President Obama's speech in Tucson memorializing the victims of the shootings in Arizona called upon all Americans to use this tragedy to "expand our moral imaginations." He also raised the question: "What is required of us going forward?"
He answered his own question near the end of his speech with the following words:
"...[O]ur task, working together, is to constantly widen the circle of our concern so that we bequeath the American dream to future generations."
"Widen the circle of our concern." That is what is required of us.
We must expand out moral imaginations, we must expand our notion of community. We must re-imagine our idea of what it means to sacrifice something for the sake of another.
Referring to the acts of heroism that occurred, and to those who died trying to save others, President Obama said:
Their actions, their selflessness, also pose a challenge to each of us. It raises the question of what, beyond the prayers and expressions of concern, is required of us going forward. How can we honor the fallen? How can we be true to their memory?
His remarks demonstrated a generosity of spirit and a keen understanding of the universal human impulse to help others in a crisis, no matter who they are or what they think.
"Heroism," he reminded us, "is here, all around us, in the hearts of so many of our fellow citizens, just waiting to be summoned..."
At the other end of the emotional spectrum, typifying the small-mindedness that President Obama is urging us all to transcend, are these words from Dave Workman, senior editor of Gun Week, a publication of the Second Amendment Foundation.
Workman said the gun control lobby was trying to exploit the shootings. “The average gun owner,” he said, “is saying: ‘I didn’t fire any shots in Tucson. I just want to go hunting, or protect my family, and this is just going to create more paperwork and more headaches for me.’ ”
Clearly, this is not someone interested in "expanding his moral imagination."
If Mr. Workman were present at the shootings in Arizona, and someone he knew was in danger, I have no doubt he would have been as heroic as Daniel Hernandez, the student who ran toward the chaos to help save Gabrielle Giffords.
Is it so inconceivable, then, that he should be just as willing to make a different kind of sacrifice, in fact, a much less dangerous kind of sacrifice, and deal with the "headache" of more paperwork, if the possibility exists that doing so might save a life?
"Expanding our moral imaginations" means acting as though we are present in a moment of tragedy and suffering, even if we are not. It means making the effort to make the abstract concrete. It means cultivating the capacity to extend our empathy beyond its normal boundaries.
When the Safeway in Tucson where the shootings occurred re-opened its doors, a spokesperson said that the store is proud to "live in a community where people care so much about one another."
Reading this reminded me of similar words I recently heard spoken, right here in Minnesota.
When Mark Dayton was sworn in as the new governor of Minnesota, the ceremony was attended by a vocal group of citizens who were there to protest President Obama's Affordable Care Act.
One of the protesters, interviewed after the ceremony had this to say:
"Government's job to protect us. It is not the government's job to give people things - welfare, health care. That is the job of the community."
Her comment, spoken with such vehemence, caused me to wonder: What does she mean by "community?"
Who comprises her community? How large is her community? What are its boundaries? Who, exactly, is she talking about when she suggests caring for those in the need is the job of the community?
Expanding our moral imaginations also means expanding our idea of community.
Let's take the Minnesota protester's example of health care: 45,000 people die every year in America due to lack of health insurance. That's one every 12 minutes.
These deaths are easy to ignore because they happen in slow motion, not suddenly, like the deaths in Arizona. They happen far away, out of sight. And they don't happen to a member of Congress. There is no shock factor to wrench us out of our usual modes of thinking.
We ought to be extremely shocked that here in America someone dies every 12 minutes from lack of health insurance - but we are not. The notion is too abstract. The "victims" are too abstract. They are not part of our "community."
If someone in our "community" were ill and needed assistance, most of us would take action to help, even if doing so was inconvenient.
If we knew for certain that we could save another person's life, most of us would run into a burning building. We would you cover a loved one's body with our own to shield her from flying bullets. We would risk our own lives by tackling a man with a gun.
Bur would we stop smoking? Would we drive more slowly? Would we fill out a few more forms prior to buying our next gun?
Would we purchase a health insurance policy?
For many of us, even for those who surely would act heroically in a moment of danger, being asked to take such actions is an "assault on our liberty." Many of us would refuse to take such actions - even with the certain knowledge that doing so could potentially save a life.
For the thousands of people who die needlessly for lack of health insurance, or because a mentally ill man had legal access to a gun that is designed for mass slaughter, the building is burning and no one is running in to save them.
Why?
Because saving them would mean taking an individual, concrete action - one that is possibly inconvenient and irritating - in order to save the life of someone who is a complete abstraction.
Because it would mean taking an individual action for the collective good.
Many Americans find this idea repugnant. In many places across the nation, this idea is considered "un-American." To me, it is simply the right thing to do.
"Widen the circle of our concern."
It's the least we can do to honor the memories of those who died in Arizona, and the memories of the many others who die needlessly every day in a land of wealth and plenty.