Putting a bloody ribbon on it

I've spent half a night reading about what's in a word, in a name. Real, honest, thinking persons are involved in a real, honest, thoughtful debate about a mop-haired killer named Dylan Roof and whether his murderous action was one of hate or an act of terror or an act of racism.

When the answer, of course, is all of the above. Dylann Roof is a racist in a state that still flies the Confederate flag. Dylann Roof shot nine persons in a calculated, malicious act that dripped of hatred. Dylann Roof killed a pastor of a church in an act of terror.

But while this country is being swallowed whole by acts of terror, hate, and racism we're yakking about definitions. You have got to be kidding, right?

A 21-year-old sits in a Bible study for an hour before shooting and killing nine persons in an historic church in Charleston, S.C. He shoots and kills nine persons in an historic CHURCH. He is white. The dead are black, though for the life of me had the skin color been reversed I can't imagine what difference that would have made. The suffering of the families begins at the end of their loved ones lives, and it grows like kudzu on a Mississippi byway, and every pastor in this country knows this is true no matter the skin color.

Instead, however, the Kerosene fuel for more anger began when these bloody bodies were at their end.

Here's part of the argument, and I swear I'm not making this up.

We have spent good grieving time arguing whether Roof, a white man, killed nine black including a pastor, was mentally ill or not. Apparently some believe if we say he was, then we're making him out to be a victim.

Then we spent good grieving time debating if it was or it was not an act of terror, or it was or it was not an act of hatred or it was or was not an act of it was or it was not an act of "pure evil." We even began the debate about whether this was a hate crime. I've yet to be given an explanation of when murder isn't a hate crime.

Let me be frank. If you need someone to put a name on it, to paint a face on it, to tie it all up in a bloody ribbon, I'll be happy to. It was an act of terror by definition. It was a hate crime. It was pure evil. And though we don't know all what was going on in Roof's mind, clearly this seemed to be a planned, determined event.

Serious yakking continues. Someone named Killer Mike said at this at the MTV Hip Hop Speaker Series: "What happened in Charleston is an act of terror committed by a terrorist. Simple and plain. I wish those folks in that church had been armed." Oh, my.

My blood runs thick when I read this: "Don't call this the act of a madman. It is an insult to those battling mental illness. This is a well-planned, well-conceived attack. Could it be that America, with its deeply troubling racist past, is refusing to call Dylann Roof a terrorist because it would mean that so many other people in our history who inflicted such pain would also have to fit the bill. Are we saying that terrorists can't be white? Are we saying that terrorists can't be American?"

Are we saying something like that with no evidence or truth?

My blood runs thick when I think that the argument over a single word is so dang important that we forget the main point is to remember the ones who died not the idiot by any other word or name who did the killing.

When the debate about who can be called thugs or who can be called terrorists or who is black and who isn't is more important than remembering the apparently wonderful persons whose lives were taken for no important reason that we can discover.

Dylann Roof wanted to start a civil war. In his little racist mind he chose a church to be the launching point. Can we not see the truth disguised there? Can we not see the spiritual warfare going on?

Instead, we spend our time debating and arguing and fussing and fighting over what to call this.

The lives that were taken by Dylann Roof mattered, and they matter still. Black or white, they mattered. When we come to grips with that instead of whether the media, THE MEDIA FOR GOODNESS SAKE, matters perhaps we can begin to seek healing.

Jesus awaits, and He's armed with a big dosage of love not a large calibre gun.