Rachel Corrie

Until yesterday morning, I didn’t know much about Rachel Corrie, just that she was a peace activist who was killed when an Israeli bulldozer ran over her—intentionally it seemed. Yesterday morning at the South Bend First Unitarian, four members gave a presentation, reading emails Rachel Corrie had sent before her death along with other readings and songs. I hadn’t really wanted to know more about Rachel Corrie, maybe because, even from the sketchy information I had, it was obvious this story would be complicated. But it wasn’t a complicated story. The Israeli/Palistine conflict is complicated, but it seems very uncomplicated that young women don’t need to be killed to expedite Palestinian home demolitions in Rafah.

Rachel Corrie was young (24), idealistic, and articulate. Her emails show a thoughtful woman interested in justice. Apparently, this concern for others began in her childhood. Like Corrie, when I was a child, I assumed I would grow up and fix the messes of the world. Unlike Corrie, by the time I was her age, I had already despaired of my ability to change the world. I lack(ed) the courage to act as she did. I am also too rational. I would say to myself, what difference can a protest make? Yet, hearing Rachel Corrie’s story, I was incredibly moved, and I know she made a difference in a complicated, violent conflict. And her story calls me to, somehow, shift the way I respond to the world’s lack of humanity.

Also, Rachel Corrie’s story offers an opportunity to experience my sorrow instead of my despair. Her story reminds me that there are truer emotions than anger and despair. Like the child I so often leave behind, these stories of violence break my heart. Anger has its place, but my heart tells me that sorrow is a truer place than anger.