This week, my thoughts have been in Tucson, where a gunman attacked Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords (still in critical condition) and killed six people. I've been puzzling over the national debate about the event-where the debate has become focused, and about how different poles of the political spectrum have dealt with it.
So far, it seems like the debate has been in two varieties; one: we need to "tone down" the political debate. That people of goodwill can disagree, that we can put aside our differences and work for the common good. The other side would say that an isolated act of violence by someone who apparently has a tenuous connection to reality is not a commentary on anything in society at all. Of course, there are different varieties of both arguments; some on the one side say that it's the especially contentious nature of the debate in Arizona itself, particularly the debate about immigration. Apart fromgeneral anti-government rambling, the assailant doesn't seem particularly allied with one side or the other. He clearly meant to attack Congresswoman Giffords, but what was it about her politics in particular? We don't really know yet. What both of these views don't examine, though, is the wider picture of language and culture. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said "Words make worlds." It's not just how we talk about politics--it's how we talk, period.
We use violent imagery without even thinking about it-without even realizing what we are saying. We are "up in arms" at something, "bombarded" with images, "shooting down" each other's opinions. Violence is so intertwined with our existence in the world we don't even realize it. The problem isn't just with our political debate. Being polite is really nice, but what's going on is deeper than that. Our "dialogue" (if that word isn't too charitable) is the symptom, not the real issue. It's not just about how we speak to each other, it's about what we believe about each other. Being cruel doesn't mean that you hold your opinion any more fervently, but listening to our political life, it would seem that way. Listening to myself, I realize just how the imagery of force is part of my thinking. Recalling how I felt some days during the last presidency, I think I know what it's like for those now on the opposite side of the spectrum.
The issue isn't the culture of a particular state. The problem is with the endemic nature of deep, ingrained violence in human interaction. As a person of faith, I know that God's reality is so much wider than what I see. There is much to be lament in this moment in our national culture, but the goodnews is that there is Good News-we are still reading the prophet Isaiah, still hearing that vision as we did in Advent of those brilliant reversals and restorations that are possible with God's help.
At Finn's baptism on Sunday, we were reminded of the baptismal covenant promise "to renounce the evil powers that corrupt and destroy the creatures of this world." Those powers are out there. They're "in here," too--we've all internalized them. But God's power is bigger. In the life of Jesus and his forgiving response to the violence he suffered, we don't just have an abstract example of what is possible. It's not that somebody wrote a story about a new way to live. We have evidence of new life and new possibility in the resurrection. Violence doesn't get the last word. Freedom wins--not a freedom that says "I'm right and you're wrong," but a freedom of abundance that holds all of us secure in love and lets us know there is nothing to fear.
This week, as all of this continues to swirl, pray for all the victims of the shooting. Pray, too, for the country of Haiti on this year anniversary of the earthquake there. Pray, pray, pray. Pray and give thanks for all that you have and all that is possible in Christ. Then pray that all of our hands and hearts will be strong and compassionate enough to be those of Christ in this world.
No comments:
Post a Comment