"You have heard that it was said, 'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,'
But I say to you, do not resist an evil person;
but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him.
You have hear that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy,'
But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you."
- Matthew 5: 38, 39, 43, 44
Many of you know me as the loud girl, who loves to use her words for everything, but especially advocacy and justice, and who will not be silenced. (Ironically, as I write, "So It Goes" by Billy Joel is playing on my playlist and he is singing about silence...) You know me as a passionate young woman with many advocacies but the truth is, all those advocacies fall under Social Justice. And while I see that our country has a beautiful "justice system," I question the usage of the word "justice."
In the last week, I, along with my fellow Americans, watched the Terror befall the streets of Boston during a most prestigious marathon and the fight for what we call justice. One week ago today, I woke up to my phone going off with notifications about the Boston Marathon Bombings. I felt my heart become overwhelmed with sadness and fear, just as it had on the day of the Sandy Hook shootings not too long ago. The first thing I always want to do is hear the voices of my parents and my little sisters, just to make sure they are okay. In both cases, none of my family was near Sandy Hook or Boston, but still there is a panic that goes through my system and I worry about them. These events remind us that we are never sure what could possibly happen.
As I watched the news unfold Monday night at work (the motherhouse sisters can attest to the fact that this was the one sole time I ever watched the TV at work), I was struck by the phrase, "We had no inclining that this was going to happen." The Marathon was staffed by numerous first responders in the case that any participant needed help and to keep the running route safe. Not a single one of those first responders expected to go to the Marathon and end up dealing with a triple bombing. Not a single one of those runners expected the ground to shake out beneath them or to be leaving that day a physically changed person. When you run a marathon, you don't expect terror to ensue. When you work a marathon, you don't expect a bomb to go off during the race. It was not expected, it was not planned on, it was not a normal day therefore and will go down in history.
I continued to watch the news until it seemed that everything being said was already said. I found myself exploring social media and the internet for more information. I, just like every other single person in the United States, wanted information. Who was hurt? What was being down to help? How many people? Was it an act of terrorism? Was it an accidental explosion? Who was responsible....? In searching the internet, I didn't find any of that information. Instead, I found pictures of the heroes of the day, tweets from the Red Cross telling the world how many runners kept running straight to the hospital to give blood; facebook posts praising the first responders AND the civilian heroes. I was so proud of my country. I am a product of America, an American sweetheart as someone once told me, and seeing the positivity all over social media, made me proud. I was proud of all those who assisted the hurt, the helpless that day. I was so proud and I wished I could have done something more to help than smile and praise them. I felt also, compassion for all of those who were hurt and and killed, especially Martin Richard, the 8-year old boy. His death hit so close to home as my baby sister is eight years old, too. I found myself praying for those hurt, for their strength and for those who helped that day, in thanksgiving for their willingness to selflessly give of themselves.
Over the next few days, those stories of heroism continued as did the prayers of so many throughout the country. But as the week progressed, the focus turned from the actual people of the Marathon, the runners and the helpers, to those responsible. So many people were quoted saying that no matter what we will find the people responsible and they will pay. I believe that is the moment when prayer was forgotten. The focus went from "praying for Boston" to finding and serving justice to those responsible. Now, before I go on, I must say that I know how sensitive this subject is to many people all over our country. I understand that justice must be served as a wrong was performed. I am aware of all of this and so, what I may have to say could be hard to understand, it may anger a good amount of people, but under the terms of Social Justice, I am advocate for loving through the hurt.
By the end of the week, I found myself watching the news with some of the Sisters at home. It was Friday, the morning of the MIT shooting which then progressed in the death of one of the Boston Bombing suspects and the capture of the other. I watched the whole thing unfold from the comfort of the convent community room and surrounded by a few of my sisters. The conversations were flying with every new update. One of my closest sisters was sitting next to me and often, we had found to be on the same thinking wavelength. Just as I was thinking what the nurses would be thinking if Dzhohhar was injured and had to be taken care of, Sister said it. Of course, this began a long justice conversation. In the end, we both decided that ethically, those nurses should take care of him and heal him, as he is suffering. Regardless of what he was responsible, he was first a human being. After that conversation, I realized there was a much, much bigger issue in our hands.
I began to see things on Social Media surface about wanting only justice for this man. Many were calling for a death sentence, or three lifetimes worth in jail. Others were stating that they didn't want to know his family history, his life story or even his name. They wanted to know nothing about him because as it seemed, it was only giving attention to an undeserved person. I disagree. I want to know his name. I want to know where he came from, who is family is, what his life was like. I want him to understand that what he did was wrong, but why teach that murder is wrong with murder? Why? Why do I want to know these things? Because for me, regardless of his wrong, he is a person.
All my life, I have been taught the lessons from Matthew 5. Turn the other cheek, love your enemies, etc. And yet, where is this present right now in our news and the media? I don't see it, I may not have twenty-twenty vision, but I'm not blind. It's not there. Prayer has been forgotten. When I heard on the news that Dzhokhar's father wanted justice for his son, I didn't at first agree with him radically coming over to the United States and wreaking havoc. I still don't, but he gave us something to really think about. This 19-year old man (if he can really be called that, as he, to me, is still a child) was HIS SON. Yes, he did something so very, very wrong. He so obviously hurt so many people; it was wrong. I cannot deny that. But, why must we hate him for it? Why is there so much hatred, such a calling for "justice," for the death penalty, for such harsh sentencing? Why?
What this man, this child, did was wrong. But regardless of this, he first came into this world just as any other human being, and so, he is a human being. Regardless of the wrong, he still shares my humanness. Regardless of the wrong, HE IS MY BROTHER. We must learn that while what happened in Boston was a tragedy and so many people were hurt, this man was obviously hurting, too. For, no one in their right human mind would want to hurt others of their same kind. We must not HATE the MAN, but HATE the HATE WITHIN THE MAN. I want to know his name so I can pray for him, I want to know his family so I can pray for them, I want to know who he was as a person, because HE WAS AND IS A PERSON. I want to love him, love him as a fellow human, love him as a brother. I hate the hate within him, but I love him. And so, perhaps this is a blog post not about social justice, but rather loving through the hurt.
I have carried in prayer all of my brothers and sisters who were hurt and killed during the Boston Marathon. I have prayed every single morning and every single night with them and for them and their families. I have carried in prayer all the first responders who were there and who came after to help even more. And now, I pray for Dzhokhar as my brother and sister. Because what makes him less human? Let the first without sin cast the first stone. And yet, we cast stones, despite the sin we carry in our own hearts. Dzhohkar was filled with hurt and pain, which he wrongly projected on so many helpless people. It was sin that he carried, just as we carry every day and so we must love past the sin, love the man within. Just as God loves us.
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