Like every other at least semi-sentient person in the United States this past week, I've been thinking a lot about guns. Once again a horrific mass shooting. Once again the debate over guns and "gun rights" heats up. It's a debate I opted out of long ago. I can't remember ever struggling with this issue. I came to political consciousness at age 13 and I was then and I have always remained a strong supporter of the strict regulation of hunting and sporting weapons, as well as a complete ban on private handguns and all assault-style weapons and ammunition. Clearly I am a European soul trapped in an American body--and so I've stopped participating in this ongoing American conversation. I just don't speak the language. And I don't want to.
I know that I am wrong. I know that in his superb address last week President Obama called on us to "broaden our moral imaginations"--and I think that means he's asking us to imagine ourselves on the other side, to try to see the world through another's eyes, and so to find common ground. He's right, I know that. And I know that's what my Christian faith demands as well. Jesus, I think it's safe to say, had a very broad moral imagination. But I do not want even to try to imagine being a person who would hear the news from Tucson and then would rush out to buy magazine clips that can fire 30 shots in a few seconds, the type the shooter used, just in case a miracle happens and the NRA allows them to be banned.
So, don't bother sending me phrase books or suggesting I try one of those immersion courses. Don't send me translations. I don't understand you. And I don't want to try to talk to you. I'll just go my way now. Sorry, no, no, I'm sorry. I can't help you. I don't speak American.
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