Spirit Matters: It’s not that I don’t care, I care too much

I want my heart to grow large enough ...

In these past weeks of bombings and bloodshed in Israel and Palestine, I have seen numerous posts from friends on social media lamenting the horrific, hellish deaths of thousands of humans, many of them women and children and babies.

Babies.

I have not watched any news reports detailing the war. And I have only read a few news stories about it.

A big part of me is ashamed to admit that.

Some might think it is indicative of my privilege of living in the U.S., where daily life is much different than it is in the Middle East – that I am not concerned, that I turn a blind eye to it.

The problem is not that I don’t care enough.

It’s that I care too much.

I was in eighth grade when I, along with my classmates, watched the Challenger space shuttle explode on television right before my eyes, over and over and over again. It was supposed to be a groundbreaking flight, with teacher Christa McAuliff on board.

McAuliff was slated to teach lessons from space but never got the chance.

Seeing the shuttle explode 73 seconds after liftoff, knowing she and six astronauts were onboard, became personal for me and the millions who watched. In a real way, when these seven people boarded the Challenger, they boarded our hearts as well.

In the following years, footage of the Gulf War was beamed into our living rooms. For the first time in history, Americans could see what war looked like in real time on their TV screens.

Now we’re all too aware of anything and everything that goes on near and far, in our country and beyond our shores.

And if anyone doesn’t think America is at war with itself, they are mistaken. How many times have we turned on the TV or logged on to the internet only to see yet another mass shooting or a racially motivated crime?

It’s madness.

Many years ago, when the news cycle shifted from the nightly news on the three main networks – ABC, NBC and CBS – to round-the-clock coverage everywhere, I learned my limits. Quickly.

First, it was the massacre at Columbine High School in 1999. We learned every detail from students who survived what happened during those moments of terror. We heard descriptions of people lying next to their dead classmates, trying not to move.

Then, in the immediate aftermath of the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, media coverage lasted for weeks and months even.

We didn’t just watch airplanes strike the World Trade Center one time. We saw them strike the towers hundreds of times.

We didn’t just watch human beings hurl themselves to their deaths or the towers collapse one time. We watched human beings hurl themselves to their deaths and the towers collapse hundreds of times.

And on and on and on …

Make no mistake – while some of us have never been and never will be on the battle lines of a ground, sea or air war, seeing this kind of footage flash repeatedly before our eyes has a profound psychological effect.

In no way am I saying this trauma is comparable with those who are caught living their lives amid constant death and destruction.

It’s not.

But I have learned my limits.

I cannot allow myself to watch these crazy news cycles and remain healthy mentally. I don’t need to see it to envision it all too clearly in my mind.

That’s enough. More than enough.

What I can do is hold these souls from across the nation and around the world in my heart, tangled and wounded as it is. I can pray for them, and lament the savagery that motivates some to orchestrate baseless, evil attacks like these.

I can write columns like this to make people aware of what is going on, to remind them of the innocent lives that are being exterminated every moment of every day.

And I can be a peacemaker.

I can live my existence with a gentle and loving spirit.

I can look people in the eyes and say hello.

I can hold the door for the person walking in behind me, whomever they are.

I can refuse to support or engage in hostility of any form.

I can be peace.

If we all become peace, perhaps this quiet movement will spread and someday counterbalance the insanity that allows those who kill innocent children and destroy the lives of their mothers to live with themselves.

I want my heart to grow large enough so that it can hold all of this chaos and still have faith in humanity and the breath that gives it life.

SPIRIT MATTERS is a weekly column that examines experiences common to the human spirit. Contact Jerrilyn Zavada Novak at jzblue33@yahoo.com to share how you engage your spirit in your life and community.