Falwell and the Work of Mourning

Date May 16, 2007

For some reason, five people called today to inform me of the passing of Rev. Jerry Falwell. Now, my mother and I discuss politics but as a rule, she does not call me at 9:30 PM. She called at 9:29, then again at 9:30. She wanted to talk about Falwell. Maybe she thought that I was in the midst of a Falwell-kicked-the-bucket bar crawl or maybe she felt as strangely as I did about how we respond to the death of someone whom we have no particular reason to mourn.

I have no particular reason–nor does anyone I know–to feel particular sadness over his death. Unlike many religious leaders of his conservative evangelical political persuasion, he has done very little to confront the scourge of poverty, global pandemic, racial/gender inequality, ecological destruction, etc. We can criticize people like Rick Warren, Bill Hybels, Ted Haggard, etc. all we like but all of these men, in their various ways, have taken notable positions and committed significant resources to a number of issues, vital to progressives. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for Falwell. As all of the internet obituaries attest, his legacy will be that of successfully fusing a kind of theocratic conservative evangelicalism with “democratic” politics. I remembered reading some excerpts of Falwell’s more notorious examples of bigotry in Jim Wallis’ call to arms, Who Speaks for God?, I stumbled upon this gem:

“Without your donation, there will be scores of angry, hateful, and militant homosexual activists–WHO ARE ALL INFECTED WITH HIV AND AIDS AND OTHER FILTHY SEXUAL DISEASES–crossing our borders by the hundreds and thousands . . . the homosexual activists will try to recruit your children; invade your hometown; put on perverted parades; attack your church; and defame your pastor” (Jim Wallis, Who Speaks for God.)

In so many ways, he was a cartoon of religious bigotry, promiscuously invoking God in every conceivable political dispute and demonizing his opponents in the most reckless of terms. I think my feelings–like most of you out there–are fairly predictable on this front, so I won’t plod through that terrain. I guess i’m more interested in discussing how we mourn and pray for those who we simply cannot find particular reasons to like.

I do not have nice things to say about him in particular and yet I feel compassion for him, for his family, for his church, etc. I remember thinking at some point today about the panic that must have risen up in his wife’s stomach as she got the call or about his sons waiting in the ER to find out their only father was dead. The question became whether I could extend Falwell the empathy I extend most human beings who endure the frequent terror of life. And if I could not, was I prepared to accept that as my own limitation which has little to do with Falwell himself. Why would I resist allowing him to be human? Why would I refuse to wonder about his frailties or his legitimate fears? In short, why must I close myself off from that? Clearly, I would oppose him politically but it seems disheartening to imagine that in doing so, I lose the ability to see him as only human. How can we find compassion for this man, in a life which provides me with few specific examples that seem to merit it?

2 Responses to “Falwell and the Work of Mourning”

  1. Adam Walker Cleaveland Says:

    There is a great article on Falwell here.

  2. Falwell: How to respond? | pomomusings | progressive theology & design Says:

    [...] I think you should read a post on Messages, entitled “Falwell and the Work of Mourning” by Matt Richards. Here is a segment from it: “In so many ways, he was a cartoon of religious [...]

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