Yesterday the theater teacher at a local high school committed suicide.
The official posts were characteristically vague. The comments and private
posts spoke of a battle with depression lost.
I know those words.
Those were the same words we wrote when my brother Daniel committed
suicide two years ago.
Recently my husband and I worked our way through the series Band of Brothers. It tells the story of
one unit of men fighting in the US army during World War II, on the European
front. Many things were striking to me about the stories told, but one thing
that kept coming back to me was how quickly actions and decisions had to be
made—and often resulted in unintended outcomes. Unintended consequences.
I cannot imagine being fired upon constantly for days, weeks, even, at
a time. I don’t know how you make anything approaching reasoned decisions under
such pressure. That any such decisions were made with intention is remarkable.
That some decisions and actions led to injury, brokenness, and yes, even death,
is, well, the nature of battle. Of war.
If “war” had a sub-title, perhaps it would be “unintended consequences.”
Indeed, modern warfare techniques—precise weapons, increasing reliance
on relationships and negotiations, etc.—seem thus geared to decreasing the
chances of unintended consequences. But unintended consequences, to some
extent, are the nature of human life. And as in warfare, perhaps all we can
really do is lower their occurrence, not eliminate them.
After Dan’s suicide, I, as did many others, reflected on so many
interactions I’d had with Dan. I asked questions like “Why?” and “What if…?”
I had this sense that if I found the right pieces and figured out the
path to him getting to that night…well I’m not really sure what I thought it
would do. But I craved an order to it all. I wanted to know how we could have
stopped him. I don’t even think I needed to know who to blame—blame is rarely
concerned with actual facts, and there were plenty of people, including myself,
around to blame.
Except, of course Dan. Whom I was most angry at. Because in the end,
while many of us may have been part of unintended consequences in his life, he
held the final say in what was, to some very sad and misguided extent, an
intended consequence.
I read a lot about suicide after Dan’s death. Much that I wish I had
known beforehand. I wish I had understood that for most people, suicide doesn’t
come at the bottom of a downward spiral. For many it comes as they start
getting better. As my counselor said, the most severely depressed people often lack the
motivation to do anything about it. That most people who attempt suicide are
not decided that suicide is their only option (you’d think they would be, but
we know from those who survive attempts this is not usually true). The most prevalent
feeling they have is ambivalence. Which is scary. A human being can be moved to
take their own life out of ambivalence.
As I learned all this I am ashamed to admit I realized there are far
more unintended consqeunces than I imagined.
At the same time, there are also so many more opportunities to invite people to healing and wholeness than I imagined.
I also learned as I read, then, that while there are many things you can do to
help someone who is feeling suicidal (and DO these things, don’t put them off
or wait for someone else to help someone you love) as with war, and as with
life, you cannot always predict outcomes. I read of two mothers who tried to
help teen children struggling with severe depression. One mother had her
daughter committed to receive good regular care. The other mother didn’t want
to make her daughter angrier than she already was, so she cared for her at
home, trying to give her space. Both daughters took their own lives. Which
mother, then, did the right thing? Which did the wrong thing?
Clearly life (and death) are more complicated than one decision. Even
when the result of one key decision, a whole lifetime of patterns and decisions…and
yes, unintended consequences…pave the way.
I’ve reflected on unintended consequences as well in the wake of the
UMC’s recent General Conference, and the Baltimore-Washington Conference’s
Annual Conference last week. After the Executive Session (clergy only) of the
BWC declined to approve T.C. Morrow, a candidate for provisional deacon (and a woman married to another woman), by a
narrow margin. As soon as the vote happened, and in the days which have
followed, I’ve heard (and been part of) many different “What If…” discussions.
We seem sure with a tweak here or there, we would have come away with a
different outcome. We may not know whether such an outcome would be better or
worse (surely some outcomes could be either) but we worry about unintended consequences.
We struggle with all that we can’t control.
Which is people.
People are the things we can’t control.
And life.
And…
So actually there’s a whole lot we can’t control.
Basically everything but ourselves.
And that’s darn frustrating.
Because we often can’t even do that well.
I wish we could look at any situation in life—and life in general—and say,
“If only I had…” And know for sure the right answers.
To some extent those reflections are healthy and helpful. We can grow
and change—this is our conviction as followers of Jesus Christ. We can be more
faithful today than we were yesterday.
And yet that does not protect us from unintended consequences (or, God
forbid, intended consequences).
We are called to be our best selves. To be faithful in the times and
places God has located us. To reflect Christ in all we do. To stop trying so
hard to control others, but also not letting ourselves be held captive. By
saying we are sorry when our words or actions hurt others—but also not being
bullied by those who define our lives (but usually not their own) by the unintended
consequences of life.
So I don’t know.
I don’t know how to fix it.
I am quite sure I cannot fix it all. Maybe not even most of it. Or some. Or any.
And I am not sure I could have fixed it before.
But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
(Lamentations 3:21-23 NRSV)
But this I DO know...
YOU are not an unintended consequence.
You are a beloved child of God.
I need you. We need you. You need me. And we need God to draw us
together in to a community with far greater grace and intention and love than
any of us are capable of on our own
