The horrific murders in Sandy Hook, Connecticut are on my mind.
On a theological level, I’m deeply annoyed by people who try to comfort the families of victims by saying that it was God’s will. I think that that’s both offensive to suffering mourners and untrue. We don’t have satisfying answers to the general question of why suffering, death, and evil exist in this world, and we certainly don’t have satisfying answers about this particular incident.
This is how I summarize my take on this, as a religious person:
- There’s a lot that we don’t know. Perhaps we’ll never know. However, we can keep striving for understanding.
- God gave human beings free will. We all abuse that free will at times. What happened in Sandy Hook looks a lot like an egregious abuse of free will.
- We can choose to turn away from wrongdoing and act as God’s partners in the project of tikkun olam. That’s a Jewish concept: the healing or restoration of the world.
I’ve been thinking about tikkun olam, and doing my best to participate in it, for years now. I feel so fortunate, because I work in a sector where my colleagues strive to make the world a better place every day of their professional lives.
When I think of what happened in Connecticut on December 14th, I think of friends and colleagues who work with at-risk youth, of violence prevention specialists, of civic dialogue facilitators, of mental health care professionals, of advocates of access to health care, of teachers of young children, and of alternative dispute resolution practitioners. They are engaged in a long, difficult, complicated, sometimes discouraging, often under-resourced effort. They seek to prevent harm wherever possible, to mitigate harm when it can’t be prevented, and to create a world where there is positive good.
Most of my work, if it brings any good or prevents any evil, consists of indirect service. By serving these people, I’m supporting initiatives that I hope will make a difference. Some of the organizations that I’ve been proud to serve are International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War, the Public Conversations Project, Family Service of Greater Boston, and Health Care for All. Their missions make it so very fulfilling to spend my professional life this way.
More than ever, I worry about my friends and colleagues that work with such dedication for all sorts of mission-based organizations. It’s not just that I worry about the safety of those who are on the front lines, such as violence prevention specialists. It’s that I worry about professional burn-out in a world where there will have to be a significant change in the culture in order to achieve their goals. And at the moment, I worry a great deal about whether all that heartfelt effort expended on behalf of mission-based organizations is really adding up to progress toward their goals.
In the nonprofit sector, we do what we do because we believe that real progress and real good are possible. I do what I can because of a belief that I have something to contribute and because I find it satisfying to think in terms of engaging in tikkun olam.
In search of some wise and realistic words to sum up my motivation for sticking with the work, I turn first to Pirkei Avot:
And then to Martin Luther King, jr: