How long, Adonai, shall I cry out And You not listen, Shall I shout to You, “Violence!” And You not save? Why do You make me see iniquity [Why] do You look upon wrong? Raiding and violence are before me, Strife continues and contention goes on. -Habakuk 1:2-3
These words from the prophet Habakuk ring true for me this week. It has been a hard week for Memphians. We’ve cried tears as families and communities are ripped apart. We’ve anxiously waited in our homes for our streets to be safe. I will speak about this week more in shul tomorrow and how we respond, but for now, all I wish is to extend a grieving, tired hug to all of you. Because we can’t be alone in experiencing the pain that has inflicted our city this week.
I watched a video of Corterian Wright, father of one the victims murdered this week. He bawled into the camera, his visitor badge from Regional One still stuck on his shirt. Amidst the tears, he prayed for violence to end, and these words of his pierced me: “I can’t hold my head up but I’m begging the world. Please stop the violence.” He can’t hold his head up because of his pain. He can’t hold his head up because of the grief. So many of us can’t hold our heads up because of the gut-punch that was this week of crime in Memphis. So many of us can’t hold our heads up because of a violent sickness displayed on our streets.
But we can hold each other's heads up, even when our own heads hang low. And we must. We must hold the heads of others to lessen the burden of their pain and to help them rise up. We can grieve together - and we should - as we beg the world, like Corterian, to stop the violence. Our city is strong and resilient; we will move forward and we will heal when we hold each others heads up. I pray that we turn our grief into action. I pray that we channel our anger into dedication. I pray that our tears fuel our commitment to come together for healing, for love, for the betterment of Memphis.
