There is no ‘but’

It’s been a week…. A week of watching reactions to Charlie Kirk’s assassination and I’m just as disappointed as I thought I would be. I’ve seen it everywhere on social media, TV, podcasts. Those who cannot bring themselves to simply say that all political violence is wrong. Murder is wrong. Being assassinated in front of your wife and children is wrong. Full stop. No caveats.

Yet almost unfailingly, from those who disliked Charlie Kirk, comes the “but.” They say things like:
“Charlie Kirk didn’t deserve to be murdered, but he said things I think are harmful and hurtful.”
“Charlie Kirk didn’t deserve to be murdered, but words are violence.”
“Charlie Kirk didn’t deserve to be murdered, but he was racist, sexist, hateful, and a fascist.”

It’s the same kind of twisted victim-blaming logic we rightly reject in other contexts:
“That woman didn’t deserve to be assaulted, but she was dressed provocatively and did drink a lot of alcohol.”
“That man didn’t deserve to be robbed, but he shouldn’t have been in that neighborhood.”

We don’t accept these excuses in those instance, nor should we here. Even if every accusation uttered about Kirk were true about the things he said or the opinions he had, there is still no “but.” An innocent man lost his life to an assassin’s bullet for speaking words. Every “but” only builds upon the permission structures for violence that made his murder possible.

When we qualify our condemnation of any violence, political or otherwise, we normalize it. The moment we allow a “but” is the moment we decide some lives are expendable. And once that bell is rung, it can’t be undone.

Naive Hope Springs Eternal

In years past, when I have reflected on 9/11, it has always felt like the best and worst of what it means to be an American — unimaginable pain, but also extraordinary bravery. We rose to meet the challenge together, bound by grief, yes, but also by hope. We cried for the dead, we honored the heroes like Todd Beamer and those many first responders who gave their lives, and for a moment, we saw each other not as strangers or enemies, but as fellow citizens. We saw one another as humans in need of comfort, action, and love. It’s always given me hope. 

But it today feels different. And I guess it has for a long time now.

Children are being killed in churches, who are then mocked for praying. Innocent people, like Iryna Zarutska, are murdered on trains while people do nothing to help. Charlie Kirk, inarguably one of the most transformative political figures of a generation, wasassassinated in broad daylight, and the news of which in some circles was met with celebration and ridicule. All this happens while the divide between us grows wider, the anger louder, the violence more frequent. Something in our culture, in the very fabric that holds this nation together, is broken. I don’t know whether it’s a lack of shared American values, the influence of social media, the inability to see those we disagree with as anything other than evil, the decline of God in our culture… I guess it’s all those things. But we are not the same Americans who came together after 9/11. And that breaks my heart.

Because I still believe that a better America is in us. I have to believe it, even if it is naïve, because the alternative is…too terrible to imagine. But we’ve buried it under outrage, cynicism, fear, and tribalism. We’ve forgotten how to grieve together, how to disagree with decency, how to love our country and each other, even when we fall short.

There’s no undoing the tragedy of 9/11. There’s no undoing just the last month of tragedies! Nothing can bring back what we lost — not only the lives but the piece of our collective soul that seems to be gone. If we want to be better, we have to do better. We have tohonor the courage we saw — the courage to serve others, even at the cost of one’s life. We must respect and honor the selflessness of people like Todd Beamer, who knew his life would end, but acted anyway to save others. And beyond that, we can agree that anyone should be able to speak freely without fear of an assassin’s bullet. We can agree that everyone should be free to worship in God’s house and not have to justify their prayers at their worst moment. We can agree that action in service of others in need is a noble goal, not a fool’s errand. These all should be the most vaunted of American values. 

I don’t have the same optimism I once did. I feel more sorrow than hope today. But I do still believe that we can be more than what we’ve become — if we’re willing to be honest, to look inward, to speak out, and to choose hope over fear. To disagree without hate.To call out what is wrong and to do what is right and just. To have faith with works. To live lives of virtue and honor. To celebrate the best of us, just as we did after 9/11. And to tell those who laugh, mock, trade in violence, and stoke division to sit down and shut the hell up! 

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:27