Thoughts on assassination

Newsletter item published July 26, 2024.

Late Saturday night on July 13, I began to see headlines telling of an assassination attempt on former President Trump at an election rally. My heart sank at the thought that someone felt that this was necessary, and that they felt that it would solve the problem they thought was justified by murder. As I was preparing for the first worship service the next morning, I looked over the Gospel reading, which was the story of Herod having John the baptizer beheaded because his wife hated John (Mark 6:14-29). I immediately saw parallels in that story and the drama of the attempted assassination and thought back to the article I wrote in last month’s newsletter about civil political discussion.

In both cases of murder and attempted murder, someone justified their call for death by a morality built on self-righteousness and loathing, a seething hatred of someone amplified by power. In the case of Herodias, she hated John because he called out her immoral marriage with her brother-in-law, Herod, and used Herod’s power and a rash promise to have John killed. In the case of Thomas Crooks, he used the power of a commonly available assault weapon who’s only purpose is what he attempted to use it for. When we assume that we are right because we have to be right, that we can justify being right, or everything depends on us being right, it is easier to contemplate an action that by itself wipes out the claim to rightness.

This decision to exert power to demonstrate our rightness, or higher morality does not usually involve weapons. While that is a logical end to the means of protecting and showing our rightness, it does not happen nearly as often as the more quietly corrosive daily dislike and hatred we feel toward someone we don’t agree or get along with. We try to justify the dislike and hate when challenged with our professed faith in God’s unconditional love for all. We side-step examining the contradiction with accusations that the challenge to our faith is not fair or it is mean-spirited. That pervasive practice of speaking out of both sides of our mouths creates an unspoken permission to hate, and when enough insults, real or perceived, are experienced, the justification toward decisive action becomes easier. Rather than swallow our pride and admit that our words and actions are not constructive, we continue to avoid, isolate, and marginalize the people we come into conflict with. Rather than do the hard work of loving our enemies as Jesus mentions in Matthew 5:43-48, we protect our rightness and righteousness before God by using excuses to justify our attitude.

I cannot draw a straight line between Thomas Crooks and us, between his justification for assassination and our unwillingness to let go of our hate, because that does not reflect reality. However, Thomas’ attitude and ours exist on the same sheet of paper, whether it is a political grievance or a grievance with someone else. The attitude is the same: you are wrong because I say you are wrong, and something must be done to protect and preserve my rightness. But, somewhere on that paper the line drawn from grievance to immoral action passes by us or even over us and we either can’t see it or we ignore it. When you come across someone in the days to come that you have a conflict with, or don’t agree with, where will you draw your line? Will it be a boundary that lets you love them from some distance, or will it be a boundary that isolates them from God’s love?