Suppose
for a moment that there was an attack on a government building several years
ago that killed thousands of people. And suppose that the atrocity was
committed by a very small band of cult members who opposed a number of policies
instituted by our government, including the right to abortion and same-sex
unions; ideology which they deemed to be in direct conflict with the clear
teachings of Scripture. Suppose they believed that the attack on the building
was akin to Jesus clearing the temple and that their act of loyalty to God
would bring them eternal glory in Heaven.
Now
imagine that years later, on the site where the attack occurred, a memorial is
erected and a museum is built to “never forget” the great cost of radical
ideology. Now imagine that as you enter this museum there is a unique section
dedicated to the perpetrators of the brutality. There is a Bible on a table,
and there is a video playing on the wall giving a brief synopsis of the history
and the basic tenants of the Christian movement. In fact, everywhere you look
in the museum there is a nearly constant emphasis on the religious views of
these terrorists, and a determined point to highlight the fact that they were
driven to murder by their unyielding devotion to the Bible and their loyalty to
the Christian faith.
Finally,
imagine that you yourself are a Christian, and you yourself lost loved ones in
the attack. Standing in the museum, are you allowed to join the community of
the grieving? Are you allowed to be a victim, or are you compelled to be a
perpetrator?
The new 9/11
museum opened its doors last week in New York City with an equal amount of
fanfare and controversy. While the above simulation was hypothetical, it was
based on the fact that this was precisely the experience of many Muslims who
entered the museum in the middle of May. While museum curators attempted to be
historically accurate with the details of the attack, the very use of the word
“Islam” was inappropriate to many Muslims who stand as opposed to the radical
extremism of al-Qaeda as anyone else who visited the museum that day. Muslims
who not only disagree with terrorism, but who came to the museum in order to
find healing for their own loss, seeking a community to grieve with.
Dr. Dee
Britton is a professor and writer that has centered her research on what is
known as “collective memory.” The basic
premise of her work is, especially as it relates to instances of trauma,
the way we remember communally plays a significant role in the healing process,
not only for families and organizations, but even entire nations. She
writes,
“A
social group’s identity is constructed with narratives and traditions that are
created to give its members a sense of a community….Regardless of the size and
complexity of the social group, the group needs to construct and maintain an
identity that unites its members (through) the stories, artifacts, food and
drink, symbols, traditions, images, and music that form the ties that bind members
together.”
As it
relates to the 9/11 museum, my concern is that through the specific “stories,
and artifacts” on display, Muslim Americans are not invited fully to the table
of healing. Just as many Christians may feel unfairly represented by the opening,
fictitious story, and compelled to protest “those people are NOT Christians,” so
too are Muslims whose religion looks no more analogous to the
faith of hijackers than my own religion mirrors the snake-handlers of
Appalachia or the Branch Davidians.
My
prayer is that Christians especially would be on the forefront of a national
dialogue that recognizes the common humanity of Muslims while helping to
foster, perhaps even leading the way, towards a greater understanding of the
theological inaccuracy of calling all Muslims terrorists. Indeed, perhaps more
than anyone else, Christians should be sensitive to the way our media is
constantly bent on drawing attention to the exception while calling it the
rule.
I am
keenly aware that there are vast, and incredibly important differences between
Muslims and Christians. And yet, I also know that death, suffering, and loss present
the very fertile soil in which genuine and potentially life-altering
conversations about religion, faith and hope can actually take place. In that
regard, I want 9/11 to become a bridge and not a barricade for Kingdom work.
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