A Celebration of Death

The world is abuzz on May 2 with the news of Osama bin Laden's death.  Many of us waited eagerly to hear the unknown from the lips of our President on Sunday night while many awoke on Monday morning to the revelation that the embodiment of terrorism and hatred of America was no more.  In a fallen and imperfect world, sometimes there are no good decisions to make.  The death of bin Laden might have been needed to bring justice to those who suffered loss on September 11, 2001.  For others it may not be justice as much as much as justification that for the last decade our military efforts abroad have not been fruitless.  Perhaps the death of bin Laden restores our belief that when America sets for itself a goal, that goal we will reach.

We could argue that killing Osama bin Laden is an ironic way of showing the world that violence will not be tolerated.  We could say that after ten years, the murder of bin Laden is vengeance more than justice.  We could assert that in ten years of war, the United States is responsible for more innocent lives than bin Laden himself.

I can understand both sentiments.

I don't think the response to bin Laden's death in either case is joy.  Relief, for sure.  Satisfaction, I can understand.  I cannot believe that the proper response to any death is one of Joy.  Even if given that Osama bin Laden deserved this death, that his demise was demanded in the name of justice-- we have just lived through a failure of humanity to be accepted with gravity, not embraced in jubilance.

The only beauty in the story of death lies in the new life it has the potential to bring.  Only in the promise of restoration, reconciliation, resurrection can we ever find hope in death.  May we one day rejoice in celebration of reconciliation.

The Day After

Easter is over, unless you are among the select few home from work because "Easter Monday" still means something.  The kids are coming down from their sugar highs and we gear up for grilling out and sporting the American flags as the Memorial Day/Fourth of July holiday season is upon us.  We are winding down from our school years and preparing for family vacations.  Beaches and pools beckon us.  And likely, church pews will empty.  Our charity and consideration for others so present during the winter season of Thanksgiving and Christmas wanes and our minds turn toward escape and relaxation.

I'm not sure if this is a fair description of what happens now, but for myself it becomes very easy to slide into this rut.  But today I think about what the day after resurrection means.  For Jesus' disciples, Maundy Thursday through Saturday must have been so confusing and sorrowful.  Easter Sunday would be incredulous and jubilant, perhaps so much so that they were stopped in their tracks.  But what about the day after.  The realization that the man in whom they had cast their hope, who had apparently died and left them abandoned and alone in their folly, had indeed defeated death and returned from the dead only to ascend before their eyes into heaven.

Do we really believe that?  Because the idea is pretty crazy.  Crazy enough that starting with the day after, Jesus followers had to honestly start asking themselves "what now!?"  Really, do you just drop your jaw and say "wow, Jesus just died and came back to life and I'm watching him ascend into heaven" and then just go back to whatever you were doing, or just start moving on toward the next "normal" holiday or season in the year.  The disciples knew this required action and they followed Jesus instructions to "go and make disciples."  They built the church and established the legacy that would sustain the Christian faith for millenia.  That's what they did the day after Easter. (ok, I'm using the word day in a metaphorical sense, but the question remains)

What are we doing the day after Easter?