Yet another massacre at the hands of an
Islamic group has been reported, this time in the country of Kenya. According to news reports, Al-Shabab
militants wearing masks stormed into the dormitories of Garissa University
College in Kenya early in the morning, shooting people at random and taking
hostages. When the carnage was finally
over fifteen hours later, all four gunmen lay dead, and at least 147 others
were slain. One newswoman reported,
“Students say the attackers were going from dorm to dorm, targeting Christians.” If the student was a Muslim, that student was
released. If the student were a
Christian, that student was killed.
It
is, of course, impossible to get into the minds of such men and to understand
their motivation. One thinks of the
Lord’s words about the persecution of His apostles: “the hour is coming when whoever kills you
will think he is offering service to God” (John 16:2). It seems that similarly these men thought
that they were doing the will of Allah and furthering Allah’s cause. Were they thinking that this massacre was some
kind of pay-back for American foreign policy?
Or pay-back for western support of Israel? Or pay-back for the Crusades? It is difficult enough to sort out tangled
and multi-faceted motivations, even when the person is alive and willing to
share. Sorting out the motivation of the
dead gunmen along with all the complications of American foreign policy and
African politics is well beyond our ability to understand—or anyway, beyond mine. I therefore have no advice whatsoever to
offer regarding what our political response should be. But of the spiritual dynamics involved,
things are rather more clear.
It
seems that for the gunmen, the students did not exist as persons—that is, as individuals
with names and stories and families and sins and joys and sorrows. In their world, everything was
one-dimensional: one was either Muslim
or kafir, an unbeliever. The victims scarcely existed for the gunmen
at all beyond being simply the bearers of such labels. Their training taught them to regard everyone
simply as members of one tribe or another, either as believers or
infidels. In this worldview, gradations
of faith, shades of gray, or any other nuance or distinction simply didn’t
exist. It didn’t matter that the
Christians in the dorms might not have approved of American foreign policy or
of the State of Israel or even of the west’s “war on terror”. Their actual views and opinions on these
topics and a host of others didn’t matter.
All that mattered was their label—they were Christians, kafir, the Other, the Enemy, members of
the wrong tribe. And all the hatred that
their religious training taught them was due to (for example) American foreign
policy could be justly aimed at them.
What
is the lesson for us here at home? In a
word, not to be like them. It is a valid
question what part Islam played in the gunmen’s worldview and whether or not
the violence found in the Qur’an and the in the life of Muhammad are
contributing factors in the rise of Jihadism worldwide. But this is a separate question, and whatever
answer we ultimately give to it does not change the fact that many Muslims are
good and peace-loving people. It could
be that such people are peace-loving not because of Islam, but in spite of
it. The question, involving the human
heart, is a difficult one, and defies easy analysis. But we must not include all Muslims under one
label and treat them all the same as the gunmen included all Christians under
one label. Not all Muslims are the
same. The first and fundamental fact
about anyone is not their religion or their label, but that he or she is our
neighbour, and that we are commanded by Christ to love that person. Jesus loves everyone, and shed His Blood on
the Cross for everyone—for Christians, Jews, Muslims, even violent
mask-wearing, murdering Jihadists. Each
person has a name and a history and struggles and fears and hopes, and we must
relate to each person separately and by name.
Labels, though easy to use and comforting, do not really help us make
sense of the world. The world is a scary, complicated place, full of nuance,
mystery, shades of gray, and even contradictory motivations, and it resists
easy labelling. These deluded men did not see the world as it really was. That was how they could go from room to room,
targeting Christians. We must not live
like them, and go from year to year, targeting Muslims. We must see each person before us as they
really are.
Excellent commentary.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely we must remember that not all Muslims are the same, and if we give in to that mentality, it's us who separates Christians from non-Christians to single out people for mistreatment. That if called upon, we hide people in the attic or the basement, as Dutch Christians had to do for Jews at one point. Let's just hope that it never comes to that.