Saturday night, I had a disturbing dream. Everyone was the same size: the third and fifth graders I work with and I are all the same size. I am accused of a vile crime—I am certain I did nothing wrong but I cannot remember what actually happened. The child vigilantes stalk toward me with long kitchen knives, resolute to remove the evil from their midst. I should go to the police for protection, to someone bigger and higher, but I try desperately to explain. Each of their faces is painted beautiful and innocent, in hues of chocolate, caramel and vanilla, yet in their hands are “watermelon slayers” and chillingly-long bread cutters. They are all children, still, as they brandish frightening weapons. I warn that I do not want to kill any of them. I would if I must: I know that I could. They charge and I begin to recognize them, each, in turn. From my belt I pull my ‘slayer’ and swing it like a machete at Juan’s neck. He collapses, bleeding mortally. My heart falls five stories from my chest to my guts: he might die. In the commotion, I run for my own life, sobbing bitterly. I dial 9-1-1 on my cell to call for help—to fix what I have done. I have no signal whatsoever...
Instead, I run across the landscapes of my mind as Abdi, the handsome class-clown, trails me. I run past the ‘dark shore’—a tremendous fjord or lake with no beach where the water is deepest navy just feet from shore. I run toward old mountains covered in rain-forest but stumble, instead, into the hilly woods of the Grayling Fingers. Never tiring, I come upon a white church in the middle of the forest, with a lady pastor and a small multicultural congregation (like mine). I think I can hide in the bell-tower, so I climb a spiral staircase and then up a ladder to the roof. Abdi finds me and approaches, almost emotionless, with a serrated knife as long as my arm. The last I remembered, I managed to grab the knife and bend it in thirds; I gripped the mangled knife and wrestled it from him. I wondered if I should use it on him but I threw it from the roof—did I throw it? I woke-up.
The “buzz” on the radio and across the internet is that Osama Bin Laden is reported dead. Social media served its highest purpose, carrying the discourse across network boundaries. I was impressed by the banner of celebration stretched across my Facebook news-feed this morning. Since then, the conscientious have engineered their own posts but the first I saw was Wil’s:
This excitement over death is really disturbing me. As a Christian, that whole, love your enemy thing is really convicting me, that blessed are the peacemakers stuff and the fact that Jesus died for Bin Laden's sin as well as mine really has me thinking about this differently. But that's why I worship Christ and don't worship America...I refuse to be afraid –Wil Wilson, my peer from New Jersey
Though none were offered by the celebrators, an assortment of Judeo-Christian scripture has surfaced: Proverbs 24:17, Ezekiel 33:11, Isaiah 14:29 and, tangentially, the beatitudes of Matthew 5. Sarah Nadeau recalled the words of a 20th century peace-maker:
"Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars." --Dr. Martin Luther King Jr
Now that MLK was in the mix (and the Ghandi quote was inevitable), it was almost time to respond in my own words but I elected to visit the park before work instead. When I returned to the web-iverse, I found NPR had addressed my concerns in summary. A featured quote showed that a century of time has not inhibited Mark Twain’s ability to flavor our discourse:
I've never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure. –-Mark Twain
I would like to challenge my readers to put aside the iconic image of the great author, and his white mustached and cigar-scented authenticity, and imagine Lewis Black sputtering those same words with both hands laid flat on the desk in an intense rant. The synesthesia of my aesthetic gives each of them an essence of horse-radish. I find the words apt but this mouth-watering sentiment belongs on the lips of comedians, not our spiritual and political leaders. The Roman Catholic Church did justice to its catholic name when they released this statement:
Faced with the death of a man, a Christian never rejoices, but reflects on the serious responsibility of everyone before God and man, and hopes and pledges that every event is not an opportunity for a further growth of hatred, but of peace. –Position of the Roman Catholic Church as reported by NPR
My cynicism is scraped to a great sharpness. Hours before Osama Bin Laden was declared dead, I listened to a story about the national debt on “All Things Considered”. The wages of war are not only death—they are wages. Wages not placed in education, energy innovation or paying down a prodigious loan. Forgiveness, in this context, is not just a Christian principle but a sound financial strategy. It is also a sound PR strategy for a Middle East that knows the United States for the spread of its decadence and the strength of its violent capabilities. The other cynics are out there, too:
Im not sure why we are celebrating, we just opened up the position for someone far better at the job.
-Kim Miller, a high school class-mate
Another Jihadist cell will rise but I can make that point any time. I want to put aside the practical and political so I can talk about justice and peace because we are not talking about the NFL lock-out but about life and soul. Thousands of civilians lost their lives in terrible ways on September 11th, 2001. There is nothing wrong with being sad and angry because of that. We should cry; I’m crying a little. As long as we ache together, we can still heal as one. Survivors of that day and the family of service members have reached-out to express their relief that the man who orchestrated that event can never again cause suffering. If you believe that Bin Laden’s cell should not be operating, I agree. If you believe our military acted on behalf of humanity to dispel that cell then I agree again. Yet our attitudes are a liability to our efforts for peace, in the world and in hearts. The callus humor it requires to revel in one person’s murder differs only in scale from the dancing that took place in other parts of the world when the towers fell. Bin Laden was smart. He found the emblems of Western power and imbued them with traces of evil; when the United States returned with a vengeance he was not surprised but vindicated. For ten years, Bin Laden was an emblem. Meanwhile, the extremists continued to oppress other Muslims and the banks defrauded us: the figureheads have toppled but the evils are still there.Worse, we are too far separated to amend them together.
I want the children to understand that disposing of one person or two or a whole group cannot resolve their issues. It is so human of them to make this mistake; it is fundamental attribution error extrapolated. They fail to see that the harmful behavior jumps from person to person, never calling any one home. Over and over again, we review the rules. They all know the rules and believe in them unquestioningly but their attitude leads them into self-serving caveats and cruel indulgences. Without constant policing, my group turns into "The Lord of the Flies". If there is any reason not to rejoice at Osama Bin Laden’s death—I mean really take it into one’s nostrils like so much cocaine—it is because such a putrid strain of non-compassion and rationalized sadism should never become second-nature. It would be better to ache at both ends of tragedy than to numb our hearts with the liquor of revenge. It is better to stomach anguish and become stronger for it.
Undeniably, these reflections bend through the lens of my faith. On the radio-show this morning, the host noted there is nothing about God loving humanity in the Quran. If that is true (I cannot verify) then Bin Laden was disadvantaged from birth, serving a God that was merciful at best. What can we reasonably expect from a faith based in fear and awe other than scariness and sensational acts? Jesus said to judge the tree by the fruit: fig trees do not bear olives, olive trees do not bear grapes. To condemn the celebration at ground zero would be to dismiss the celebrators as damned; I want to caution and rebuke because I fear a poisonous shoot will be grafted into our hearts. After a while, our beliefs and behaviors mutate to match and that yields more caveats to love, less of the Kinawind we need. Another classmate offered these almost-famous words:
Like many people, I feel like celebrating. Remember this feeling. It is human, and can help us understand when others express bloodlust. –Jeff Lakin quoting John Green
In that idea laid the greatest value for me, a pacifist. As the radio-show continued, a military mother called-in to recall the story her son told after his first sniper assignment. He expected a rush when their bodies collapsed but instead he felt a surge of heaviness. He prayed for their souls, right there, but reminded himself that others’ lives were saved. “Your son,” said the radio-host, “is the kind of man I want serving my country.”
Because of my dream, I think I was able to feel some compassion for the sniper. I might not be sure if he should be over-seas at all but I can respect that moment because he seemed to grasp what a terrible trade he had to make.
I began this post without my Ghandi quote. A friend from ASMSU (student government) provides a balanced conclusion:
I join in the thankfullness of my country, however I remember that much more fighting lies ahead. Ghandi said, "An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind." So let us not gloat, but remember. I remember the countless victims of 9/11 and their families, I remember the troops killed in action in these "conflicts" and finally I remember the troops and their families still in the midst of these "conflicts" today. –Mary Burleson
