What Would Jesus Do? Reflecting on the Death of Bin Laden...

It all came back to me Sunday night.

As I heard the news of the death of Osama bin Laden, my mind reeled back to that clear blue day nearly a decade ago: replaying my memories and feelings as a person and as a pastor.

As a person – as a single other human being – I heard again the news of the 9/11 attacks.  I watched again the instant replays of the planes hitting the towers and engulfing them in flames.  I stared again in horror person after person leaped from the towers – for a few moments seemingly suspended as they dropped toward their deaths on the streets below. The feelings came as a chaotic onslaught: shock, disbelief, helplessness, fear, rage, mourning – and a sense that a great evil had been perpetrated. The sheer magnitude, the sheer atrocity, was so large that it cried out to be framed in an apocalyptic conflict between evil and good.

As a pastor, I knew that my congregation – as well as the larger community in which we live – would be experiencing all of these emotions and more. And I wondered how I would help them deal with them: what I would say, what I would do, what I would preach, how we would pray.

As I mulled over my sermon for that first post 9/11 Sunday, weighing Bible passages and news reports, I came across a news story about the notes the Mohammed Atta, the leader of the attacks, who piloted one of the jetliners into one of the two towers. Reading those letters, I was shocked: stunned that his words did not sound evil at all. Mostly, they were prayers:  he prayed to God for purity, for strength, to protect the family he was leaving behind, including the mother that gave him birth. These were also the prayers of a man who was convinced of the holiness of his mission, the goodness of his cause, and righteousness of the acts he was about to perform. Subsitute "God" for "Allah" and they could be the prayers of many Christians I knew.

When Sunday came, I spoke about the evil of the act that had been done, I assured my people that the chaotic feelings they felt were understandable under the circumstances, and reassured them that even as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, God is with us and will bring meaning to all of this somehow. But I also warned them against giving in to the urge we all felt to frame this in “good versus evil” and “us versus them” terms. Because it was clear to me that the beginning of the road that led to the prayers and actions of Mohammed Atta was certainly framed in those terms, and that it was his clear sense and strong belief in his own righteousness and the holiness of his cause that enabled him to take his own life and the lives of nearly 3,000 other human beings on that day. And it was painfully clear to me that, tragically and paradoxically, we human beings are never closer committing great evil that when we are convinced that we are good, that our cause is righteous, and that "they" are evil.

Only two families left our congregation in the months following that sermon: one thought I was wrong not to defend our “right” to seek revenge; another thought I was not saying enough against it. Many others would join us as time went on. Later, as our country prepared for war in Afghanistan and then in Iraq, my congregation gathered for discussion, prayer, and discernment about the actions to come. Some thought the one or both of the wars were necessary, some thought one or both were wrong, others were unsure. But out of those sessions came a few important things on which we all agreed: That war is always an evil: perhaps a necessary or unavoidable evil, but never an unmitigated good. That the taking of a human life is always an evil, perhaps a necessary or unavoidable evil, but never an unmitigated good. And that because of tragic nature of these things, we are called to pray: for us AND for them, for their leaders AND for ours, for their fighters AND for ours; for their innocents AND for ours; and for the wounded and the dead on BOTH sides.

And so, when I heard of the death of bin Laden and felt, along with so many others, the momentary desire to celebrate his demise, I remembered all of the feelings, thoughts, and prayers that were offered in those discernment discussions years ago. But I especially remembered these paradoxical words of Jesus, shared by one of the participants: “Do good to your enemies, bless those who curse you, pray for those who persecute you.”

And instead of celebrating, I prayed…