Jan 31, 2023·edited Jan 31, 2023Liked by Nadia Bolz-Weber
I've been thinking about this for a while, since my brother died in a fire that destroyed our childhood home three years ago. So many memories of our early years together in that home came flooding back, and I remember thinking that the only one who shared them, and knew the me I was then, was now gone. Our younger siblings only knew the rocky relationship we had as adults because I had never shared those memories, my stories. Even just saying he died in a fire does not capture or convey the truth that he had been suffering physically and emotionally and it could easily have been a suicide. We will never know that for certain. What I am starting to know now, though, is that the divisions in our world will only ever be resolved by telling our stories and listening to others', by offering pieces of ourselves in order to build trust and understanding and finally, relationship.
This so beautifully written and says so very much about perosnal grief, shared grief, information (and lack thereof), modern news culture, cultures in other countries, trauma, hospitality, and shared joy. And art. And. . . I lost a son when was 14 and while I knew he probably would die before I did (he was severely disabled), I also dreaded and planned for him to outlive me (because who would care for him if I died?). I thank you for putting into words all that happened to you on that traumatic day in Bethlehem. In. Just. One. day. It's inexplainable, and yet you somehow were able to do just that, and beautifully. Thank you for thoughts put into words. May it change hearts.
Amen. I often wonder how the world might be different if we, as a Western society, celebrated and revered storytellers and poets as much as we do journalists and researchers. I also believe that so much healing could happen if we admitted that we are not a society that grieves well, and that this shortcoming causes much more harm than we realize. Put another way: I pray we one day collectively admit that we are powerless over tragedy and grief, and that ignoring this makes our lives unmanageable.
Last night I was watching “The Letter” - a beautiful film on Pope Francis” Laudato Si and climate change and it’s impacts. As its laid out it would be so easy to go into numbness and despair. But the focus of the film was not simply information but *narratives* - which (literally) changes everything.
Beautifully, knowingly written. We humans can feel only our own pain and joy, and perhaps that of those closest to us. But although we often view others’ misfortunes and celebrations as just information, God’s heart is big enough to feel it all. We are never alone, in joy or in sorrow.
I wrote a piece a while ago called “The Facts Are Not the Truth,” and I was reminded of how I feel about the grief I have over my own family’s disintegration and grieving in general by reading your piece. Thank you. We don’t notice this enough. Grief is as individual as what we’re grieving. My alcoholic and mentally ill father killed himself and my mother when I was 14. It was his final act, but what came before it is just as important, if not only to inform us about his trajectory and where it went, but to educate us about how to keep it from happening to other people.
Thank you for this – especially the opening paragraphs. Three days ago, my cousin David, age 80, and his passenger, were both killed when David rolled his Jeep on the freeway in Phoenix. Even though I am in touch with David’s sister, I keep trying find more details in the news, which are clearly never going to be available because no one really knows how it happened. Your comment that the details have been “flattened into a nugget of information for the public to consume - kept at a digestible distance" is all too true, but necessary. I realized when I read your post that I don’t need to know any more than what was in the news. David is with his maker. His wife is understandably inconsolable, but she will survive. We grieve, we accept, we let go, life goes on. We let memories of the good times take over. God is there in the midst of all of it.
Gads you are so right on; written from the heart at the time and place we only read about. Your being there and sharing covers a range of emotions that I as you said do not pick up in the news. To show the universality of Spiderman and the joy on face of the boy says we are not really separated by that much. Yet we let our bias and lack of any empathy divide us as we cling to opinions and concepts that are passed down for generations. When does grief become a common bond that makes us say why do we really do this to one another. Just being different in how one worships the same God should allow us to have our freedom of worship yet accepting that others are worshiping "OUR" God in a manner that is just as acceptable as ours.
What a powerful message! It reminds me of the line from a Peter, Paul and Mary song -- "when will they ever learn?" It's a good thing God never, ever gives up on us!!
What hurts for me most of all is that I can't DO anything to stop all of this. I feel that I am just a witness. Thank God I do not know what it is like to lose a child, especially to violence. But I have seen violence that could have killed someone (my father), and I remember what that was like. Being a witness is hard. I feel helpless. I feel that no one listens to me (not that I have all the answers). Anyway, I do see you, those of you who have lost loved ones. I am so sorry, and I pray for your healing.
Thank you, Nadia for for sharing a glimpse into the reality of Palestine, while connecting us all to the women through the love we share for our children. Thank you also for highlighting both Mitri Raheb and the beautiful piece of art housed at Dar al Kalima University, which truly is a beacon of hope for those in Palestine. You can learn more about the wonderful work of this University at brightstarsbethlehem.com ~ so glad you could visit!
I've been thinking about this for a while, since my brother died in a fire that destroyed our childhood home three years ago. So many memories of our early years together in that home came flooding back, and I remember thinking that the only one who shared them, and knew the me I was then, was now gone. Our younger siblings only knew the rocky relationship we had as adults because I had never shared those memories, my stories. Even just saying he died in a fire does not capture or convey the truth that he had been suffering physically and emotionally and it could easily have been a suicide. We will never know that for certain. What I am starting to know now, though, is that the divisions in our world will only ever be resolved by telling our stories and listening to others', by offering pieces of ourselves in order to build trust and understanding and finally, relationship.
This so beautifully written and says so very much about perosnal grief, shared grief, information (and lack thereof), modern news culture, cultures in other countries, trauma, hospitality, and shared joy. And art. And. . . I lost a son when was 14 and while I knew he probably would die before I did (he was severely disabled), I also dreaded and planned for him to outlive me (because who would care for him if I died?). I thank you for putting into words all that happened to you on that traumatic day in Bethlehem. In. Just. One. day. It's inexplainable, and yet you somehow were able to do just that, and beautifully. Thank you for thoughts put into words. May it change hearts.
Amen. I often wonder how the world might be different if we, as a Western society, celebrated and revered storytellers and poets as much as we do journalists and researchers. I also believe that so much healing could happen if we admitted that we are not a society that grieves well, and that this shortcoming causes much more harm than we realize. Put another way: I pray we one day collectively admit that we are powerless over tragedy and grief, and that ignoring this makes our lives unmanageable.
Last night I was watching “The Letter” - a beautiful film on Pope Francis” Laudato Si and climate change and it’s impacts. As its laid out it would be so easy to go into numbness and despair. But the focus of the film was not simply information but *narratives* - which (literally) changes everything.
Ok, the joy of the Spiderman party made me cry. Thank you for this entire post.
Beautifully, knowingly written. We humans can feel only our own pain and joy, and perhaps that of those closest to us. But although we often view others’ misfortunes and celebrations as just information, God’s heart is big enough to feel it all. We are never alone, in joy or in sorrow.
I wrote a piece a while ago called “The Facts Are Not the Truth,” and I was reminded of how I feel about the grief I have over my own family’s disintegration and grieving in general by reading your piece. Thank you. We don’t notice this enough. Grief is as individual as what we’re grieving. My alcoholic and mentally ill father killed himself and my mother when I was 14. It was his final act, but what came before it is just as important, if not only to inform us about his trajectory and where it went, but to educate us about how to keep it from happening to other people.
Thank you for this – especially the opening paragraphs. Three days ago, my cousin David, age 80, and his passenger, were both killed when David rolled his Jeep on the freeway in Phoenix. Even though I am in touch with David’s sister, I keep trying find more details in the news, which are clearly never going to be available because no one really knows how it happened. Your comment that the details have been “flattened into a nugget of information for the public to consume - kept at a digestible distance" is all too true, but necessary. I realized when I read your post that I don’t need to know any more than what was in the news. David is with his maker. His wife is understandably inconsolable, but she will survive. We grieve, we accept, we let go, life goes on. We let memories of the good times take over. God is there in the midst of all of it.
Gads you are so right on; written from the heart at the time and place we only read about. Your being there and sharing covers a range of emotions that I as you said do not pick up in the news. To show the universality of Spiderman and the joy on face of the boy says we are not really separated by that much. Yet we let our bias and lack of any empathy divide us as we cling to opinions and concepts that are passed down for generations. When does grief become a common bond that makes us say why do we really do this to one another. Just being different in how one worships the same God should allow us to have our freedom of worship yet accepting that others are worshiping "OUR" God in a manner that is just as acceptable as ours.
What a powerful message! It reminds me of the line from a Peter, Paul and Mary song -- "when will they ever learn?" It's a good thing God never, ever gives up on us!!
Thank you thank you for writing this 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
Nadia, you write my heart every. singel. time. Thank you. sharing tears of sadness and joy with mothers throughout time and space
Thank you. I needed to look outside of the grief that is mine alone today. Thank you.
What hurts for me most of all is that I can't DO anything to stop all of this. I feel that I am just a witness. Thank God I do not know what it is like to lose a child, especially to violence. But I have seen violence that could have killed someone (my father), and I remember what that was like. Being a witness is hard. I feel helpless. I feel that no one listens to me (not that I have all the answers). Anyway, I do see you, those of you who have lost loved ones. I am so sorry, and I pray for your healing.
Thank you, Nadia for for sharing a glimpse into the reality of Palestine, while connecting us all to the women through the love we share for our children. Thank you also for highlighting both Mitri Raheb and the beautiful piece of art housed at Dar al Kalima University, which truly is a beacon of hope for those in Palestine. You can learn more about the wonderful work of this University at brightstarsbethlehem.com ~ so glad you could visit!
My heart hurts for them.