Beginning Again in Love: Guns and Sanity
Thoughts to ponder at the beginning:
A person will worship something — have no doubt about that. We may think our tribute is paid in secret in the dark recesses of our hearts — but it will out. That which dominates our imaginations and our thoughts will determine our lives and character. Therefore, it behooves us to be careful what we worship, for what we worship we are becoming.
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
When you fire a gun, it’s like eating a delicious fruit – especially when you hit an enemy. I love guns.
– Army private quoted in “Philippines Haunted by Its Long Love Affair with Guns,” in South China
Morning Post, May 21, 2008.
Story for All
(from “Soul Food,” Jack Kornfield, ed.)
A big, tough samurai once went to see a little monk. “Monk,” he said, in a voice accustomed to instant obedience, “teach me about heaven and hell!”
The monk looked up at this mighty warrior and replied with utter disdain, “Teach you about heaven and hell? I couldn’t teach you about anything. You’re dirty. You smell. Your blade is rusty. You’re a
disgrace, an embarrassment to the samurai class. Get out of my sight. I can’t stand you.”
The samurai was furious. He shook, got all red in the face; he was speechless with rage. He pulled out his sword and raised it above him, preparing to slay the monk.
“That’s hell,” the monk said softly.
The samurai was overwhelmed. The compassion and surrender of this little man who had offered his life to give this teaching – to show him hell! He slowly put down his sword; he was filled with gratitude, and suddenly peaceful.
“And that’s heaven,” said the monk softly.
Responsive Reading A Litany of Atonement, by Rob Eller-Isaacs
For remaining silent when a single voice would have made a difference
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For each time our fears have made us rigid and inaccessible
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For each time we have struck out in anger without just cause
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For each time our greed has blinded us to the needs of others
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For the selfishness that sets us apart and alone
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For falling short of the admonitions of the spirit
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For losing sight of our unity
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For those and for so many acts both evident and subtle that have fueled the illusion of separateness
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
I was raised by parents who had no interest in guns and never would have dreamed of bringing one into the household. We weren’t allowed to play with toy guns. We weren’t even allowed to watch violent television shows, no matter how popular. We might get 15 minutes into, say, Bonanza when some bad guy would pull out a gun. My father would stride over to the television set and switch it off. If guns were present in my friends’ home, I was blissfully unaware of the fact. Other than police officers’ guns, my childhood was free of guns altogether. So, I’ve never shared the fascination with guns so many Americans seem to have.
But of the group of roughly 15 or 20 kids I played with in my neighborhood, two of them have been shot. One of them, Jon, answered a knock on the door in his college dorm one night. The person standing in the hall shot him in the head. Fortunately Jon’s assailant was a terrible aim, so Jon recovered completely.
Katy was not so lucky. Katy was a free spirit – gently, compassionate, trusting. About 20 years ago, she befriended a troubled man and tried to help him as she could. One day, her body and his were found in his car. He had shot and killed Katy, then killed himself.
So I contemplate guns and sanity through my own experience, a mixture of a high dosage of innocence against a backdrop of grim reality. Each of us approaches this topic – and any other topic – out of our own experiences. No two of us are identical. But if we are like most of America, we fall into one of two polarized camps.
Here’s an example of what I mean. In the wake of last month’s massacre at Sandy Hook School in Newtown, Connecticut, a snippet from the 2007 presidential debates has become popular. In that debate, the questions were beamed in to the candidates via video feed, the goal being to allow ordinary Americans to ask their questions directly. Here was one of the questions, asked by a young man shown on the giant screen:
My name is Jered Townsend from Clio, Michigan. To all the candidates: Tell me your position on gun control, as myself and other Americans really want to know if our babies are safe. This is my baby, purchased under the 1994 gun ban (he holds up up a Bushmaster AR-15 semi-automatic rifle).
Please tell me your views.
In these last few weeks that video has been shown along with Joe Biden’s famous response. (Remember when Joe Biden was a candidate for President? There he was appearing onstage with Barack Obama and a handful of other candidates):
“I’ll tell you what, if that’s his baby, he needs help. I think he just made an admission against his self- interest. I don’t know that he’s mentally qualified to own that gun.”
There was polarized America in a nutshell. On the one hand, the man so in love with his gun he calls it his baby and wants to protect it as such; on the other, the man who is outraged by such sentiment.
These days, that polarization is much in our consciousness. While the nation grieves the slaughter of young children in Newtown, Connecticut, Americans have also responded to that tragedy by packing more heat. Sales reports show that gun sales surged just before Christmas, particularly sales of the Bushmaster AR-15, the same model of semi-automatic used in Newtown. The Huffington Post reported on December 26 that Americans used social network software to gleefully post pictures of AR-15s under their Christmas trees. The article included the following tweets.
Joe Kemp: Well, my 10 year old cousin got brass knuckles and an AR-15 for
Christmas…pretty jealous actually. December 25
❤Jennifer Nicole❤ I got an AR15 for Christmas Thanks daddy 🙂 he knows how much
I love my guns! December 25
Sara Lynn: Can’t wait for my husband to open his Xmas gift! Bought him an AR15 before they are all banned! December 24
The Huffington Post went on to say “…Brownells’ president Pete Brownell wrote on AR15.com that the company has sold about 3.5 years worth of magazines in 72 hours, adding that the company is
‘working like crazy to get these orders to [customers] as quickly as possible…'”
Following the Sandy Hook tragedy, Americans have pointed fingers and attributed blame. We hear:
“Lack of appropriate gun control is to blame.”
“The NRA, gun lobbyists, and gun enthusiasts are to blame.”
“Lack of care for the mentally ill is to blame.”
“The shooter’s mother is to blame.”
“Violent video games are to blame.”
And, insanely, the NRA’s implication that unarmed teachers are to blame.
To be sure, much is concerning about such things as lack of adequate gun control, violent video games, substandard care for the mentally ill, and an inordinately powerful gun lobby. Ever since December 16, a steady stream of verbiage has been devoted to such topics. It’s only natural to ask why such tragedies occur. Explaining horrific violence gives the illusion of containing it, even controlling it, somehow. But today I want to address matters of the spirit, an oft less-examined aspect of the crisis of gun violence.
In his book America and its Guns: A Theological Expose, Presbyterian minister James Atwood writes: Gun violence is not so much a political or a social problem as it is a spiritual problem, and God’s people must be in the lead of the moral and ethical struggle for the soul of America.
He goes on to say:
Although one cannot dismiss the political implications of guns,the spiritual implications… far outweigh the purely political….When a human being is killed, the family does not call their congresswoman, senator, or civil magistrate. They call their pastor, rabbi, or imam. Dealing with death and its aftermath is not a political activity.”
Atwood’s theological framework is Christian; he is Presbyterian. He considers America’s love of guns idolatrous. For him, idolatrous behavior means to worship “false gods,” to put one’s faith, trust and love in something other than God. He points to a worship of guns that goes far beyond using them for hunting food or target shooting. He reminds his readers of former NRA executive Warren Cassidy’s statement: “You would get a far better understanding of the NRA if you were approaching us as one of the great religions of the world.”
This belief (says Atwood) helps explain why the fight over any gun control measure immediately takes on the quality of a crusade for those whose guns have become idols.
My own way of framing the problem is slightly different from Atwood’s, but I agree with him that in American culture escalating violence of love of guns is a spiritual crisis. I prefer Emerson’s words for framing the crisis:
A person will worship something — have no doubt about that.
We may think our tribute is paid in secret
in the dark recesses of our hearts — but it will out.
That which dominates our imaginations and our thoughts
will determine our lives and character.
Therefore, it behooves us to be careful what we worship,
for what we worship we are becoming.
If we worship guns, agents of death, we are becoming agents of death. If we worship power, we are becoming power-hungry and oppressive. If we worship violence, we are becoming violent. If we worship self-protection, we are becoming defensive and fearful.
My observation is that America, with its increasing love of fire power is becoming violent – over 35,000 gun deaths in America every year signal that. America is becoming defensive and fearful –as people stockpile weapons to protect themselves and as our nation continually builds and unleashes an arsenal in excess of any other in the world, while we broadcast the myth that we are protecting American freedom. America is becoming more oppressive – as we steadily dismantle civil rights in our nation while “exporting freedom and democracy” around the world. And, yes, in all of this, America’s people are becoming agents of death, as the casualties mount.
There are lots of reasons for this. From its inception, American history has been steeped in violence. European settlers came here ostensibly to exercise religious freedom, but we all know that wasn’t the whole story. From the very beginning, they were engaged in a gigantic land grab, fueled by their belief that God had given them this country. Seeing themselves as “God’s chosen people” imbued in them an entitlement and self-righteousness that guided them as they slaughtered native peoples and stole their land. That early history influences our country even yet, as we attach noble purposes to our military exploits, whether they are actually noble or not – and even as we pillage our earth without regard for the consequences.
Then, too, violence permeates video games and entertainment, even our sports, as many have so worriedly noted in recent weeks. Also, our world has become a more fearful place, in many ways. Perhaps most importantly, a lot of money is at stake in perpetuating the myth of noble violence – or what Atwood calls “redemptive violence,” promoting a notion of guns as entertainment, and, more than anything, in elevating fear. Gun manufacturers and the NRA make a lot of money by magnifying fear and promising power.
So what are we to do? What is a faithful Unitarian Universalist response? What is the response of the spirit?
The Unitarian Universalist Association has passed several resolutions on gun control through the years advocating responsible licensing, longer waiting periods, and bans on automatic and semi-automatic assault weapons. We do have precedent to speak together with our UU brothers and sisters in urging a saner approach to gun acquisitions in our country.
Unitarian Universalism also offers some other lenses helpful for addressing the issue. The first is freedom. Ours is the quintessentially free religion. No creed binds or discourages a search for religious truth. We govern ourselves democratically and support democracy generally. We are well positioned to speak to the issue of freedom – one often raised in the debate over guns. Usually those who advocate against gun control defend their stance on the grounds of freedom. The right to bear arms is a basic freedom, they say. Owning a gun makes one more free, they sometimes say.
One thing Unitarian Universalists learn (seemingly over and over again) is that freedom without responsibility isn’t true freedom. We may be free to believe as we see fit, but not at the expense of someone else, not at the expense of the living planet we share. Similarly, when someone carries a gun with them, they may feel more free. But I, unarmed in their presence, feel less free. Arming themselves impinges on my freedom – something gun proponents unwittingly admit themselves when they proclaim “an armed society keeps everyone polite.”
Given Unitarian Universalists struggles with freedom, we are in a unique position to communicate the wisdom in Thich Nhat Hahn’s observation: “We have the Statue of Liberty on the East Coast. But in the name of freedom, people have done a lot of damage. I think we have to build a Statue of Responsibility on the West Coast in order to counterbalance. Because liberty without responsibility is not true liberty. We are not free to destroy.”
The second tool we have is unity – Unitarian Universalism is a blend of two different faiths, drawn together to create one. For me, that history provides a symbol that shows the things that unite human beings are often greater and more powerful than the things that appear to divide us. With unity as a guide, our task is to find common ground amidst all the varying views. That’s not easy to do, especially in polarized situations, when angry, opposing camps seem miles and miles apart. But it’s not
impossible. There are tools that can help.
Nonviolent communication is built on the belief that all human beings share basic needs – for things like food, shelter, respect, love, rest, play, and so on. The list is rather long. You might draw up your own list of shared human needs. For America to move forward on this issue productively, I believe both sides will need to learn how to discover, together, their shared needs and feelings – even if it is only initially to understand how they come by the otherwise puzzling and frustrating stances they take. For instance, if fear drives someone to build a private arsenal, well I can understand fear. I have felt fear, too. I have the same shared need to feel safe. Similarly, if guns make me feel afraid, well a gun
advocate can understand fear. They have felt fear, too. We have the same shared need to feel safe.
America has a long, long, long road ahead to restore communication between the sides and to find common ground. But staying in our polarized camps and yelling at each other is no longer an option. Yelling accomplishes nothing productive. In fact it adds verbal violence to the problem. Moving toward unity is hard work, religious work, and necessary work.
And finally there is love – Love is central to Universalism, central to the Universalist idea of God, and the way God related to the world. That famous expression, “God is Love” was a Universalist expression before it became ubiquitous. It was Universalist before it became universal. Our work, moving forward, must be grounded in love. We need to speak our truth in love. We need to engage in the struggle, with love. The work of faith is to allow love to show the way. The work of faith is to become the monk leading others to an understanding of heaven.
That’s easily said and done with great difficulty. America is a wounded country, torn apart by vitriol, acrimony, and mistrust. But our religious response is to love what is broken into health, to appeal to something deeper in our hearts and souls and higher in our consciousness as we rebuild our shattered world. Our spiritual response is to ask continually what love requires of us and guide our actions accordingly. If we put our faith in love, then love is what we are becoming.
When I think of Katy, love is what remains. When I think of all whose live have been lost to gun violence, love is what remains. In the name of that love, I ask us to face the future, trusting the love is stronger than hate or fear or even death. Let us being again in love.