Hate, Bugs and 9/11
Good things, like healing, creep into our lives in small packages.
We’re less than a day from the murder of Charlie Kirk, and as I write this the Naval Academy campus in Annapolis is in lockdown due to an active shooter report. The latter story popped onto my screen as I was scrolling through reactions to the former, all of it blurring with the shootings at Evergreen High School, which came so swiftly after the shooting at a Catholic school in Minneapolis. And, today is 9/11.
In the wake of Charlie Kirk’s murder, some point at left-leaning people and institutions as the cause. They would persecute and silence such entities, moving us further from the ideal of free speech that Mr. Kirk embodied so conspicuously. Others note that Charlie Kirk did nothing more than nurture an atmosphere of intolerance and hatred, helping to pave a road to yesterday’s carnage.
The hate of it all is overwhelming and suffocating. Our tendency toward violence based on hatred literally takes my breath away. Fear pervades all of it, distrust of the “other” as well as corrosion of what can be so good about our species. I feel a pressure, a tangible weight on my shoulders and a creeping tightness in my chest, as I scroll.
Some of what I feel is grief, I’m sure. I disagree with most of what Charlie Kirk believed, but I mourn for his family along with the students who witnessed this horror. My heart is sick for the families in Colorado and Minnesota, and broken again for those in Sandy Hook and elsewhere, schools and too many other places. And, still, today is 9/11.
Beyond specific events that generate headlines, I grieve for the demise of compassion and civility. I am haunted by the truth that some of us welcome or even celebrate the death of another, whether the execution arrives instantly by bullet or over time through calculated oppression in systems. And I grieve the death of the decency that not so long ago might find us pulling together in the midst of a tragedy. Instead, we spiral into accusations and hateful blaming.
We must do better, and I think bugs can help. Take a deep breath and stick with me.
Our recent cool, clear weather has called me outside even more than usual recently, a habit I embrace as a means of reconnecting to the cosmos. I often head out in running shoes to jog, breathe, listen, and otherwise behold. On particularly glorious days, I will plop down after a run on our front stoop with electrolytes and gratitude for the combo of sunshine and a cool breeze. About two weeks ago a dragonfly (see above pic) joined my post-run routine, landing gracefully on my right shoulder.
I don’t always keep my glasses on after a run, so my vision can be sketchy in these moments. You might understand then, or perhaps even share, my impulse to swat or squish a surprising, large, unknown bug on my shirt. Thankfully, I held back, and the dragonfly and I shared a precious few seconds before he left me to find a less sweaty perch.
I am not always careful enough to catch myself before lashing out at a bug, but this is a model moment that I intend to practice. If I hold the worldview that God treasures all that exists, this of course includes creatures that we are quick to label as creepy and crawly. What may be easier to practice with elegant dragonflies is a touch more challenging with huge, armor-plated beetles like this guy:
If we cast an ever-widening net of adoration, striving to see things as we imagine God beholding the universe, we eventually grow to include people we had previously identified as enemies. I am far from mastering this practice, but I have worked on it enough so that I did not hurl a shoe at what was likely a broad-necked root borer crawling up our garage door. I like to think of these moments of brief pause before reacting as allowing space for grace, even just a few seconds to remember that we’re in this together, bugs and all.
How might my behavior continue to shift if I could more firmly hold the idea that everything that exists has inherent value and goodness? Imagine how the world could evolve if I could get to the point of refraining from lashing out in reaction to a provocation from another person. This practice does not include allowing violence of any kind to go unchecked. Seeing the beauty in the “other” at times includes recognizing that they may do better and telling them so.
The Norfolk Volunteer Fire Department hosts an annual 9/11 Commemoration, and I am asked as chaplain to take part. As part of my prayer, I expressed gratitude that in the midst of such horror, people around the nation and the world responded by opening their doors and their hearts to each other. Unity prevailed, if only briefly, in spite of diversity as people around the globe prayed, sacrificed, and served without regard for the identity of those in need.
Then as now I lean with hope into the belief that Americans have the capacity to be patriotic with a deep love for our nation - along with an abiding and guiding lack of hatred of the other. I pray that we will continue to grow in our ability to see the precious nature of all life. Recognizing the inherent value and divinity in all that exists brings healing and restoration. This doesn’t always feel easy, which is why I am starting small.