“We Did Not Choose This Fight”

“We did not choose this fight” is uttered from the lips of our leaders as we discuss the war on terrorism, and we heard it again last night.

It was a moment that will live on as we ask each other “how did you hear the news that Osama Bin Laden was dead” through the years, just like I asked my mother what she was doing when President Kennedy was killed.

The news seemed to split me apart like this rock as my emotions and reactions, each understandable on their own, have clear definitions that just can’t exist together as a whole.

I’ve recounted September 11, 2001 to my children many times. I distinctly remember the morning because as I went for my early morning jog and felt a sense of dread. At the time, I couldn’t figure out what it was coming from because the sun was shining and I had a wonderful day planned. I went to an early meeting at my daughters’ preschool and that’s when I heard the news. A panicked mother interrupted our morning drop-off chatter telling us there had been explosions at WTC and pentagon and “bombs were going off everywhere and no one knows why.” I hurried home and as more accurate information became available I wanted to talk to my husband badly. Having him in a skyscraper in a large city made me anxious.

That afternoon I watched the children at the preschool as they napped so the teachers could have their regularly scheduled meeting. Enya music played in the background as they rested and slept and I couldn’t help but think of all the children who had lost to much on this day.

So when I hear the man responsible for this is dead, I am split equally. Part of me wishes I could have been the one to pull the trigger. I know from watching my boys tussle that sometimes when you’re hit and hurt, it really does feel better to strike back. You can blame it on unenlightenment or a physical release, but the sting of the attack really is mitigated. And all of me knows that the world is a safer place without him, that victims and their families will experience peace in knowing there was some kind of justice.

But the cheering and celebration I witnessed last night are equally disturbing. Somewhere inside I am saddened. Not because he is dead, but possibly because we had to kill him and because his death marks the end of a life and influence with so much potential and yet so misspent. I equally know that he isn’t our only enemy and that peace that comes as a result of this news may be short-lived.

And so I remain split. President Obama’s words that we should all “welcome the news” resonated with me, but is there a difference between welcoming and celebrating? Maybe not. When Jesus said we should turn the other cheek, it’s hard to personalize that message with someone who did things that were truly horrific. If someone try to kill my child and I were there, I would fight them off, I would engage, and I would want to make sure they never had access again. There would be no turning of my cheek. Is it any different if that threat comes from a bigger distance and is less personal?

What’s your reaction to this news and how does religion influence it?