The recent politically-based murder of a conservative influencer has left me in a really weird state this past week. I don’t even want to type his name because it elicits so much visceral emotion – on one side or the other. And my own emotional reaction to the news was like holding up a mirror to a darker side of my soul, one I’d rather not deal with.
A few months ago, a Democratic Minnesota state representative was murdered, along with her husband and her dog, by someone who vehemently disagreed with her political positions and thought she was a threat.
A few years ago, the spouse of the Congressional Speaker of the House was attacked in his own home by someone who wanted to murder his wife and him, again motivated by political beliefs and the emotions they generate.
Two years before that, the nation was turned on its head again by the murder of black man by police officers as he struggled to breathe, highlighting the racial tension that all-too-frequently ends in the death of people of color at the hands of law enforcement who feel justified in using lethal force.
And the list could go on for pages.
At the heart of all these, I think, is the primal human fear of difference. Whenever we are faced with something different, we somehow interpret that difference as a threat. And when we feel threatened, we react violently. Despite our better angels or elevated sense of moral superiority.
We like to think we are followers of a higher, truer path. We Christians, especially, claim to follow the one hailed the Prince of Peace, the one who willingly surrendered himself to be murdered by those who opposed his religious (and by extension, his political) beliefs. Yet all too often, we too find ourselves on the side of the Jerusalem crowds yelling “crucify him!”, kill him!, cheering on the execution of those we adamantly disagree with. And in so doing, we belie the faith and discipleship we claim. We prove how little we are actually transformed by the faith we claim.
Or to put it more directly, by cheering the assassination of those we disagree with, those who pose some kind of threat to our positions, our lives, our values, we show who we truly are.
I didn’t really see that until I set the two most recent assassinations side by side, one of someone who aligned closer to my own views and the other who stood in clear opposition to my social values. It was clear that I was outraged by one yet unmoved (maybe secretly relieved?) by the other. But they were identical. Though their messages promoted opposite visions of society, each person was intentionally killed by someone simply for what they believed and advocated for.
It’s so easy to justify murder when we want to. “They deserved it.” “Look what they said, what they did.” “Look what they’re doing to our country!” And in an instant, we become the one picking up stones to throw at someone we dislike. To kill them. We become the extremists we blame the other side for being.
I like to think of myself as someone who cares about humanity, my country, my culture and society, about my neighbor, about the planet we live on. Especially, I have to admit, when I compare myself to others who so obviously do not. The older I’ve gotten, the more precious I see life – of people, of animals, even of insects that share this created reality with me. Everyone and everything is important, valuable, unique, all playing a vital role in the universe. “Not even a single sparrow falls to the ground without the Father knowing,” Jesus himself taught. God is attentive to even the smallest living organisms. How then can we so cavalierly kill them, even when we might feel threatened?
This past week I felt those human instincts kick in again when I decided to kill a spider in my bathroom. Over the past few years I’ve become so sensitive to the value of life that I’ve refused to kill flies or spiders or moths, even wasps, in my house. I catch them and release them outside. The same with the mice who somehow manage to infiltrate my home each winter. Rather than catch them with traps that maim or kill them, I’ve used live-traps, then release them outdoors in a prepared place sheltered with straw to keep them insulated with some food. I can see the soul, as tiny as it may be, in their eyes, the spark of life, and I can’t bring myself to destroy it.
But this week my young puppy was sniffing around in the bathroom, and got its nose caught in the sticky spider’s web. I saw the spider scurry away, but still feared that it might bite my dog. Spider bites are not something to be taken lightly, and because I felt threatened for the safety of my beloved pet, I decided it was time for that spider to go.
And in that moment I saw how flexible my convictions can be when faced with threat.
As much as I advocate for stricter (“common sense”) gun laws, I think our problem goes deeper. And I don’t have an easy answer for it. People on all sides of the political spectrum seem all too ready to cheer the violent silencing of an opponent. There is no love, and loudly-professed religious belief has failed to generate it. Our primitive tribal instincts override our higher ethics or morals.
And that moral or religious failure to curb our violent instincts has brought our country once again to a perilous point in history, and it becomes increasingly uncertain if a “United” States can survive.
To get past this tipping point in our culture, we need real change on a fundamental human level. Public speeches won’t do it. Education can’t do it. Social media certainly won’t do it. Churches more often than not actually hinder it. And as much as boycotts and protest are powerful methods of expressing dissent, they seldom change anyone’s mind, let alone their heart. Only a deep personal transformation will solve this problem. Violence clearly solves nothing; it only perpetuates more violence. It is toxic to everyone touched by it. Only a changed heart can overcome our instinctual blood lust. But how we get there …?
Arguing that one side is more violent than the other isn’t really helpful, either. Especially when we see how smug we each can become when some kind of punishment falls on the other side. Or worse, when we see how quickly we may begin thinking about needing to take up arms to defend ourselves from those others. And when one of our leaders is assaulted or killed, how quickly retribution comes to mind. But “vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.” As cliché as that may sound, it may be the only way to break the cycle. Like karma, or God’s judgment, it’s best left out of our human hands. And God’s judgment, his justice, is always restorative, always healing, not punishing. A spiritual “judgment” looks more like a transformed (healed) heart. And as one Christian commentator noted this week, wouldn’t a changed heart be greater justice than a rifle bullet?
I clearly can’t change someone else’s heart. I can’t even change my own. Soulful transformation is a slow process. An evolutionary one. It comes over a long period of time, one choice, one deliberate decision – maybe even one insight or revelation – at a time. By choosing to see and value the humanity in those who disagree with me, even in those moments when I feel violent rage rise up in me, I’m taking a tiny step toward that crucial transformation. And maybe a tiny step toward saving our society.
This past week, I saw how far I still have to go. But I refuse to celebrate or condone the murderous silencing of someone who stood for everything I oppose. I refuse to use bombs or bullets to oppose my so-called enemies. I choose instead to take a breath, to pause. To find a way that values life on all sides. I think that may be the only way forward.
And maybe, just maybe, I need to rethink killing that bathroom spider.
#CharlieKirk #MelissaHortman #NancyPelosi #PoliticalViolence