What I’ve learned since Charlie Kirk’s death

I am not clear what motivates people to spend days on end, attempting to shape public opinion of a man who died at the hands of an assassin – offering first one reading and then another of his life and motivations.

Is it a righteous cause, devoted to exposing “the truth” about the man and his views?

Is it about correcting the record?

Is it a substitute for publicly confessing their delight at his demise?

Is it frustration with the praise that others have lavished on him?

Is it anger that he had so much influence over a generation?

Is it envy that he had that influence over a college population that was supposed to be the natural audience of other voices?

Is it fear that now his following has grown, rather evaporated?

I don’t and can’t know.  Just as I can’t and won’t judge the man.

Someone once observed, “Judge not so that you are not judged.”  Yes, it was that guy.

What I do know is this: Like every one of us, there were things he said that I could agree with.  There were things I didn’t.  He made mistakes.  He did other things well.  And I can say that about absolutely everyone I know – myself included.

I know that the evaluations have worn thin.  More often than not, the varied approaches to characterizing his life come from people with no insider knowledge, no window into the man’s heart.  And as the approaches multiply, more and more they sound like an effort to assassinate his character or make him into a perfect saint, which himself knew he was not. Neither camp will succeed, of course. Civic discourse is no longer civic nor discourse, and no one writes or reads to be persuaded anymore.

I know that we are no closer to discussing the issues that divide us. Because the messages on offer revolve around one theme: Do you know how much I hate you, how much I loathe you?  Do you know that I believe you are evil?

I know that our real national enemies are delighted and that God is grieved.  I know that because the language used is empty of an effort to hear or be heard.  Because the language is ugly and designed to destroy a man’s memory before his family has a chance to bury him.

I know that the future looks just like the day before he was murdered.  Because there has been no “coming together” around the basics: freedom of speech, freedom to differ, the taboo against violence as a means of resolving our differences.  Just as there hasn’t been in the past when others have died.

And what saddens me most is how much the Christian voices in the mix sound like all the others.  The country is not ours to govern.  The state will never be the church.  But our witness should offer the possibility of transcending rage.

Photo by Bogomil Mihaylov on Unsplash