Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania is a family. If you don't know what I mean, you've obviously never hugged the stranger standing next to you in Heinz field when Antonio Brown scored the winning touchdown in the Sunday night game.
If you don't know what I mean, you've never walked down the streets of North Shore after a big Pirate's win, high-fiving every person that you can find wearing a Bucs jersey.
If you don't know what I mean, you've obviously never stood with 650,000 other fans as you welcomed home the Pens after they just won the Stanley Cup for the second year in a row.
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania is a family. That was almost taken away from us on the quiet Saturday morning of October 27th when we lost eleven innocent people in the massacre at a Jewish Synagogue.
Eleven people died, and even more wounded, all because one man couldn't accept that this city is made up of people with different beliefs from his own. He left our city wondering why, heartbroken and frustrated.
Here's the thing about tragedies like this, you never think it's going to happen to your state.
You never think it'll happen to your religion. You never think it'll happen to your city – until it does.
And we could spend our time hating this man, crying and wondering why. Or we could focus on the only thing in this world that's stronger than hate— love.
Fred Rodgers once said,
"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother's words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world."
Let's look at the four police officers that were wounded because while everyone else was running away from gunfire, they were running toward it. Let's look at every firetruck and EMS that rushed to the scene, no matter how terrified they were.
Let's look at the Pittsburgh Steelers, who took a moment of silence, alongside the Cleveland Browns, before their game to send love and prayers to the families affected. Let's look at the Pittsburgh Steelers who attended the funerals of the people that we lost. Let's look at how the Steeler's attributed their Sunday win to the grieving city of Pittsburgh, stating that "if we could take that pain away, even for just a few hours, then that's exactly what we'll try to do."
Let's focus on the grandmother who took her two grandsons to deliver donuts to the officers who worked tirelessly at the scene of the shooting. Let's focus on the woman and her son who delivered pizzas to the Emergency Room staff at the local hospital where more than half of the victims were being taken care of, stating that "this is from the whole neighborhood to say thank you." Let's focus on the nurses from the Boston Medical Center in Massachusetts who sent pastries on Sunday morning to the same Emergency Room staff with a note reading "We stand with you, UPMC Presbyterian. Stay strong."
Let's focus on the thousands of people who waited in line to donate blood, trying to do anything they can to help the victims. Let's focus on the outpouring of support that Pittsburgh has received in less than a week after the shooting.
Let's focus on the billboards across the nation that read #PittsburghStrong with the famous Steeler's symbol with the Star of David to commemorate the lives lost. Let's notice how the Pittsburgh Skyline lit up blue, the Empire State building went dark, and the Eiffel Tower turned off its lights to pay tribute to the people we lost.
For every bad person, there are so many more good people.
For every tragedy, there are a hundred good deeds being done. For every ounce of hatred in the world, there will always, always be so much more love.
This kind of hatred could NEVER weaken a city of steel.
