Bin Laden is Dead - But is Celebrating It a Legitimate Reason to Set Aside Christian Behavior?

When the news broke late last night that a naval SEAL team had infiltrated Osama bin Laden's compound just outside of Islamabad, Pakistan and killed him, I - along with millions of others - watched as spontaneous celebrations broke out in Washington, New York, Annapolis and Colorado Springs. What should have been a time of pride in America and the work of our intelligence forces and military, however, instead resulted in a time of emotional conflict for me.

In watching the celebrations, I was stunned by the feelings of vengeance and hatred spilling from the mouths of many in attendance. I was appalled by the newspaper headlines screaming phrases such as "Rot in Hell!" Truthfully, I was discouraged by the actions of men and women who were acting in a manner which would have provoked outrage were they watching crowds in the Middle East carrying out similar "protests".

Moreover, I have been feeling a very deep sadness. I remember very well where I was on September 11, 2001, and the tremendous - almost overwhelming - sense of sadness that we all felt on that day, both here in the United States and around the world. At that time, families across the country turned to the church and to their faith to sustain them through that difficult time. In watching the news last night, however, the one thing that I didn't see was anything close to prayer. Instead, I saw many people turning to the Old Testament theology of "an eye for an eye" - which completely discounts the message of the New Testament. And how long can we - how long should we - continue to take an eye for an eye? As a friend of mine pointed out today, if we continue doing so we will put ourselves in a position of being simply the blind leading the blind.

I am proud to be an American, but distraught by much of what I have seen during the past 24 hours from Americans.

I remember what Diana Butler Bass wrote about her daughter's reaction in the aftermath of the 9-11 attacks. After hearing a radio report about what had happened, she asked Diana whether bin Laden was the one who hurt all of those people; when Diana responded yes her daughter said, "Maybe we should pray for him". It was a powerful thing to say then - forgiveness of our enemies, from the mouth of a child - but it seems to have been forgotten since.

I talked to several friends today - all clergy - who were kind enough to listen to my doubts and guilt. Yes, guilt - guilt that if I were to talk about any of my feelings out loud, my feelings of anger at the jubilant reaction of fellow Americans, I would somehow be labeled as being un-American. The question in my mind, despite the guilt, was whether it is even more important to exercise our faith and be models of Christiaity at this time.

One friend asked me - setting aside, for a moment, what I think I should be feeling - what it is that I would express to God. My answer was a rambling one: the frustration at the reaction of many among the crowds. Anger and sadness over the fact that, even today, people cling to the "eye for an eye" mentality. Disappointment that a country where 78 percent of the population claim to be Christian, and yet quickly throw that out the window when it is easier and more expedient to express joy over a death. Sadness that the evil in the world never ends, the killing never ends, and the need for retribution never ends.

Her response really gave me pause for thought: "You know how I keep saying that the things we criticize in others are the things we struggle with in ourselves? Here it is. We criticize them for their anger while the emotion we feel toward them is anger."

Another response also hit me, but from a completely different direction. This, in an email response to me from Archbishop Tutu: "You are wonderfully sensitive and God is proud of you. A Jewish saying when the Israelites were celebrating the drowning of the Egyptians during the Exodus. God asks them, 'How can you celebrate when my children have drowned?'"

Taken together, these two responses have brought together a reflection in my mirror of a flawed person - a person whom God loves, who grieves when people celebrate the death of another, and who has anger towards others because of their anger.

Yes, I am flawed. You are flawed. We humans are all flawed. But if we weren't, I don't think there would have been/be any need for Christ to come into the world.

If there has been any comfort in my struggle today - aside from the support received from family, friends, and one big mentor - it has been the quotations and prayers that many have shared. In particular, many have turned to the "Prayer for Our Enemies" from the Book of Common Prayer. It reads:

O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth: deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I would echo that: deliver us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge - and deliver me from my doubts, sadness, disappointment, and anger.

Desmond Tutu on Inclusiveness

"Jesus did not say, 'If I be lifted up I will draw some.' Jesus said, 'If I be lifted up I will draw all, all, all, all, all.' Black, white, yellow, rich poor, clever, not so clever, beautiful, not so beautiful. It's one of the most radical things. All, all, all, all, all, all, all, all. All belong. Gay, lesbian, so-called straight. All, all are meant to be held in this incredible embrace that will not let us go. All."

- From a sermon preached on All Saint's Day 2005 in Pasadena, California.

The Archbishop, the Talk Show Host, and the Peabody

Congratulations to Craig Ferguson for his receipt of the Peabody Award for his outstanding interview with Archbishop Desmond Tutu. If you've never seen it, all three parts are below - it's a fantastic episode!

The Archbishop, the Talk Show Host, and a Remarkable Event

A wonderful conversation between Archbishop Tutu and Craig Ferguson on the March 4 episode of "The Late, Late Show." It's in three parts, each better than the last.

Lambeth Conference is Just Around the Corner

The once-a-decade gathering of nearly 800 bishops of the Anglican Communion, the Lambeth Conference, is only about eight weeks away, and I've been thinking for many days now about how the global Anglican family will look at the end of the 14-day event. The picture I've chosen to include with today's post, a photo of several of the bishops in attendance at the 1998 conference, displays a great deal of warmth and good humor that I feel is going to be missing this year.

The biggest cause for concern for many, as I've touched on in a few posts over the past few years, is the 2003 election of Gene Robinson as bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire (an election I supported of a priest that I support). Before that had even completely sunk in on folks, the Episcopal Church elected Katharine Jefferts Schori as the first female presiding bishop (another election and another priest I support). I've been very proud of the church for some of the actions it has taken in recent years, and in the process have discovered that have a much more moderate-to-liberal view of events in the ECUSA than I had ever realized -- something that I think would have shocked my late friend Sheldon Vanauaken, who once told me in a letter that had Jack Spong (another bishop who has opened my eyes to a lot in the church) been Catholic, he would have excommunicated. No telling what he would think of my opinion on recent events!

In looking at the official website for the Lambeth Conference, I was immediately struck by the opening paragraph on the main page: "The Lambeth Conference is one of the global Anglican Communion's Instruments of Communion. It takes place every ten years at the invitation of the Archbishop of Canterbury. It is the one occasion when all bishops can meet for worship, study and conversation. Archbishops, diocesan, assistant and suffragan bishops are invited." The implication here is that the Archbishop invites ALL bishops to attend every ten years for a variety of educational and spiritual events -- and yet this year, he has opted to dis-invite Gene because of the ongoing controversy resulting from his election. What he didn't do, however, is dis-invite anyone else involved in the dispute -- such as Archbishop Peter Akinola, head of the diocese that many of the breakaway parishes here in the U.S. have joined -- and will stand by and watch instead as Akinola and a group of other bishops stage a boycott of the conference.

So let's recap: Rowan Williams would rather keep one duly elected member of the House of Bishops away from a conference that by all rights associated with his position he should be able to attend, so that he can avoid a larger protest by a group of fringe bishops who are going to be boycotting Lambeth whether Gene is there or not.

And the logic in this would be where?

As I've heard Desmond Tutu say many times (and I've paraphrased here), it's astounding that the church has so completely lost sight of its mission in the world and is more concerned about who is living with who rather than who is feeding the poor, sheltering the homeless, clothing the naked, and loving those who feel unloved and neglected. And in addition to all of this, what really pains me is the fact that I can no longer drive by some of the grand old parishes here in Northern Virginia and see what I used to see -- old, historic roots of the churh in this country; instead, I look at places like the Falls Church and only see a brick building that, instead of a church, is now merely an object in a court battle, and what was once a home to a great congregation that has now been torn apart at the seams.

In the all the reading I've done over the past several years as things within the Anglican Communion have gotten rockier, it seems that I've found that people are letting the media drive the story and overplay that we are all losing sight of the big goal of trying to keep the communion together. No, I'm not saying that folks are avoiding the issue; I know there are countless people who pray daily that a resolution can be found so that the church can be held together, or short of that at least be healed. Court battles, amicus briefs, and the "join this diocese -- our bishop isn't an abomination" statements are everywhere, and all I seem to see Rowan doing is trying to keep the extreme ends of the argument happy (or is the correct word pacified?) without paying much attention at all to what the middle wants: peace and unity.

Peace and unity -- two words that I fear won't be the end result of this conference. Gene will still be in England, preaching and lecturing in whatever churches welcome him; Spong and Tutu will be at Lambeth, fighting the good fight and working with their brother and sister bishops to keep the communion together.

And in the meantime, I'll continue driving by a church building that should be a welcoming sight, but right now comes more and more to represent intolerance, fear, and a judgemental attitude towards a group -- a bishop -- that they refuse to accept. I suppose the next step will be removing the sign that says "The Episcopal Church welcomes you;" for many, "This Episcopal Church may welcome some of you" is much more accurate.

Lambeth may end with a photograph of smiling bishops -- but will God be smiling?

An Evening with Desmond Tutu

(Photo to the left courtesy of the SABC website, which ran a story about tonight's event.)

In a single word -- amazing.

In a long string of words -- amazing, inspiring, moving, breathtaking, loving, forgiving, accepting, believing, praying.

This is about the best way I can come up with to describe what it was like to be at Washington National Cathedral tonight to listen to a talk delivered by Desmond Tutu entitled "The Spirituality of Reconciliation." In the many years that I have been going to events at the cathedral, it was the first time that I saw every seat in building filled -- thousands of people had come out to listen to him.

I had seen Archbishop Tutu before; his daughter was one of the clergy residents at our church in Northern Virginia, and he attended services often whenever he was in the area. At those points, though, he was just another member of the congregation, and people treated him as such -- no gawking, no pointing, no gasps. He was simply another welcomed member of our church family who was helping to fill the room.

On this night, however, he filled the room all by himself -- and I don't mean that in terms of the size of the crowd he drew. When he walked up to the podium to speak, he filled the room in a different way -- with his warmth, his humor, and his love. He spoke often during the course of the evening about a God who opens up his arms to embrace everyone, and that's exactly what the Archbishop did tonight.

It was an incredible 45 minutes, and one which A. and I will never forget. Even in a room that large with thousands of people in attendance, there was complete and utter silence as he spoke. There was no way that I could write my thoughts and impressions throughout the speech, but I was able to jot down some of what he said (and I hope you'll forgive me for just jotting down these quick snatches of his talk):

- We are like God, and we are meant to imitate God.

- God would much rather we go freely to hell than compel us to go to heaven.

- Part of the glory of being us is to have a God who allows us to have autonomy.

- We are in the forgiveness business because this God and this Christ are in the forgiving business.

- Forgiving refuses to give up on anyone; the God in whose image we are created never gives up on us.

- God picks us up, God dusts off, and God says, "Try again."

- An enemy is a friend waiting to be made.

- To forgive is not altruistic, it is the best form of self-interest.

At the very end of his remarks, he told a story (that he said he has told often, but wanted to repeat again) about a chicken farmer who one day goes out to his chicken run and sees a chicken that looks strange, but he knows it is a chicken. One day, a traveler comes and says, "That's no chicken; that's an eagle." The stranger asks the farmer to give him the chicken.

The visitor takes the eagle out of the pen, walks up to the top of a high mountain nearby, turns to face the rising sun, and says, "Fly, eagle, fly." The eagle takes off, circles for a few moments, and then flies off in the distance and vanishes from sight.

And then in almost a whisper, Archbishop Tutu said, "God says to us, 'Hey, you are no chicken; you are an eagle. Fly, eagle, fly.' God wants us to shake ourselves, put out our pinions, and take off and soar. And we fly; we fly. We fly towards goodness. We fly toward transcendence. We fly; we fly. We fly towards compassion and laughter and caring. We fly. Fly, eagle, fly."

I can't speak for A., but for me this evening was one of the greatest blessings I have ever received.

(Note: The cathedral has posted the video of the Archbishop's appearance on their website; you can click here to watch it.)

A Big Day on the Horizon

One of my heroes is coming to Washington on November 13, and when I received the mailer last week I knew that there was no way we were going to miss it. Yes, I had to rearrange our travel schedule back into D.C. that day (A. and I will be in the Big Apple for a few days prior), and we'll have to go straight from the train station to the National Cathedral, but it's a small price to pay (and as far as Amtrak was concerned, there was no price to pay for changing our arrangements).

There aren't many chances that people get to meet and listen to Desmond Tutu; for me, this particular Tuesday evening in November is one of those times. A powerful voice speaking on a powerful topic ("The Spirituality of Reconciliation"), and -- God willing -- A. and will be there with hundreds of other admirers of a man I believe to be one of the greatest of the last century, if not all of history.

If you're in the D.C. area and would like to learn more, you can go here.

Something for My Daughters

One of the things that I inherited from my family from the moment of my birth was a great love of and appreciation for both my family's own history and the importance of overall world history. Now that I have two daughters of my own, I want to be able to pass something on to them when they're grown that's representative of my personal interests, the period in history into which they were born, and the men and women who were important in the development of that history.

As a part of that, and reflective of my recent reading of Wiesel, I recently wrote him a letter and, among other things, asked for something from him that I could give to MB and E as a remembrance of that part of history which he has passed through and which he has worked tirelessly to keep people from forgetting. As I said in my letter, "As the father of two small daughters ... I am very much looking forward to the day where I can share these books with them and explain that, even in the midst of the tragedy and fear that often grip the modern world, there are men and women of great dignity and honor who continually work to bring about peaceful and positive change."

Today, I received back some bookplates personalized for each of them (pictured here, minus their names). I was very grateful for this small gesture on his part, and it will undoubtedly make the copies of his books that I give them when they're grown that much more special. I can say that Wiesel's responsiveness to my letter overwhelms me; here's someone who mingles and associates with political and religious leaders from around the world, and he answers a letter from some unknown guy in Northern Virginia. Two of the people for whom I have a great deal of admiration: Elie Wiesel and Desmond Tutu, and both took the time to write me back. I think the fact that they not only listen to what the average person says, but take the time to respond and seem to genuinely value and appreciate those words, says just as much about the quality of their character as anything else they've done in their lives.