An Imperfect World of Joy and Sorrow Mingled

It's been a while since I was able to free myself from finals work to write an entry here, but I'm doing it today.

Last night I just so happened to be taking a quick break from writing when the news broke on Twitter, Facebook, and finally the major news sources (thanks, social media!) that Osama bin Laden had been killed. It started with just two statuses on my newsfeed, but two turned almost immediately into ten and soon my newsfeed was a living thing, updating itself without me refreshing it because there were simply so many new statuses, articles, videos, and comments being posted all at one time.

These statuses fell into three main categories: joy/triumph, bitterness, and sorrow/hope. I'm not even going to touch on the statuses of bitterness about the President. I thought about it. I had clever things to say all laid out in my head. But really, that's not the issue today.

The statuses of joy were by far the most plentiful, and I get that. We've spent ten years looking for this man who was, directly or indirectly, responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people; it's no surprise that some people felt that celebration was in order when he died. Justice has been done, or so they say.

It was relieving to me, though, that these statuses of bitterness and joy were almost balanced by statuses of sorrow and hope. People who chose not to celebrate the death of a man, but the lives of those remembered. People who expressed gratitude to those who live and die so that we can feel safe. And, most importantly, people who pushed to keep this in perspective. A man died. A life was lost. A child of God- yes, a child of God- was killed. He committed terrible crimes against humanity. He was responsible for the death of thousands of innocents. But his rebellion against the healing, reconciling power of God makes him no less a child of God than your rebellion or my own does.

The issue at stake with the death of Osama and indeed with the whole War on Terror is just that- we are at war with an idea, the idea that a specific position gives the right to kill the opposition, that one life is of more value than another. The problem is that we don't get to decide which lives are valuable. The problem is that you can't kill an idea with guns and missiles. You can't kill it by taking the life that holds it. To kill an idea requires nothing short of a stronger idea.

My friend Amanda offered this quote from Martin Luther King Jr. last night:

"Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already 

devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate 

cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies

violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction."  

We live in "an imperfect world of joy and sorrow mingled." That quote came not from an illustrious speaker but from a 1914 book on cycling, "Three Men on the Bummel," yet its truth is still powerful. Our world remains an imperfect place of pain and love. We rejoice in peace. We grieve life lost. But hatred and violence cannot overpower hatred and violence; only a stronger idea than hatred can do that. This idea is the core of Christianity- love, peace, and reconciliation. These are the ideas that can change the world.

  

Another friend quoted a few lines from a poem, Recommendation, by Thich Nhat Hanh. It was written for youth who were going out into the dark places of the Vietnam War, trying to bring comfort and aid to the Vietnamese people. I want to share it with you in full:

Promise me,
promise me this day,
promise me now,
while the sun is overhead
exactly at the zenith,
promise me:

Even as they
strike you down
with a mountain of hatred and violence;
even as they step on you and crush you
like a worm,
even as they dismember and disembowel you,
remember, brother,
remember:
man is not our enemy.

The only thing worthy of you is compassion –
invincible, limitless, unconditional.
Hatred will never let you face
the beast in man.

One day, when you face this beast alone,
with your courage intact, your eyes kind,
untroubled
(even as no one sees them),
out of your smile
will bloom a flower.
And those who love you
will behold you
across ten thousand worlds of birth and dying.

Alone again,
I will go on with bent head,
knowing that love has become eternal.
On the long, rough road,
the sun and the moon
will continue to shine. 

 

Man is not our enemy. The only thing worthy of you is compassion- invincible, limitless, unconditional.

 

In that, the idea of declaring war on terror makes sense. It is not our fellow human being that we seek to destroy, but the ideas of hatred and violence that have so wounded and distorted his or her humanity.

 

We rejoice at the prospect of hope, of peace. But we grieve the loss of human life, even life so blinded by hatred that it tested our strength to love (to quote MLK again). We grieve that such hatred exists, that it so cripples us. 

 

The idea that can defeat hatred, that can change the world, is the same idea I talked about back in March. Everyone deserves to be loved. Everyone is of sacred worth.

 

Love is stronger than hate. Love wins, if you will.