Obama: consoler in chief

By Eugene Robinson
In Tucson tonight, President Obama played the role that all presidents must play at times of great tragedy: consoler in chief. His speech at the memorial service for the victims of Saturday's massacre seemed not to come from a speechwriter's pen, but from the heart.

Asking whether it "helped" or "hurt" the president politically seems petty. After he described how Rep. Gabriel Giffords' husband, Mark, had just visited her and announced that "Gabby opened her eyes for the first time," politics vanished. At a moment of great sorrow, there was a glimpse of the kinder, gentler America that Obama described -- an America in which "we are talking with each other in a way that heals, not a way that wounds."

The most touching parts of the speech, for me, came near the end, when he talked about how families react on losing a parent or a spouse -- when he said that "in the fleeting time we have on this earth, what matters is not wealth, or status, or power, or fame -- but rather, how well we have loved, and what small part we have played in making the lives of other people better."

The parts of the speech that seemed to touch Obama most were the passages about Christina Taylor Green, the 9-year-old girl who was killed Saturday. There was passion in his eyes when, talking about Christina, he challenged us to "do everything we can to make sure this country lives up to our children's expectations." He seemed moved when he imagined that "if there are rain puddles in heaven, Christina is jumping in them today."

Obama, of course, has two daughters. Tonight he was father-in-chief as well.

By E.J. Dionne
President Obama spoke Wednesday night as the pastor in chief, not as a politician. His address in Tucson was highly personal, rooted in the biographies of the victims and in scripture, more about the country as a family than about government. It was neither therapeutic nor political and dealt only in passing with the roiling controversies that have divided left from right.

He spoke movingly about Rep. Gabrielle Giffords and her struggle for life. But the figure at the center of the speech, to whom he came back again and again, was nine-year old Christina Taylor Green, "an A student, a dancer, a gymnast and a swimmer."

He returned to her to teach a moral lesson - she saw life "through the eyes of a child, undimmed by cynicism or vitriol that we adults all too often just take for granted." And he closed by describing her simple wishes, including the hope to jump in rain puddles. "If there are rain puddles in heaven," the president said, "Christina is jumping in them today."

He did issue a call to civility, but pointedly took no sides on the controversy over the role of vitriolic politics in the tragedy. "And if, as has been discussed in recent days, their deaths help usher in more civility in our public discourse," he said, "let's remember that it is not because a simple lack of civility cased this tragedy, but rather because only a more civil and honest discourse can face up to our challenges as a nation, in a way that makes them proud."

"What we cannot do," he said at another point, "is use this tragedy as one more occasion to turn on each other." And then, twice, he repeated, "That we cannot do."

These and other calls to more respectful ways of doing politics - we must, he said, "make sure that we are talking with each other a way that heals, not in a way that wounds" - will probably draw the lead sentences and headlines. But I came away thinking much more about the speech's religious and (if it's not too grand a word to use) existential moments.

"We may not be able to stop all the evil in the world," he said at one point, "but I know that how we treat one another is entirely up to us." Obama often touched on spiritual themes before he became president, and then largely backed away from them in his first two years of office. In struggling to find hope in tragedy, he was brought back to that ground Wednesday night.

Arizona memorial: it's not about politics
By Jennifer Rubin
The memorial service in Arizona was in many ways representative of our noisy, increasingly religious and decent country. I didn't care for the raucous-like atmosphere. The Native American chief went on too long and sounded like he had swallowed "Political Correctness for Dummies." But that is minor, and ultimately irrelevant.

What mattered? In time of crisis, public figures return to scripture. Janet Napolitano read from the Old Testament, Eric Holder from the New Testament. It was entirely appropriate, and a reminder that in the age of pop psychology and New Age lingo, nothing fills the heart and the soul like scripture.

As for the president, I was immediately struck by how old and gray he looks. He did not smirk and play to the crowd as Bill Clinton surely would have done. His sober demeanor lessened the cringe-sensation when the assembled hooted and cheered.

As for the president's speech, it was one of his better moments because it avoided politics. Now, he did stray into campaign shouting mode when he said "I have just come from the University Medical Center, just a mile from here, where our friend Gabby courageously fights to recover even as we speak. And I can tell you this -- she knows we're here and she knows we love her and she knows that we will be rooting for her throughout what will be a difficult journey." And similarly when he celebrated the citizen heroes of the day, he likewise did the staccato shout bit. Still, it was in celebration of others, not him.

As for the substance of the speech, this was the most meaningful passage:


You see, when a tragedy like this strikes, it is part of our nature to demand explanations -- to try to impose some order on the chaos, and make sense out of that which seems senseless. Already we've seen a national conversation commence, not only about the motivations behind these killings, but about everything from the merits of gun safety laws to the adequacy of our mental health systems. Much of this process, of debating what might be done to prevent such tragedies in the future, is an essential ingredient in our exercise of self-government.

But at a time when our discourse has become so sharply polarized -- at a time when we are far too eager to lay the blame for all that ails the world at the feet of those who think differently than we do - it's important for us to pause for a moment and make sure that we are talking with each other in a way that heals, not a way that wounds.

Scripture tells us that there is evil in the world, and that terrible things happen for reasons that defy human understanding. In the words of Job, "when I looked for light, then came darkness." Bad things happen, and we must guard against simple explanations in the aftermath.

For the truth is that none of us can know exactly what triggered this vicious attack. None of us can know with any certainty what might have stopped those shots from being fired, or what thoughts lurked in the inner recesses of a violent man's mind. So yes, we must examine all the facts behind this tragedy. We cannot and will not be passive in the face of such violence. We should be willing to challenge old assumptions in order to lessen the prospects of violence in the future.

It was pretty close to a rebuke to his liberal supporters. He was telling them, and everyone, that the entire process of casting blame for a lunatic's crime is foolhardy and simply wrong. He deserves credit for that. This sounded like much of what I and others have been writing since Saturday: "And if, as has been discussed in recent days, their deaths help usher in more civility in our public discourse, let's remember that it is not because a simple lack of civility caused this tragedy, but rather because only a more civil and honest public discourse can help us face up to our challenges as a nation, in a way that would make them proud."

I will have more later. But one can't help recognize the contrast between the adult voices (the cabinet officials, the college president and the president) and a babble of immature wolves, baying at the moon and spinning untruths to propel their own agendas.Obama reminded the country that "what we can't do is use this tragedy as one more occasion to turn on one another.
As we discuss these issues, let each of us do so with a good dose of humility. Rather than pointing fingers or assigning blame, let us use this occasion to expand our moral imaginations, to listen to each other more carefully, to sharpen our instincts for empathy, and remind ourselves of all the ways our hopes and dreams are bound together." Couldn't have said it better myself.