Perpective

(In respect to the private conversation that I refer to, I have shielded the identity and particulars of the situation that the individual is working through.)

I had a conversation regarding the recent killings of three police officers in Pittsburgh. I was talking with a young friend who has done some pretty hardcore traveling recently. (S)he talked about not being able to muster the same outpouring of sympathy as the rest of the community displayed.

I saw the struggle in him/her. The crime was heinous, but in other parts of the world atrocities of much greater magnitude happen regularly. Are the lives of police and military in Afghanistan or the West Bank any less worthy of our collective sorrow?

I felt a strange sense of guilt and rage when I started to reintegrate into American life after developing world trips. We are privileged here. We don’t even think about our expectations of entitlement for things like clean water, governmental stability and basic human rights.

I realized that something had changed in me when a beloved pet had to be euthanized. I was devoid of emotion, where it would have been in the bounds of normal to be broken up. I called a friend who had served in combat. I said, “Why don’t I feel anything? Why am I not crying?” I was worried that my emotions had somehow died. He reassured me that this was not true, but that I would deal with loss when I had taken care of all of the things that needed done. He talked about the painful gift of perspective that people receive after they have seen poverty, disease and war.

The perspective scared me. It is like looking down into a valley of grief and realizing that I am absolutely powerless to ease the agony. I had shed a layer of ego.

That created the next conflict in me—why care? Why witness?

The answer was as simple as the questions: because it is my nature. In telling stories I find that while the overwhelming problems still plague us, some good does come of it. I found a compassion for people that is worth cultivating. It is not pity because pity erroneously usurps part of the experience that the other person is going through. I witness the other person’s humanity. I think that it is important to express kindness if it is welcome. The other part is to redirect judgment into something positive. What is the real reason that people act as they do?

I didn’t have an assignment to photograph the memorial service for the fallen police officers. I’ve learned to listen to my inner voice that says, “Do this. It is the right thing.”
So I went down to the City/County Building and photographed the memorial service. You can see it here at http://www.rosensteel.com/Tribute/
I knew that I could carry the burden of witnessing with compassion and sensitivity. I knew that I could do it without exploiting people deep in grief. That was the gift that I could offer.

I was curious, too, about the whole ritual. I learned why we, as a community, felt obliged to mourn so greatly. Most of us didn’t know the officers, but we knew what they represented. They were our symbol for protection, for the order of things. That symbol had been compromised by extraordinary, irreparable violence. The illusion of safety had been shattered.

The community responded with an overwhelming, powerful display. Thousands of officers, some from as far away as Canada paid their respects. The procession of police cars to the funeral lasted hours. There was little doubt that many would have laid down their lives to have stopped the events of that terrible day. In the rite of funeral, we sought to heal the insanity with and exceptional exercise of order; public acknowledgement of the lethal risk that lurks despite our best efforts to thwart it and the valor of those who would face that evil despite the price. The collective presence was the only meaningful gift that anyone could give.

It wasn’t about how many people died. It won’t keep a bomb from ripping through a market crowd in Pakistan or solve the poverty of the Kenyan ghettos. It was about being human despite history that each of us owns.

My friend had chosen not to experience the memorials. I saw the same churning emotion in him/her that I go through after a tough trip. (S)he’s got to find his/her own resolution to walking between the developed and emerging countries. The only thing that I could say when (s)he looked at me for a response was,” I understand.”