I could see humans planting bombs.

[Looking out over Belfast!]

This past weekend I went to Belfast. On the bus there my friend gave me a full hour lecture concerning Northern Irish history and the current state of political affairs.

The bus was pretty full from the start, and we didn’t know the bus’ political composition. In light of the very real bombing last week here in Derry, this was a legitimate concern to me. While she was talking I glanced around, noticing the elderly people sitting a few seats in front of us. I perked my ears to hear the young men around us quip about the RA (IRA). Though I appreciated it, I wanted to hush her relentless (and enthusiastic) retelling of sectarian violence, terrorism, and oppression. These people lived the troubles. They know the rebels, the paramilitaries, the dead, the fear.

I confessed to her, “I simply don’t see any reason for the violence. I’ve spent the last two years concerning myself with the possibility of legitimate causes for a terrorist’s activity. Now that I’ve seen it happen in real life it seems so useless. So dumb and destructive and unwanted.”

My friend was quiet for a bit, then she said something profound. She said they (these Real IRA members who set off the car bomb) may have grown up in the homes of former IRA members who have a family heritage in the republican movement. She said it’s possible that they want something to fight for. She said they probably want to be a part of something bigger than themselves.

And all of the sudden they weren’t monsters without minds and without families and without dreams. I could see humans planting bombs.

Now. None of this realization makes what they did okay. But, so importantly, it re-humanized them to me. I was afraid because I thought I’d found a situation in which dehumanization was a legitimate response. And that scared me. The potential in me to dehumanize is just as real as within a Ku Klux Klan member. I must guard against this inclination.

[A mural along the Falls Road, a Nationalist/Republican area of the city. The left mural reads: "OPPRESSION BREEDS RESISTANCE]

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As I spent the weekend in Belfast, as city still wrecked in sectarianism, I continued to think about violence. We watched Michael Collins with our newfound Belfast friends. [Michael Collins is an excellent movie--I recommend it to anyone. Liam Neeson... need I say more?] The movie is about the leader of Ireland’s war for the Republic. It is during these years that Northern Ireland voted to remain under British rule.

I want to believe that violence isn’t useful. But I simply can’t. Violence got Ireland their republic--alongside diplomacy, but definitely proceeding that diplomacy. Though it is hell, war gets plenty done from that hell.

What amazes me is the way in which being part of a cause, especially one worth violence, can saturate a life with meaning. And I find myself longing so deeply to be a part of a cause that demands everything from me. Something bigger than living. Something worth killing for.

It is so easy to get caught up in a pursuit of some greater cause. I confess that, in the past, justice has been my god.

As a person of this inclination I must check myself. Why do I want the things I want? Is it because I want to be near Jesus or because I feel a need to infuse my life with meaning? In my clearer moments, I want to follow Jesus until, if necessary, I lose my life. With the grace of God, those moments will become more and more often.

I still believe that the people of the Way are called to love their enemies: that never looks like killing them. I must remember that this doesn’t diminish the depth of our struggle. We must struggle in the name of our God... in love.

[The Peace Wall between the Unionist/Loyalist Shankhill Road and Nationalist/Republican Falls Road.]