Facebook and Twitter streams reflected people responses and sadness over the death of Davy Jones on Wednesday. While I recognize that a 66-year-old music icon’s passing reminds us (especially children of the ’60s) of our mortality, I struggle with the amount of attention it’s getting.
Because when I woke up this morning, I heard this report from Syria on NPR:
After pummeling the Baba Amr neighborhood with tanks and rockets for nearly a month, the Syrian government pledged yesterday to, quote, “cleanse the area.” And that’s what appeared to be happening today. Activists say soldiers are going house to house, arresting all males over the age of 14. This morning, activists say soldiers lined up 10 men and shot them, execution style.
14-year-olds are reportedly being rounded up in an effort to quell the rebellion. Those boys would be high school freshman in the United States.
Soldiers are executing people. Despite repeated efforts, the the Red Cross has been turned away, and many Syrians are without food, water, electricity, and medical care.
The crisis in Syria is overwhelming, the politics are complicated, and I don’t claim to understand what’s happening. I don’t know what I can do to help the people of Syria.
But I’m paying attention. And I’m thinking about how life is fragile. And I’m praying for resolution in Syria.
Even if it would be easier to change the topic to Davy Jones’ legacy.