As I write this column, our country is just days removed from an act of terror directed at our Jewish friends, neighbors and family members.
On October 27, a man walked into Tree of Life Synagogue in the Squirrel Hill neighborhood of Pittsburgh intent on extinguishing as many lives as he could. By the time law enforcement arrived on the scene, 11 people attending morning worship lay dead or dying.
Before walking into that holy place, the terrorist posted online that the “[Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society] brings invaders that kill our people.” In an online biography, he had previously written that “Jews are the children of Satan – John 8:44.” When arrested, he reportedly told law enforcement that, “All these Jews need to die.”
As often happens following such violent acts, we struggle to find words adequate to express our communal shock and grief. Fingers are pointed, placing blame on those whose political or religious beliefs don’t mirror our own. We proclaim that “this isn’t who we are” and that “we are better than this.” We then solemnly bury our dead, turn our attention to the next manufactured crisis, shrug our shoulders, and numbly move on.
We are all complicit in the breakdown of civility happening around us. Our unwillingness to listen to others whose life experiences are different from our own diminishes our capacity for compassion. Our embrace of news sources that reinforce what we already believe to be true leaves us convinced that we cannot be wrong. The logical outgrowth of this is tribalism, insecurity and hostility.
Perhaps it’s time we address the hatred and violence that infect us by examining ourselves in a way that is honest and truthful, rather than political and partisan. We can, if we choose, honor those who died in Pittsburgh by stepping beyond our false certainty that such acts of racial, religious, gender and political violence don’t reflect who we are. Regardless of whether or not one is “religious,” we can seek to bend the arc of history toward justice together by committing to lives of reflection, repentance, and a commitment to change.
In the gospel shared in Lutheran churches on Reformation Sunday, Jesus proclaims “… if you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” His followers indignantly respond that they don’t need to be made free because they’ve never been slaves to anyone; dismissing their long history of bondage in Egypt, Assyria, and Babylonia as just more fake news.
The self-described Christian nationalist who terrorized worshipers at Tree of Life Synagogue apparently did so out of a sense of rage at the Jewish community for helping to resettle refugees seeking asylum from violence and crushing poverty.
Like those followers of Jesus who lied that their ancestors had never been slaves to anyone, the self-justification of Christian nationalism is that our own ancestors’ journey to this country was different from that of “invaders” seeking asylum today. It’s a way of justifying one’s ethnic and religious worth based on a lie.
The festering sins of hatred, bigotry, and violence of this movement are rooted in deep-seated insecurities about God’s love for this world. If one refuses to accept that God’s love is shared with all people unconditionally, it becomes easy to be sold the age-old falsehood that if God loves my Jewish, Muslim, immigrant, or LGBTQ neighbor, that then God can’t really love me, too. This way of living disregards grace; the proclamation that God’s love for this world is, in fact, unconditional.
It is this enduring, selfless, and politically incorrect love of God and neighbor that compels us to set aside our fear of the other so that we can go out into our community and love, as we are loved. Especially in these days when truth is difficult to discern, we are invited to live each day so rooted in grace that we will together overcome the fears and insecurities that lurk beneath the surface of our religious, cultural and political norms.
I invite you to join in communal prayer for the people of Tree of Life Synagogue, that they may find comfort in their grief; prayer for our Jewish neighbors, that they may feel secure; and prayer for those filled with hatred toward those who are vulnerable, that they may one day experience grace. May we seek repentance and reconciliation, that one-day we will stand together amid the broken glass of hatred and violence and truthfully proclaim, “This isn’t who we are.”
Each month a member of the Cook County Ministerium will offer Spiritual Reflections. This month’s contributor is Tom Murray of the Lutsen Lutheran Church and Baptism River Community Church of Finland.
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