Gathered in their houses of worship on the weekend, Americans finally got to hear a second opinion about terrorism and what our response to it should be. After endless doses of war fever broadcast nonstop since Tuesday, it was hard to imagine a more appropriate response to the crisis than hatred.
Weepy, depressed and shaken by acts of murder committed before our eyes, Americans retreated to churches, synagogues, mosques and temples for a perspective on life and death not scripted by the major television networks.
The words that rang out from pulpits where there was a modicum of interest in transcendent truths challenged our fundamental notions of justice. A week of heart-rending images had cultivated the dogma that revenge is a great palliative. We were ready for war. But the sermons we heard ran contrary to the national mood, setting us up for another classic split in the American psyche.
While the spirit of the times and the dictates of our politics demand that we strike with unbridled military might at nations like Afghanistan that host terrorists organizations like Osama bin Laden's al-Qaeda, men and women of God preached a message stressing justice tempered with mercy. The most unsettling homilies revolved around Jesus' command that we pray for our enemies.
Standing before flags hauled out of sanctuary basements and closets for the occasion, American clergy of all stripes struggled to balance their personal outrage at what happened the previous Tuesday with the clear mandate of God not to succumb to righteous fury or murderous indignation.
Congregations blessed with astute clergy were reminded that the devil is the world's biggest flag waver. It makes little difference to the lord of flies whether Americans or Afghans die in a "just war" or a jihad, especially when his lieutenants are playing both sides of the street.
Flags spattered with patriotic gore are nondenominational. In the end, when the precious stuff of life is pouring into the cold muck of some God-forsaken battlefield, the only border that will matter will be the one running between an immeasurably valuable life and Sheol's icy embrace.
As our nation prepares for a shadowy conflict at home and a hot one overseas, we're torn between the demands of what our government considers a "pragmatic" response to terrorism and the considerably more radical demands of a faith that looks upon most violence as suspect and demonic.
Some say it's obvious from my columns that I don't "love" America because I'm suspicious of patriotism that spouts like mushrooms after a national tragedy.
On the contrary. I love America. I believe God loves America. It wouldn't surprise me if God, in infinite and perverse mercy uncharacteristic of this world, loves Afghanistan and the Taliban, too, wishing they'd turn from their worship and pursuit of death.
But unlike bumper sticker patriotism that is here today but gone in the time it takes to remember why we were a divided society before last Tuesday, my patriotism isn't contingent upon being born within particular geographic boundaries.
My love of America is rooted in the experience of community here in the USA, but it isn't exclusive to that. I love my family, my community of friends in this great country, my colleagues and the highest values this nation stands for. Would I love them any less if we were Finnish or even -- gasp -- Muslims from Kabul?
I'm cursed with an empathetic imagination that makes little distinction between people separated by arbitrary borders dating back to European colonialism. If we're talking about humans and not governments, then I'm going to feel an extraordinary amount of sympathy for them, especially if they're ruled by tyrants of the caliber of the Taliban. Why should Afghans be doomed to experience the horror of incoming missiles?
Frankly, I don't mind being criticized for not jumping on the war machine. I love America enough not to want to see another generation of young people pass through the fires of war like those children herded into the sacrificial fires of the Ammonite god Moloch thousands of years ago. The Ammonites were good patriots, too.
I love America, but I suspect that anyone who resents the arduous process of acquiring clarity before jumping into a war in Central Asia doesn't love America enough.
Tony Norman's e-mail address is: tnorman@post-gazette.com.
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