Reflections on "Together We Thrive"
I went to school in Tucson, and I've got a few classmates who stuck around after I left. A friend who wants to be credited as "Darth Thulhu" had this comment about the Tucson shooting, its effects on the community, and the memorial. He doesn't blog, and said I could repost his comments here.
So, needless to say, Tucson's been relatively somber these past few days.
The Ina/Oracle plaza stayed off limits, enwreathed with police tape and perimeter cruisers. The makeshift memorial mound outside University Medical Center piled high with Hispanic Catholic votive candles and Jewish symbols and UA memorabilia and Roses 'n' More bouquets, becoming a luminaria-bedecked shrine.
Unlike disasters elsewhere (Katrina, earthquakes, snow-mageddon), no one brought the assassination attempt up casually. Not on the bus. Not in the cafe. Not at the convenience store. The conversation either was not had or it was an intense, long, purgative discussion consuming time without end.
No quips. No time for Drudge's "LIBERAL POTHEAD" efforts. Just silent horror at six dead and over a dozen wounded, and forlorn hope for our Congresswoman, Gabrielle Giffords, who was declared to be "responsive to commands" and "capable of breathing on her own" again and again and again until the very repetition made clear how bad it truly was by the negative space of what wasn't ever said. She hadn't walked. She hadn't talked. She hadn't opened her eyes. She hadn't smiled. She hadn't cried. Thus far, she simply hadn't.
So the announcement of a Unity Memorial Day, of the civic celebration in the University stadia that are this town's only true public commons, of the President's attendance ... these hadn't really set in yet. They were perhaps yearned toward, but not properly manifest. Flags flew at half mast, small talk felt smaller, and the largely unspoken Subject overwhelmed any response beyond shock, grief, and the daily-compounding horror of every extra beautiful detail of the life of Christina-Taylor Green.
Today was somber as well, but a current of anticipation flowed beneath. Buses in central Tucson were delayed, just like on Saturday, but now it was because of an incoming President and a thronged University, not a blocked off abattoir up north. And those buses, late as they were, all flashed a message in alternation with their destinations: Together We Thrive.
The small talk was less small, and more expectant, the murmurs of parishioners awaiting a Sermon to address the sin hanging in the air. Has he landed yet? Did you hear people camped out overnight on the University Mall to get in line for McKale Center? Will McCain attend? The Governor?
By 4p, anyone getting off work to make their way to the University couldn't possibly gain admittance to the basketball stadium for the main event, every one of McKale's 14,300 seats taken. Overflow by hundreds and then thousands was routed to the nearby football stadium.
As citizens sat expectantly and looked north across the field to the Jumbotron, the Tucson sun set as majestically as it always does, illuminating the Catalinas to the north in shifting ribbons of light as darkness crept over the city. Stadium lightbanks powered up and the Jumbotron started depicting the gathering V.I.P.s at McKale. Napolitano gets applause. McCain gets somewhat milder applause. Pelosi gets applause. Sandra Day O'Conner gets applause. And then Obama: standing ovation.
The Memorial begins, and builds toward the Sermon.
A University of Arizona faculty with membership in the local Pasqua Yaqui nation offers the full extent of his People's blessings to all possible directions and recipients. Over ten minutes, he blesses every place, and every one, and every thing. Every possible member of a greater family is blessed, by way of initiating the Memorial.
The University President speaks, and the anticipatory tingle intensifies. He introduces the young lady President of the campus' Student Government, who had interned for Congresswoman Giffords, and then he introduces the intern whose quick response likely saved the Congresswoman's life. The young woman says that Ms. Gabrielle would want us to honor them by continuing to boldly, publically serve, and the young man insists that he's not a hero, honoring instead the many doctors and nurses and responders and public servants involved.
The University President next introduces the Governor of Arizona, Jan Brewer, and the escalation from city to state raises the anticipatory tension in the crowd. She gives gracious thanks to all those non-Arizonans who have travelled so far, from Justice Kennedy to House Minority Leader Pelosi, and she elevates the sensibility from a civic eulogy of local heroes to a State Event, commemorating the best of the state, making them icons: The Noble Judge, The Loving Couple, The Curious Constituent, The Devoted Aide, The Idealistic Innocent.
After the current Governor steps away, the prior Governor, Janet Napolitano, comes forward, now as Secretary of Homeland Security. She is followed by Eric Holder, Attorney General of the United States. Their offerings are less personal than the ones before, and harken to the introductory benediction, for the Cabinet members respectively read from Jewish and then Christian Scripture, Isaiah 40 and then Second Corinthians 4.
At this point, the event resonates like a Memorial Mass. The local Scriptures and the National Scriptures are being read, and the selections are all about universal blessings and the tirelessness of God and the grace measured out to all people. In a Mass, the point of all this Scripture is to buttress and background the Sermon to come. The themes of these Scriptures become the themes of the Sermon, the themes of the congregation, the themes of the Mass.
That theme has been emblazoned on every SunTran bus since dawn, on every T-Shirt printed by the University: Together We Thrive. Blessings upon all, God's justice for all, God's grace for all.
And thus the Sermon.
President Obama redoubles the benedictions on the fallen provided by Governor Brewer, and then honors the heroes who prevented more loss: the two men who wrestled the assassin down while he reloaded, the woman who clawed at his ammo clips as he attempted it. The intern who likely saved the Congresswoman's life, insisting "you are a hero".
The pivot is simple, but inexorable. All of these brave people, slain and saviors and idealists alike, are heroes and worthy of our praise. They set a high example for us to follow, but if we are to be worthy of them and their memory, we must aspire to that higher standard, must seek to join them in higher glory, forging a more perfect Union. Together, with them, we thrive.
The turn completes with a return to Christina-Taylor Green. She always told her parents how blessed they all were, how grateful they should be, and felt her calling was to higher service. She had recently joined her elementary Student Council, and wished to see her Congresswoman in action last weekend.
Christina saw service with idealistic eyes, saw government with uncynical possibility. The climax of the Sermon, the power of the Sermon, draws from her: "I want to make our democracy as good as she imagined it." Repeat. Ovation.
That nexus draws the Scriptures and the memorials together. Everything that rises must converge. We must make a more perfect Union. We will not earn the Scriptural blessings, nor the pride of these fallen heroes, until and unless we do. We need to civilize our polity to make the nation better. Together We Thrive.
My civic tragedy has become a State Event, and a national cry for peace. My easygoing Tucson is joined in its grief, my weird Tucsonans are proud of their rally cries, my joyous city is uplifted in multiple ovations to heroism in our midst.
Toward a more perfect Union.
So, needless to say, Tucson's been relatively somber these past few days.
The Ina/Oracle plaza stayed off limits, enwreathed with police tape and perimeter cruisers. The makeshift memorial mound outside University Medical Center piled high with Hispanic Catholic votive candles and Jewish symbols and UA memorabilia and Roses 'n' More bouquets, becoming a luminaria-bedecked shrine.
Unlike disasters elsewhere (Katrina, earthquakes, snow-mageddon), no one brought the assassination attempt up casually. Not on the bus. Not in the cafe. Not at the convenience store. The conversation either was not had or it was an intense, long, purgative discussion consuming time without end.
No quips. No time for Drudge's "LIBERAL POTHEAD" efforts. Just silent horror at six dead and over a dozen wounded, and forlorn hope for our Congresswoman, Gabrielle Giffords, who was declared to be "responsive to commands" and "capable of breathing on her own" again and again and again until the very repetition made clear how bad it truly was by the negative space of what wasn't ever said. She hadn't walked. She hadn't talked. She hadn't opened her eyes. She hadn't smiled. She hadn't cried. Thus far, she simply hadn't.
So the announcement of a Unity Memorial Day, of the civic celebration in the University stadia that are this town's only true public commons, of the President's attendance ... these hadn't really set in yet. They were perhaps yearned toward, but not properly manifest. Flags flew at half mast, small talk felt smaller, and the largely unspoken Subject overwhelmed any response beyond shock, grief, and the daily-compounding horror of every extra beautiful detail of the life of Christina-Taylor Green.
Today was somber as well, but a current of anticipation flowed beneath. Buses in central Tucson were delayed, just like on Saturday, but now it was because of an incoming President and a thronged University, not a blocked off abattoir up north. And those buses, late as they were, all flashed a message in alternation with their destinations: Together We Thrive.
The small talk was less small, and more expectant, the murmurs of parishioners awaiting a Sermon to address the sin hanging in the air. Has he landed yet? Did you hear people camped out overnight on the University Mall to get in line for McKale Center? Will McCain attend? The Governor?
By 4p, anyone getting off work to make their way to the University couldn't possibly gain admittance to the basketball stadium for the main event, every one of McKale's 14,300 seats taken. Overflow by hundreds and then thousands was routed to the nearby football stadium.
As citizens sat expectantly and looked north across the field to the Jumbotron, the Tucson sun set as majestically as it always does, illuminating the Catalinas to the north in shifting ribbons of light as darkness crept over the city. Stadium lightbanks powered up and the Jumbotron started depicting the gathering V.I.P.s at McKale. Napolitano gets applause. McCain gets somewhat milder applause. Pelosi gets applause. Sandra Day O'Conner gets applause. And then Obama: standing ovation.
The Memorial begins, and builds toward the Sermon.
A University of Arizona faculty with membership in the local Pasqua Yaqui nation offers the full extent of his People's blessings to all possible directions and recipients. Over ten minutes, he blesses every place, and every one, and every thing. Every possible member of a greater family is blessed, by way of initiating the Memorial.
The University President speaks, and the anticipatory tingle intensifies. He introduces the young lady President of the campus' Student Government, who had interned for Congresswoman Giffords, and then he introduces the intern whose quick response likely saved the Congresswoman's life. The young woman says that Ms. Gabrielle would want us to honor them by continuing to boldly, publically serve, and the young man insists that he's not a hero, honoring instead the many doctors and nurses and responders and public servants involved.
The University President next introduces the Governor of Arizona, Jan Brewer, and the escalation from city to state raises the anticipatory tension in the crowd. She gives gracious thanks to all those non-Arizonans who have travelled so far, from Justice Kennedy to House Minority Leader Pelosi, and she elevates the sensibility from a civic eulogy of local heroes to a State Event, commemorating the best of the state, making them icons: The Noble Judge, The Loving Couple, The Curious Constituent, The Devoted Aide, The Idealistic Innocent.
After the current Governor steps away, the prior Governor, Janet Napolitano, comes forward, now as Secretary of Homeland Security. She is followed by Eric Holder, Attorney General of the United States. Their offerings are less personal than the ones before, and harken to the introductory benediction, for the Cabinet members respectively read from Jewish and then Christian Scripture, Isaiah 40 and then Second Corinthians 4.
At this point, the event resonates like a Memorial Mass. The local Scriptures and the National Scriptures are being read, and the selections are all about universal blessings and the tirelessness of God and the grace measured out to all people. In a Mass, the point of all this Scripture is to buttress and background the Sermon to come. The themes of these Scriptures become the themes of the Sermon, the themes of the congregation, the themes of the Mass.
That theme has been emblazoned on every SunTran bus since dawn, on every T-Shirt printed by the University: Together We Thrive. Blessings upon all, God's justice for all, God's grace for all.
And thus the Sermon.
President Obama redoubles the benedictions on the fallen provided by Governor Brewer, and then honors the heroes who prevented more loss: the two men who wrestled the assassin down while he reloaded, the woman who clawed at his ammo clips as he attempted it. The intern who likely saved the Congresswoman's life, insisting "you are a hero".
The pivot is simple, but inexorable. All of these brave people, slain and saviors and idealists alike, are heroes and worthy of our praise. They set a high example for us to follow, but if we are to be worthy of them and their memory, we must aspire to that higher standard, must seek to join them in higher glory, forging a more perfect Union. Together, with them, we thrive.
The turn completes with a return to Christina-Taylor Green. She always told her parents how blessed they all were, how grateful they should be, and felt her calling was to higher service. She had recently joined her elementary Student Council, and wished to see her Congresswoman in action last weekend.
Christina saw service with idealistic eyes, saw government with uncynical possibility. The climax of the Sermon, the power of the Sermon, draws from her: "I want to make our democracy as good as she imagined it." Repeat. Ovation.
That nexus draws the Scriptures and the memorials together. Everything that rises must converge. We must make a more perfect Union. We will not earn the Scriptural blessings, nor the pride of these fallen heroes, until and unless we do. We need to civilize our polity to make the nation better. Together We Thrive.
My civic tragedy has become a State Event, and a national cry for peace. My easygoing Tucson is joined in its grief, my weird Tucsonans are proud of their rally cries, my joyous city is uplifted in multiple ovations to heroism in our midst.
Toward a more perfect Union.