Love comes to us through the senses. It touches us. It moves us. It reminds us. In the wake of senseless violence, we are trying heartily to come to our senses. In light of the upcoming election there are those who are waiting to celebrate, and those who are stocking up on cocktails, plenty of wine, and friends prepared for worst case scenarios. This doesn’t have to do with mere party politics. Across the political divide, we are wondering as a fractured and yet bound nation – Will we come to our senses?
Our church was invited last week by the Jewish community of Youngstown to bear witness to the 11 lives that were lost at Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh. As I sat in Temple El Emeth, I took in the 11 candles all set next to one another waiting to be lit. I wondered to myself what the favorite smells of the dearly departed were. Sage, cinnamon, Chanel No. 5. Perhaps a smell that only they knew, and everyone else had forgotten. The smell of their parents’ basement, the familiar smell of sanctuary as they walked into Tree of Life Synagogue on that fateful morning for prayer and friendship.
Here we are this morning doing something similar. We are following the thread of memory which stirs us to commit to something greater than hate. What we are doing this morning has been part of human memory since we can remember – gathering together with our heartbreak as well as our hope to open our senses to the possibility of something new. Our minds though distracted seek to apprehend a moment which makes all following moments a blessing rather than a burden. We are here not to curse our fate as a person or as a nation, but muster the courage to offer a response that shows that we are more than our suffering.
Most people I speak with are disturbed in the wake of senseless violence. This disturbance cuts across political lines, it cuts across class lines, it cuts across race lines. As we witnessed at the interfaith vigil on Thursday, it cuts across religious lines.
If our faith is to mean anything right now, it must speak to and engage this disturbance. If our faith is to mean anything right now, it must include the afflicted, those who have lost and are losing terribly.
If our faith is to mean anything right now, it must surpass intellectual presuppositions and categories. If our faith is to mean anything right now, it must be brave enough to open and inspire sense.
We are continuing down a road that is senseless. We are living in ideologies of hate and bigotry, prejudice and fear. We are living inside ideas that were planted at the birth of this nation, and are continuing to reap ill fruit. More and more people are realizing that evil is not superstition. Evil is real. Evil happens when people act in ways that are senseless.
We are here to awaken a nation and a world to its senses. We are here to affirm in the wake of evil, something can bring us back, something can remind us who we are and who we love.
This is the power of memory. Memory is transcendent. Memory is immortality. We must remember who we are and who we love.
I was walking down my street, plagued by the news of the shooting in Pittsburgh, and this small girl about 4 years old met me on the sidewalk from her front lawn. She walked up to me, reached out, and handed me a small flower. She said “here, this is for you.”
In that small act, she gave me a priceless gift. She brought me back to my senses.
May you honor the memory of those who are lost. May you remember those who are still here. May you be turned and brought back when you get consumed and distracted. May you be turned, and brought back to your senses.
