Death

Like so many others out there, I find myself wanting to write something about today's big news. Our Venezuelan classmate told the news to our class this morning, the Frenchman was a little stunned, the Norwegian said he didn't believe it, some Americans smiled, and we went on with class.

We came home to read the news for ourselves, then started making judgement calls on responses we were seeing via Facebook status updates.

But "writing something" is obviously easier said than done. Any comments about a Christian response to the death of Bin Laden instantly lead to much bigger, tougher conversations on the intersection of government and foreign policy and God and Jesus and scripture and justice and mercy and retribution and peacemaking and reap-what-you-sow and turn-the-other-cheek, not to mention how emotionally charged the subject can get in light of the thousands of real people who have died senseless deaths all related in some way to this one most-wanted man.

Obviously, there are way too many disclaimers in this conversation for a guy like me to get anywhere close.

I cannot celebrate, because it's just one more death on top of deaths. I cannot rejoice in him getting what he deserves, because I've gotten away without getting what I deserve. There is no gloating, no bragging in death.

And yet I cannot be sorry, because in some sense it is in fact justice, a reap-what-you-sow sort of principle carried out by a government that is--like all authority, we're told--"instituted by God for our good." While I can't believe it's a cause for an all-out celebration, I think a strong case can be made that God is somehow made known in the midst of this.

And here I go, doing exactly what I said I couldn't and didn't want to do.

I guess the word I find most fitting is "somber," or maybe "sober," I'm not sure which.

And I'm still impressed with the fact that we're to "do justice" but "love kindness" and because that's such a tricky balance, in the midst of both we're to "walk humbly."

Meanwhile, we're left still waiting, still longing, for something a bit more complete and perfect in this already/not-yet kingdom of ours. Our hope has never been in the death of Bin Laden, because, contrary to what some people apparently believe, it does very, very little to actually heal what ails our world.

I felt myself resonating with this fellow named Justin McRoberts, thinking he succinctly put into words the general feeling I carried with me most of the day:

"...And yet, the christian narrative is one in which we await and long for the complete restoration/reconciliation of all things to God. Any other 'solution' to brokenness is second best and a form of brokenness itself.

Bin Laden’s death is one more death in a long chain of violence that began long before his birth and will continue long after his death. I hardly expect anyone in my social setting to sincerely lament his passing. I do not. But celebrating his death (or any death, really) is revealing of a profound misunderstanding of the nature of war, the nature of evil, the nature of violence, the nature of death and, I believe, the heart of God.

Nothing has been won. It is only another loss that can, for now, help some of us to feel better about the losses closer to us. But that’s not a victory. It’s a compromise.

Death ought always be greeted with a sense of sobriety. Because, though it may feel good...death does not heal. Death does not solve. Death does not fix. Every death is a reminder of brokenness. As a Christian, I must hope for and celebrate something better than this."