As we all heard the news of the mass shootings at the Parisian satirical magazine, Charlie Hebdo, it was natural for us to be horrified by such violence, which is so often fueled by perceived political or religious anger and grievance. This news from Paris comes at the same time as the lone surviving suspect in the Boston Marathon bombings begins to have his day in court. In the midst of such violent news, we may lose our perspective, and thus the big picture and the larger trajectory humankind appears to be on, at least based on the real data we have. More on that in a moment.

Mass murder, such as we just witnessed in Paris this week, has almost always been born out of people’s twisted response to their anger and grievance (at least in their own minds) over some great wrong being done to them or to their “tribe or to their “people.” Timothy McVeigh was motivated by such anger and grievance when he set off a deadly bomb in Oklahoma City in 1995. In the same state 74 years earlier, hundreds of white citizens in Tulsa systematically murdered as many as 300 black residents in a part of town known as the “Black Wall Street,” which at the time was the wealthiest African-American community in the United States. In Wilmington, North Carolina there was the so-called Massacre of 1898, which was actually a coup d’etat of the elected government. No one knows the full extent of the massacre since many of the bodies of the African-Americans killed were dumped in the Cape Fear River and never recovered.

In each of these instances, as we will probably discover with the one this week in Paris, the deranged actors all justified their murderous act or rampage on settling some score or righting some wrong. In their own warped sense of logic (engaging in an evil for an alleged evil), they were right to do what they did. The actions of others, they claim, led them to do what they did. That leads inevitably to the old “ends justifies the means” argument, which is always morally bankrupt.

But we should also know, even as the horrendous act in Paris sinks in, that such actions are actually fewer in number and less frequent than at other times in human history. It may be hard for us to believe because of the media available today, but war and other forms of political violence (like the examples above) are declining. As Steven Pinker illustrates in his book, The Better Angels of Our Nature, deaths related to such political violence are falling. This coincides with a steady decline worldwide of extreme poverty, child mortality, and hunger as well as the continued growth, since the fall of the Berlin Wall 25 years ago, of the number of countries that are democracies.

Of course, such perspective doesn’t help those who mourn now for their murdered loved ones and fellow citizens. For now, we should just grieve with them and share their outrage and sadness, while also reminding ourselves about the historical moral bankruptcy of responding to evil with more evil. But I do hope it helps us all take a step back and see the arc of history better. As Dr. Martin Luther King said in 1967, Jr. (paraphrasing the words of the Reverend Theodore Parker a century before): The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice”.

+Scott

 

When a Pew is Not a Pew (eCrozier #193)

I recently read there are currently lawsuits in the British courts concerning churches that are seeking to replace their pews with chairs. Some parishioners are suing the churchwardens to keep the chairs out and the pews in. As The Godfather might say: they’re “going to the mattresses” to keep the pews. While not as prevalent, there are similar struggles on this side of the pond. One church in the U.S. had to delay its building program for two years, not because they were underfunded or couldn’t get a loan, but because the congregation was deeply and emotionally divided over the choice between pews and chairs in the nave. They eventually went with the chairs and nobody died…to my knowledge.

What’s going on? We could make sense of a church struggle over which neighborhood a church should evangelize or which particular way they were going to serve the poor in their community or how they might use their property to be good neighbors to their neighbors. Those are worthy church struggles. But pews vs. chairs? Really? It does seem petty. Is it worth paralyzing the church so God’s mission is impeded? Clearly, however, it isn’t petty to those in the fight. Something deeper is going on here and the “pews vs. chairs fight” is just the presenting issue. We see similar paralysis elsewhere. For example: Boards of education unable to agree on textbooks for their students because of science being politicized; museum trustees closing down their institution because they are unable to agree on which art to display; and, members of Congress shutting down the federal government when some of the members don’t get their way.

What I believe is going on here is a deep grief people are experiencing. It’s kind of a kind of death for them. And because grief is such a confusing, unpleasant, and difficult emotion for many people, rather than owning their grief, they manifest it outwardly as anger toward those proposing a change. From my experience it does no good to tell grieving people: “Just get over it.” That just makes them angrier. Nor does it do much good to tell them that their grieving is holding back the church’s mission. They simply get stuck deeper in their grief and cut off future dialogue. What has a chance to work for church leaders is this: Take them and their grief seriously. Acknowledge that what they perceive as a loss matters to them. Then work toward a future that takes them and their concerns seriously. But that doesn’t mean, for example, the pews will stay.

In a former parish, I had parishioner at the annual parish meeting loudly scream against our proposed plans to redesign our worship space so it could be expanded to hold more, yes, chairs. I thought he was going to have a stroke. We didn’t halt the plans because he acted out, but we did listen to him (after he calmed down), tried to understand what he perceived he would be losing in the change, and asked him to help us work toward a redesign that would take his concerns seriously. He didn’t get everything he wanted in that redesign, but he had some good ideas that helped retain some of the previous affect of the worship space. And we incorporated those ideas to everyone’s delight. Most importantly, we honored a brother in Christ by taking him seriously. And he turned out to be the biggest giver in the fundraising effort that followed.

+Scott