Christchurch
It’s been one of those weeks again — those hard and heartbreaking ones, those dark and absurd ones. A laughable college bribery scandal that highlights all of the ways the rich get one over on the poor, in which the powerful use their ridiculous privileges to lock others out, to hoard all that power for themselves and pass it on to their children who fling it around thoughtlessly. The tragedy of a plane crash, of over 150 people dead and an administration that won’t ground the planes because the president is friends with the CEO, and an issue that could have been correct if racism and bigotry and psychotic vanity hadn’t shut the government down.
And now, at least 49 dead in Christchurch, New Zealand, a terrorist attack on a Muslim community easily traced back to our own government, our own rise in white nationalism, our own immense power to influence the rising tides of hatred around the world and the many ways we are failing to stem that influence.
I wish I had more pictures of Christchurch. It was one of the last places we went on our driving tour of New Zealand at Christmas 2017, the end of a long and winding journey from north to south, filled with rugged coastlines, misty mountains, and wild beauty. In Christchurch, you can still see remnants of the wreckage of the 2010 and 2011 earthquakes in the area. There are still collapsed buildings, shot through with rebar and surrounded by fencing to keep the rubble from sliding into the street.
But even more remarkable is the way they have transformed the spaces consumed by the wreckage. From collapsed buildings come vacant lots, but they haven’t let those lots lie abandoned and unused. The most stunning part of Christ Church is that every time you turn a corner, cross a street, emerge from an alley, there are sculptures and murals, parks and benches and giant chairs. Art projects you can climb on, parks filled with simple machines and weird science projects. Out of tragedy, Christchurch built places of community, places of celebration, thoughtful places and stunning places.
My heart is broken for the people of Christchurch, whose faith in their safety and their community spaces must be shaken; for Muslims everywhere whose holy spaces are fraught with fear, whose coming together is political act; for all who have experience the horrifying randomness of gun violence, or who have been victims of massacre.
It is better that tragedy not occur. It would be better for the people of Christchurch had years of earthquakes not rumbled through their city, if buildings had not collapsed. And it would be better if we could be sure that we were doing all we could to prevent the human tragedies and violence of the world.
There’s rarely anything to say following something like this that doesn’t sound trite or absurd. But I’m going to try anyway. I believe in public spaces. I believe that out of the wreckage we can learn from our past and build something beautiful, something that doesn’t hide or gloss over the violence, but honors its victims and prevents its spread. I believe that we can make space for art, for careful consideration, for laughter, and community and quiet conversation. And I believe that through solidarity and community, through listening and sharing and above all, acting, we can make good on all that love we say we’re sending out into the world today. We may never truly defeat evil, but if we work hard everyday, we can peel it back, strip it of its all consuming power. We can and we must make the world brighter. We can and we must show up.
If you would like to donate to support the families and victims of the mosque shooting in Christchurch, this is a verified link.
