I find myself deeply disturbed by the death and collective responses to the death of Osama bin Laden. When I say “disturbed,” I don’t mean merely intellectually, but psychologically, spiritually, and even physically. I have found myself drained of energy, withdrawn. And I’ve had to ask myself why. Shouldn’t I be happy, gratified that a monster of evil is now gone from the face of the earth? I note the celebrating crowds on television, in New York and Washington, DC, and understand their very human response, but I’m not there.

I think my disturbance comes from having to contend with conflicting values that all have their measure of truth — and yet none has the whole truth. And so I’m trying to reconcile these disparate values.

With the rest of the nation, I have witnessed the overwhelming grief of the families of the 9/11 victims. I have seen the pictures of the dead, read their stories. I have heard the goodbye messages of spouses, the children left without a father, the way victims jumped to their deaths, some holding the hand of a friend. I understand why the survivors want justice, and whatever closure they can find, and so they welcome the news of bin Laden’s death.

I also understand the significance for our nation, in bin Laden’s death. He has been not only the perpetrator of much suffering and death, but he had become the symbol of our impotence in failing to rid the world of terrorism. He has been thumbing his nose at us for ten years, making us fear what might happen next. The President’s main job is to protect his people, and so Obama had to pursue Osama bin Laden and kill him.

Which brings me to the next point. I have little doubt that the Seals were ordered to kill Bin Laden, whether or not he was armed, whether or not he surrendered. Taking bin Laden prisoner would have invited an international media circus for a trial that might have lasted years — and further provoked all kinds of national and international conflict. We weren’t going to let that happen. He was going to be killed and then buried at sea. He was shot first in the chest, I would guess, as would be the normative first shot, and then shot in the head, to assure the death. I also understand the necessity of this decision, and if in fact I am correct, I do not fault Obama for proceeding in this way.

On the other hand, I am a minister and a wife and a mother. I abhor violence. In particular, gun violence disturbs me, for I have personally lost family members to gun violence, as have so many others in our gun-crazy country.

And then I imagine the scene in the compound that night. I imagine the fear that everyone in that compound must have felt as the Seals attacked. I expect Osama bin Laden knew he was going to die. One of his wives watched him shot to death, another identified the body. A number of his children were present in compound. What did the wives and children experience?

Still another dimension to this whole scene is that of the warriors. The Seals carried out what appears to have been an almost flawless plan in dangerous circumstances: their courage and skill are admired by all. And yet the man who killed bin Laden and whoever killed the three others will have to live with the memory of that night: the fear in the eyes of those who were killed or wounded, the gaping wounds, the blood pouring out — all this, and the knowledge that they they took a human life. This is what we ask of our warriors. To do these horrific deeds for us. We don’t want to see the pictures. Obama spared us from that.

So what it comes down to, for me, is this: the terrible grayness of morality. The evil that we’re all drawn into. The violence that is a part of our lives. The fallenness of us all. There are no good guys and bad guys, except in relative terms. We can only try to see as clearly as we can and act with as much integrity as we can. The Kingdom of God is not as yet at hand. Heaven help us.

Highlights of House GOP Budget Cuts:

• Cut around $60 billion from domestic programs, including education, environmental protection, and community services.
• Block money to implement President Obama’s health care overhaul law.
• Bar federal funds for Planned Parenthood.
• Block federal aid to overseas groups that provide abortions or counsel women about them.
• Cut the Social Security Administration, which might force the agency to furlough workers.
• Prohibit the Environmental Protection Agency from imposing regulations curbing emissions of gases that cause global warming.
• Cut $747 million in food aid for poor pregnant women and women with children up to age 5, education.

– from The Associated Press

I’m taking a sabbatical from writing “Reflections” for several months until my arms heal from a rotator cuff injury. I injured the left arm from weight lifting (don’t know why, I’ve been doing the same routine for 10 years) and then the right arm from overuse. I will Tweet as I am able, and will let you know how the healing goes and what my plans for writing will be.

The other issue is that our film, “Raw Faith,” has been picked up by a distributor, Kino Lorber, and they are laying out plans for film festivals and theatrical screenings all over the country, some of which I will attend. So my travel schedule is beginning to heat up, and I make a habit of not hauling around a computer with me when I am out of town. I take this time to read and to think and to rest.

In the works at the present moment is a new book, to be published by my own press, Fuller Press, within the next three or four months. It will be called “A Little Book of Reflections” and will be composed of quotations from sermons. I will let you know when it is available.

My “retirement” has hardly been a leavetaking from my work, but rather a refocusing of it. The film has moved into first place, as it seems to be garnering more and more attention. It is my hope that it will prove helpful to others–really, a kind of extension of my ministry. As always, I ask the question, “What next?” I’m available to my call, in whatever way I might be most useful.

A recently recovered 1997 letter from the Vatican to Ireland’s Catholic priests documents beyond a doubt the Vatican’s cover-up of sexual abuse by clergy. The late Archbishop Luciano Storero, Pope John Paul II’s diplomat to Ireland, informs Irish bishops that their new policy of mandatory reporting of suspected crimes “gives rise to serious reservations of both a moral and canonical nature.”  In other words, such allegations must be handled within the church only, and that any bishops who tried to go outside church authority would face the “highly embarrassing” probability of having their actions overturned by Rome.

The Catholic Church’s response to sexual abuse by priests is the “good ole boy system” writ large.  The Catholic Church is not the only place the “system” operates, of course–it is endemic.  A doctor is reluctant to call out the errors of his colleague.  A policeman is unwilling to rat on his partner.  A coach is all too familiar with the girls on his high school team, but no one really wants to call him on it.  Until about 25 years ago, many male ministers had sex with vulnerable female congregants. Then more women entered the profession of ministry, and the professional ethics started to shift.

It is one thing for individuals to go along with destructive societal norms–that is, to keep silence when they should speak out.  That is wrong, yes.  But it is a far graver crime for an institution to knowingly and consciously lie in a systematic fashion, covering up the misdeeds of generations of priests and passing the offenders on from one parish to the next, to continue their evil ways.

Sexual abuse has the power to destroy lives–that is, to destroy a sense of self-worth, confidence, and power in the individual who is abused.  When the perpetrator is clergy, the abuse also takes away the God of the abused child, because clergy, for better or for worse, are God’s respresentatives, the very symbols of the Holy, for their parishioners.  And make no mistake–it was not just this one letter from this one Vatican official: the corruption has been consistent and persistent, through the years of many Popes and many bishops and many priests.  In other words, the sexual abuse of children has been part of the culture of the Catholic Church.

Only one response is appropriate in such a situation: a complete and total confession of what has been done, accompanied by repentance, including monetary compensation whenever possible for the suffering of the victims–followed by reform that is institutionalized and unequivocally supported throughout the hierarchy of the Church.

I was raised Roman Catholic, and even though I left the Church at age 14 because of theological reasons, I have come to value much about the church.  I am drawn to the aesthetics of the church–the beauty of the vast cathedrals, the statuary, the smells and bells.  It is the church of Dorothy Day and Archbishop Romero.  Nuns and priests still give their lives freely in the service of others, and some die, speaking truth to power, as in South and Central America, in recent years.  This is the Church of Liberation Theology.  This is the Church that speaks out, when others have been silent, about poverty and economic inequity.

It is tragic that such an institution has been so drastically sullied by those who have been called to protect and to serve.  May God have mercy on her institutional soul and bring her round right.

Now the nation is in mourning for the tragic shooting in Arizona, in which six people died and which left Representative Gabrielle Giffords critically wounded, a bullet having passed through her brain. I find myself grieving deeply, and terribly disheartened. I keep thinking, “How could this happen? Where is our country headed?” The answers that come back to me are unnerving–because the causes are multiple, and there is no easy fix:

• guns are legal and easy enough to obtain
• mentally ill people are not adequately provided for
• our broken educational system is turning out citizens who are gullible and ill-informed
• economic suffering is widespread, and fear is rampant

But the immediate cause and concern of the violence in Arizona is the violent political rhetoric from the right, both from right-wing media figures such as Glenn Beck and Bill O’Reilly and from some of the leading political figures, one being Sarah Palin. Palin put a map online during the midterm elections which used cross hairs to indicate which Democrats she wanted defeated. We cannot talk about “targeting” the opposition, “taking them out,” “killing them,” etc., and think that these words don’t make a difference.

Jesse Kelly, the Republican who ran against Congresswoman Giffords in this last Congressional race, and almost defeated her, had a campaign event in which voters were invited to come to a shooting range and “shoot a fully automatic M-16.” Really? This is somehow something I never aspired to do.

The individual who did the shooting was by all accounts mentally ill, but my experience as a clinical social worker convinced me that the mentally ill end up acting out the extremes of the societal psychosis. When admired political pundits and elected officials pepper their speech with violent rhetoric, they should expect the result to be exactly what they are getting: a 300% increase in threats to members of Congress (Politico.com). The windows of Rep. Giffords’ Tucson office were shot out or broken after Congress passed the health care law, and similar acts recently happened to other members of Congress. Our Congressional leaders may become unwilling to go to public meetings and speak directly to the people.

The saddest and most disappointing thing of all is those in power who will not speak out against this rhetoric of violence, who support it when it suits their purposes. As Martin Luther King, Jr., said so eloquently, “History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.” It was true then, during the struggle for racial justice, and it’s true now.

When will we learn that language has power? That words support action? That suggestion is significant? Let each one of us notice and mention–let’s don’t allow the rhetoric of violence become the status quo. As we think and speak, so we will act. What kind of country are we becoming?