Displays of Fright

In the United States, this past month has seen unprecedented displays of fright—which itself is quite frightening, when you consider the fact that this is coming from a country that’s become accustomed to mass shootings. 

Omar Mateen felt compelled to walk into a gay nightclub and shoot one-hundred-and-two people. He did this in tribute to ISIS, for reasons that many Americans (myself among them) are still struggling to understand. As far as I can figure it, it seems like he was acting from a place of fear. 

And now, in response to their own fears, many Americans are agitating for something to Be Done about the sort of person who might feel compelled to pledge themselves to ISIS. In doing so, they make broad generalizations about who these persons are. By and large, the persons are Muslim; and, by and large, they could be described as “harborless.” 

They ask for things like immigration bans being levied upon these people, even though Omar Mateen was born in the U.S. The idea is that we, as a country, are better safe than sorry. Maybe most Muslims aren’t mass shooters; but banning all of them from entering the country is nevertheless “worth it,” if it protects us from those who are violent. …At least, that’s the idea.

As Christians, one of the hardest things that we’re called to do is surrender our fears. In the face of abject horror, we’re asked to trust that power of mercy will somehow turn the world. Critics of religion will oftentimes describe this mindset as childish; but, in reality, it’s incredibly difficult to achieve. Oftentimes, listening to our fears is the “reasonable” thing to do. However, our faith will sometimes ask us to be unreasonable, all in the name of the greater good. Allowing fear to dominate us will only create a world in which violence, stoked by the belief that we’re fundamentally unsafe, persists. 

Initially, I’d planned to spend the bulk of this essay talking about a movie—A Better Life, directed by Chris Weltz, made in 2003. It’s good. In fact, it’s hard to imagine a better argument for harboring the harborless. And it actually spends a lot of time dwelling upon the subject of fear, and how much it should be allowed to dominate a life. Carlos (an undocumented immigrant) and Luis (his native-born son) are both paralyzed by it, so fearful of the bleak fates that might await them that they’re unable to truly see one another. You should watch it, if harboring the harborless is something that you’ve been thinking about (which—considering everything that’s been happening lately—it probably is).

If things had gone differently this month, I might’ve been able to write about it more. But events, as they say, have overtaken me. Go in peace, reader, and (try to) be not afraid.

Teresa de Mallorca is the pseudonym of a neophyte who just completed the RCIA program at Holy Name

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