Resentment Kills

After I watched the program “The Black Church” on PBS and then “Secrets of the Dead: The Woman in the Iron Coffin” about a well preserved 150-year-old corpse accidentally dug up in New York, I was struck by the power of community. For a time and perhaps in renewal, the Black church stood as family for disempowered people seeking to build identity and dignity with integrity, stronger together. Today, many independent Black groups offer similar benefits. Community is power—physical and emotional.

When science was able to identify the corpse as that of a Black woman who died of smallpox and was buried by her husband’s family in an expensive iron box, members of the local Black church that had once existed in the same place stood up to claim her. They reburied her with great respect and expense as though she were one of their parishioners, recently fallen. How many of us can expect commensurate regard following our passing? How many of us belong to a tight knit emotional community?

Meanwhile, another shooter seems to have targeted children as well as their parents during the Super Bowl celebration in Kansas City. Churches, synagogues, schools, celebrations—what makes people in these places attractive targets? One factor I might suggest is a form of envy. In a time when worldwide politics and technology have isolated the vulnerable from those who might once have helped sustain them, who do they resent most? The people—including children—who seem to enjoy love and community—especially people who seem to be sheltered by their membership in groups that an isolate can’t readily join. How many subconsciously resent watching a childhood of love and belonging? Yet no one can return to childhood in this life. And white people can’t turn black. Being an outsider hurts.

Politically, the people who espouse unity, fellowship, and love are blamed for their optimism, as though unconditional love degrades society because it’s as impossible as returning to childhood. Even some churches turn on them, believing that unconditional love is a stupid, dangerous concept, a result of careless education. They insist on imposing strict requirements to identify those they find worthy. Communities of hate are easier to sustain. You think you know who your friends are. Or maybe not belonging to any community at all is safer. Material goods don’t judge you, and if you gather enough of them, they can insulate you from people who have less and surely are less.

When viewed from paranoid, insecure isolation, unfamiliar or diverse communities that form from common goals or interests seem hazardous. What might they be saying? What might they do? What if they change some aspect of the culture? The threat of being left out looms. One common aspect of hate is surely envy—intensified by fear. Genocide—on a scale that is large or individual—attempts to prevent change. Born of hate, it changes the person who is the vessel.