As a student of Jesuit education, and now a volunteer in the same line, I have spent the past four and a half years learning to find God in all things. In my interactions with friends, in the beauty of nature, in my own personal growth. Though I usually do not remember to notice God in the moment, when I do look for the holiness in the midst of ordinary life I always seem to find it. I have always believed that Emmanuel is here. God is with us.
One of the residents at Joseph's House passed away this week, a man whose presence had been a source of joy and laughter for everyone. He had been estranged from his wife for years, but their friendship was strong, and in the last two weeks of his life she came and fulfilled her marital vow to love and to hold in sickness and in health so beautifully that she earned the respect of everyone around her. Though my resident had hurt her in ways that prevented them from living with one another, her compassion and gentleness with her husband in his last days was a powerful example of forgiveness. In the days I spent beside her showing her how to care for her husband in his illness, she taught me how to love even when you carry scars. Emmanuel was with us.
It is easy to find God in all things when those things are good, but on Friday it was like trying to find Waldo. The funeral was on Friday and it brought with it the pain of family members and friends who lashed out at one another in response to their grief. I sat behind my resident's wife with my co-workers, grieving not for the husband, but for the woman he had loved and the undeserved hostility being directed at her. I resolved to live my life in such a way that no one will be able to throw such hateful words at my family while they try to celebrate my life at my funeral. Where is God amongst people who do not respect the dead enough to let old grievances go in order to recognize that everyone is hurting?
Later that day, as I and a co-worker drove another resident back to Joseph's House after a trip to the cemetery to visit the gravesite of her parents, we heard about the school shooting in Connecticut for the first time. My roommate, Marlena, is from Connecticut and has a brother in kindergarten. When news about the shooting first started coming out, Marlena spent hours in miserable waiting. Where was the shooting? Was Nino there? Was he okay?
Nino's okay. The shooting was in a town far away from their home. Marlena and I both instinctively said, "Thank, God" as relief filled the room, but we almost as quickly were filled with guilt. Nino was happy and safe, completely unaware of the horror that happened at Sandy Hook Elementary. But 20 precious first-graders were not and neither were the seven adults who died alongside them or the hundreds of individuals, young and older, who will be affected for years to come. As I read more about the tragedy in the newspaper today, I could not stop the tears that accompanied my heartache. Forget the sudden call for legislation and gun control. Never mind if we should blame this on those crazy, liberal hippies or on those crazy, conservative evangelicals. All I could think was that these children were babies. They were in what should have been a safe place. How my heart breaks for the families who are now missing a significant member of their lives at a time that should be filled with joy. How saddened am I too that this young shooter slipped through the cracks until he reached a point where he felt this was the only way to make an impact.
At Joseph's House we walk alongside death every day. We know that every person who comes through the door is on the path to dying and we willingly step in to make the journey gentler. But the deaths of those in Connecticut were accompanied by a violence that makes me feel faint with sorrow. How can God be found in this? Emmanuel, why were you not with us when we needed you? Why were you not here to save these children and the adults committed to their growth?
Once again, just as in the time of the songwriter of "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," the world finds itself weak from the burden of human brokenness that creates systems of loneliness, mourning, and darkness. Just as in those times, we are realizing that something has gone horribly wrong. Once again, society finds itself looking for salvation. I am still processing this nightmare and trying to form my opinion. There are so many questions as I try to find the truth in the midst of travesty. I am pretty certain of some things. I know that this is not the time for political bickering, and I am disgusted by those who are making this a divisive event. This is a tragedy for all. Stop trying to make some kind of profit. I know that mental health played a part in this tragedy and I feel even more motivated to pursue a career in psychology. But more importantly, I know that Emmanuel is here. I know that God is with us. God was with that young principal who wanted learning to be academic and fun. God was with the teacher who told her students how much she loved them, because she thought that would be the last thing they heard, and that was the most important thing she wanted to teach them. God was with the other teacher who hid her students and when there was no room left for her, stepped into the hallway and sacrificed herself. I see the Divine in those moments. I am looking for it elsewhere. In the meantime, I will mourn this great loss, work for a more just future, and wait for the moment when we can all finally rejoice without loneliness, mourning, or darkness to taint the celebration.
O come, O come Emmanuel.
