lament
After leaving Little Rock, the next stop on our cross-country journey was Oklahoma City. We arrived early enough to take the six-block walk from our hotel to the memorial to the victims and survivors of the bombing of the federal building in April, 1995. I had been there before with my daughter, but was anxious to share this sacred space with my husband.
The memorial is a large, green park surrounding a reflecting pool. At either end of the pool are two large portal walls, one bearing the time (9:01) of the moment before the bomb went off, and the other with the time two minutes later (9:03) when “the healing began”. There are 168 empty chairs facing the reflecting pool on one side. On the other side is a lone tree, the “Survivors’ Tree”, so called because against all odds it survived being initially ignited by the blast, to continue growing and providing shade. On another wall is a list of all the survivors of the event. Including the names of survivors is a welcome addition, for the emphasis on healing makes a powerfully positive statement out of something so relentlessly sad. Even 20 years later, standing in this space brings tears to my eyes.
Last spring some women from my church were weighing options for a Bible study for this fall. They decided on the book of Lamentations, and I couldn’t help thinking, “That’s a downer. Will anyone attend?” But on the day of the kick-off, the room was full of women. What was the draw?
Sometimes I don’t understand the theme of a journey until I write down my reflections. Stopping at cemeteries and memorials made me realize that we need to learn how to lament. Lament is how we handle atrocity, loss, grief and even rage and righteous indignation without growing cynical. Lament is how we take our own share of the responsibility for the world’s woes, shouldering it, weeping for it and bringing it to the foot of the cross. Lament, like confession, should be deeply personal, but it is also corporate. In lament, we stop pointing the finger at others in a way that lets us off the hook for the part that we play in perpetuating hate and fear and worse.
Homegrown terrorism is still possible, if judged by the numbers who stormed the US Capitol Building on January 6, 2021. But it is so easy to lose hope in the face of it. The Oklahoma City National Memorial, with its emphasis on healing, asks us to “experience how the bombing brought out the best in each of us and led to a spirit of service, honor and kindness…chances are it will bring out the best in you, too.” May it be so.
Love, Liz
“I’m so grateful to you for helping the children in your life express their feelings in ways that will bring healing in many different neighborhoods.” Fred Rogers, after September 11, 2001
