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Saturday night at Tyler's bar and restaurant in Carrboro, North
Carolina.
The guy next to me at the bar and I keep glancing up at CNN's "Attack
on America" coverage. He explains that he has watched more
television in the last two days than in the last two years. He ventures
that nothing like this has happened since that time that Plato wrote
about when The Tower of Babylon fell into the ocean near Carthage.
I don't understand his specific historical reference, but I know
what he means. This is big. We are staring at something monumental.
These images yank your emotions out like an incompetent dentist
- like that picture of President Bush and the firefighter.
In contrast to CNN's photo of President Bush with his arm around
a dusty New York firefighter in the middle of the rubble that used
to be the world's greatest financial building is this scene with
my barroom neighbor and me. A snap shot of us would reveal him munching
on french fries and fried chicken and me slurping down a Budweiser.
There is a disconnect here.
And establishing a connection between the drama in New York and
Washington and our lives down here is not easy. I've given blood
within the last eight weeks; Wal-Mart is sold out of American flags;
I've gone to a couple prayer services; and I am about to write a
check for the rescue effort in New York. Then what? Take my frustrations
out on the nearest Muslim? That's a dumb idea. Lobby the government
to bomb a country that has been consistently bombed for the last
twenty years? That seems futile. Catch a flight up to New York and
get in the way of the professional rescue workers? That won't help
anyone. So what to do to avoid that strange feeling of watching
CNN the way I watch Terminator II?
I pondered that one for a while and came up with, "It's about
time I signed up for one of those outreach programs at church."
That was pretty disappointing after day dreaming about flying to
Afghanistan as a reporter, enlisting in the army, becoming a missionary,
and starting an international poverty relief foundation. It seems
like a strange way to respond to a situation our president is calling
a war.
Well, it's a weird response to a weird war. And most of us have
only the creative use of some very ordinary weapons: integrity in
our daily lives, a new assessment of our role in the world, a pint
of blood, and a few prayers. But we have to pick these weapons up
or else we'll drive ourselves mad eating french fries and drinking
beer while sucking in images of twisted steel, torn bodies, and
intense poverty in parts of the world we'd never heard of before.
The battle for most of us is to get off our barstools and to make
some change in response to what we see on TV.
Wednesday evening at my place.
I sit in a circle of ten men and ten Bibles. Bob has my atlas opened
to the page for the Near East and moves his hand over the map, left
to right and north to south. "The Jews were dispersed from
Jerusalem in 70 AD when the Romans sacked the Temple." He begins.
Bob grew up in Pakistan and Afghanistan in a missionary family.
He is getting his PhD in religion and democratization and is trying
to explain to the rest of the Bible study group what's behind last
week's suicide plane attacks.
Bob moves quickly through two thousand years of politics: the Muslims
conquer Spain, the crusaders strike back, a couple of World Wars
fly by, Israel is created, and the Palestinians are displaced. Pretty
soon we are awash in foreign names: "Turkmenistan, The Uzbeks,
the Pushtunes, the muhajadeen, and The Kashmir." The U.S. is
supporting the Afghan-Arab alliance against the Soviets via the
Pakistanis. A minute later civil war has broken out in Afghanistan
while U.S.-Arab tensions are rising in the Middle East over the
Israel-Palestine conflict. By the time Bob mentions this Saudi dissident
named Bin Ladan, his audience is subdued. We are staring at an overwhelmingly
complicated world.
There is some talk of justice, helping the Afghan refugees, a commando
operation to get Bin Laden, and increased airplane security. Nothing
brilliant. It's late.
"Why don't we pray." Pete suggests. That's our cue to
wrap up the meeting. "At least we know we can do that."
He adds.
Are we really helpless? I wonder. The political factors behind
last week's attacks are complex, but their ultimate source is right
here in front of us. A small group of men just like this got together
at someone's house and decided they were going to change the world.
They may have brought Korans instead of Bibles - but the circle
of ten men in their twenties sounds about right. They set their
sights on bringing down the most powerful nation in the world. And
step by step they worked towards that goal. They hustled to raise
money, they sought out allies, they set up an international communication
network, they studied American society, they planned, and they trained.
They literally committed their lives to their mission.
In comparison to that mission, the American goal of capturing a
little terrorist network, helping a few hundred thousand refugees,
and working out some territory disputes sounds trifling. But the
cost, as President Bush has pointed out, may be just as high. It
will take careful study of other cultures, years of planning and
training, and a willingness to risk our lives. It will take a re-evaluation
of where we put our money and might. I am not just talking about
our government. I am talking about you and me and the people who
gather in our living rooms.
A small group of men issued a challenge when they crashed four
planes and dragged thousands of innocent people to death with them.
We may refuse that challenge, we may play a small role in answering
that challenge, but we cannot deny the challenge exists. And we're
not helpless.
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