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Stacee Etcheber. Charleston Hartfield. Sandra Casey. Christopher Roybal. Jordan McIldoon. Carrie Barnette. Rachael Parker. Jenny Parks. Lisa Romero-Muniz. Susan Smith. Dana Gardner. Jennifer Parks. Jessica Klymchuk. Rhonda LeRocque. Denise Salmon Burditus. Angela Gomez. Thomas Day Jr. Neysa Tonks. Sonny Melton. Hannah Ahlers. Jennifer T. Irvine.
That is “just” 21 of the 59 murdered in Las Vegas, and they are us. They are men and women, black, white, and Hispanic. They are millennials and Gen Xers, and baby boomers. They are working class, and they are affluent. They are single, and they are married. They are moms and dads and sons and daughters. They are us, and the more that hurts right now, the better I’m convinced that is.
In fact, I shared those 21 names, at least in part because their pictures are readily available online. And the more personally each of us takes this loss, the better. I hope, in fact, that you will commit at least one of their names to memory, go online and find their picture, and learn their face. And if you are unnerved by that, great. If you are in pain, great.
Not that I want anyone to be in pain, but the more we feel heartbroken at this moment, the better I think it is because better is not debating policy while the dead are not yet buried, and that is pretty much all that’s going on.
I don’t care which station you turn on — Right-oriented, left-oriented, radio, television, in print — everyone’s got an analysis. What analysis is there? What is that even about, other than some attempt to either feel righteous indignation or a false sense of safety regarding how we prevent the next such horror?
There is no analysis. Not yet. Simply feel the pain, and let it hurt. And I say that as someone who has very strong feelings about policy around the issue of guns. I’m appalled that it’s even possible to have debates, as Congress was preparing to do, about whether silencers should be allowed. I think it’s crazy that we imagine we have to choose, or that anyone tells us we must choose, between loving the Second Amendment and putting weapons which were only created for mass killing into people’s hands. Those are not our only options. I think it’s insane that there are more guns than people in the United States of America, but so what?
I think I am right, but does being right matter? All this being right hasn’t helped anything. And to be clear, I even appreciate that all the gun laws that I support might not help either, evidenced by Chicago, which has some of the best gun laws in the country, and it’s a virtual bloodbath there.
Maybe if we start to feel the pain, more than we argue about what is right, and let our hearts not just break, but break open… maybe then, we could begin to appreciate that even with the best of intentions, our heads — including my own — are so damn stubborn, that our heads being right isn’t actually creating the better reality for which we long. From a practical standpoint, it’s not like it’s making anything better. We pass one law and then find a way around it. We tell people, “You can’t pass that law because it doesn’t respect the Constitution,” more people die, and they still say, “That’s okay, we still can’t pass those laws.”
But maybe, maybe if we begin to take a step back and lead with our hearts for a change, not with our heads, but with our hearts, our very broken hearts, we could begin to break open some new insights. And it’s not going to happen fast. It took years, or even generations, to get into this mess, so it’s probably going to take at least a few years to get out of it.
That’s not an excuse for inaction. It’s just a plea that if the pain of this moment would be with us a little longer, and the rush to analysis and explanation would be a little slower — that if we would lead with our broken hearts instead of our ever-so-smart minds — maybe, just maybe Las Vegas really will have been the last time.
Listed for many years in Newsweek as one of America’s “50 Most Influential Rabbis” and recognized as one of our nation’s leading “Preachers and Teachers,” by Beliefnet.com, Rabbi Brad Hirschfield serves as the President of Clal–The National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership, a training institute, think tank, and resource center nurturing religious and intellectual pluralism within the Jewish community, and the wider world, preparing people to meet the biggest challenges we face in our increasingly polarized world.
An ordained Orthodox rabbi who studied for his PhD and taught at The Jewish Theological Seminary, he has also taught the University of Pennsylvania, where he directs an ongoing seminar, and American Jewish University. Rabbi Brad regularly teaches and consults for the US Army and United States Department of Defense, religious organizations — Jewish and Christian — including United Seminary (Methodist), Yeshivat Chovevei Torah (Modern Orthodox) Luther Seminary (Lutheran), and The Jewish Theological Seminary (Conservative) — civic organizations including No Labels, Odyssey Impact, and The Aspen Institute, numerous Jewish Federations, and a variety of communal and family foundations.
Hirschfield is the author and editor of numerous books, including You Don’t Have To Be Wrong For Me To Be Right: Finding Faith Without Fanaticism, writes a column for Religion News Service, and appears regularly on TV and radio in outlets ranging from The Washington Post to Fox News Channel. He is also the founder of the Stand and See Fellowship, which brings hundreds of Christian religious leaders to Israel, preparing them to address the increasing polarization around Middle East issues — and really all currently polarizing issues at home and abroad — with six words, “It’s more complicated than we know.”