Weekly WINGS
Wisdom and Inspiration Nurturing Growth and Success
Content warning: Terrorism, war, trauma
There have been a lot of words spoken, images shared, and articles written about the terrorism, violence, and war in the Middle East right now, as well as the ongoing war in Ukraine.
I decided to pause before sharing my thoughts about the most recent events, mainly because of shock and sadness, but also because I sometimes think it’s wise to reflect deeply before adding to the conversation.
My intention is not to make a political statement or to cause a debate.
I just thought I would share a few stories with you and some thoughts I’ve been having on how to respond and move forward when no response seems adequate.
Above all, I want to express a fervent hope for an end to world-wide hatred, violence, and terrorism, and a deep prayer for peace and safety for all innocent victims just trying to survive in the midst of heartache, grief, and peril.
First… some personal background on how my world-view has been shaped… as a child, a student, and a teacher.
When I was little, I was always fascinated to meet interesting people from other places who were not like me. I come from a family where opposites attract, so the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
My dad, a Jew born in Brooklyn, New York who spoke Yiddish as his first language and had refugee parents from Russia (the part that is now Ukraine), was bold enough in 1961 to propose to a woman raised in Kentucky by rural, Church of God, blue collar, coal miner parents. Interfaith marriage was still pretty rare at the time my mom and dad tied the knot.
Several of my high school teachers were from the flower child genereation that had lived through the horrors of the Vietnam War. They did their best to teach us, like John Lennon, to “imagine all the people… living life in peace.”
While I continued to deeply honor and respect my father’s heritage, I was baptized as a Christian in junior high school, was an avid youth-group member and later taught Bible studies and led worship songs for my college campus ministry. Yet, I had friends of a variety of different faiths, and one of my very best friends that I am still in touch with today is an atheist.
I always believed in a very big God, with a huge, open table for everyone. As I’ve grown older, my faith has expanded beyond labels, along with my concept of God, the Universe, and our place in the world as infinitely connected spiritual beings having a human experience.
After doing overseas student teaching in Scotland, UK, my very first teaching position was at a school in Monterrey, Mexico, where I taught sixth grade English language arts for three years and learned to speak Spanish by interacting with people in the community. I was one of the few only white, US-born “gringas” who socialized outside the social circle of the American School.
I spent many years teaching students from all over the globe from a variety of religious, ethnic, linguistic, and cultural backgrounds as an English Language Arts and ESL teacher (English for Speakers of Other Languages).
Our ESL classroom haven of global neutrality was a place of refuge for many of my students, who often felt misunderstood or were sometimes bullied and harassed at school for their skin color, country of origin, or religious faith.
Muslim students from all over the building found out it was a safe place where they could just relax and be themselves, so I told them that anyone who didn’t want to go to the cafeteria while observing their fast during the month of Ramadan was welcome to hang out with me at lunchtime in our room to study or chat with friends.
One of those Muslim students was a young man originally from Jordan whose family had a lot of fear and mistrust of Jews because of their experiences during one of the conflicts at the border. He told me stories about his life and experiences, and I told him stories about my dad, his refugee parents, and the anti-Semitism he had experienced growing up.
He was respectful and listened to my stories, as I listened to his. His buddies on the football team joked and called him a “terrorist” because of his Arab name and dark skin. He laughed when he told me this, but I could tell he didn’t think it was funny. At one point he mentioned that I wasn’t all that bad… for a Jew. I took it as the compliment he intended.
I learned so much about global violence and the impact of hatred and terrorism from my students’ personal stories.
The family of my Afghani students left their homeland right after 9/11 when girls were no longer allowed to attend school. They witnessed unimaginable horrors to people in their community at the hands of the Taliban.
One of my African students saw his entire family murdered as a young child during the war and terrorist attacks in Sudan.
And of course as most of you know…. my son is Deaf and was adopted from an orphanage in Guatemala. He experienced abuse and neglect and as a result lives with complex developmental trauma. We use American Sign Langauge to communicate. He is also transgender.
The idea of hating someone because of their differences… whether because of their politics, religion, beliefs, culture, country of origin, sexual orientation, gender identity, disability, or anything at all that makes them different from me is so antithetical to everything that I believe in and stand for.
My very DNA cries out in epigenetic, ancestral trauma when hearing about terrorism, wars, atrocities, and genocides… anywhere in the world.
Generally speaking, I try to take good care of my nervous system and limit my news intake and participation in discussions about these matters. However, I also want to be informed and aware.
It’s a delicate balance for all of us.
That said, here are a few thoughts I have had when witnessing others talking about the wars, terrorism, and conflicts in other countries outside our own…
I believe that no matter how much we have studied politics, history, or current events, and no matter how open-minded and loving we are…
We cannot understand fully what it is like for the people who actually live there and deal with the situation on a day-to-day basis.
It is so easy to say, “Give peace a chance!” for those of us who are fairly certain we can put our own children to bed at night without a missile exploding over our homes or a terrorist taking us or our loved ones hostage.
The instinct to protect our own lives, and the lives of our children, our communities, our homeland, is something very deep and very strong.
It’s more than just cultural — it’s a biological, nervous-system reaction to overwhelming stress and terror.
As a protective Mama Bear, I get worked up just from attending a school IEP meeting. So as a person with a whole lot of privelege living in relative safety in a suburb of the USA, I can’t predict what I would do or how I would handle being in the middle of a war zone trying to protect my child and my own life.
In the Middle East, there is also so much historical and intergenerational trauma involved that needs so much healing and deep restoration of trust in order for peace to be possible there.
With all this in mind, I think it is also important to consider our words and our actions carefully and with deep humility and compassion before making any assumptions.
There are already lots of articles and suggestions on what we should or should not do politically, and one how to help the innocent people who are suffering in Israel, Gaza, and Ukraine…. I’m not going to add to that part of the conversation here.
I simply and gently suggest that all of us take a moment to center our minds and hearts, and look inward for what we can do today, this moment, to bring a little more understanding and peace to whatever circle of influence we have right now, right here, where we are in our lives today.
We can start with peace in our own hearts, peace in our own families and classrooms, and gentle compassion to anyone and everyone we encounter each day… whether in person, or online.
When if feels like the world is spinning out of control into confusion, derision, and hate, try not to feed into the frenzy of confusion.
When everything seems dark, just remember that even the smallest candle can light an entire dark room.
We might not be able to fix terrorism and war overnight, or change the entire world, but what we do each day makes a world of difference.
What you do each day to make your home safe for everyone, physically and emotionally, makes a world of difference.
What you do each day to make your classroom and your school safe for everyone, physically and emotionally, makes a world of difference.
The little things you say and do for neighbors and strangers, despite whether they look, talk, or act like you, makes a world of difference.
Think of each act of peace you do each day as a little rebellion of love, kindness, and a bid for unity in a world full of so much hate, terror, and violence.
Keep doing everything you can to reduce violent, punitive approaches to school discipline and do everything you can to reduce violent, punitive approaches to discipline in families.
Teach children how to solve problems collaboratively, and model and teach them to treat each with kindness and respect each others’ differences.
Every small word or deed to spread hope and kindness in the world makes a world of difference, and it matters.
In times like these, it matters more than ever.
I will close with a poem from one of my favorite poets and humans, Mattie Stepanek:
For Our World
We need to stop.
Just stop.
Stop for a moment.
Before anybody
Says or does anything
That may hurt anyone else.
We need to be silent.
Just silent.
Silent for a moment.
Before we forever lose
The blessing of songs
That grow in our hearts.
We need to notice.
Just notice.
Notice for a moment.
Before the future slips away
Into ashes and dust of humility.
Stop, be silent, and notice.
In so many ways, we are the same.
Our differences are unique treasures.
We have, we are, a mosaic of gifts
To nurture, to offer, to accept.
We need to be.
Just be.
Be for a moment.
Kind and gentle, innocent and trusting,
Like children and lambs,
Never judging or vengeful
Like the judging and vengeful.
And now, let us pray,
Differently, yet together,
Before there is no earth, no life,
No chance for peace.
September 11, 2001
© Matthew Joseph Thaddeus Stepanek 1990 -2004
from Hope through HeartSongs, Hyperion, 2002
Mattie Stepanek was 11 years old when he wrote this poem on the day of 9-11.
Sadly he passed away in 2004 after a long battle with Dysautonomic Mitochondrial Myopathy.
You can learn more about his brief, amazing, inspiring life at his website:
“Be the change you wish to see in the world.” – Gandhi
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I hope this edition of the Weekly WINGS has been helpful to you!
Thanks for reading, and I will see you back here again next week.
