A Heavy, Grateful Heart

We will find out more this week about another lone gunman, a shooter who this past Sunday stepped into a Unitarian church in Knoxville, TN and began firing. Apparently, this man felt disenfranchised in his life, opposed the Unitarian's acceptance of gays and lesbians and didn't even expect to leave the church alive. What isn't clear to be about that last bit is whether he thought there would be a stand off and he would be killed by police, if he intended to kill himself or if he someone thought the members of the church would kill him. If it was the last of those, he certainly chose the wrong kind of congregation to pick on. However, the man is in jail, having survived this experience apparently, but not everyone in that church was so fortunate. Right now, there are two dead, but that may go up as some of the injured are still in critical condition. So we will have to wait and see on a final death toll.

When I first heard about this shooting, it had an impact as other recent attacks of this nature have, but this hit closer, in part because this was a Unitarian church and the Unitarians are about as close to being Quaker as you can get while still having, you know, structure. We share a great deal in common with them when it comes to a commitment to social justice as part of ministry. But also, this was Knoxville -- my father grew up in Oak Ridge, TN and someone I used to care about a great deal is from there. And though the rational part of me said "what are the odds he knew any of these folks?", part of me still said "get in touch". So I did and basically said "hey, I was concerned and even if you didn't know anyone there, I know that this sort of thing rocks a community". And I didn't necessarily expect to hear anything back, but wanted to at least put my sympathies out there.

This is where I hate hate hate having an instinct be right because that rational part of me couldn't have been more wrong. The first confirmed victim, the one who had dived for the shooter, the man who without thinking had given his life to hopefully protect others (there was a children's play going on at the time) turned out to be his former Scout master and the father of a good friend growing up. So the loss wasn't just in the community it was personal. At the same time (literally) he had lost a good friend to a motorcylce accident -- an idiot running a red light has sent the friend into a ravine, the type of accident that isn't survivable no matter how good your gear is.

It was at this point in reading the email response that I lost my shit. I just sat there at the computer had cried. It has been years since this person was really part of my life, but every piece of compassion I had went out to him as he was trying to absorb not only this violation of his community, but also the loss of a formative influence and the loss of a good friend. And it hit so hard because of the parallels -- while not all Unitarians are pacifists, many are and often work with Quakers on peace issues so it makes this violence that much more painful and Brian and I have loved motorcycles and riding and make a point of being responsible drivers and riders. Yet here were people losing their lives when simply trying to worship and enjoy a ride. Tennessee is good motorcycle country so even if the friend was just driving to work, it was probably the most enjoyable way to commute.

I sat back from the computer and was filled with gratitude that the only real accident Brian's ever had with the bike was due to a rookie mistake and was at relatively low speed. In fact, he was more scared about me being mad than his broken collar bone. But mistakes happen and this is why we had (well, still have) insurance. That wasn't going to stop me from riding with him or have me tell him not to ride, despite what many people said to us at the time. However, I also faced again the idea that someone else's mistake could still erase all the care and responsibility he puts into riding. Just like someone else's hatred or twisted ideas could still violate my religious community.

Though all of these risks are present, it doesn't make me want to retreat. I wouldn't tell Brian to sell the bike out of some misplaced hope of protecting him; he could still get mowed down by a bus any day (which has happened way more than it should in DC in the last few years) and I certainly wouldn't stop worshipping or belonging to a spiritual community that might alienate others. On another level, it made me value having Abigail in our lives to an even greater degree. Yes, she will have to contend with a world where all of these things happen, but if we do our jobs to raise a compassionate, responsible person, she also has the ability to counteract such influences just by being in the world.

It's trite to say "value your loved ones" and that isn't even really what I am focused on; rather, I want us to value our time and the opportunities it gives us and to take advantage of those no matter how small or insignificant they may seem. I think I'll go meditate on my toddler's giggle right about now.