Things Stolen from Us, Part II

In our Southern Baptist tradition, we diligently rose from the wooden pews and silently ventured to the front of the funeral home. Around the casket, the Garden of Eden was on full display, with a florist’s bounty of flowers in every direction. In an unassuming casket, I could see the silhouette of my great aunt. Like Hitchcock in profile, I found myself dreading and anxious about the coming moment as I drew closer. Standing on my toes, peering into the box, I laid my eyes on the first dead person I ever saw. The prospect of my own death filled my mind. In that moment, a lifelong fear was born.  

Standing near the unforgiving edge of an abyss, that once crossed, will be impossible to find again, I meet the closed eyes of a woman I only knew for a short time. Our relationship hadn’t existed longer than the time it takes to age a cheap bottle of Scotch, but those surrounding me are wiping away tears and longing for better days. Even at a young age, I knew this moment was important. It continues to stay with me. I will never forget the day my innocence was stolen from me.  

As we walked away from the casket, I was forever changed. While I wouldn’t necessarily consider the moment traumatic, I remember it emotionally destroying people I love and those who love me. They were being changed in real time. In their wake, so was I.  

Standing in the present day reflecting on this moment, I am deeply considering the experience when my innocence was stolen from me. I also think about you and your experiences. I am sure many of us can share a similar story. Almost all of us can pinpoint a moment when everything changed. In conversation with others, this loss of innocence almost always centers around death.  

After we said goodbye to my great aunt, I recall having the most vivid nightmares. I combined this experience with all I heard from the pulpit in church. Burning in the fiery pits of hell due to my sinful ways, I remember feeling a separation from the astounding joy of life. This brush with death would send me searching for the cross as insurance in hopes of escaping eternal torment. I longed to know eternal life and a return to some semblance of innocence.  

With time and a spiritual journey far removed from the pressures of my upbringing, I have drawn vastly different conclusions about heaven and hell. I have settled on a simple, yet profound truth that makes sense for me. In this life, I will never know if these places exist, but I understand the finite nature of life. I know we die. What happens from there, I will theologians and biblical scholars debate. I also know that once we experience the death of someone we love, life changes drastically.  

 The veil is lifted, and we are asked to dance with the faults of mankind. We are exposed to our collective wickedness, shortcomings, and selfishness. We see the ways in which we fail each other, and the needless harm we cause each other. The harm may not always be malicious, but the scar remains.  

Standing on this open plain, wrestling with the newfound knowledge that all life ends, we come to understand that life is more complicated and complex than our childlike innocence would have us believe. As tough as these lessons might be, they are so necessary. They are meant to protect us. They are a shield, providing a simple choice. We can choose to be better and craft a new path, or we can be consumed by the failures of man.  

I choose not to be blinded by the innocence of man, but I also choose not to be consumed by the folly of man. I know there are heroes among us, and the choice to follow in their footsteps is mine. I am not longing for days of innocence, as if death was some toy that can be put away and forgotten. I am thankful for the experience where pain revealed itself. I see that pain. I thank it for revealing itself, and I find myself searching for a different path.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan  

Torture in the Age of American Innocence

The events of September 11th were unspeakable. We were attacked by a band of radicals hellbent on making a supreme and everlasting point. In more ways than one, that point was made. 

Just as important as the attack was the response. We responded in the characteristic American way. Brute force backed by the might of the American military complex, we invaded Afghanistan, an Al Qaeda stronghold. We also entered Iraq. We threatened Iran and North Korea. We created secret detention centers. We opened prison camps throughout the world; some as close as 90 miles to our shore. 

We did all these things in the name of American innocence. Over 3,000 perished on 9/11, but the cost of battle would run deep as we lost another 6,600 in the wars of Afghanistan and Iraq. Beyond the treasure of human life, we have spent over a trillion dollars waging a seemingly endless war. 

In the defense of the innocent, we have sacrificed blood and treasure, but something else happened. We lost our innocence. We found ourselves in the grasp of debates over torture. We humiliated detainees. We argued over the building of mosques and tried to stop our own radicals from inflaming the Middle East by burning Islam's holy book. We, time and time again, ignored the opportunity to take the moral high ground. Instead, we stooped to the level of those who attacked us. All in an effort to protect the homeland. 

It is here, I can't help but wonder if this was a part of Osama Bin Laden's plan. Did he know American society would drastically change, because of his attack? Did we play the cards he dealt for us? Did he force us to lose our American innocence? 

Thanks for entering my world,

-Nathan