Violated sacred space

In the summer of 1996, as a staffer in Washington for Senator David Pryor, I spent time taking visiting Arkansas constituents on a tour of the U.S. Capitol. To witness the awe in visitors’ eyes and the silence generated by the beauty of the space was one of the most satisfying experiences of my life. Each day, walking the halls, I felt encased by honor and safety, in reverence to the history around me.

On Jan. 6, the first images of the breach of our Capitol came through. Statuary Hall, where our visitors quietly gathered around the certain space on the marble floor to hear the acoustic whisper from across the room (a trick, the tale goes, employed to listen to the opposing party while pretending to sleep), now a gathering place for screaming mobs. In the Rotunda, where a statue rests of Arkansan Hattie Caraway, the nation’s first woman elected to serve a full term as a United States senator, now a scene of angry crowds, some with loaded guns and zip ties.

There were no words. The vulnerability of our congressional leadership, the five deaths, numerous injured and the sadness and loss of something sacred will be difficult for us to recover from. Like Pandora’s box, the only thing left from that day is hope; that we, as a country, have seen the ugly and dangerous potential of abetting unchecked leaders. This president spearheaded the desecration of our Capitol. He fomented fear and anger to the point of endangering our leaders. It’s time to ask ourselves how we let this into our house, how we contributed to this moment and how we rebuild the sacred as we move from the Age of “Silence is Golden” to the Age of “Silence is Complicity.”

MARY ROBIN HARRIELL

Fayetteville