W here is there hope? It’s a question some of us probably ask ourselves more than we care to admit. Headlines about “self-immolation” don’t help. God rest the soul of Aaron Bushnell, the 25-year-old in the Air Force who set himself on fire outside the Israeli embassy in Washington, D.C. His act has been described as a political protest. “Free Palestine,” he declared as he was dying. It was suicide. And it should not be celebrated. This is not the way.
A history professor told Time magazine that it was “an act of despair.” Clearly. The same article purported to explain the history of self-immolation protests and included: “Self-immolation was also seen as a sacrificial act committed by Christian devotees who chose to be burned alive when they were being persecuted for their religion by Roman emperor Diocletian around 300 a.d.”
No. That wasn’t “self-immolation.” That wasn’t suicide. That was religious persecution. Are priests and seminarians who are kidnapped and killed in Nigeria today waging political protest because they exist? I suppose you can argue that protesting sin is a protest. Though it seems more accurately a prayer from sinners in need of grace.
I don’t know the heart of Aaron Bushnell, but he must have been suffering in a deep darkness. Commentaries suggesting a nobility to self-immolation miss that politics and nationalism and even war aren’t everything. There is hope. And pretending that early Christians who were killed for their faith were suicidal misses that.
“The time for my birth is close at hand,” Ignatius of Antioch, bishop and Church father, wrote before his martyrdom around 107. “Forgive me, my brothers. Do not stand in the way of my birth to real life; do not wish me stillborn. My desire is to belong to God. Do not, then, hand me back to the world. Do not try to tempt me with material things. Let me attain pure light. Only on my arrival there can I be fully a human being. Give me the privilege of imitating the passion of my God. If you have him in your heart, you will understand what I wish. You will sympathize with me because you will know what urges me on.”
That’s not giving up. It’s an offering and a surrendering and a witness to something more. Every year when I read it on his memorial, I marvel at the love and trust that was in his heart. That’s the opposite of despair.
One of the most frequent questions I get these days — regardless of the topic of the broader conversation — is: What’s going to happen with the presidential election? I have no wise insights, I confess. We all have eyes to see, and it’s not an inspiring picture. And it’s connected to Bushnell’s suicide. People are concerned about what is happening to our country and how it affects the world. Some ask if the attack on Israel would have happened if there were a different president in office. I don’t know the answer to that — no one does — but I do know that evil is evil and will find its way regardless of U.S. presidential elections. And while most of the people asking the question are not on the verge of “self-immolation” — that is, suicide — it does challenge us to ask ourselves: How much does it matter to my life?
Brad Wilcox at the University of Virginia has a new book about the importance of getting married (not-so-subtly titled “Get Married”). Catherine Pakaluk at the Catholic University of America has one coming out this month (Hannah’s Children: The Women Quietly Defying the Birth Dearth) encouraging couples to have many children. Arthur Brooks has gone from being head of one of the premier Washington, D.C., think tanks (the American Enterprise Institute) to teaching about happiness at Harvard and running a business helping people understand that there is so much more to life than politics. Suggesting that self-immolation is something to celebrate would be the self-immolation of our culture.
Ignatius knew he was going to be martyred. He wrote: “The prince of this world is determined to lay hold of me and to undermine my will, which is intent on God. Let none of you here help him; instead show yourselves on my side, which is also God’s side. Do not talk about Jesus Christ as long as you love this world. Do not harbor envious thoughts. And supposing I should see you, if then I should beg you to intervene on my behalf, do not believe what I say.” That’s not desiring death or protests but having a sure knowledge of the reality of God and self-awareness at the same time about the weakness of humanity. (Many of us know too well about the latter!)
I’ve been humbled to meet people who may very well be martyred because of their courage in hostile circumstances — where their religion is hated. Like Ignatius, theirs is not a political position or protest. It is a witness to the antithesis of suicide: eternal hope. Faith in something beyond news headlines and IRS deadlines and sickness and evil.
War is hellish, but it is not a reason to stand outside an embassy and burn yourself alive. Pray for peace. Support ministries that are helping people in Ukraine and what so many of us consider the holiest of lands. And look in the eyes of people in your life. Don’t forget people. Life can be hellish even without war. Don’t make it worse for people by pretending that suicide is dignified — at home, in a hospital, or outside an embassy — as supposed political protest.
This column is based on one available through Andrews McMeel Universal’s Newspaper Enterprise Association.