“The size of the gesture does not matter. What matters is that you sing.”
— Moudi Sbeity
Charlie Kirk’s murder has spawned much commentary. I’ve read some exceptionally well-thought-out and written opinions on the subject. I was tempted to just point people to those, but I feel a need to express, if for no one else but for myself, my take on it.
His murder was one of several disturbing headlines on September 10. Ironically, he was demonstrating through dialogue the value of free speech by challenging others who had ideas different than his own. He was killed in full view of children, adults, and many students at UVU.
I knew nothing of Charlie Kirk and his organization before that day. So I read some articles, went to his Instagram, watched some of his videos, and spoke to some of my family members who deeply appreciated and revered him. I also read and saw some of what was said by those who disliked and even hated Charlie Kirk. There were many compassionate and laudable responses to this tragedy from across the ideological spectrum. And many that were cruel.
I discovered that thirty-one-year-old Charlie had a wife and young children. That he deeply and sincerely believed in Jesus Christ and was open and invitational about his belief. He advanced some ideas and values that strongly resonated with me, and some that strongly didn’t. At times, the content and tone of his message I found less than Christian. Sadly, there are times when I, too, haven’t met that standard. But Erika, Charlie’s wife did, when she evoked Christ’s mission and tearfully forgave the young man who assassinated her husband.
But the headline of Kirk’s killing was only one of too many tragedies highlighted on September 10.
That same day, extreme and excessive punishment continued to be administered to those in Gaza. This prolonged suffering of these Palestinian civilians feeling like an extermination effort by Israel. And Israeli hostages and their families continue to suffer from the terrible spark lit by Hamas.
That same day, there was another school shooting at an elementary school in Colorado.
That same day, Russia sent drones over NATO member Poland in its hostile and bloody takeover of parts of Ukraine.
That same day, a significant ICE raid in Georgia at a Hyundai plant resulted in the detention of hundreds, many of whom were foreign nationals. And too many, I’m guessing, who were either citizens, here legally, or, if illegally, were not criminals.
There is a painful irony in many of these events as Christ is often invoked for both sincere and insincere political ends that are opposite of each other.
As I prayed to God a few nights ago before going to bed, the thought came to me that for every terrible event that occurs, at least as many—likely more—good events are happening. That there is more goodness in the world and in most human hearts than there is “badness.” I have no data for this, just my intuition and my own privileged life experience.
So I wondered: On the whole, is there more actual physical daylight than darkness on earth?
Astronomers have found that, yes, on balance, there is more daylight than darkness at any given time. Atmospheric refraction bends the Sun’s rays, causing us to see it a few minutes before it actually rises and a few minutes after it has set. Twilight—dawn and dusk—lengthen the lit part of the day compared to true night.
So built into the very soul of our earth is more light than darkness. More love than hate. More kindness than cruelty. More generosity than selfishness. More in common with each other than differences—if not materially, then in intention and hope.
And this gives me hope. And it causes me to ask, what is my atmospheric refractive lens as I go through the day? Am I receiving the light of the Son of a heartbroken God and bending it—especially in those twilight times—to tip the balance toward goodness in the world? That light, that can be so hard for me to bend in times of confrontation, injury, or despair, I have found in Jesus Christ’s most crucial teachings:
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself. All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”
– Matthew 22:37-40
“But I tell you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who mistreat you and persecute you…”
– Matthew 5:44
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
– John 13:34-35
Those too few times that I have been able to bend that atmospheric light through patient yet imperfect persistent love, I and others have experienced more beauty, peace, and joy. My relationships with family, friends, neighbors, strangers, and those who I “am in the way with” are better and brighter.
There is a reason Jesus Christ is the light of the world.
And that light gets reflectively bent by so many unexpected good people in so many beautiful and powerful ways. Like through the Lebanese poet and activist, Moudi Sebity. You may remember that he was a named plaintiff in Kitchen v. Herbert (2013-2014), the case that helped bring marriage equality to Utah and the rest of the country. Moudi’s life has been challenging to say the least—partly because of circumstances beyond his control, and partly due to the unkindness of others. Yet he believes, as he quotes Mark Nepo, that “The purpose of our suffering is to wear us down until we realize that we are each other.”
Charlie Kirk would have strongly disagreed with Moudi being an activist for the LGBTQ community. For not being a Christian and having a traditional family. He would have tried to convert him. And that’s okay. But I don’t think Charlie would have argued against the truths of some of Moudi’s most inspired poetry. Like this one:
Preach to the Choir
in conversation with nan seymour
The choir needs support too, you know.
The choir needs an advocate, a reminder,
an additional voice. The choir needs someone
who arrives in doe-eyed faith, heart-swelled
in renewed vow; All is one, the Earth is holy,
kindness is king. Someone who comes bearing
a spoon full of seeds, a pocket full of dirt,
a mouth full of water. The size of the gesture
does not matter. What matters is that you sing.
Add a log to the fire. Tend to the flame. Then
the choir is everyone you know. Then the choir
is the country. Then the choir is the world.
All is one, the Earth is holy, kindness is king.
– Moudi Sbeity
