Everywhere I Look, There Are Questions

“Like you, there is a lot that we do not understand, and at this point, like you, I am demanding answers.“

Those are the words of the Baton Rouge police chief about the murder of Alton Sterling in Baton Rouge this week. His words struck me.

“Like you, there is a lot that we do not understand.”

His words captured my feelings about this tragic event and the one that followed in Minneapolis with Philando Castile; and the one that followed in Dallas where five officers; Brent Thompson, Patrick Zamarripa, Michael Krol, Lorne Ahrens and Michael Smith; were killed; and so many other things that transpired this week (or this year, or this decade, or the decades before that). There is so much that so many of us don’t understand, and sadly, the answers that come don’t seem to make it better.

As I watched Alton Sterling’s teenage son break down in uncontrollable grief at his mother’s press conference I thought, ‘What answer will heal his pain?’ As I watched the protests on TV and the widening racial divide in our country I wondered, ‘What answers could possibly bring us together?’

Questions. Questions. Everywhere I looked there were, and are, questions. About guns, about black lives, about police officers, about our candidates for President. And ultimately they lead to questions to ourselves about ourselves.

Do black lives matter? Why does this seem to keep happening? What’s at the root of it? What can we do?

Our answers to these questions, and really all questions, can further the divide or can begin to close it. 

There are times in life when answers aren’t what we need. We just need to listen. Listen without judgement. Listen to the wails, listen to the fear. Listen to the divide. Sometimes when someone is screaming for answers they are really screaming to be heard, to be acknowledged, to be understood. Sometimes there are no answers to our questions large and small. Sometimes demanding answers won’t get us the answers we need.

One week after our nation’s birthday where we celebrated our freedom and our “storied unity,” may we all ask ourselves: how can we do better. How can we use our voices to unite instead of to incite. How can we all be better listeners, better neighbors, better citizens.

[Read more of Maria Shriver’s ‘I’ve Been Thinking’ Essays]

At times like this I think of this prayer Mother Teresa (who will be canonized in two months’ time) had on the wall of her children’s home in Calcutta, almost always attributed to her but actually written by Kent M. Keith. It’s the only answer I can come up with when no answers will do.