Rabbi Jeffrey Myers: I still have hope
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As I sit on my porch, the crisp morning breeze wafts over the rose bush, enabling me to take in the sweet smell of the blossoms. The sun shines on me, warming up the air. It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Right? Wrong. The beauty is a mask over the ugly realities of the United States. Nineteen precious children and two teachers killed in Uvalde, Texas. Ten Black Americans killed in Buffalo, N.Y.
Some may suggest that I am overly sensitive to mass shootings as a survivor of one. I think not. I reflect what I deem the general consensus in our country that there is, indeed, something seriously wrong.
As children, the only threat we knew about was the potential for nuclear war. We regularly practiced huddling under our desks and putting our hands on top of our heads. Not only do today’s children regularly have active shooter drills and lockdowns, but some reports suggest that school shootings have become so commonplace, Tuesday’s shooting barely registered for students across the country.
Parents should not have to wonder when they kiss their children goodbye in the morning if today is the last day they see them. We should not have to wonder if our loved ones will return from an errand at the local market. We should not have to wonder if our loved ones will return home from Sabbath services.
We call mass shootings tragedies, but I think that word is insufficient. To Pittsburghers, if the Steelers do not win the Super Bowl, that is a tragedy. These mass shootings are horrors. There must not be any covering up of these massacres with less emotional language.
But the pain and the unanswerable questions remain. What will it take to lessen mass shootings in the United States? Why do we allow these horrors to keep happening?
With each headline and breaking news alert, the memories come flooding back and I’m faced yet again with the reality that there are now more members in an All-American club that shouldn’t exist. And after a week like this one, it’s easy to surrender to the helplessness and hopelessness many of us feel.
I am not a prognosticator, and do not possess a crystal ball to know how things will change or what will finally be the last straw. Will we finally get fed up with the sheer volume of violence, or, and for this I shudder to think, will there be an event so catastrophic — worse than what’s already happened — that finally prompts a meaningful response?
What I do know, though, is that change will occur. While I pray it is speedy, and in my lifetime, I do not know and that likely means there will be more mass shootings, more pain and trauma, more unnecessary loss of life. But history shows us that change may take time and persistence, but it does come. And so, I have faith that change will come, and despite all of the horror, I still have hope.
I have come to learn that there are far more good, decent people than not. I regularly receive reminders in the form of emails, letters and cards. These are not only from colleagues, friends and acquaintances, but from ordinary people that I have never met. They offer words of encouragement when sometimes the words escape me. They offer love when I don’t feel the love. Their goodness reassures me that there is much goodness out there, and that is why I have hope.
Countless good people toil in anonymity every day to better the lives of people around them. All of us know people like that. They are the true heroes of our society. They are the scaffolding upon which a just and good society is built. They are the ones whose names should be shouted from the rooftops and acknowledged in the media. Because of them, I have hope. And you should, too.
Rabbi Jeffrey Myers is the rabbi of Tree of Life synagogue. He survived the attack at the Tree of Life building Oct. 27, 2018, during which 11 worshippers from three congregations were killed.