Interconnection & Our Suffering

We held a vigil last night at our University, and these are remarks I read at the end to close off the ceremony. The ceremony was a neat example of ritualcrafting, put together by students, faculty, and staff members. We wanted to give an opportunity to members of the campus community to express their frustration, anger, sadness, fear, hope, well-wishes, and solidarity with all who lost friends and loved ones at Virginia Tech. We wanted an event that all could attend, so we sought not to politicize it, nor to speak in faith-specific terms (I don't think the word God was uttered once! Amazing, and welcome.)

Simple and straightforward, the ceremony consisted of three main parts: 1) opening bells (which I invited), and an opening framing of events and invitation by the Associate Chaplain for all to come forward and light one or more of 33 candles that we had placed on the altar of the chapel (we wanted to have a candle for Cho Seung Hui as well). As folks came up and lit a candle, they would take the opportunity to speak (or not) what was in their heart and/or mind; 2) A Chaplain-led gathering around the altar to light the 34th candle, a very large candle used to symbolize all the victims of senseless deaths taking place around the world, all the suffering that seems to be permeating our lives, and; 3) the forming of a circle around the candles and holding a white ribbon while I read the statement below. At the end we all cut a portion of the ribbon and tied it around our wrists as indication of our commitment to work at facing and transforming such suffering. It lasted about an hour and a half.

My closing remarks:

We've talked about our suffering,
We've talked about feeling safe,
Time after time, we come back to huddle in each other's presence,
Seeking comfort,
Because at times like these we
Recognize our vulnerability, our fragility.
We seek the warmth our common humanity can provide us,
And we seek fellowship in the recognition that we are one with each other,
not just in suffering, but in loving-kindness, in caring, in compassion,
In our ability to heal and love each other into well-being.

But that well-being comes, and that security and safety abide in us,
Not when we ignore and avoid our pain,
But when we look deeply into our suffering
And recognize that it is the suffering of the other also.
We are one, but ignoring the suffering of the other only enhances the conditions of possibility for
Our own suffering, and more suffering for others, and others... and others... .
We are deeply interconnected you and I. All of us.
We are not as separate as we like to think.

Thus, as we depart tonight,
In the shadow of this chapel,
Of great trees outside,
Amid the murmur of the Mill Stream,
In the remembrance of suffering,
Yet embraced in the arms of loving-kind fellowship,
Let us all be witness to our determination to transform that suffering,
Reminded by our deep interconnection,
by our common humanity, and our common good,
That it is out of that recognition that we can start not just to heal ourselves
But to heal the world
Never doubt for a minute that you can do it.

Ours was a broad engagement, with various folks giving voice to their concerns for how in other countries people live with massive death every day, how media outlets did not seem to count the shooter among the victims, how we seek to detach ourselves so quickly by labeling events like these "senseless," or rare, statistical anomalies, acts of a depressed madman... how "security experts" remind us to look for suspicious characters around campus, that we need to be careful not to prop doors open and leave them like that... We had folks who spoke for RAs (resident assistants), for Korean-Americans, for faculty, for survivors, for Cho's family, and much more.

That was exactly what was needed -- an opportunity to speak, to give voice, to get these things out, not as a way to offer further analysis, but as a way to be present with each other in the midst of suffering and confusion. One thing was clear: we can't run away from the suffering, we can't detach. The way to that safety and security is not just to feel protected in our campus by looking out for suspicious others, but by seeking to transform the suffering. For that we need to out it, name it, face it, and invite others to not see it as isolated, rare, or the result of lunacy.

Comments

[Kendall]

Beautiful, Nacho. True, simple, clear, and compassionate. Thank you.