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I don’t have a fully formed rambling about this latest horrific national news-level killing as we all learn the news of Charlie Kirk’s death (writing on Wednesday afternoon). I also can’t set it completely aside and ramble about something else. There are too many unknowns about his assassination to speak much about it right now. It simply hurts my heart whenever I hear that people are driven to murder to deal with the problems they have with others, so I will reflect on that. Violence is wrong when a crazed and hurting person shoots up a school; it’s wrong when we hear the violence of language, which is designed to harm people and groups; it’s wrong to see property destroyed in anger. Violence is wrong because it’s contrary to God’s hope for the world and for God’s people. Violence begets violence, and it is part of the cycle of death that our faith seeks to free us from.
We seem to choose violence as a way of being, though. Not that most of us are the ones committing violence; we’re not. But we tolerate it. We consume violent entertainment. We allow violence on our behalf. Violence is ubiquitous in our culture. Violence is natural, too. Predators and prey don’t sit down and talk through their differences. The cheetah just eats the gazelle, and it’s certainly a violent encounter. Humans are supposed to be different; we might even say civilized to describe our superior reasoning powers beyond violent use of force, yet “supposed to” be doesn’t equate to reality. According to tradition, there was a point in human history when one in four humans was a murderer (if you read the Genesis story of Cain and Abel literally – which we don’t). It was a figurative, yet powerful point about human nature, regardless of its historicity. We are a violent part of a violent creation, too.
The Ten Commandments include “Thou shalt not kill,” although theologians have left the door open to killing by suggesting it refers to “unlawful” killing. The Hebrew Scriptures describe God’s violence, although it should be noted that if God does it, it’s not unlawful (in one manner of thinking, theologically speaking). Violence is seemingly a part of the way things are. In our public life, violence is always up for debate, too. Recent conversations about changing the Department of Defense back to the Department of War and the connotations of such a change are contemporary examples of this. At the very least, one would hope we would work at least as hard to make peace. Benjamin Rush, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, suggested that there should be an Office of Peace with the same level as the Department of War. He was also an early critic of the death penalty, which is a kind of state-sponsored violence still up for debate. We can discuss judicial violence another day, as we remain at or near the top of lists of countries that incarcerate the greatest percentage of their populations.
If we’re going to be outraged by political violence, we need to be universally outraged. Reuters reports about 300 unique incidents since January 6, 2021, which ushered in this new era of political violence. In the decade before 2021, there were warnings about escalating vitriol and the slippery slope that leads to physical violence as a response to words. As we continue to struggle with polarization, we see increasing extremism, too. Extremism leads to bad places, too, as the anniversary of the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001, reminds us today. If we’re upset about political violence, we might need to reevaluate violence on the whole and our relationship to it.
No one should be murdered because we disagree with them. No one should be murdered because they are different, or because we think they are “less than,” or because they look different, pray differently, or vote for other candidates. I grieve for the children shot in a school shooting while the news of Charlie Kirk’s death was unfolding, and I grieve for the violent death that took Kirk’s life, too. I grieve too many acts of violence and too many deaths. Prayer alone is not enough, although I pray for the peace that passes all understanding to take hold in this world. I will look at my life and determine what else I can do, not about any particular tragedy, but how my life intersects with violence and how I can bring peace to bear on those places because we’re not done with this cycle yet. Until Jesus returns, pain and tears and death will still be our companions. In the meantime, God hopes for something different and something better for God’s children. Have mercy on us, God, as we try to live into your hopes for us.
