A day of great contrasting events and emotions:
Gage, my grandson, and I went to Ann Arbor for the football game,
Michigan hosting Western Michigan, our long awaited first trip together
to "the Big House" - but not anticipated under these circumstances. The
game was postponed from last week.
The crowd was down slightly - there were 107,00+ there, so that was
about 4,000 less than usual - empty seats here and there spoke of
people's fear of attending. Fear maybe because as always Michigan
football is the largest gathering of people that regularly takes place
in the US and a tempting target. Fear maybe because Ann Arbor is very
close to Dearborn, where I was once an assistant pastor, home of the
largest Arabic community in the US, and the raids and other police
activity, and threats of violence, have been rampant since the 11th.
I went in part to say, no one can keep me from living my life - I am too
much a rebel to live in fear of anything. And I went in part because I
needed to spend time with Gage and doing something that was totally the
opposite of thinking about what happened on the 11th and everything
thereafter. And I went in part for a reason that I suggest later.
I yield to no one in my patriotism, but I have never been a flag waver.
On the 11th, my flags went up at the apartment, on the car, in the
office, as we all have done, as a sign of connectedness to the victims
of the 11th. The flags almost came down after Bush's speech because I
do not want to be associated with that speech and its implications at
all. They are still up however - I reflected that this is my country
and my flag and my flag is beautiful - I may just add peace signs to
hang with some of my flags. I found some beautiful peace doves in a
Christian website that will be perfect.
Today I brought two American flags to the game and Gage and I held them
up during the moment of silence for the victims, and we waved them
vigorously during the half-time unfurling of the large flag during the
singing of "O beautiful for spacious skies..." And today, I sang along
with the Star Spangled Banner for the first time that I can remember.
I do not believe that there is any contradiction in being passionately
grieved about the victims of terror, and being passionately opposed to
violence as a solution or response to terror, for violence is at the
heart of the horrors of both ends of that spectrum.
I am a pacifist, and the father of a Marine. Last night as Gage and I
watched videos, we discussed that it was his father's birthday, my son,
the Marine, and we talked about how his daddy was during his duty in
what may well be great harm's way. And as we went to the usually
semi-secret Marine website to look up my son's name so I could show him
his daddy's name and encourage his pride in his Marine father, we found
that part of the website was suddenly missing, including the Marine
locator. That is rather ominous.
And that weighed on my mind all day. Gage is 6. I remember his father
at 6.
We waved our red, white, and blue pompoms, given the the people at the
game to remember the events of the 11th. Security was incredibly
tight. I had to prove my radio was a radio and my sunglasses were
sunglasses before we were admitted to the stadium. When Gage needed to
go the men's room, I forgot to bring our ticket stubs and only my
personal sincerity (or my son's urgent need) convinced the guards to let
us pass, and return. During the 4th quarter there was a rumbling under
the stadium - a moment of fear - and then realized it was just people
making usual stadium noise by stomping in the stands. As we were
walking to the car after the game, we hear sirens - and I realized that
sirens will always raise questions, bring images, that they never have
before.
What do I do differently? I now carry my cell phone at all times.
Should there be occasion, I want to be able to call someone. The
stories of people and their cell phones on the 11th are with me.
The game itself was different. There was not the usual fan intensity.
Everything was at a far lower key than usual. The tailgates were
quieter, the postgame parties were quieter, almost subdued. The game's
outcome itself meant less than that we were having the game. And the
game - a game, even the word "game" sounds so trite these days - was so
in contrast to the seriousness of all that has been happening, and is
threatening to happen. Was it frivolous to go to a game when there are
bodies still buried in rubble and troops moving towards deployment? Was
it life-affirming to continue our cultural togetherness and do the
things that we usually do because, damn it, they are fun and take us
away from the real world for a short while? And a lot of people, I am
sure, wanted to be there - at a game - because it was a place to gather
and wave our flags and sing "America" and make a political statement
that we will are a people. We are a people.
I will resume my thus far pretty lonely battle against the onslaught of
war. I will continue to lift up the words of Jesus that we should not
strike back. I will continue to search for other alternatives and urge
them on. This is not the time or place to repeat those things, for I
have done that, and will do that, without yield, for the claim of the
Gospel rises above any other consideration. And the victims of other
terrorism that we have ignored because of our own isolation from the
world, all who suffer from any hands, including our own, we must work
for their deliverance from fear and terror.
But as I stood in the stadium with 107,000+ people, thinking of why I
wanted to be there this day, and why we were all there - a profound
irony arises from the terrorism of last week.
The victims of last week - the fullest expression of the diversity of
the American people - the victims were a mirror of ourselves as a
nation. The events of the 11th have given us the self-understanding
that we are a people. Whatever we were supposed to feel, whatever the
perpetrators of this terrorism thought they were going to make us feel,
we have emerged as one people as never before. We have seen in this
that we are one people.
Those who commit violence will never cower their victims - violence has
a way of uniting those who suffer from it. That is very clear from any
empirical study of violence. That is a lesson that we ourselves must
heed as we consider the use of violence. That was not heeded by those
who did this to innocent victims on September 11th. Whoever did this -
and it still seems totally unclear, rhetoric aside, who actually did
this - really miscalculated. Those who use violence will reap the
whirlwind. And nothing that the perpetrators imagined as our reaction
to their evil deeds could possibly have included that we would emerge
from the crucible of terror as a united people. They really
miscalculated. And we have become a people. We need each other. And
we will grow in our needing of each other.
Vince
