I am like you
There are well-meaning good-hearted people on both sides of the Ground Zero Mosque issue. I believe that, I really do.
It’s just hard right now to see that, what with the way the people are carrying on. If I were Frank Peretti writing This Presence Darkness, I might imagine that demons are dancing, delighted by all the ugly ways in which we can hate on one another.
I blame media. Insipid talk radio, incendiary yammering on the 24-7 boob tube, and a blogosphere that considers fact-checking a click over to Wikipedia.
On a trip to Seattle last week I heard one of those talk show hosts jawing on and on about how he was the lone defender of freedom for Americans and how he and his organization had filed a lawsuit to stop the building of a mosque at Ground Zero.
Fact check error one: There is no mosque planned to be built at Ground Zero.
It’s two blocks away.
But it’s hard to make an argument stick if every time a talk show host, blogger or TV personality has to say, “The mosque planned to be built two blocks from Ground Zero” rather than “The mosque at Ground Zero.”
The radio host made sure to let his listeners know that he stands between them and that wrong-headed President who favors putting the mosque at Ground Zero.
Never mind that President Obama hasn’t taken a position one way or another on whether the mosque should be built. Fact check error two: What he did say is that this country’s founding principals allow for a mosque to be built two blocks from Ground Zero.
Listen. I understand memorials. I visit the Wall in DC twice every year — Memorial Day and Veterans Day. I get why people are so emotional about them. A few years ago I asked a man who was protesting the war in Iraq to please go stand elsewhere — I suggested the steps of Congress since that’s where the war really began — because his presence at the Wall was upsetting to many of us there that day. He didn’t leave but he did move back out of sight.
So I appreciate the emotion that has fueled this fray.
There was a time when I would have been out there holding up the placard, screaming like a banshee. Growing up I had loathed all things Vietnamese — the people, the country, the war. The way I saw it if it hadn’t been for them I would have had my father around.
Everything was so clearly defined in my “us” and “them” world. But it all got so messy that day I passed a Vietnamese Honor Guard standing in the rain at the Vietnam Memorial Wall. It was Veterans Day, 2002, my first trip to the Wall. I went with all my biases, misconceptions and hatefulness fully intact.
When I walked past that honor guard, all my clearly defined boundaries came crumbling down. I cried that entire day. I wept not so much for the loss of my father as I wept for the years I had carried the burden that is misunderstanding. In a matter of a few short hours, I’d left behind the world of “us” and “them.”
In March 2003 I boarded a plane at LAX and flew to the country where my father took his last breath. It was there at the marketplace in Hoi An that I met a Vietnamese fellow who said to me, “I am like you.”
“In what way?” I asked.
“I, too, lost my father to that war.”
Prior to that encounter, I had not allowed myself to think of the Vietnamese children and the sufferings they had endured. Afterwards, I have looked upon every Vietnamese person as my brother, my sister, my mother, my father, my friend.
I think of them first and foremost when I think of the war in which my father died. I think of how the bodies of their soldiers were piled in heaps alongside the roadways, too numerous to bury. I think of how their widows never received any government benefits for their husbands’ deaths. I think of how these women prostituted themselves just to be able to feed their sons and daughters. I think of the European and American businessmen who allowed these women and girls to be exploited that way.
I think of the field near Dragon Mountain where Vietnamese locals watched as I built a rock memorial to honor my father. They couldn’t understand the words I spoke but I hope they understood the grace that had led me there to them.
I pray for the families who lost loved ones at Ground Zero. I pray they come to understand what the Vietnamese taught me – that the best memorial we can build to our loved ones is not made out of concrete or stone but out of mercy and grace.
I can’t think of any better way to do that than to build a house of worship because there is no greater answer to the hatred that fueled 9-11 than the voices of people united in prayer and praise.
Don’t stop with the mosque, build a house of worship on every block near Ground Zero. Then the demons can sit back and watch the angels dance.
Thanks, Ian, for saying so.
I’d respond and tell you that you are exactly right Dieter but hey, I’ve got to go milk the cows and bring in the eggs and crank up the car.
Don’t know where you find the time to read all the responses, Karen.
Agree with much but “I think of the European and American businessmen who allowed these women and girls to be exploited that way.” excludes a lot of folks like the Pope, Asian businessmen, Jews, Christians, Muslims, atheists, and others you failed to credit.
Mary: So glad you found me again. I loved my TCH readers and miss interacting with them. Hope you’ll let more folks know where they can find me. I also hope you’ll join in the conversation more.
Wow…Karen this is a wonderful post. I grew up near NYC and remembering belonging to an organization called the National Conference of Christians and Jews – I was actually a minority in my town altho I was definitely a WASP! The point is that I grew from that association learning how all can live together and work for what Jesus taught.
Thanks, Ted. Appreciate hearing your thoughts on it.
Thanks for sharing this, Karen. Good and powerful, as well as needed words. I love the point of breaking down the “us and them” mentality. Certainly the intent of the gospel of Christ in God’s saving work of reconciliation.
It would help me understand your perspective if there were more here than “I’m not swayed,” and making what seems to be an attempt at diversion by questioning my sensitivity instead of addressing the point. For the record, I chose the analogy because it’s much easier for people to empathize with women as victims than it is with what they percieve to be supposedly angry, vengeful white people. (I don’t penalize you because you don’t know me but, indeed, it had nothing to do with your sex.) Can’t help but note the irony that, in an exchange where I’m arguing for sensitivty for people who have suffered, I’m suspected of being insensitive. *chuckle*
One more try on the distance thing.
It is double-speak to, on the one hand, argue that it’s not close enough that it should matter to those who are bereaved (or anyone else)… and on the other hand, argue that it’s close enough that people (or angels) should be celebrating that it’s close enough to matter… matter so much that it is an “answer to hatred.” One just can’t contend both and still be coherent.
What’s my dividing line? Well, first, my dividing line is mostly determined by what the Imam believes is close enough to make a global statement. In so doing, he inadvetently challenged the bereaved, and established that 2.5 blocks is close enough.
I have no clue how one reads what I wrote and perceives “You don’t get to decide…” as a relevant retort.
I made clear that there is a legal issue here, and a social expectation one. I’m still not certain that you recognize why that matters. And with all due respect, the “if we employed your reasoning” comment is indicative of someone who it seems must have read over top of the point being made.
Let’s try it this way:
That I asserted the legal right to build what the private land owner wants to build is hard to ignore.
That I asserted the ethical importance of caring more about the opinion of the bereaved and the principle of Do No Harm than the need to find yet another route to push the diversity message? That’s a matter of supporting a societal expectation, but has no standing in a court of law.
What I’m wishing you could see is that this issue forces one to make a choice between their support of a minority religion versus their support of people who have suffered loss. Both are legitimate and worthy pursuits. But one has to be less worthy than the other since we can’t have it both ways. I side with the bereaved and stand on the principle of Do No Harm. You evidently stand with the minority religion and on the principle that spreading the message of diversity is more important.
And, wrapping up, going back to the rape victim thing, I was only trying to show how, were we talking about the “right kind of” sufferer… it’s altogether less certain that you or anyone else would be so insensitive as to subjugate sufferers’ feelings for those of a minority religion who intends to build a building. But you appear to shrug off these “wrong kind of” sufferers because you presume that they’re not up to your standards of tolerance.
Meanwhile, I wait for the aforementioned poll to be performed so that I can either support or not support the building’s construction.
I’ve had plenty of opportunity to make my case. If by now I’m not making sense, either I will later after it all sinks in, or I’m never going to achieve that, since I can’t force someone to read and engage my thinking as the attempt at balance that it genuinely is. I appreciate the forum. Godspeed.
I agree that boths sides are politicizing this. On that we agree. I’m not swayed by your repeated analogy to the victimization of rape, however. An argument I doubt you’d be making if I were a man. I suspect you chose that analogy for it’s incendiary value. Regarding taking a self-inventory, I’d have you go back and read the original post.
I simply don’t understand your argument. If you draw a two-block radius, what’s to prevent you from drawing a 2 mile radius? Where’s the boundary line where we say to the victims, enough is enough? You don’t get to decide if the mosque goes up in Brooklyn or not. I suspect that there are some victims who would be all for shipping all Muslims off to another country and abolishing mosques throughout the country. If we employed your reasoning then, hey, we’d have to honor them and shed this country of every mosque, every Muslim.
“I just am opposed to exploiting victims in pursuit of a political agenda, an agenda that’s rooted in fear.”
I am opposed to exploiting the situation in pursuit of a political agenda, an agenda that’s rooted in the gospel of tolerance.
Same thing.
So, how bout let’s put aside political agendas?…
Regardless of whether an agenda intended to condemn a religion that is largely (though it is foolish to not acknowledge not entirely) peace-loving (which obviously appeals to some of the politically-conservative crowd)…
Or, an agenda intended to, regardless of the emotional cost that victims’ close friends and family, press the otherwise-valid and virtuous call to tolerance (which appeals obviously to some in the politically-liberal crowd)…
And let’s step down from our political throne of judgment and, not in terms of the legal issue but in terms of the social expectations issue, say as Americans, “We validate your emotions in this, and ultimately, consider your pain and thus your opinion to be the barometer for how this situation OUGHT to be handled, even though legally, it may not be.
Now, rationally, why can’t you (“you” in a universal way, not personal) do that?
Because it would represent intolerance to the Muslims who want to build this.
So, here’s what we’ve learned…
We are coming to a re-ordering of priorities… values clarification at a macro level.
Essentially, some would argue that the desire/value to convey to the world the message that all men are not “like that” OUGHT to be prioritized over the desire/value to convey to female rape victims “your loss/pain is validated… your loss/pain is paramount to what we think about this.”
That’s what’s occurring here.
Indeed, men are “not like that.” The vast majority of Muslims are “not like that.”
And the desire/value is to preach/convey that message through the building of a building takes priority over the desire/value to respect the feelings/opinions of those who were most damaged by the event…
And sadly, to the point of even demeaning them ALL as ignorant, uneducated, and fear-mongering.
Spare me the high-road talk about politicization, and do the Christian thing… take a self-inventory. Both sides are politicizing this, not one.
Care about, and in so doing, put the priority on the people who clearly deserve to have a special voice, regardless of whether that voice happens to coincide with what you think. Let them buy Toyotas or not buy Toyotas and leave them alone. After all, the legal issue is not one. The only issue is a social expectation one, and that deserves to be established by the bereaved.
P.S. I see you did not respond to the distance question. It would be nice to think that that means you’ve come to realize you can’t have it both ways… Either the building is close enough that the angels dance, or it’s too far away and they don’t perceive why they should.
P.S.S. Thank you for the discussion. Too often I find that people become frustrated and leave what ought to be (there’s that ought word again) a productive discussion that eventually results in someone seeing things at least slightly if not largely different than they did previously.
Susan:
Your Dome of the Rock on Temple Mount brought up a lot of images for me since I’m reading Garrison’s Jesus Died for This?
Have you read it?
Garrison raises a lot of good questions about the things we value and the way in which we go about honoring and memorializing Jesus and his life.
You’d appreciate her since she’s a pistol, just like you. And maybe me.
Steve:
I can’t tell you how glad I am that you are around to share stories like this one and how honored I am that you would choose to share it here, with us. Thank you.
Greg:
I’m not suggesting on any level we tell victims how to feel. I just am opposed to exploiting victims in pursuit of a political agenda,an agenda that’s rooted in fear.
But I’m coming from a different place than you are. I’m coming from a place where I’ve witnessed Vietnam veterans coming alongside their Vietnamese brothers and sisters. All wrongs not righted, but all sins forgiven.
I don’t think that how one feels ought to determine what one does… individually..or as a nation.
The question, I think, is never about whether a mosque should be built or not. The question it seems is always about “who are we?” and “can we see rightly?” It all reminds me of a day in a refugee camp in Slovenia
Shoes. It was a ten dollar pair of shoes that I took to her. Certainly they could not have cost more than that. More, I hadn’t even purchased them. Perhaps if I had bought them, I would have felt more inclined to bask in her appreciation. But they were a gift from friends who had also been to this place, this place of non-being, this place of people with no names. And so, it was with more than a small amount of embarrassment that I accepted her gratitude.
We were playing American football with the children when she came charging out of the rundown barracks, the makeshift home designed to hold no more than a few dozen soldiers, barracks which now housed 350 people. A rambunctious game of American football, teaching Bosnian children who were well adept at soccer but who could not quite grasp the basic concept of this bizarre new game. Each time the oblong ball hit the ground they would begin kicking it all over the place. And of course, it didn’t matter. No boundaries could contain the enthusiasm of these children, children who had seen so much destruction, children who were too small for lack of proteins and a proper diet, children who were usually too quiet and too sad. Through the happy chaos she barged, Izlika, coming to express her joy of new shoes, being slowed only by the scampering children as she made her way directly to me.
I then found myself being towed toward the barracks, pulled so intently by the hand that I had no choice but to go, reluctantly following Izlika like some puppy being unhappily jerked toward the house after it had spent not nearly enough time in the yard. The children made the noise of disappointment but she would not be dissuaded. So I went. What else could I do?
As I entered her small, dark room, the room which was barely adequate for one person, the room which she shared with her daughter and four other people from another family, I noticed that she had set a small table at the foot of her bed. There on the table was a small pastry, just one, and two small cups of strong Bosnian coffee. Izlika waved toward the edge of the bed motioning that she wanted me to sit in front of the place with the pastry, indicating that the pastry was for me. I sat and she situated herself on the floor at the opposite side of the small table. She smiled.
We sat in silence, sipping our coffee and me munching my pastry, not being able to converse, each being unable to speak the other’s language with any sense of comprehensibility. So, we just sat and sipped … for awhile, each lost in our own thoughts, each feeling the presence of the other, growing comfortable in the silence.
After she refilled our cups, she began searching under her bed and after some moments she pulled out a small photo album. It was dirty and the cover was frayed from being handled too many times, opened and closed, opened and closed, the relentless and never ending remembrance of the past. She came and sat on the bed beside me and slowly we walked through that album together. Her story unfolded before me. A story of family and friends. A story of other children, children whom she would never see again, children who were most likely destroyed by this war. Her two adult sons had been taken away by Serbian soldiers and she had been separated from her adult daughter in the mad flight for refuge. Gone … they were gone. We sat on that bed, we sat so close that we could hear one another breathing, we sat and together we cried.
After long moments we arose and Izlika slowly made her way across the small room. There on the wall was a beautiful drawing of a mosque, a drawing which had been meticulously and painstakingly rendered. On a nail above the drawing hung two strings of prayer beads. With great care she took one of the strings into her hands and turned back toward me. With sweeping motions she then indicated that this picture was a drawing of her mosque, the place where she would go and worship. With a pursing of her lips, she made the sound of an explosion – the sound of destruction which seems to be the same in any language – the sound which occurred when the shells fired from Christian guns slammed into this once beautiful mosque. Tears once again began to cascade down her face.
And then … and then, Izlika slowly walked back over to me, this battered Muslim woman, this woman who had lost so much. She stood in front of me … me … a person whom she knew claimed the same faith as those that had brought her so much pain. She stood in front of me and gently and lovingly draped her Islamic prayer beads over my head.
As the mud was wiped away from my eyes, it was clear who was standing before me – it was the Christ. It was Jesus, now enveloped in the body of this damaged Muslim woman who had lost so much, this damaged woman who still chose to love.
Those beads, precious to me as they are, hang in my house, displayed in a prominent space, draped over the empty cross that bears this inscription … “Where human compassion and human need meet, there is the Christ and the cross.” Hallelujah.
And he said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Yet, those who were so sure of their sight, who were so sure of their vision of the world said, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” And he said to them, if you would but be broken, you would see. But since you are so sure of your righteousness, your heart doesn’t break and your blindness – your sin – remains.
I wonder how much brokenness will it take to finally be able to see?
“I have no problem with an Islamic Center or mosque being located two blocks away.”
I get that and did not mean to imply otherwise.
===
“I can’t think of any better way to do that than to build a house of worship… Don’t stop with the mosque, build a house of worship on every block near Ground Zero.”
“It does not make any “statement” to me.”
If it does not make a “statement,” I have then why are these angels dancing?
To the contrary… you’re suggesting that it makes a statement that there is a house of worship so near the site, and therefore, the rational question is, if it’s close enough for the angels to want to dance, why is it then, so far away that we shouldn’t be concerned?
(Forgive the observation, but to back away from that suggests an opinion that began with the conclusion in-mind.)
At the risk of seeming arrogant, I’d urge you to reconsider.
“I wouldn’t have an issue with anti-war protesters protesting the war two blocks from the Wall.”
I don’t have an issue with it personally, either way. And, I definitely see the virtue in spreading the tolerance message.
I just think my opinion in the matter is less important than those who were directly emotionally injured, and when the poll is finally done to see what the consensus is among the victims’ friends/family members, I’ll personally choose to side with that consensus.
“Whether or not the mosque is built two blocks from the WTC site should not be a matter left up to the grieving.”
Indeed. Let me clarify.
There are two issues here.
One is legal. We do not abandon our system of laws… including property rights and zoning laws… for the sake of emotional upheaval. The mosque/community center should be built if that’s what the owners of the property determine… or even if they decide to put up a Satanic Center… it’s their call and only their call.
The other is ethical. And that’s the more interesting debate. What “ought” to happen, even if it doesn’t have implications to the ultimate legal thing that happens…?
What ought to happen, what is ethical, what is considerate, what is respectful… is that we shouldn’t be so arrogant as to tell those who lost their relatives in Vietnam how they ought to feel any more than we tell those most intimately affected by 9/11 how they ought to feel… and in fact, moreover, we ought to side with them first and foremost because their pain is most important.
A society that becomes so painted-over with political cynicism that it refuses to observe the basic dignity of caring about people who have suffered loss is a society that’s not headed toward a “good” end.
Your belief that the issue is “rooted in fear and bias,” may very well be the case.
My response?
Then, do your best to convince those who lost loved ones in Pearl Harbor that it’s really okay for them to buy Toyotas after all.
And, of course, it is okay for them to buy Toyotas.
But it’s also okay for them to not do that. Their emotions do not have to rule their cognitions any more than their cognitions have to to rule their emotions.
I do not tell a female rape victim or a rate-victims’ rights group how they “ought” to feel, either. All men are not pigs, but it’s up to them to discover that in time. And I don’t get to sit in judgment of how much time that ought to be, either.
Consistency. Coherency. That’s all I’m asking for.
One clarificaton, Greg, I have no problem with an Islamic Center or mosque being located two blocks away. It does not make any “statement” to me. By the same token I wouldn’t have an issue with anti-war protestors protesting the war two blocks from the Wall. I just think they ought to take the fight where it can do the most good — the steps of Congress.
Whether or not the mosque is built two blocks from the WTC site should not be a matter left up to the grieving.
Listen, I’ve worked on advisory boards for memorials long enough to know that getting people to agree on these things, especially grieving people, is an uphill battle.
They have a difficult enough time figuring out what to do with their own site, much less one two blocks away.
I believe that this issue is rooted in fear and bias.
Well said, but please, please think.
As excellent a piece as this is, there IS a disconnect here.
Preface: I, too, cannot imagine a greater “answer to the hatred.”
But the disconnect is this, if I may be so bold…
It is invalid to, on the one hand, suggest that the Iraq protester Karen encountered OUGHT to have moved because there are people who considered the Wall to be sacrosanct–that is, it is the people whose lives were most deeply touched that, ordinarily, we believe OUGHT to be respected…
…And on the other hand, for us outsiders to wedge our way into the public dialogue as-if that same principle shouldn’t hold for the 9/11 victims’ family members and close friends.
Bereaved people’s opinions normally matter more, and should… regardless of whether those bereaved people happen to agree with Karen’s position or my position or your position.
====
Another disconnect with the underlying notion that two blocks is too far away to matter…
It’s not too far away to matter to the Imam, now is it(?). It’s close enough that he believes it makes a statement. What’s more, it’s close enough that Karen believes it makes a statement.
There are two competing discussions going on here… the first is a matter of legality, and clearly, if what they want to build meets the zoning criteria, a private owner can build on their property what they want. Period. No debate on that front is valid unless one wants to set our entire system of laws on its ear, and I don’t think any of us want to do that.
The second is “is it appropriate,” which is a much more subjective discussion, which is why this thing gets the play that it does.
But is it?
It depends on whether one thinks that the principle of Do No Harm carries a higher priority or lesser one than the principle of, not “tolerance” per se, but spreading the tolerance gospel.
Do No Harm means that I honor the bereaved, I respect their opinion mostly regardless of my own wisdom or whether they’re “right” to continue to feel the pain they feel and hold the opinions they have.
We don’t play games with the feelings of Holocaust victims’ families/friends or sit in judgment of whether they “ought” to feel what they feel. We wouldn’t play games with the feelings of Hiroshima victims’ families/friends. But somehow, when it’s Americans, particularly ones that we don’t think measure-up to the tolerance we think they ought to measure up to, then some feel they have a right to don the robe and disregard their opinions.
Forgive my opinion, but with all due respect, that opinion is (though not necessarily the people who hold that opinion) reprehensible.
And thus, I’m waiting for a poll that accurately tells me how victims’ families/friends feel about the issue.
I do not presume that all of them or even most of them feel that the Muslim building would be spitting on their loved ones’ graves. I side with whatever the consensus of the bereaved is.
Thank you Karen, this was so thoughtful. Thank you for debunking so much hype that’s being spread by the talk show “performers.” Yes they are performers, about as sincere as WWF wrestlers.
How ironic, the talk show performer who claimed to be defending freedomm trying to prevent the freedom of others who oppose him.
It is a relief to know that the mosque isn’t at Ground Zero, but rather two blocks away. It still feels just a little close, though … like you asking the protester to move his protesting just a bit further away. It feels a bit insensitive on first glance.
I’d like to know more about the Islamic center they want to build, and about the community behind it. A group of moderate Muslims who want to build dialog between faiths and provide some healing … that I can get behind. But then I think of the Dome of the Rock right on the Temple Mount and I just feel uncomfortable.
I am the first to admit I don’t know enough about the debate. I have kept away from the issue because I just can’t stand listening to the WWF talk show wrestlers and their vitriol.
Thanks, Roger, for sharing your story, your insights and your wisdom with us.
Spoken by a woman who lost her daughter to the Pentagon attack on 9-11, your words echo a truth few of us can know as intimately as you do, Lillian. Blessings and hugs. I know you miss Marjorie terribly. So glad you have allowed God to help you deal with the anger in a way that encourages and blesses others, me included.
Marcie: So sorry about your father. I have several friends who suffer from AO related issues. I know how awful that can be. Hugs.
I pray daily for the leaders of our great nation and for leaders of all countries throughout the world (yes, even our enemies)..and that God will turn their hearts away from hate and war to love and peace so that mankind can live together in harmony. Is this too much to ask? Is it an impossible dream? Why can’t we work together instead of wanting to “blow out your brains”.
Why can’t we convert enemies into friends? Who will be the one to take the first step?
I, too, lost my dad because of Vietnam. Although it was years later due to the dreadful effects of Agent Orange. I’m thankful we got some years after… Thanks for sharing your story! It helps me reconcile some feelings about war and anger and spirituality in my own life.
Here’s another fact to check. According to one discussion I heard on NPR, it’s not actually a mosque that is planned but an Islamic center. Perhaps you could run down the details to see what exactly IS planned and what kind of activities are envisioned for the place.
Now a little personal experience. The first home my wife Jean and I ever shared as a married couple was a tiny third-floor apartment in the seaside town of Yalova, Turkey. We lived there two and a half years, much of that time the only Americans in the building, although there were GI couples and families scattered throughout the neighborhood. Our landlord and landlady, Ali and his wife Muazzez and their two sons and daughter, lived in one of the ground floor apartments and had a large urban vegetable garden across the street. They didn’t rip us off on because we were wealthy foreignors (a married E-3′s monthly pay in 1971 amounted to less than our current politcal class spends for a single haircut). We were treated with the utmost warmth, hospitality and respect. No, the women didn’t wear veils; and many didn’t even wear head scarves. Shopkeepers often treated us to tea before we could conduct business or make a purchase. Most GI’s were decent folk and understood that we were guests in a different culture. But an unfortunate minority of our fellow Americans committed the most egregious acts of cultural and moral insensitivity that left lasting bad impressions, yet no one called for “death to America”.
Yes, it was a different world then. Radicalization has occurred not only among Muslims but certainly among Americans as well. Yes, 9/11 occurred, but so did the U.S.-led coup in Iran in 1953 and our supply of weapons and intelligence to Saddam Hussein in his 8-year war with Iran, and so did our arming of the Mujahedeen in Afghanistan via Pakistan. And so did our abandonment of Afghanistan after the Soviets pulled out.
We ask why Arab states today aren’t more critical of terrorism and homicide bombers. We should also ask why the response of Christians has often been so feeble to centuries of pogroms and outright genocide of Jews and the slaughter of Asians and Africans at the hands of other Asians and Africans.
I know Americans who endured tremendous suffering and sacrifice in the call of duty. I also know Americans who have killed other human beings in needless wars. And I know and will be forever indebted to Muslims who gave my my first home, who pulled me from the ditch after a motorcycle accident in a foreign land and a whole community of Muslim folks who could give much of America today a sorely needed lesson in morality, modesty, responsibility, the importance of education and family values that even the most ardent Dobsonites would be hard pressed to match.
I know no Muslim terrorists, but I do know many American leaders whose vision has failed and whose leadership has ceased. I also know a Christian church that has too often failed in compassion and in being prophetic, has been far too timid in its voice in the current world. I’m not responsible for or to a single Muslim power in this world, but I am responsible for the conduct of this nation and for the exercise of the faith I profess. We would do far better at both of those if we knew more people unlike ourselves and paid far less attention to the 24-7 talk news cycle and if we had a reason for the existence of our current politcial system beyond the massive amounts of money moving around in the endless election cycle.
There is so much to do, so much to do differently.
Wow. This is seriously good material.
Eloquent and poignant as ever. Thank God for a grace-filled perspective. This is so true: “I blame media. Insipid talk radio, incendiary yammering on the 24-7 boob tube, and a blogosphere that considers fact-checking a click over to Wikipedia.” Your best line: “the best memorial we can build to our loved ones is not made out of concrete or stone but out of mercy and grace.” But the thing that makes your argument so honest and therefore persuasive is the admission: “I went with all my biases, misconceptions and hatefulness fully intact.”
I love your work because it is based on such clear thinking and captures the heart of God. Well done!
I want to say thanks for not making this a blue/red issue. I have read some stuff that paints it as exactly that (Democrats want to allow it/Republicans are against it). Not only is such talk divisive, it’s wrong. Harry Reid’s as liberal as it gets, and he’s against it. Conversely, I know several of my fellow conservatives who do not like the idea of curbing freedom of religion. It scares us to think of the idea of govt approving or disapproving the building of a house of worship. So don’t believe anything you see which portrays this as something that can be divided along party lines.
Me, too. Ready for a partee.
I think there are probably a lot of people who feel this way and simply can’t be heard over the fray. Thanks, J.
Thanks, Synthia.
James: I saw this over at MPT’s site, I think. It might be funny if it weren’t so disturbing.
Thank you, Joel.
Randy: Yes, I remember. I’ll send you a note. Look forward to seeing this.
Jason: Exactly.
You last sentence paints an amazing picture. I personally can’t wait to watch the angels dance!
Thank you for your gracious honesty & vulnerability. It is comforting to see/read other people holding to his hopeful stance on this issue.
Peace,
Jamie
and I say, Amen, Amen..
BTW, if it isn’t clear, I offer that link as satire. Amazing how people let their emotions keep them from common sense.
Greatest song ever? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaQBrTROj2w
Karen, I’ve read a lot of stuff, both pro and con, on this subject and I must say this is the best of all of them.
Karen, the number and email I had for you is no longer valid, so I hope this note will find its way to you. A few years ago I interviewed you at the Benson in Portland for the documentary “Home from the War: The Voices of Vietnam” The DVD is being released this week and I needed an address to send you a copy.
“…do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?”
- Hamlet (Act 3, Scene 2)
Yes, we are easier to be played on than a pipe. Certain people figured that out many years ago and, oh, the dances we have danced for them.
Meanwhile, the American middle class has been wiped out of existence, the gap between rich and poor is wider than it has been at any time since the Great Depression, and… oh, wait, wait, everyone, look over THERE… and the music plays on…