Two Fistfights

The spring weather just turned warm this week, and buds and flowers are blooming everywhere. This is the time of year when the sun comes out and we all feel the burst of new life and warmth and the optimism of hope. Our neighbors come out of their houses and mill about on porches and streets—it is a time of barbeques and friendly conversations. But sadly, warm weather usually means more street crime, and our spring reverie has been interrupted more than once this week by the crack of gunshots. In our opposition to the death penalty, we have often said that we oppose killing in all of its forms. As we attempt to stop the executions of those who have killed, we have also tried to stand with their victims, saying that we hope to be present to our neighbors in a way that prevents murder from happening in the first place. As I wear this “I” on my chest for one last week, I am reminded that the idolatry of the death penalty is part of an idolatrous worship of violence and death that takes place in our very streets and households. As I witness against the violence of the state, will I have anything to say to the teens in front of our house, who have had two fistfights even as I sat writing this paragraph?