Fortunately or unfortunately, every now and then we need something to shock us back into remembering that which is most important.
Definitely unfortunately, often what shocks us into remembrance is tragedy.
One of those moments horrifically occurred Wednesday night. We are still reeling from the shocking reality.
64 people on an American Airlines flight. 3 soldiers aboard an Army helicopter. All plunged to their deaths in the Potomac River, in a tragic aviation disaster.
Colliding midair in the night’s clear skies, calm conditions, it’s hard to comprehend how it happened. There’s an investigation yet to happen. Error by the helicopter pilot seems significant at this preliminary point. There’s a lot, though, that we still don’t know.
What we do know is that today some wake up without their parents. Others without their kids. That goes for spouses, fiancees, friends and co-workers, too. In an instant, life is different. With no notice whatsoever, grief is the overwhelming reality.
I think of the families involved. How awful. I wonder. What do we do when all else crumbles to the ground?
Today, we remember what’s most important. And to get to what’s most important, we recognize that which is not so good and right and true…
Like many I am saddened by the mistreatment of others.
Like many I am saddened by the judgment and lack of honor so prominent in society.
Like many I am saddened by those who choose not to love their neighbor well.
Like many I am saddened by those who minimize who their neighbor may be.
Like many I am saddened by our collective lack of humility.
Like many I am sad.
When tragedy happens, we’re hopefully a little more in touch with our sadness… we’re hopefully a little less judgmental… and we’re hopefully a little kinder to all others, whether they agree with us or not, think like us or not, are in the same circles as us or not.
For me when I think of those whose lives have crumbled to the ground this week, I wish for something deeper… something authentic… and something to meet them in their grief…
I think of ancient Ishmael — both historically significant and included in the first line of Herman Melville’s classic, Moby Dick. Ishmael comes from the Old Testament, the babe born to Hagar, the Egyptian handmaiden who slept with Abraham when Sarah attempted to take God’s promise of a son into her own hands. When Hagar is pregnant, she becomes despised by Sarah; she flees. No one comes after her. No one follows. Hagar is heartbroken, alone in the depths of her grief.
To whom then God actually speaks… and two significant, life-giving things occur in their conversation.
One, he says Hagar shall name her son “Ishmael,” meaning God hears.
And two, she says back that you are “El Roi,” meaning the God who sees me.
All of life changes when we prioritize reflecting on being heard and seen by the great big God of the universe. It makes us humbler, kinder, more secure, more honoring, and less inclined to blame other people. It reminds us who we are and who that neighbor is, too.
I have few words for this week’s accident. It’s heartbreaking and awful.
I am also stoically grateful for the reminder of what’s most important, tragic as it may be.
Soberly…
AR