On the Death of Osama bin Laden

(Note: I wrote this in response to something my pastor posted on our church blog, "The Comma.")

My first reaction was one of disbelief. They got him? They actually got him? The boogie man the government has been warning us about for 20 years? The one who caused so much heartache and grief on 9/11? Wow.

I never felt any joy at his death.

And then I suddenly felt empty. It was like the wind got knocked out of me. As the president came on television, I found myself starting to cry. Maybe there was a little bit of closure with this news, but I'd much rather they'd caught him, brought him back alive, and put him through the American justice system. Let him be judged by a jury of his peers before he is judged by God. Because I want to know why. Why did Osama bin Laden direct terrorists to fly planes into the Twin Towers? What have we done to deserve this? And how do we make it right?

And the ideal sentence? Not death, but life in prison in a cell with a television where the pictures and stories of the ones he's killed flash over and over again. The families of the 3000 killed on September 11th are awaiting their own reconciliation.

How do we even begin to talk about reconciliation with people who don't listen? How do we begin to reach out to those whose hearts are filled with such hate?

I remember quite vividly where I was on September 11th. That event was nothing like anything I had ever experienced. I had just begun my sophomore year of college. Never had I felt that the world was so off balance. We gathered together on a big field at Whitman, holding hands in a circle and singing "Amazing Grace." We sang and sang until it grew late, and the circle grew smaller, and one by one we trickled back to our dorms. We left the candles burning.

That event, more than anything, has defined the conditions in which I have lived my adult life. It led to restrictions at the airport, a heightened sense of fear, surveillance, the persecution of Muslims, the persecution of anyone who dared to question the Bush administration's actions, the Patriot Act, and war. In a way, the terrorists won. We altered how we live our lives. The death of Osama bin Laden doesn't change the last nine years. We can't go back to our normal lives. I wish that we could. I don't like living my life feeling like I'm supposed to look over my shoulder, in fear those around me. I don't like it that it's socially acceptable for an American woman at the Dublin airport to get my attention, point at a man in a turban, and whisper "I hope and pray he's not on our flight." My own stunned reaction was to tell her (in my normal speaking voice) that I didn't see anything wrong with a man wearing a turban.

I wish we, as a nation, could take time to reflect. I wanted to be with others last night -- not to rejoice, but to have a conversation. What do we do now? How do we move forward? How do we address the conditions that fuel terrorism in the first place? There is deep disparity in this world. And I believe that there will always be people who hate Americans for what we represent. How do we meet that hate with reconciling love? How do we change our country and our policies back to something we can be more proud of?

Because I'm tired of constant vigilance. I'm tired of surveillance. I'm tired of the culture of fear that has sprung up all around me. That was not the culture I thought I'd exit into after graduating from college.

Most of all, though, I'm tired of being told that I'm supposed to be afraid.