Remembering Pittsburgh
(From a Chapel talk on the Monday after the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting.)
I don’t know how much you are in tune with the news. I know that it’s easy to get caught up in the busyness of our school lives; I know that at times it may feel like we have a little protective bubble here that keeps us from the outside world and, to some extent, I don’t think that’s a bad thing.
But last week was a particularly rough week in the news. Early in the week, two African-Americans were specifically targeted and killed for being black in Kentucky. The shooter had intended to go into an African-American church nearby but the service had ended and the doors were locked already, so he went into a grocery store instead and opened fire.
Last week a white supremacist sent bombs to former presidents and other politicians, motivated, too, by hate and fear.
And then, on Saturday morning, in the middle of the Sabbath, at a synagogue in Pittsburgh, a gunman opened fire, killing 11 people while they were at prayer, while they were celebrating the new life of someone in their community. They were parents, grandparents; devoted to their tradition; they were kind, they were involved in serving others. Their synagogue was targeted specifically because it supported the resettlement of refugees.
The fires of hatred are alive and burning brightly in our culture right now. These three men have been bathing in the hate-filled rhetoric that surrounds us and pervades our common life.
It is important to remember that dehumanization, the process by which men like this come to see others as less than human, as something of no value, merely to be eliminated, begins with language. It begins with the ways we are willing to speak about religious minorities, ethnic minorities, people of color, refugees, those who for whatever reason are perceived as “other.” This is a fact. This is a fact supported by the history of violence, hatred, and genocide.
When we talk about our school’s values of gentleness, generosity, truthfulness, kindness, and bravery, we are not just talking about Episcopal values or even Christian values. We are talking about the things that make life possible and that make it possible for human life to have value and to flourish. When we talk to you about trying to make every student’s experience here a positive one, we are talking about the things that give life value. When we ask you to carefully consider the impact of your words, of jokes and other kinds of insensitive language that can be hurtful, we are talking about the things that give life value.
I want us to engage this conversation at a deeper level as a school community. I want us to find ways of making concrete our commitment to diversity, but even more than that, our commitment to not use hate-filled or demeaning language on our campus. I want us to find ways to ensure that the rhetoric of hatred does not find any outlet here. I don’t know what that looks like at this point, but we all need to think about it, talk about it, and act upon it.
I want to close this portion of chapel today by reading the names and ages of the victims aloud. I want you to observe a moment of silence, a prayer, whatever way you feel it is appropriate for you to memorialize these individuals.
First, of the shooting in Kentucky: Maurice Stallard, 69; Vickie Jones, 67.
Then, the shooting in Pittsburgh:
Daniel Stein, 71; Joyce Feinberg, 75; Richard Gottfried, 65; Rose Mallinger, 97; Jerry Rabinowitz, 66; brothers Cecil Rosenthal, 59, and David Rosenthal 54; husband and wife Bernice Simon, 84 and Sylvan Simon, 86; Melvin Wax, 88; and Irving Younger, 69.
Finally, I want to leave on a positive note, a note of hope and encouragement in the face of this negativity and hatred and grief. This is a note from my Twitter Rabbi, Danya Ruttenberg, who posted this blessing of encouragement this morning. I know that we have so much positive energy here at ESA, and I know that we can truly make this a place where each student can grow into their best self. From the Rabbi:
May you grow into your greatest, bravest, most loving self.
May you stand tall and unafraid of the great, exquisite, bright light within you that is straining to get out.
May you trust that light, and may you hear the still small voice within that whispers to you about what you need and who you can be.
May you follow the light and the voice wherever it may take you—even to places you hadn't guessed, hadn't imagined, that haven't been part of the plan.
May you remain always curious, open, and eager to grow.
May you walk through your life with wonder, radical amazement, and gratitude.
May you stay kind and gentle. May you regard others with compassion, generosity, and the benefit of the doubt.
May you seek always to be of service, to offer of yourself to those that need help—that need you.
May you speak out bravely against injustice.
May you make of your life a blessing.
May your thoughts, actions and very being be an offering to the transcendent, to the great stream of life, to the Holy One.