I started this piece a long time ago. I think my son was 11. He was in fifth grade. I have expanded upon it many times in the last eight years or so. Once when we had the tragic attack on the naval reserve center here in Chattanooga in 2015. Again when Covid was causing so much angst in the world. Again during Ukraine. And now with the Israeli-Hamas conflict. This is a long post , so grab your favorite beverage, start a fire in the fireplace, go to your porch, or easy chair, or quiet spot and settle in.

I wish I was better at words when it comes to pain and suffering and fear. I’m not. My heart aches for all the places reeling from acts of violence and despair and hatred.

Not only is it terribly naive of me, it is ridiculously unfair of me to expect violence in far off places, but be appalled when bad things happen stateside, or in my beloved city. The far off places are someone’s home, or hold importance in someone’s life–just like mine.

My husband and I took our son to the Holocaust museum in Washington DC when he was in the fifth grade. In our conversations during and after the visit our son asked me only three questions. What does anti-Semitism mean? Why would anybody believe a crazy guy? And why didn’t more people fight back? I found myself trying to explain the unexplainable. I found myself saying I don’t know more and more frequently in the conversation. Out of the mouth of my child came a very basic expectation of justice: grown-ups are supposed to do the right thing even when it’s hard. 

Out of the mouth of my child came a very basic expectation of justice: grown-ups are supposed to do the right thing even when it’s hard. 

I have been thinking about a better answer to my son’s questions in light of the increasing acts of terrorism around the world and cultural clashes here at home. T here has never been a more important time for me to face my fear of what others might think of me and just speak. If I’m going to tell my children to stand up to the bad guys, defend the weak, see past the differences, and be kind, then I must heed my own words. 

We cannot be silent when human beings stop being human–whether in Paris or the Middle East or Somalia or China or Chattanooga. We cannot allow our confusion and our mistrust and our fear to make us silent or suppress the impulses of our better nature to reach out and help. Hate ideology uses “us versus them” not only against chosen enemies, but against its own people every time. The list of examples I could give you would be long and remarkably unvaried. Hate one another. Turn on one another. Bear false witness on one another. Do it or I take out your family. You kill them or I kill you. We (the collective we) fail to pay attention to the warning signs.

We give power to those who would exploit old hurts, use ignorance and mistrust, and exaggerate differences between people.  We (the collective we) cannot keep falling into this trap. The “mine” in “protecting me and mine” must include the least and the lost. Our world is only as safe and good as it is for the least protected and most exploited. 

I don’t know what would happen if I had to dance with the devil and choose between evils. I don’t blame anyone for trying to protect their family. Survival isn’t always pretty. Bullies are bullies, power corrupts, ignorance breeds mistrust, anger and fear feed off one another, and hate can only be overcome with love.  The point is to stop the runaway train before it starts. How do we break a cycle of hate? 

We must fight hatred. But it’s a two-pronged fight. We must choose love and love. We must cut the cord with people and places who would kill the whole world, but we cannot paint every refugee from those hate-filled places as the enemy. We must choose to love. But how do we do that? I keep asking myself this question. In the face of something so large, what tiny little drop in the bucket can I do? 

In order to see humanity you have to see the human in each face. We must use our free speech, our discourse, our right to assemble and protest, so that we can shine light on injustice and call for mercy. We must remember the dark places of our past so that we don’t forget and allow ourselves to retreat, or be pushed, or willingly return to the darkness. We must continue to bring the light of peace, and help, and hope to the world. And we do it one battle at a time, one act of bravery at a time, open one home at a time, offer one meal at a time, one seat on the bus at a time, one act of kindness to a stranger at a time, one person at a time.

We do it by continuing to do the small things because small things add up to big things. Grassroots movements know this. If you are a follower of Glennon Doyle, for example, you know that she and her sister created the Together Rising Community as a platform for raising money to go immediately to the place that needs it most. They accept any donation amount from anyone. It first began as a call to action for moms and women who cared deeply about people in crisis. Money in equals money out. In 2022, 93% of what was raised went directly to help through trusted and vetted partner organizations. 

Other ways we can fight hatred and mistrust is to consider the source of our information. Sensational television and internet drama is just that. Look for real reports from real people on the ground in real time. If you have a particular political slant, purposely choose an opposing source, just to get a different perspective. I consider myself a fence riding middle of the road kind of gal, so after I watch a right slanted show and listen to a left slanted radio program, I choose the Christians Science Monitor (CSM) for written news because it is balanced and thoughtful and respectfully presented. To quote directly from the website, “Our aim is to embrace the human family. We prize honesty and largeness of heart. We seek practical solutions, not just page views.” That’s news I can use.

Last night, I read two articles from the CSM that continue to support my belief in the goodness of others. One was an article about Arab Israelis living alongside their neighbors peacefully within Israel’s borders. Another article was about the misinformation war of this current conflict. As the world lurches forward towards a seemingly inevitable war, both journalists pieces are important to remind us, caution us, and compel us to choose a different path. 

Peace through strength is all well and good–and unfortunately usually the only way it works on this earth. But! We can, daily, one by one, make choices that defy the business of war and fear and extremism by reaching out to help our neighbors. Bullets and missiles and hunger and disease and trauma do not ask if are you Jewish or Arab or Black or White or Muslim or Hindu or Catholic or Protestant or this tribe or that tribe or this gang or that gang. Why should we? Those identities are certainly important, but in crisis I want to help you be safe. Period. In my classroom I want you to know that you are worthy of being there and that our class is for everyone. Period. If you are hungry I want to feed you. Period. This is all I know to do—these ordinary things that often feel extraordinary to the recipient. 

So as I live here in my safe house in my safe neighborhood in my safe state in my safe country where I have enough to eat and health insurance and freedom of movement—please know, I see you. I hurt for you. I want to help you. I will hold space for your fear and confusion and pain in my prayers and thoughts and quiet moments. I will do good where I can, one person at a time, with the hope that when it is my turn, you will help me. The golden rule still works. Love and love and love some more.

Peace Y’all, Marla