We Don't Need Guns on Campus

Screen Shot 2015-10-07 at 12.14.02 PM"I hate you. You disgust me. How could you do this to me?" It was fall of my sophomore year in college. I had just dropped the breakup bomb, and the guy was not taking it well. But as furious as he was, I was relieved that at least the worst part was over and we could start to move on.

Except this guy's version of moving on left something to be desired. At first, it was notes in my campus mail box and phone calls asking me to reconsider. When it was clear that I was really moving on, the tone shifted to jilted fury.

And then--harassment.

If I walked somewhere on campus with a male friend, my ex-boyfriend would let me know he'd seen me with another guy. I'd receive a message containing vile insinuations about what my friend and I must have been doing together.

When I came out of class, he'd often be waiting outside the door to walk back to the dorm with me. I begged him to leave me alone, but he persisted.

...

I looked into whether his behavior could be considered stalking. I consulted a resident associate as well as my uncle, a law enforcement officer in another city. Both were sympathetic, but felt there was little I could do. My ex seemed to know exactly how to make my life hell while staying on the legal side of the line. He never explicitly threatened me or laid a hand on me. But I have never been so afraid of a man's anger.

Senate Bill 11 is now law in Texas, the state where I grew up and attended college. The law requires the state's public universities to allow handguns in dorms, classrooms and campus buildings. Private universities are allowed to opt out of the requirement.

The Chancellor of the University of Texas, William McRaven, opposed this law when it was being debated. In a letter to the Texas legislature, he cited concerns from campus mental health professionals, law enforcement officers, and professors, then stated flatly, "I feel the presence of concealed weapons will make a campus a less safe environment." The law grants universities some rights to define specific areas where weapons may be prohibited, but I wish the legislature had taken Chancellor McRaven's concerns more seriously.

READ THE REST at Huffington Post. And leave a comment. Agreeing or disagreeing!

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The World Is Still Beautiful

Last night I posted this to Facebook with the caption It's a beautiful time to be alive.

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I posted it at 8:30 p.m.

Of course I didn't know that at that moment, a young white man was sitting in an iconic black church, words of love and liberation washing over him, calculating just the right time to open fire on people whose only crime was being black in America.

It was a lynching.

As of this writing, my Facebook post had 162 likes. Many of them came in after the events in Charleston. I'm grateful for every one of those likes, because I have a hard time believing it's a beautiful time to be alive. I'm so tired of the violence that I can scarcely even muster the energy to be outraged.

And if I am sick and tired of being sick and tired, I can only imagine what African-American friends and colleagues are feeling. A friend shared that her church is having a meeting to see about hiring a security guard, which they would share with the church across the street. I don't need to tell you the racial makeup of those congregations.

162 people clicked a button in agreement that it's a beautiful time to be alive., which is such a small thing, but I needed every one of those affirmation.

Because it's true. We must fight back with beauty.

But the beauty we employ cannot be a soft, Thomas Kinkade beauty. No, we need beauty with an edge and a spine. We need Mark Rothko beauty. We need Sylvia Plath and Langston Hughes and Miles Davis.

My friend Denise Anderson wrote this post. Read it and suit up.

It is a beautiful time to be alive. But only if we make it beautiful. And we have to. We just have to.

They Ran Into the Fire

Two weekends ago we were in Pennsylvania for Robert's grandmother's 90th birthday party. It was a wonderful weekend of activities that included a buffet lunch on Sunday after church in the fellowship hall. During the lunch we sat with my mother-in-law's cousin, who was a police officer for many years before he retired. He now investigates crime scenes, if I remember correctly.

We were talking about their recent vacation to France when we heard someone call out "Fire! Fire!" The sterno underneath the steam tables had ignited some paper wrappings nearby.

Many people jumped up to help. But nobody moved faster than cousin Will.

After the fire was out and people were settled back into their lunches, we all joked about his superb reflexes and the impulse to be the first into the fray, even during a luncheon for a 90-year-old. I'm sure it's the training.

Thought about him again today when I saw this:

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Hug a first responder today. If you don't have one handy, anyone else will do.

And as a second responder, I agree with Patton Oswalt. For me it's a theological affirmation:

I remember, when 9/11 went down, my reaction was, "Well, I've had it with humanity."

But I was wrong. I don't know what's going to be revealed to be behind all of this mayhem. One human insect or a poisonous mass of broken sociopaths.

But here's what I DO know. If it's one person or a HUNDRED people, that number is not even a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a percent of the population on this planet. You watch the videos of the carnage and there are people running TOWARDS the destruction to help out. (Thanks FAKE Gallery founder and owner Paul Kozlowski for pointing this out to me). This is a giant planet and we're lucky to live on it but there are prices and penalties incurred for the daily miracle of existence. One of them is, every once in awhile, the wiring of a tiny sliver of the species gets snarled and they're pointed towards darkness.

But the vast majority stands against that darkness and, like white blood cells attacking a virus, they dilute and weaken and eventually wash away the evil doers and, more importantly, the damage they wreak. This is beyond religion or creed or nation. We would not be here if humanity were inherently evil. We'd have eaten ourselves alive long ago.

So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think, "The good outnumber you, and we always will."

title comes from the West Wing episode Twenty Hours in America

More on Violence and Holy Week: Breaking Bad, Hunger Games

Rue from the Hunger Games In response to yesterday's post:

This was going to be a comment but it's too long. I want to share a quote from a recent episode of On Being. The ep was The Great Cauldron of Story: Why Fairy Tales Are for Adults Again with a folklorist, Maria Tatar:

Ms. Tippett: I'm just following on some of the things we've been talking about also in terms of popular culture. I also do see some very gritty ways right now specific to our time I think. You know, television like The Walking Dead or Breaking Bad or The Hunger Games, you've talked about. There's also this genre where there's a really intense existential fear. And one of the themes in a lot of these is everything that we think has civilized us is taken away. Right. And that we are brutalized.

Ms. Tatar: Right, right, yeah.

Ms. Tippett: And, but I've read you feeling concerned also about some of that going to new extremes that might not be good for us.

Ms. Tatar: You know, it's hard, I don't like to be the one preaching a sermon. Because I told you about my childhood experience. So I'm always reluctant to sort of be judgmental. But I must admit that Breaking Bad was my breaking point. That is, that there's some — I remember just seeing — I won't even describe it. But I thought, OK, that's just too much for me.

Ms. Tippett: Yeah, I feel that way too.

Ms. Tatar: I have to turn that off, yeah. And Hunger Games I was startled by, because to me, the idea of a book about children killing children was just going to an extreme. It was violating a cultural taboo in a way that was difficult for me. But then there, I read the book and I watched the movie and I thought they were sensational and really fascinating. You know, and I didn't — even though it had crossed a line, Suzanne Collins somehow seemed to have done it in a way that made sense for me. That you know, there seemed to be a real point to that. And you know, I'm not the one who is looking for a lesson. But you know, we do have a new culture.

Ms. Tippett: Right.

Ms. Tatar: You know, where there's a lot more is permitted. We don't protect our children as much as we once did. And I guess, you know, I do worry that children today they can see anything.

Ms. Tippett: Yeah, and they know they're not protected. Right. That's…

Ms. Tatar: Right, right, right. And…

Ms. Tippett: I mean, here's something you wrote: "This savagery we offer children today is more unforgiving than it once was. And the shadows are rarely banished by comic relief. Instead of stories about children who struggle to grow up, we have stories about children to struggle to survive." But I think that's a reality people, even children, are aware of.

Ms. Tatar: It is. And I have to say that the minute you go into the protectionist mode and you say, you know, we need to draw a line and it shouldn't be anything goes, you just get a lot blowback from people who say, oh you know, you don't give children enough credit. They're able to navigate this. And also we live in a violent world and therefore children should be, should know that, and all of that. But some of that — I think we haven't been very thoughtful about figuring out, you know, where is that line? Where do we draw it? What responsibilities do we have as adults? But as I say, I always feel uncomfortable and maybe that's why we're not talking about it, because it makes us uncomfortable to be the censors or the editors or the ones who are saying, oh no, oh no, that's too much.

Ms. Tippett: You know, I remember when my son whose now 14 — I think he was probably 12 or 13 when he was reading and really just inhaling it. And I asked him what it was about? I mean I heard other people tell me what it was about. And the first word that came out of his mouth is, it's about poverty. You know, that's not the word other people — I mean it wasn't about children struggling.

Ms. Tatar: Oh, that's fascinating.

Ms. Tippett: I mean it was about children struggling, but if this book has him thinking about poverty, well OK.

Ms. Tatar: Oh yeah, because Katniss is — remember when the book starts out she's skin and bones.

Ms. Tippett: Yeah.

Ms. Tatar: And she's, you know, she's living in Panem, the country of bread, where there is no food. And she, you know, she becomes this extraordinary trickster figure, who has to survive in a time of famine and use her wits.

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The Holy Week angle, not that there needs to be one, is that Jesus' story has elements of the trickster as well. But more broadly, I resonate with this exchange, even as I notice that Tippett and Tatar are conflating two things. One, the intensity of those stories as they relate to children. And two, the appropriateness of those stories for children.

And we shouldn't confuse those two issues. There are spheres for adults and spheres for children. I've just noticed that extremely dark stuff (violent or not) is not cathartic or entertaining in the way it once might have been before I started relating to children every day, for many hours a day. The fiction leaks into the non-fiction, and the world looks darker than it really is.

But I'm very interested in other perspectives on this.

On Giving Up Violence: A Meditation during Holy Week

Several years ago, Robert and I went to see The Dark Knight in the theater. We both liked the film, but there was a moment near the end that haunted us for quite a long time: Harvey Dent taking Commissioner Gordon's young son hostage, threatening to execute him based on the flip of a coin. "Man, children in peril," Robert said as we drove home to relieve the babysitter. "I can't look at that stuff like I used to."

Children in peril. I've used that phrase to explain why I'm not interested in watching Breaking Bad, despite its reported brilliance. I was open to it initially---the show appears to address issues of morality in a very interesting way, so maybe I could go with it. Then I heard a spoiler about an episode last August and said, "Nope, that's it."

Friends say in response, "Well, it's not like children are singled out. Pretty much everyone is in peril on that show."

Just so you know, that doesn't help your case.

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Fast forward from Harvey Dent to Aurora. I still haven't seen The Dark Knight Rises. I would have, before. I like good action movies. They can be fun, even cathartic. The Dark Knight series is rich. And the word "rises" is right there in the title, beckoning this Christian minister who likes to sleuth around for Jesus hiding in unlikely places.

But I can't see it now. I won't. In my mind, knowing that the gunfire in the film provided auditory camouflage for actual terror and death puts it two degrees of separation away from a snuff film.

(This isn't about the culture wars, by the way. I don't happen to agree that violent video games and movies turn people violent. After all, other countries consume the same media that we do and don't have nearly the talent for killing each other that Americans do. I will leave it to you, Gentle Reader, to ponder just what it is that allows Americans shoot each other with such alacrity.)

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Then, Newtown.

Something broke in a lot of people that day in December, but it broke us all in different places. One of the things it broke in me is an ability to see extreme violence on the screen and put it in a different cognitive location than where I put the knowledge of what eleven bullets do to a first grader. I've waited to see whether that fracture would repair itself with time. But no, the limp remains. 

Other people are having similar discussions. Linda Holmes writes on pop culture for NPR and recently explored this topic in a post, "The Spatter Pattern: Does All the Good Television Have to Be So Bloody?"

It's like we have an army of dazzlingly fluent poets who all write in one language. That doesn't, of course, make all the poetry the same, any more than all English-language poetry is the same. These shows are varied in many ways: The Wire is not the same show as The Walking Dead just because people get shot and otherwise brutalized, and American Horror Story and Boardwalk Empire are hardly identical twins. But they share elements, one of which is that the stakes involve — not solely but largely — avoiding being violently killed. And for that reason, they ask the viewer to want to watch people being violently killed now and then, and sometimes now and then and then and then, because otherwise the threats are false.

This blog post is not a line in the sand, by the way. It's not an announcement: I don't consume violence for entertainment anymore. It's also not a judgment on others who make different choices. Rather it's an opportunity for self-examination, to explore how the choices I make define who I am. Where are the boundaries in the stands we take? What's in and what's out?

 

Is it gratuitous violence that's the issue? Many people I respect say that Django Unchained was the best movie of the year, but I can't do Tarantino. Except I don't want to see realistic violence either. Robert and I were trying to make a plan for date night last weekend, and he didn't have "Zero Dark Th---" out of his mouth before I said "No."

But wait. Wasn't LOST one of my favorite TV shows of all time? And wasn't it pretty violent? Yes. I'm pondering what makes that show OK, or whether I'm just hypocritical on the point.

Second, didn't I just re-read The Hunger Games? And doesn't that book consist of children in peril (and children causing peril)? But the book is a critique of that violence. In fact, the heroic acts in the book are those that demonstrate forbearance and restraint. (The second and third books chronicle the insurrection against the Capitol and tell a more traditional war story, which is partly why I don't like them as much.)

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I'm thinking about these things this week, this Holy Week, as Christians prepare to come together on Thursday and Friday to tell an incredibly violent story, a story that we strain to find redemption in. And maybe that's another word I'm looking for: redemptive. Maybe it's the idea of redemptive violence that I can't be a witness to: Revenge. Ends justifying means. Might making right. 

It's not the violence against Jesus that's redemptive. In fact, there's something thuggish about a God who would send His [sic] son to die on a cross to provide payment for our sins:

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Ugh.

As I said from the pulpit two weeks ago, I've gotta think that an infinitely creative God could've come up with myriad ways of bringing reconciliation and shalom. No, it was the powers and principalities, not God, that sentenced Jesus to death. And it's Jesus' incomprehensible posture of forgiveness (Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do) that gives the story its power.

Where do you land in these things?

Followers of Jesus, how are you telling the story? And how are you hearing it?

 

Newtown, Noah Pozner, and a World Reborn

Tikku olam Some of my Facebook friends have been posting beautiful, excruciating articles about the loss of Noah Pozner, the youngest victim of Newtown. He was a twin. He was a darling child. And his family has been thoughtful, yet unflinching, in their mourning of him.

You can read the articles here and here---please be warned that they are wrenching. You may forget to breathe.

But as I read them I kept thinking about an interview I heard years ago on Speaking of Faith (before it became On Being) with Laurie Zoloth, a Jewish ethicist who studies the issues around human cloning. As you might imagine, she writes with a great deal of concern over the prospect of cloning a human being, and the tangled web of issues such a possibility would raise for society.

During the interview, Zoloth shared her experience of being part of a volunteer Jewish burial society. Jewish custom requires bodies to be buried before sundown if at all possible. Several years prior, on the day of Passover, she was called to take part in the burial preparation for a four-year-old girl. The girl had been running across the street to her father’s waiting arms when she was hit by a car. Zoloth arrived at the funeral home with the other women to prepare the body, which was horribly, heartbreakingly broken. The preparations for burial included washing the body with water, and dozens of other careful, ritualistic details. “This little girl was the tiniest person we had prepared,” Zoloth says. “I and all the other women there were frantic with grief.”

And then, this Jewish ethicist who has spoken out against human cloning went on to say, “I knew at that point that I would have cloned her. If I could have. If I’d had the technology… I didn’t care if it was risky, I wanted that baby girl back.”

And yet the mother of this little girl, a woman of deep Jewish faith, said, “If you want to bring my daughter back, I need you to go to work in the world, to do acts of loving kindness and mercy, of justice and love. That will bring her back.” This is the Hebrew concept of tikkun olam, or “healing of the world.” In Jewish theology, it is this healing, this repair of the world, that will bring the Messiah. This is what will bring the lost ones back. The mother believed that completely.

Only through a radically altered world, a world of justice, peace and mercy, would her daughter be restored.

And Zoloth realized, “It is not the body that this little girl needs, it is a world reborn that this little girl needs.”

It is a world reborn that Noah Pozner needs.

Friday Link Love: Kids Today, An Elusive Dog, and A Good Gun Control Debate

It's Friday! What do you have planned for the weekend? I'm pinching myself because Robert and I came into some tickets to the biggest party in town. You know those people who respond to "how are you" with "better than I deserve"?

Yeah. That.

I have a great life. It would be poor stewardship not to enjoy the heck out of it.

Anyway... here we go:

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When I Was Your Age... Or 'What Is It with Kids These Days?' -- Scientific American

Same as it ever was:

In her most recent book, Twentysomething: Why do Young Adults Seem Stuck, co-authored with her twenty-something daughter Samantha, Robin Marantz Henig delves into the hard data... what—if anything—is it about kids these days? the mother-daughter team asks. And why is it that every generation seems to think that there’s something different going on with kids these days, as compared to any other?

In 2000, psychologist Jeffrey Arnett proposed the existence of a new stage of development: emerging adulthood. Whereas before, we’d go straight from adolescence to full-blown young adultdom, now, there was a step in between, an area where our adult selves were emerging but not-quite-emerged...

As Marantz Henig is quick to point out, Arnett isn’t the first to discuss this possibility. In a 1970 article in The American Scholar, the psychologist Kenneth Keniston also thought he discerned a new trend of unsettled wandering. He termed in simply, “youth.” And that youth “sounds a lot like Arnett’s description of emerging adulthood a generation later,” Marantz Henig writes, going on to say that, “despite Arnett’s claims to the contrary, we weren’t really all that different then from the way our own children are now. Keniston’s article seems a lovely demonstration of the eternal cycle of life, the perennial conflict between the generations, the gradual resolution of those conflicts. It’s reassuring….”

As a member of Generation X, who heard a lot of the same criticisms leveled at me and my generation that I am now hearing about the Millenials, it is reassuring indeed.

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Can You Find the Dog in Each of These Photos? -- Colossal

Meet Momo, the most elusive puppy on Instagram. He's a border collie if that helps:

momo-5

Ontario-based graphic designer Andrew Knapp noticed that his 4.5 year old border collie, Momo, would always hide when fetching sticks instead of dutifully returning them.

Andrew's site is GoFindMomo.com.

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13 Must-See Stargazing Events in 2013 -- Mother Nature Network

First up: the moon and Jupiter conjunction in just a few days:

Jan. 21: Very Close Moon/Jupiter Conjunction
For North Americans, this is a real head-turner, one easily visible even from brightly lit cities. A waxing gibbous moon, 78-percent illuminated, will pass within less than a degree to the south of Jupiter, the largest planet in our solar system. (For reference, your closed fist held out at arm's length covers 10 degrees of the sky.)
These two bright luminaries will make their closest approach high in the evening sky for all to see. What’s even more interesting is that this will be the closest moon-Jupiter conjunction until the year 2026! [Amazing Photos: Jupiter and the Moon]

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My Faith: A Confession -- Justin Erik Halldór Smith

My kind of confession. Long and equivocally unequivocal:

For some centuries now, no small confusion has arisen from the fact that we talk about belief in God, rather than love of God. The two amount to the same thing, but the first of these expressions, at least since the beginning of the modern period, pushes us willy-nilly into the field of evidence and argumentation, a field where the standards of commitment have nothing to do with the issue at hand, and so not surprisingly, though for poorly understood reasons, belief in God cannot but be a failing proposition.

As they told us at CREDO, "credo" means "believe," but really it means "I give my heart."

But start from love, start from joy, and the demand for further evidence vanishes. To continue to make it would be like demanding to see the hormones that cause an erection before accepting that there is such a thing as eros. It would be vulgar. It is vulgar, every time we hear it from the puffed-up fools who believe they are defending the honour and integrity of something, which they also do not understand, but which they call 'science'. Science has more often than not been driven by what its practitioners have experienced as joy and wonder before God's creation. This is a historical fact, and even if you are one of the puffed-up fools who thinks belief in God deserves nothing but mockery, you cannot change this fact.

...Those who know me or have read me will probably know that I have often claimed that I am an atheist. I would like to stop doing this, but if I had to justify myself, I would say that it is for fear of being confused with that blowhard with the 'John 3:16' banner that I am unforthcoming about what I actually believe. I am infinitely closer, in the condition of my soul, to the people who feel God's absence-- the reasons for this feeling are a profound theological problem, and one might say that it is only smugness that enables people, atheists and dogmatists alike, to avoid grappling with this problem. I am with the people who detect God's hand, perhaps without even realizing it, where the smug banner-holder sees only sin: in jungle music, dirty jokes, seduction, and swearing. I am with the preacher who puts out a gospel album, then goes to prison on fraud and drug charges for a while, then puts out a hip-grinding soul album, and then another gospel album. I am with the animals, who can't even read, but can still talk to the saints of divine things. I am sooner an atheist, if what we understand by Christianity is a sort of supernatural monarchism; if we understand by it that God is love, though, then, I say, I am a Christian.

Along similar lines: God is Unknowable; Stop Looking for Him and You Will Find Faith -- David Bryant (Guardian)

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Sitting is the Smoking of Our Generation -- Harvard Business Review

Four years ago, I made a simple change when I switched one meeting from a coffee meeting to a walking-meeting. I liked it so much it became a regular addition to my calendar; I now average four such meetings, and 20 to 30 miles each week. Today it's life-changing, but it happened almost by accident.

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10 Habits to Strengthen Your Relationship with Your Child -- Aha! Parenting

Some of these I'm OK at:

12 hugs a day. Hug your child first thing in the morning, when you say goodbye, when you're re-united, at bedtime, and often in between.  If your tween or teen rebuffs your advances when she first walks in the door, realize that with older kids you have to ease into the connection.  Get her settled with a cool drink, and chat as you give a foot rub. (Seem like going above and beyond?  It's a foolproof way to hear what happened in her life today, which should be high on your priority list.)

Some of them I need to work on:

Welcome emotion. Sure, it's inconvenient.  But your child needs to express his emotions or they'll drive his behavior.  So accept the meltdowns, don't let the anger trigger you, and welcome the tears and fears that always hide behind the anger. Remember that you're the one he trusts enough to cry with, and breathe your way through it.  Afterwards, he'll feel more relaxed, cooperative, and closer to you.

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The Importance of a 'Stop Day' -- Matthew Sleeth

Sabbath is a health issue too. Dr. Sleeth (a former ER physician) puts it well:

It's interesting, when a doctor sits down and does a primary intake with a new patient, they ask about smoking, exercise and diet, but they don't ask how much you're working. They don't get any sense of if you're working seven days a week, or if you have time set aside -- like people have always had -- for rest.

I think the lack of rest is reflected in our saying, "We don't have enough time." I think it's pretty much generally felt that we don't have enough time to really get to the things we want to do in life.

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A Gun Control Debate -- Matt Springer and Mark Hoofnagle

The other day I heard radio show on gun control. It was frustrating because the so-called gun rights advocate had good points to make that the gun control advocate could not, or did not, hear. At the same time, I found myself wishing that the gun rights advocate had offered more constructive proposals rather than shrugging and saying "It's all a matter of semantics."

This debate, hosted at scienceblogs.com, is a good model. It's not pithy. It's long and wonky. So be it. Serious times demand no less. Mark starts off:

Mass violence is not just a problem in the United States. Similar incidents have occurred in other countries, even mass shootings in countries with significant restrictions similar to what I would advocate. However, the experience of other countries is less in frequency and severity. Yes, other countries have mass violence despite strict gun control, even countries like Norway. However, no other comparable industrialized country has gun violence similar to ours. No you can not compare the United States to Mexico. No, gun control is never perfect. No, we can not prevent all murder, all mass murder, or all violent crime, but we can decrease the death toll.

and Matt follows up:

Now any preventable cause of even a single death should be prevented, and while mass murder shocks the conscience in a way that the anonymous and impersonal forces of nature cannot, this ought to cause us to pause and consider whether what is being proposed will actually do any good. The choices we make in response to these tragedies will have consequences that we foresee and consequences we don’t. These consequences may well include the failure of new laws to save anyone in the future. This concern is not hypothetical – we’re well over a decade into our government’s frantic response to 9/11, and we may well be less safe than we were on 9/10.

Both men own and operate firearms. Both are reasonable, non-knee-jerk types. More of these, please. (I hope they will keep going.)

Dobson's God is a Feckless Narcissistic Thug. Now What?

My Facebook feed is ablaze with righteous anger and defiant opposition to the god preached by James Dobson and others. (Google his remarks if you want.) The sentiment is rather consistent, at least among my gaggle of mostly mainline Protestant/Episcopal friends: This is not the God I recognize and not the God I pledged to serve as a minister of the gospel.

It is good and right to shout No to the Dobsons and their distorted god. As I said on Sunday morning:

No, by the way, to the idea that God let this madness happen because we no longer pray in school. Like clockwork, the political and religious pundits have suggested exactly that. Imagine what kind of a god that is. A narcissistic thug who would allow such carnage because we don’t pray in the time and place and manner that god specifies. No.

And if I were ever to find out that that’s the kind of being god is, I think I’d have to renounce my ordination and go sell insurance, because that god and I would be finished.

So, No to that.

But what do we say Yes to?

The answer I'm hearing, and affirming myself, is that God weeps with us in the wake of what happened in Newtown. That God's was the first heart to break that blood-soaked day.

But that's not enough. Not near enough.

God is more than the Chief Griever.

So what are we willing to affirm? I hear loud and clear the god we reject. But after Friday, and after so many other tragedies that we can't even name them all... who is the God that we preach?

This is what I'm thinking about almost constantly.

UPDATE:

Here is the thing that has come into focus for me since posting this.

Many people are rejecting Dobson's comments altogether by saying, "God did not allow this to happen."

And yet, if God is an omnipotent deity---if God has the capability to intervene in human history and in our individual lives---then technically, God absolutely did allow it to happen. It's just that we reject that God allowed it to happen for the reasons that Dobson et al put forth.

But God allowed it to happen.

Unless we're also willing to reject or mitigate God's omnipotence.

Which is what I'm pondering so strenuously, and have been really since little E died three years ago, and certainly since his brother J died in September.

'Our Ugly Failure to Evolve' -- On the Mystery of the Incarnation, after Newtown

160229699212188623"On the Mystery of the Incarnation" It's when we face for a moment the worst our kind can do, and shudder to know the taint in our own selves, that awe cracks the mind's shell and enters the heart: not to a flower, not to a dolphin, to no innocent form but to this creature vainly sure it and no other is god-like, God (out of compassion for our ugly failure to evolve) entrusts, as guest, as brother, the Word.

-Denise Levertov (h/t Andrew Foster Connors)

Image source