggesting we allow sadness to shape us.
For me, it has been incredibly difficult yet helpful to spend time with pictures of the recent shooting victims in Buffalo, Laguna Woods, and Uvalde. This practice has allowed me to access the emotion. It has helped me to engage with a level of grief, sadness, and anger I would never get to without seeing their faces. It has also felt a little out of control, which is probably appropriate. At one point, a couple hours after looking at pictures of the victims I found myself weeping and screaming at God while sitting in my car in front of my house. It was a loud outburst full of tears and yelling, a chance to get real with God for a moment. I didn’t plan this moment, but as it came, I simply entered in and let it be. To break down for a moment was the most human thing I could do.
Everyone processes grief differently. There are no templates, nor should there be expectations or pressures to grieve in a certain way. The opportunity to be human today is to cooperate with whatever unique God-given expression you are being invited into and to welcome reflection, feeling, repentance, and reform. Perhaps the first step is to simply be moved by these events, to embrace and express grief, lament, and sadness in a way that feels integral with reality. Perhaps the best thing we can do now in the face of persistent evil is to slow down, ask questions, and attempt to see these tragedies through the eyes of the victims. This was after all the path Jesus walked, a path which integrated pain and sorrow into the ultimate defeat of death and despair. Today, may we, in our fragility, use our small shaky voices to speak honestly about what we are feeling. May we gaze at the world through tear clouded eyes. May we seek to be human, to be like Jesus, in the most inhuman of ages.
— Josh VonGunten
