We are not immune...

What happened in Blacksburg is terrible, tragic, disheartening. Everyone in America is reeling - How could someone do this? What a monster! What went wrong? What did those innocent people do to deserve this? What does it all mean? What's even more shocking is that this shooting spree, with the biggest death toll in US history, happened on a college campus. Our campuses, with their manicured lawns and young, hopeful minds, represent what's great about the United States. Less than 1% of the world's population has access to college education, and we, as a nation, hold the most institutions of higher learning, not to mention some of the best. Sure, we can shrug off car bombings in Iraq, suicide bombings in Tel Aviv, massacres in the Congo and Sudan, drug-related gang violence in our inner cities. But the death of 32 innocents, on a college campus, in the US? This is unspeakable...unthinkable. Our cloistered existence as the educated minority enables us to deny the brutality that is the lives of billions around the world. And such a tragedy, as well as 9/11, shatters the false notion that we are safe, that we are in control, and that we are immune.

Today, as our eyes lay transfixed upon the face of a disturbed, brutal VT killer named Cho Seung-hui, the nation of Iraq experienced its bloodiest day since the US army occupation began 4 years ago. Some 200 people were killed in a bomb near the Sadria marketplace, which was being rebuilt after a February bombing there killed 130 people. Today, in one fell swoop, 200 people lost their lives. I dare not measure the depth and pain of tragedy quantitatively. One life lost is equivalent to a thousand lives lost - terrible, tragic, and cause for mourning. But, as painful and impossible as it may seem, let us step into the shoes of a shop-keeper in Baghdad who by the grace of God remains alive, selling his meager goods in his war-torn city, who has witnessed the countless senseless deaths of his family and friends, neighbors and loved-ones, who has had to grapple physically and emotionally and existentially with the meaning of it all, the meaning of life and the meaning of death, and God's place in all of it.

Is this possible for us, as Americans, to step inside his shoes, to look him in the face and say, "You are my brother. We have both experienced tragedy. We have both experienced loss." Can this horrific event enable us to recognize each other in our pain and suffering, our grief and anguish? Can we learn to shed tears not only for the slain in Blacksburg, but also the dead men, women, and children of Iraq, Afghanistan, Palestine, Sudan, Uganda...? Can we ask each other for forgiveness? Can we embrace over the death of our loved ones? Can we protect one another from the violence of this world? Can we bend our knees together in prayers for peace? Can we love our enemies...together?

Lord, Lord we need your help.

Easter, etc.

I spent Easter in the most pagan city in the United States. Really. I think Portland, Oregon, has the least amount of church attendance in the entire county. The State of Oregon has the highest proportion of religiously-unaffiliated and self-identified "nonreligious" residents. But, as Devon reminded me, I am NOT living in the most pagan nation in the world (by traditional standards....we are total pagans when it comes to our obsession with the individual freedom, death, money, choice, Self). She, on the other hand, resides in France, where they're about outlawing religious head-coverings in schools. WTF, mate?

Melissa, Jacob, and I had a nice, nice time - good beer and coffee. And we visited the farmers' market which was, as always, very cool (and wet) and the Saturday market. It was great to see the folks again at l'Arche, too. I miss Enner (Erin) a lot. Marilyn is still as out of control as ever but seems to have settled into the changes as they've come. And Joni continues to want her nails painted and listening to her IPod. And Adam has taken up tennis. It was nice to be back in a l'Arche home, however briefly, that's been in existence for two decades, where things are a bit more simple, a bit less complicated. Even though Marilyn is out of control, it definitely feels calmer there. Perhaps it's the West Coast thing, as well. Things in the North-west are...nice. Green, organic, quirky, bike-friendly, with mountains that look like mountains rather than mole hills.

I wish I lived in Portland. I'm sure the hipness would grate on my after a while, but I'm still in my Let's-be-hip phase (with one foot out the door), so I think I could handle it for the time being. And I miss living with/near Melissa and Jacob. They live in a nice, tiny apartment with nuns...and rich people down the street. We watched a lot of movies and ate good Cuban Creole food (it exists!) and went to church a lot (take that!). Our friend Tim became Catholic at the Easter vigil service on Saturday night and that was exciting, especially the party afterwards where I stuffed myself with sweets and felt a bit ill. We celebrated Melissa's birthday on Easter, as well. She's old....27. I can't believe I'm going to be 24 next year. I'm almost a quarter of a century old. Dear Lord.

So...maybe I should postpone graduate school (again) and move out to Portland. Mom and Dad said they would follow if M/J and I decided to stay out there. Hmm....I love ending my posts with a thoughtful 'hmmm....'