Massacres are nothing new. Humans have gotten really good at killing each other…and doing so in large numbers for no particular reason. The 17th century Italian painter, Valerio Castello, entitled his painting “The Massacre of the Innocents”; an apt title for such a gruesome depiction of horror.
And so it was another sad footnote in our American history when last Friday a young man felt the need to obliterate and/or forever change the lives of thousands of people in an Aurora, CO movie theater. The days that have followed have been filled with speculation, anger, sadness and a hundred other emotions too expansive to put on paper.
I’m always particularly saddened to learn about the details of each individual affected by tragic situations. The mother who was severally injured while her 6-year old daughter was assassinated in cold blood. The young man who was to celebrate both his birthday and first wedding anniversary only two days later….he didn’t make it. The Air Force reservist who was called to active duty during time of war…only to be gunned down by some lunatic who never served a day of patriotic military duty in his life.
There are many many more stories like these, and of those who were injured…and of those who were left to grieve it all.
As I reflected on these stories it suddenly struck me that although I am saddened by the event, I’m not nearly as shocked as I was, say, when Timothy McVey murdered those folks in Oklahoma City, OK in 1995. I did not find this nearly as unbelievable as the day I heard about the murder of Israeli Olympians in Munich, Germany in 1972. What really struck me was my lack of incredulity. It embarrasses me. I am ashamed.
The world is a chaotic place that seems to run from one tragic event to the next. The age of media saturation has created calluses on our hearts and minds that insulate us from stopping in our tracks and prevent us from being immobilized out of fear and repulsion.
I also began to reflect on our reaction to other horrific world events. They happen every day, you know. As appalling as the event in Colorado was (and is), there is actually some good fortune in that only 12 have died when there was so much potential for more. And…we now know the names, faces, and stories of each one of them in some minor way.
And yet…take the current Syrian conflict. In the town of Houla at the end of May, according to the UN, a massacre took place which claimed the lives of 108 village residents including 49 children and 34 women, most of them murdered with hatchets, knives and guns. With few exceptions, we do not know their names, what they did for a living, what kind of lives they led…not even what they looked like. 108 lives taken….and yet we know little or nothing of them. Horrific? Yes. Shocked to the point of creating a searing memory in my mind? Not so much. It embarrasses me. I am ashamed.
I have no answer for world conflict or individual madness in this world short of the return of Christ. If I did, I’d run for President and make empty promises that will never come to fruition simply because there is evil in this world. It makes no logical sense. But I hope and pray we will always feel shock and sadness as these things happen. I wish to grieve. And I want to know their names, even if I can’t really pronounce them well.
Papa Chief
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