The Quickness of Tragedy
Usually, when we think of someone who has been through hardship, we think of one who has endured, for a while, unimaginable pain or some period of suffering. We think of bruises of the mind or body, of wounds acquired slow, deep, and constant through the endurance of prolonged misery. Of tearful nights and bitterness or brokenness accumulated consistently in the heart. There is the girl who is held captive for years from her family; it is a tragedy. There is the woman who has long endured the physical stretches of her husband's animosity; O, what unimaginable hardship! There is the boy whose father scarcely knew the need of his son for the example of a man; such a poor, miserable story.
But that is not my story. My story is much quicker. But be not deceived; in such shortness of time, there is no less intensity of trouble, nor less depth from the scar that reminds me of it. Yet, I tell my story not out of the desire for pity, nor out of a need for healing. I have dealt with these, in more ways than one. But the importance of this idea arises not out of my own personal pain, but out of a desperation for those whose cry is not heard. It is necessary - nay, imperative - that we recognize such pain and not so quickly dismiss it for the shortness of time for which such an individual has suffered. We must recognize how deep pain comes, even when it comes short and swift; the suddenness of an incident does not denote however pivotal it may be for the individual who endures it. Yay, that we may call this tragedy! But we must - we must - for if not, we deafen our ears to the millions whose pain is only intensified with the turning of our backs.
Yet still, there is another wound that we so often unknowingly inflict upon the suffering: the isolation of our pity to those whom we understand how to fix. I can tell you that fixing does not help; even those who we may know how to help! We should refrain from our innate desire to fix what is in our eyes a mere fixable problem. Sometimes the hurt only needs to be heard. So why perpetuate anger and stunt such possible healing when you try to fix instead of to listen? We can not. We can not let ourselves be comforted by a pride in our own wisdom.
So let us not be deaf to the cries of those whose pain is felt in the breadth of an instant. Let us not be hardened to the suffering or the tragedy that seems to us foreign. Should we let our own illiberalism deter us from their need for comfort? Should we succumb to the fear of unknown and neglect such victims of tragedy? We should not - we can not - lest we forget our own humanity and become numb to those who need our ears and our hands. Let us run, yes run, to them.
But that is not my story. My story is much quicker. But be not deceived; in such shortness of time, there is no less intensity of trouble, nor less depth from the scar that reminds me of it. Yet, I tell my story not out of the desire for pity, nor out of a need for healing. I have dealt with these, in more ways than one. But the importance of this idea arises not out of my own personal pain, but out of a desperation for those whose cry is not heard. It is necessary - nay, imperative - that we recognize such pain and not so quickly dismiss it for the shortness of time for which such an individual has suffered. We must recognize how deep pain comes, even when it comes short and swift; the suddenness of an incident does not denote however pivotal it may be for the individual who endures it. Yay, that we may call this tragedy! But we must - we must - for if not, we deafen our ears to the millions whose pain is only intensified with the turning of our backs.
Yet still, there is another wound that we so often unknowingly inflict upon the suffering: the isolation of our pity to those whom we understand how to fix. I can tell you that fixing does not help; even those who we may know how to help! We should refrain from our innate desire to fix what is in our eyes a mere fixable problem. Sometimes the hurt only needs to be heard. So why perpetuate anger and stunt such possible healing when you try to fix instead of to listen? We can not. We can not let ourselves be comforted by a pride in our own wisdom.
So let us not be deaf to the cries of those whose pain is felt in the breadth of an instant. Let us not be hardened to the suffering or the tragedy that seems to us foreign. Should we let our own illiberalism deter us from their need for comfort? Should we succumb to the fear of unknown and neglect such victims of tragedy? We should not - we can not - lest we forget our own humanity and become numb to those who need our ears and our hands. Let us run, yes run, to them.
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