What is this world coming to? How could this possibly
happen? What can we do to insure this never happens again? These are the
questions filling the minds of many Americans today. It’s these questions that
have been rattling around in my head since I learned of the horrific incidents
at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut last Friday. How does
someone look into the faces of innocence and be so blinded by rage, or illness,
or whatever it was that drove Adam Lanza’s finger to the trigger a few days
ago, and cut down children and teachers in the prime of their lives? The truth
is we will probably never really know. That is a terrifying truth and it is so
discomfiting that most of us simply cannot accept it. So we begin the blame
game. The news and my facebook feed are replete with examples. We blame gun
laws, bad parenting, health care, and most recently a lack of God in the
schools. As I read and watched the influx of blame I shook my head, yes gun
laws must be reformed. Yes, parents with troubled kids should think long and
hard before stockpiling an arsenal of weapons in their home. Yes, parity of
care for the mentally ill is long overdue. It’s when I got to the God in
schools posts that I began to pause. Which version of God? Whose God? Which doctrine?
Whose dogma? That, for me, is where the answer gets a bit tricky. Not all my
students are Christian so who am I to say which version of God we ought to
bring through the doors of the building? As I pondered this I realized
something, God is already in the every school in America, and it’s the dogma we
close the doors to. We don’t preach a religion, though our students are free
to, but God, he’s there daily.
How do I know? Actions. I was raised Christian, more
specifically Catholic, and for me the Golden rule has always carried quite a
bit of weight. I believe strongly in the concept of ‘doing unto others as you’d
have done to you’ and there is no shortage of that lesson in public schools.
How? This week alone students at my school have gathered coats for the cold,
food for the hungry, and relief items for those devastated by Superstorm Sandy.
This year they’ve brought supplies to the homeless in a local tent city, they
are planning yet another fundraiser for cancer victims, in the spring teachers
will organize a dress donation closet so their students who may not be able to
afford a prom dress can get one for free. Maybe we never use the scripture
verse “Whatsoever you do to the least of my brethren, that you do unto me” or
mention the Quran’s call to give alms to the poor, or the Hindu principle of
unity of existence through love , but all those ‘religious’ and humanistic
truths are at work in American education every day. They simply aren’t labeled
as such.
After events like what took place in Connecticut it is tempting
to look for an easy solution but there simply isn’t one and that, more than an
absence of religion, is at the heart of the problem. Students know that every
school in America establishes a disciplinary system meant to insure their
safety. Adults must accept that no system of rules or procedures is foolproof.
A crazy person with a gun can shoot through security and no form of religious
doctrine will ever be able to stop that. If you look around the planet right
now there is no shortage of evil committed in the name of God and we do not
(generally) blame belief for the wars and violence perpetrated by believers. Is
it God that flew those planes into the World Trade Center, is it God raining
bombs back and forth over the Gaza strip? No, it’s people. People do horrific
things, even when they practice religion daily.
So what of letting God back in school? Again, he’s there.
Every school in America has an established system of rules meant to keep students
safe and these rules find their origins in various religions. Injunctions
against violence, theft, cruelty, as well as a bevy of other precepts stem from
Judeo-Christian commandments like those received by Moses all those years ago.
They reflect Hindu disciplines like Satya (truth), Ahimsa (non-violence), and Asteya
(no desire to possess or steal). The fundamental concepts of the world’s
religions are the basis of the rules and ideologies that schools use to mold
student behaviors. What schools do not, and in my opinion, should not do is
advocate one specific form of religion over another. America was founded by
people fleeing religious oppression, what they wanted (if the ideas expressed
in the Constitution are to be trusted) is a home that did not dictate dogma and
doctrine but instead embodied it. They were clear about the separation of
church and state. Why? Because they, far more than we, understood the dangers
of theocracy. They lived in countries that actively imposed one religion over
the other and they, unlike us, knew the dangers of that kind of power in the
hands of one group of people who believed they had cornered truth.
How can the same news anchors who condemn Sharia law with so
much vitriol not see the hypocrisy of their calls to impose Christian
sensibilities and practices on those whose ideas are not in keeping with ours? Therein
lies the problem. Whose God do we usher through the front doors? Which prayers
and traditions must be enacted in order to say God is in the building? Why,
when the American student life is so replete with examples of the concepts
embraced by the world’s religions, must we choose just one doctrine and elevate
it to ‘best’? Why do so many of us want to stake our flag in the American
school system as if we, more than any other religion, owned the truth. As if
we, more than any other philosophy, had all the right answers to complex
problems.
We will never know if a lack of religion that drove Adam
Lanza through the doors of Sandy Hook elementary school three days ago. We can
be sure, however, that it wasn’t a lack of dogma that afforded him entry. Adam
Lanza is that thing we fear the most, enigma. If the ability to openly pray in
a building were all it took to keep out evil no priest would ever have molested
a child, no terrorist plot would ever have been hatched in a mosque; no rabbi
would ever have murdered his wife in their home. No, it isn’t the ostensible
acts of faith that shield us. It isn’t that simple. The problems in American
society aren’t that simple. Neither, I’m afraid, are the answers.