Repenting in the Wake of Tragedy

One week has past since the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. In the aftermath of such an unspeakable tragedy, what is a faithful response by those of us who aspire to be Christians? Surely the church is called to a more prophetic witness than merely muttering, "God is still in control," or "God is still on the throne." Personally, I do not fund such platitudes helpful. In fact, they may cause more theological problems than they resolve. I understand the desire to say something, to try to make sense out of chaos and destruction, and to cope. But we must be careful not to use language that of hollow sentimentality that functions only to help us return to a comfortable slumber. Neither is it helpful to make the ridiculous claim that the shooting is somehow indicative of God's judgment on America for turning its back on Him, specifically by disallowing public prayer in schools. We must not forget that during the time that teachers were leading school children in public prayers, African-Americans were being lynched, often by alleged God-fearing Christians. We must not be naive to the fact that America was not founded on Christian principles. Any faithful telling of the story of America's beginnings must acknowledge the centrality of the twin evils of genocide and slavery to the development of the plot. America was never a Christian nation, and the tragedy in Newtown should not be understood as some sort of divine wake-up call to secular humanists to turn back to God. Rather than search for ways to make ourselves feel better or to cast blame for this tragedy on others who do not share our faith, people who would wear the name of Christ must look deeply into the reality of these events and wrestle in faith with what they may tell us about our society, our own hearts, and our desperate need for repentance. I would add at this point that more is needed from the church than calls for gun control legislation, although I do not think there is any serious question that such a conversation is far overdue. But the politicians, lobbyists, and concerned citizens are up to the task of debating gun control laws. The church, as the body of Christ, has more prophetic work to do than propose new laws, however badly they may be needed. First, in contemplating the deaths of twenty children in Connecticut, it is important for the church to remember that this was not a unique or isolated event. Earlier in December, a mortar hit a school in Syria, killing twenty-nine young people and their teacher. This horrible event, however, was hardly a blip on the radar of the American media. Why the disparity in the attention given to these two terrible occurrences? Why are we so devastated by the loss of twenty children in Connecticut, while the deaths of twenty-nine Syrian children garners no time of mourning? Is it because the Connecticut children were Americans like us? Do we care more about what happens on certain dirt, or to people of a certain skin color, than we do about others others? If so, we should pause and consider how we have failed to grasp the gospel imperative that there is no longer Jew, Greek, slave, free, male or female. These human distinctions and categories are irrelevant in light of the reconciling work God accomplished through Jesus on the cross. This is a time to repent of our nationalism and tribalism in order to show more love, compassion, and concern for the suffering and death that occur every day in all parts of our world. Or perhaps the deaths of young people in Syria did not jar us awake because we have become so acclimated to war, and we have learned that modern warfare entails the deaths of innocent people, even children. If this is the case, that our hearts have become so hardened that we no longer notice when schoolchildren die during times of war, that we are not disturbed, that we do not mourn, then we must repent of our callousness and recall that we are to be peacemakers, lovers of peace, for whom the inhumanity of war is never taken for granted as simply the way things have to be. Death must never be business as usual for the people of God, no matter where or to whom it happens. Second, the church must resist the temptation to blame the media for sensationalizing the tragedy in Connecticut. While it is true that the media have been circling like vultures over Newtown, making it possible for us to gawk at all the suffering from the comfort of our own living rooms, we must remember that the media is simply a mirror in which we are able to see our own perversions. I would not blame a mirror for my own unkempt appearance. A mirror simply shows me what I look like, for good or bad. To the extent that the media is exploiting this tragedy, it is because we as a society want it to. If we did not consume the non-stop coverage, the media would not keep producing it. The media simply supplies what we demand. We must repent of our fascination with suffering and Death. Third, we as aspiring Christians must be able to discern in all of these facets of our society the power of Death at work, often beneath the surface, in the shadows. From time to time, however, the power of Death manifests itself so clearly that we cannot ignore its work in our midst, such as when a person takes a gun and kills people at a school or a mall or a movie theater. At all times, the church must be vigilant so as to never forget that Death is the enemy, a false god that would have our allegiance and even worship at all costs, and which is, in fact, worshipped by our culture. We are complicit in this idolatrous cultural worship of Death in the movies we go see, the television shows we watch, the video games we play, by cheering when instruments of war fly over football stadiums prior to a game, and by unquestioningly supporting a justice system based entirely on vengeful retribution to the point that our government routinely kills its own citizens. We worship Death by consuming it over and over and over again. We must also boldly and honestly recognize this same fascination and obsession with Death in our love of firearms. Firearms are perhaps the most tangible symbol of Death in our society. The person who is in possession of a firearm wields the power of Death. Relying on the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution, we claim that we have a right to possess the power of Death and use it against anyone who poses a threat to us or our property. We claim that this right to wield the power of Death shall not be infringed because a group of wealthy white men characterized it as such many years ago in a context far different from our own. This right is precious to us, and we defend it with our voices, our votes, and the dollars we contribute to lobbying groups. We are loyal to our right to bear arms, and we give it our allegiance because guns make us feel powerful and safe and less afraid. Therefore, we celebrate and worship our guns and the violence they are able to inflict. The celebration and worship of Death inherent in our love of weapons does not come without a price. Tragically, we have repeatedly accepted this high cost and sacrificed valuable human lives to the power of Death. The horrible attack on the lives of children in Newtown was not unforseeable or unprecedented. It has happened before. Absent deep repentance, it will happen again. And in the days that follow such tragedies, we always wring our hands in sorrow and grief. But after a brief period of sadness, we will conclude that the cost of twenty lives was acceptable, noting again how important it is for us to remain empowered to grasp our own weapons. We do not abandon our worship of Death; our allegiance is undisturbed. We hope in vain that we can serve two masters. We would like to think that we are simply free to own guns, watch violent shows, applaud when the State executes one of its citizens, etc., when in fact we are enslaved to the power of Death. We know from the saints and martyrs that the road of discipleship is not easy, and the demands it makes of us can be frightening. It is a narrow road that leads to a cross. It is not for everyone. There is no Christian spin to the American Dream, to use David Platt's language. To pledge allegiance to Lord Jesus is to resist the power of Death at every turn, because it is ubiquitous in our society. As the church, we must be faithful to the One who taught us to love even our enemies. Anyone can love their friends! You don't need courageous faith for that. But to love, really love, an enemy? That is the demanding, all-or-nothing call of discipleship. Likewise, the church must remember that Jesus taught us to not resist an evil person. Anyone can strike down an evil person! You don't need to claim Jesus as Lord for that. It comes naturally; it is a reflex. But to defiantly turn the other cheek, risking the harm that may well come, trusting that all will be well despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary? That is the hard work of discipleship. And I cannot heed these commands when I am clinging to an instrument of Death, ready to deal violently with anyone who poses a threat to my safety or my possessions. I cannot hear the wise voice of One who would tell me that all who live with weapons die by weapons, when I refuse to lay aside the weapons that give me a false sense of safety and artificially make me feel less afraid. It is so easy to be led astray by fear, without which Death is all but impotent. What if someone broke into my house? What if someone tried to rob me? Do I have any alternative but to look to the power of Death for comfort and security? When I am afraid, how do I resist the temptation to put my faith in lesser things, things I can hold in my own hands? The great William Stringfellow taught us that the essence of the Christian life is to discern Death where others see progress and freedom, and to resist it with all of our might. The church must heed Stringfellow's wisdom by recognizing the seductive power of Death in our midst, naming it for what it is, and incarnating a life-giving alternative based on unconditional love, and the assurance that love, when it is perfect as the heavenly Father is perfect, casts out all fear.