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People have asked me my thoughts on the killing of
Trayvon Martin and the trial/verdict of George Zimmerman, and here they are. But
this is not a coherent essay: I have no
coherent thoughts at all, only random reflections…
I have no idea what really happened that night when
Trayvon Martin was killed, other than that George Zimmerman shot him. Was it self-defense? Was Trayvon high on “drank”? Was it criminally liable over-reaction on the
part of George Zimmerman? I don’t know.
Did George Zimmerman “profile” Trayvon Martin? Probably; sadly, so do I, all too often. Do you?
The news media also profiled in their original pictures of a happy,
clean-cut and young Trayvon versus a seedy-looking George Zimmerman. Were they playing the “Here’s the picture;
now you know the answer” game?
Could there not have been a conversation, that night, to
the effect of “Hey, you—what’re you doing here?” “Hey, man—I live here.” “Oh. OK.”
Why did this conversation not happen?
Shooting seems extremely excessive in the context of a
fight. Was Trayvon on top? How?
Was he unarmed? Yes, but how
badly must a person be beaten before he/she is justified in considering his/her
life seriously threatened? And how badly
was George Zimmerman beaten, in fact?
I’m sure there was a procedural answer to this, but I don’t
know it: why only six jurors? And why were they all women? People think the jury was stacked in Mr
Zimmerman’s favor, but the prosecution had rights to strike jurors—why were
they satisfied with this make-up?
Would a lesser charge have been more “provable”? I’m thinking reckless homicide, for example,
rather than 2nd degree murder.
When someone is dead by mistake, it seems that there should be some form
of punishment or retribution or recompense… (unless, of course, you are OJ
Simpson: “If the glove don’t fit…”)
Trayvon has been compared to Emmit Till and Medgar
Evers. The first comparison is a
stretch; the second is ridiculous.
Was the cause of justice served by this decision? Of course—“justice” is whatever the justice
system hands down. That doesn’t mean the
cause of right was served.
I love the comment of the Episcopal Bishop of Central
Florida: “I want to live in a world
where George Zimmerman would have offered Trayvon Martin a ride to get out of
the rain that night” (paraphrased).
Once again, the bottom line: I don’t know what really happened that
night. But I am terribly sorry that it
did happen. A boy is dead; his family is
devastated; a man’s life is in shambles, and he is unsafe now, wherever he
is. No one wins, in spite of the
verdict.
Are we still racially focused as a country? Of course we are (witness our greater obsession
with Latinos as undocumented aliens). We
need to get beyond this kind of moral myopia.
Speaking of immigrants, Pope Francis’ comments are germane here: “Where is your brother?” God asked Cain after
the murder of Abel. “Who was neighbor
to the man who fell in with thieves?” Jesus asked the scholar of the
Law. We need to learn that different
doesn’t have to involve a “better or worse” judgment; rather, one of
complementarity. What I need, you may
well have. St Paul, millennia ago,
warned the Corinthians about this attitude:
the body must have many parts, all different, all complementary, in
order to function.
When he finally dies, I would love it if George Zimmerman
had to meet Trayvon Martin and engage in a “truth and reconciliation commission”
sort of sit-down as his “purgatory.”
Insofar as Trayvon is innocent and George is guilty, he’ll have to ask
forgiveness, and Trayvon will be able to grant it; and if the situation is the
opposite, the roles will have to be reversed.
But may they enter the Kingdom together, the two of them better off than
most of us are here now.
This will not be the most popularly approved blog-post I
ever write, but I hope at least that it will not generate hate-mail, even as it
will generate posts that strongly disagree.
That’s OK.
Is it too fast for a declaration of the sainthood of Pope
John Paul II? My personal take is that
the answer is yes, especially in the context of a Church for which “one day is
like a thousand years…” (II Peter 3:8).
After all, it has been only 8 years since that April in 2005 when John
Paul passed to the judgment seat of God and the throne of grace (Romans 14:10;
Hebrews 4:16). Blessed (Mother) Teresa
of Calcutta has been dead since 1997, after all, and it was 66 years before Ignatius
Loyola was “raised to the altars.”
Some will object that John Paul is not worthy of
canonization because of his failure to deal effectively and comprehensively
with the evil of sexual abuse of minors by clergy. And no doubt he did not, especially with
regard to Marciel Degollado of the Legionnaires of Christ. I am willing to entertain the possibility
that this was less because of lack of moral fiber and more a matter of lack of
understanding. He was, in my mind, similarly
myopic with regard to the plight of the sufferings thousands in Central and
South America—too convinced that “preferential option for the poor” was Marxism
‘writ large.’ He had little time, for
example, for Archbishop Oscar Romero.
And even after his martyrdom (I use the word deliberately) he somehow
remained persona non grata at the
Vatican. A Polish pope would be expected
to have no time for anything that resembled the philosophy of communism. I will always wonder, though, when and to
what extent the effects of the Parkinson’s really “kicked in” and deprived him
of the focus, energy and acumen he’d once had—without which perhaps he could
not face the problematic realities of the Church. Even a cursory reading of his encyclicals
shows this: when he was in his fullest
powers his writings were heavily philosophical (think Laborem Exercens); later, the encyclicals were more and more
readable (think Centesimus Annus or Ut Unum Sint).
Nevertheless, I am also sympathetic to the point of view
that people can be mistaken in their thoughts and behaviors and yet also holy
people. This veers dangerously into the
area of personal piety as a “trump card” for public awareness and conduct, but
the alternative is equally dangerous:
the thought that all saints must somehow be perfect in all things (and,
by implication, on the basis of their own efforts).
Yet there was an incredible charisma about Pope John Paul
II—manifested in his world-wide pastoral visits and the beginning of World
Youth Day. I was in Rome for World Youth
Day 2000, and I cannot begin to describe to you the emotional and spiritual
impact I felt in watching the Holy Father at the evening vigil at Tor
Vergata. Nor will I ever forget watching
the video of his climbing to the Western Wall in Jerusalem to place there a
prayer asking forgiveness. And I will
remember as long as I live the day he was shot and almost killed. I will savor with deep gratitude visual of
his going to forgive and speak with Mehmet Ali Agca in prison. He was deeply in love with the Blessed Mother
and the Church (perhaps in large part because of the loss of his own family at
so young an age?). The devotion was
infectious.
So do I have a “love-hate” relationship with Pope John
Paul II? No. But I do have a “love-wait”
relationship. Let history play itself
out a bit longer, I would have said. But
having said all that, John Paul II will forever also have an emotional place in
my heart. After all, I sang for
him! And I pray the inspiration he will
effect in others’ hearts will be the full flower of his motto, Totus Tuus—I am completely yours,
Lord: no matter what the cost.
