I usually try to tread carefully in the motives department, so when I read today of Richard Jewell’s death I tried to pull back from asking what in the world motivated his accusers. Jewell was the hero of the park bombing in Atlanta during the 1996 Olympics. Jewell spotted a suspicious looking bag and began moving people away from it, likely saving many lives. One died and 111 were injured.
Jewell wasn’t at the park in any official capacity. He chose to be alert, get involved and take action—which is what made the police suspicious. Most of us are trained to mind our own business, especially in a crowd. But Jewell was minding other people’s business. That led to questions: “What was Jewell really doing that day in the park?”
How did Jewell go from hero to suspect? Fear tells most the story. Fear and the pressure it brings to find quick answers. Looking back from deep within the decade of fear, it’s clear the potential for today was building even then. President Bush and his friends didn’t create this slinking sense of vulnerability, but after 9-11 they saw their ticket to ride and they rode roughshod.
Fear at its heart is nothing more than lost faith. Sometimes, of course, it’s appropriate, but this national cloud is not. You’d think that in a nation packed with self-confessed Christians, selling such a package would be difficult. Jesus put his feelings very simply: “Fear not; only believe.” But apparently it’s still a good pitch. In fact, for many of the new White House wannabes fear is still the favorite sales tool.
Richard Jewell didn’t fear that day, he cared—enough to put himself at risk for others. Governors and the Attorney General apologized to him and we can learn from him. Courage, I believe, is standard equipment in the basic Christian package. Without it faith is impossible. We hold the key to ending this nervous era: “… perfect love casts out fear.” That’s John’s first letter. That’s Jesus. That is us.
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