This week, I’ve found myself uneasily watching and listening for news of the responses around our country—and the world—to Osama bin Laden’s death. The images of people celebrating and dancing, hailing “victory” and “USA, USA” frankly just make me uncomfortable. I was living in New York City at the time of the terrorist attacks of 2001, and remember at that time as well feeling strangely out of sync with the rest of the country’s response; military retaliation at that time felt like the wrong decision. So, too, now jubilation at bin Laden’s death feels wrong as well.
At the same time, I cannot say that I can imagine another outcome. I can’t imagine a trial, a prison cell, a conclusion, to the nightmare of violence and bloodshed that has happened over the last 10 years (and before, given bin Laden’s previous attacks). There is no conclusion; those who are dead will not come back to life. We won’t get back that serene life we lived before “the war on terror,” (whatever that means now). I will not forget the sense of extreme anxiety and panic of being in New York in those days after the attack—neither will I forget the palpable sense of relief I felt six weeks later, leaving the city for a weekend in Vermont. But I went back, and lived in New York for another three years. That uneasy feeling did subside, but the sense of out-of-sync-ness never quite did. I still grieve that something that felt at the time like “my tragedy” (which of course, it wasn’t) had been used to justify bringing tragedy on others.
Tragedy is the word here—it’s tragic on all fronts. Tragic, so many lives lost; tragic, the failure of imagination; tragic, this whole web of violence we are stuck in. Bin Laden himself was one face of violence; a teenager caught in gang crossfire is another—as is his killer. But it is never good news when someone is killed. It is good news that the military works courageously. It is good news that intelligence agents figured out where he was. It is good news that people love this country and want to serve. But there is no justice in killing, even those who perpetrate terrible, terrible acts. Last Sunday I was talking with Gene and Jose at coffee hour and learned of the killing of Muammar Qadaffi’s son and grandchildren—again and again, more tragedy. We become immune to it. Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya. Where next?
As Christians, we try to reach for another truth. Not “might makes right,” but “forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” The resurrection is the result of God’s sacrificial love, Christ’s unwillingness to trade evil for evil. The resurrection says that death never has the last word. The crucifixion was not the end for Jesus, and it wasn’t the end for the Christian story. Christ was raised for all—not just for those who “deserve” him.
At the end of the day, it may be that how we feel doesn’t matter much. And I’m certainly not going to tell anyone else how to feel. Feelings are just that—feelings. They’re information. We don’t, exactly, control them. You’re not a bad person if you’re happy about bin Laden’s death. You’re not a paragon of moral restraint and virtue of you aren’t. But we can pay attention to what they are, and consider how we respond to them. How do we pray about our feelings? How do we ask that “holy angels may us in “paths of peace and goodwill,” as the prayers in the evening office say? How can we reach out, in love, to those who suffer? To Muslims, against whom hate crimes have increased dramatically in the last few days? To those who serve in the military, who sacrifice so much? To those who dedicate themselves to peace, giving us the imagination to see a different way of life?
O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth; deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us al to stand reconciled before you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen
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