When a person with a highly controversial career or reputation dies, whether by assassination, commando raid, bombing, or by natural circumstances, old age, etc, we tend to hear of all sorts of reactions. When Margaret Thatcher passed on, while many mourned, some held parties to celebrate. When Osama bin Laden was killed, Facebook resounded with comments like, "Ding doing the witch is dead..."
Now, it's for Charlie Kirk that the bell tolls. From where I sit, I'm hearing and reading the usual spectrum of responses.
If, God forbid, the current US president were to be assassinated, I'm sure there would be a national day of mourning, but for some, a day of celebration (when I say "God forbid," I do mean, "God forbid," but that in no way indicates where I stand politically). We tend to forget that such a death doesn't only end a political career, but a life as well. And behind each public face, there is a life.
I remember watching old Hong Kong police films that featured shoot-outs between police and mobsters where both police and gang members were dropping like flies. It happens in some western films as well. They were exciting scenes, to be sure, but they made me wonder, what's the average life expectancy of a Hong Kong policeman? - or of an average gangster? Are people really so dedicated to their work if there's such a high risk of it all coming to an end? - Never seeing their kids grow up; never again spending time with their spouse; never taking walks in the countryside; drawing pictures... etc etc...?
Life is a gift from God, and I believe we don't take it seriously enough.
The rabbis say, when someone dies, a world comes to an end. The "world", in this case, is the entire network of relationships, people loved and hated, people whose lives are enriched or otherwise affected, bosses, colleagues, aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces, pals down at the pub, next door neighbours, people whose view of their daily landscape includes that person's figure - it's gone from all of those, leaving a hole in each landscape.
In my novels, when a character dies, I always try to express all of that feeling. In fact, in one of the scenes, a rabbi makes the above quote.
Of course we know death isn't the end. As believers in Messiah, we believe in an afterlife. We often say one has gone to "a better place." But if we look closer to our theology, we'll note that those who have gone on are, for the time being, incomplete. They are souls separated from their bodies waiting for the resurrection of the dead, when they will once again be reunited with their resurrected body. We tend to forget that.
Apart from what we profess, we have no idea what it's actually like. Peter Pan said that death must be the greatest adventure. Maybe so, but we don't know what it looks like.
That's as it should be, as our business right now is this life.
This life is the gift from God, ours to make whatever we will of it. It's the only chance we have to improve this world - our world that includes everyone that has anything to do with us, which includes parts of other people's worlds like a Venn diagram - God's gift to each of us, and our gift to those others.
That is why untimely death is so ugly, and why murder is so evil.
While some, right now, are saying, "I'm sorry he's gone, his arguments resonated with me," others are saying, "I'm glad he's dead, I hated his politics."
What about the cardigan his aunt was knitting for his next birthday*? What of the hopes of ever taking his two young kids to Disneyland when they're older**?
If anyone feels inclined to sing, "Ding doing, the witch is dead," please add the line, "The witch will never again smell the flowers or see a rainbow."
* supposing she was. I don't even know if he had any aunts.
** I did a google search to see if he had kids