I suppose I could be referring to never having any time to express a worthwhile thought anymore. The new job is great, but getting out the door in time for work in the morning has put a damper on my early-morning writing, and accessing social media even on breaks is verboten in my new workplace. Evenings have been crazy busy, too. But at last I have a few minutes to gather a few thoughts from the last week.
My feelings are probably not sufficiently in touch with the citizens of Paris. But then, most Westerners' feelings haven't been sufficiently in touch with the citizens of Syria, Iraq, or Afghanistan for entirely too long. The attack in Paris was supposed to be shocking, but I am not shocked anymore by what we will do to each other in God's name, or that of Justice. From our perspective, the perpetrators of terrorist acts have been primarily Islamic extremists, but those whose homes are destroyed by war may not make such a distinction in who they blame for their homelessness. Don't get me wrong: I'm not suggesting that collateral damage in attempting to combat evil is the same as intentional attack on innocent people, just that I understand why those collateral victims might have a different opinion from mine.
I hope I always remember what the rabbi at the NYC memorial service after 9/11 said. The gist of it was that great threat of evil is not what it does to us from without, but what we become in response to it. And the evil that we have encountered over the past fourteen years has apparently made us a fearful, defensive people, incapable of understanding others' pain. I understand the feelings of my friends who refuse to extend a welcome to those displaced by war in their home country. But their anti-terrorist-cum-anti-Muslim fear prevents Christian refugees from taking shelter among us, too. We seem to have forgotten that the entire Sunni-vs.-Shiite conflict in the Islamic-dominated lands leaves Christians with nowhere to turn. "I don't care," they may protest; it isn't worth the risk, hunkering down in their shells in the middle of the highway.
Really, though, that makes it sound as if my motivation is the same as theirs - determining who best deserves to find a refuge - when I'm really just making an observation about a side effect of what seems to be a predominant view of the "religious right." I find myself disagreeing with their protectionist stance.
I could invoke Franklin, I guess, whose adage about those who would trade liberty for safety could probably be easily extended to those who would protect their own well-being at the expense of those who are far worse off. Or maybe we could talk in terms of lust-filled David, whose royal harem was insufficient to quench his lust for poor Uriah's wife.
But while I recognize that we have a responsibility to look after the safety of our own citizens, the image that keeps coming to my mind is how my Lord treated me when I was his enemy. He did not shrink back from the harm I would do to him, but in his great love and compassion ran forward to embrace the worst hurt that I had to offer, that he might thereby win me to himself. I have long held that it is impossible to simultaneously love another and protect oneself, and that is the true nature of the debate.
To hear us talk, I think it's time to scratch that inscription off the base of that wonderful gift we got from France almost 130 years ago, though. We've become to afraid to care any longer who else yearns to breathe free.
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