Thursday, November 8, 2018

Weeping God: Oklahoma City

Mile after passing mile on Interstate 40--from the rusty foliage of West Virginia to the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky, from the Lorraine Motel in Memphis across the rolling Ozarks of Arkansas--I've mixed things up, media-wise.  Tried to take the news in moderation: Trump repudiated in election, Trump wins the election. Trump sacks Sessions, RBG breaks ribs.  Turned to a couple of well-conceived podcasts ("S-Town", then "Last Seen").  Yammered along with a new Spotify playlist (Paul Simon's "Graceland" and Springsteen's "Oklahoma Home").  

And then, this morning, Oklahoma City.  Where the Alfred P. Murrah Building once stood.

Never been through Oklahoma City before, and I know there's much more to it than terrorism and history.  But 4/19/95 seems both distant and near.  The grim violence unleased by white nationalism.  The stunning contempt for civic institutions that manifests in the slaughter of civil servants and children in daycare centers.  I'd heard so much about the Oklahoma City National Memorial that I made a point of stopping by.  Especially this week. 2018.  






I felt an unnerving mix of nausea and deep sadness going through this museum.  The methodical planning of bombers.  Their gruesome contempt for government and neighbor.  Most unsettling is the question poking, prodding, jamming me: Have we learned from this?  Are we smarter, wiser, more generous in 2018?  Or have we accomodated Timothy McVeigh and Rush Limbaugh and Donald Trump--to the point where it's only a matter of time...?  There's no way--and no reason--to tie all violence together; but the nausea in my gut this morning reminded me of Yad Vashem in Jerusalem and Dachau in Germany and, yes, the Lorraine Motel in Memphis just yesterday.  "O when will they ever learn?  When will they ever learn?"  

Perhaps the harshest moment in the museum is when a guide ushers us into a replicated conference room--where a tape-recorded Water Resources Board hearing captures the moments just before McVeigh's truck exploded the building.  And then--as mayhem ensues--the pictures of dozens of the dead appear on the wall just behind the desk.  The kind of nationalism Trump is courting these days does just this: justifies contempt, stirs despair, encourages violence.  Timothy McVeigh built the bomb in Oklahoma City (with others)--but he was inspired by a whole network: prophets of grievance, broadcasters of hate.


"Jesus Weeping"--In front of the Catholic Church, across the street from the museum.




I remember--as many do--the picture above: a firefighter cradling a child injured in the blast that day.  The child died a while later--but the picture captures something that outlives Timothy McVeigh's hatred and Fox News' vitriol.  Public service.  The commitment of women and men to the common good.  The best of who we are.  Timothy McVeigh sneered at firefighters and Water Resource Boards, at ATF agents and State-run child care centers.  In a lot of ways, Donald Trump and Sean Hannity are sneering still.  But if the idea of America means anything any more, if the future of this country still shines, it shines in pictures like the one above.  In the care of public servants for the vulnerable.  In the brave careers of Water Resource Board officials and ATF agents.  In the teachers who show up at child care centers to make the world safe for children and better for their parents.

MY PRAYER AT THE SITE OF THE ALFRED MURRAH BUILDING:
Weeping God, Loving Spirit, Reconciling Hope of the many who make this one nation: Bless by your grace the servants who care for us and keep the dream of America alive.  Bless our government employees, our civil servants, our firefighters and police officers.  Bless our elected officials. activists and advocates; our counselors and chaplains and the many teachers across the land.  Where there is contempt in our hearts--for one another, for our democratic project--cleanse us of this despair, cleanse us of this distrust.  Turn our minds and hearts to the possibilities of shared endeavor, and to the common good that invites our best efforts and biggest dreams.  By your sweet and empowering spirit, comfort those who've lost so much to terror and violence, in the name of politics, in the name of religion, in the name of nationalism and fear.  Join us to one another in a bold commitment to a more perfect union, in which all of your children find meaning and light and purpose in one another, and for one another.  Amen.