It was only a short year ago that "shock jock" Don Imus chose to refer to the accomplished women playing in the NCAA Basketball Finals as "nappy-headed hoes," later billing the match-up for his listeners as the "jiggaboos" versus the "wannabes." Imus' disrespect came as little surprise. He had a long history of slur and slander against Blacks, Africans, Asians, Latinos, Jews, Arabs, women, homosexuals, the poor, and just about anyone he considered unlike himself. And he had been paid handsomely to be so. The absurd brevity of his time spent off the air is perhaps only surpassed by the financial profitability of his return.

But the story that a middle-aged white man of means in the U.S. showed himself to be (or made his living as a) racist and sexist is not news to me. He is not the first, nor will he be the last. Not that what he did was not news-worthy, but his misogynistic or otherwise bigoted views seemed almost beside the point to me.

The thing that captured my attention regarding the Imus coverage the first half of April 2007 was the power dynamic. You see, power matters, and Imus had plenty of it, which he used unrepentantly to pummel with impunity the dispossessed, disenfranchised, or otherwise already marginalized. Don Imus, who is now with ABC, at the time had a nationally syndicated CBS radio show that was simulcast on MSNBC (how much money was he making?), which NPR reporter David Folkenflik further characterized as attracting "an educated, affluent audience." Most interesting to me, again, was not that this was the case; however, I was floored by the sheer number of "educated, affluent" folks who unreservedly championed Imus' "right" to do what he had been doing. It was as if the unapologetically privileged got together and declared, "How dare you have a problem with us continuing to exercise our privilege at your expense? This is the way it's supposed to be. Haven't you gotten the repeated memos?"

They said it was a First Amendment issue, to which my only response can be: Neither hate, discrimination, nor any other form of exclusionary practice or language is a First Amendment issue. Freedom of speech does not guarantee one the right to be heard. Hate does not deserve a publicly facilitated audience (e.g. radio and television air waves), and those who resource it privately deserve whatever nonviolent (particularly financial) backlash they get.

Then came the story of Seung Hui Cho. The Western world cried out in horror at the massacre Cho perpetrated on VA Tech's campus—"the single largest act of recorded handgun violence on U.S. soil in American history" (the qualifiers "recorded handgun violence" and "on U.S. soil" are important because they help to conceal our selective recollection and shocking history of violence, particularly that which has involved what we would call "state-sponsored terrorism" if it were directed at us from the outside).

And we wept. And so should we weep again in the upcoming weeks, but not just for Cho's victims. We should weep for Cho and others like him, who are victims as well ... of the Imuses of the world.

Seung Hui Cho's multimedia manifesto read like the diary of an oppressed who had finally been transformed to embody the rationale and methodologies of his oppressors. Having bought their propaganda, psychological abuse and mental illness demanded that, rather than joining them, he beat them with a ferocity commensurate to his own pain. What Cho and others like him fail to realize is that neither the methodology nor rationale of the oppressor is just, thus it is doomed to fail - immediately for the less powerful and inevitably for the more powerful. Though I confess to loving the whole V for Vendetta fantasy of striking a crippling blow to the imperial system on behalf of the oppressed while somehow avoiding harm to any innocents, that's all it is: fantasy.

Don't misunderstand: I am in no way defending, justifying, or excusing what Seung Hui Cho did April16,  2007. I just believe we need a good dose of "whole truth and nothing but the truth" as we try him again this year in the court of public opinion. In so doing, I hope we see the need to indict ourselves as well.

If you're struggling to connect the dots, consider this quote from one of Cho's high school and college classmates, Chris Davids, as reported on npr.org:

In an English class during high school, a teacher threatened Cho with a failing grade for participation unless he read aloud as the other students had. Cho [a Korean immigrant] started to read in a strange voice that sounded 'like he had something in his mouth,' Davids said.

'As soon as he started reading, the whole class started laughing and pointing and saying, "Go back to China!"

Imuses behave as if their privilege (power and prerogative) entitles them to further marginalize and/or humiliate anyone they so desire. Well, you might say, "Crowding someone out—pushing him to the margins—doesn't give him the right to lash out." Sure. Yet I ask along with Langston Hughes, "What happens to a dream deferred"—dreams of belonging and significance, security and prosperity, dreams of equity? How do we critique his or her means of survival (those with less power and prerogative) without also critiquing our own (those with more)?

I'm reminded of the closing scenes of Malcolm X, the movie, in which a series of persons from all over the globe (ending with Nelson Mandela) stand up and declare, "I'm Malcolm X!" It seemed to spawn a whole genre of "I wanna be like ______" commercials. We are so quick to associate ourselves with the best and the brightest. Perhaps it would be cathartic to own our demons as well, by declaring, "I too am Don Imus!"

What I'm afraid will happen instead is that we will disassociate ourselves from both Imus and Cho, choosing to see ourselves as the unwitting victims of both, much like one VA Tech affiliate quoted by NPR:

In a lot of ways it makes it better to know he's just a crazy person. That is just completely not our university's fault. This has nothing to do with anyone else. This is just his issue.

Such self-congratulations will only lead us blindly back into the thoughtless patterns of behavior that inspire this kind of violence. The only hope I see in overcoming this vicious cycle of violence and counter-violence is to abandon and subvert the rationale and methodology of anyone, any institution, or any system that seeks to justify or legitimize gain at the expense of others as a valid means to an end.

But wait a minute ... wasn't abandoning and subverting the dominant power structures the way of Jesus? Well, at least we don't have to reinvent the wheel.

Melvin Bray is a devoted husband, committed father, learner, teacher, writer, storyteller, lover of people, connoisseur of creativity, seeker of justice, and believer in possibilities. As founder of Kid Cultivators, he lives, loves, and dreams with friends in Atlanta, Georgia.

In the Washington Post and throughout the blogosphere, debates rage about the recent spate of violence between Palestinians and Israelis, each side condemning with righteous indignation the sins of the other and proclaiming their own side's innocence. In a recent Post letters section, for example, Yaffa Klugerman wrote, "I was shocked to read [the] assertion that the murder of eight students in a Jerusalem seminary ... was reminiscent of a 1994 attack by Baruch Goldstein, a Jew who shot a group of Palestinians at prayer" (killing 29 Muslims and wounding another 150).

Another writer decried the Post's lack of balance in putting the seminary killings on page one and having no mention at all of an attack a few days later in which Israelis killed five Gazans. (A short news item in the April issue of Sojourners magazine reported on Hamas rocket attacks that sparked reprisal raids into Gaza by Israeli Defense Forces, but the magazine went to print before the killings at the seminary.)

For those seeking to justify their next round of violence, there will always be another provocation to point to; revenge and retaliation will never end anything, but merely create the rationale for the next bloody attack. And both sides can legitimately condemn acts of inhumanity committed by the other. The only way to stop the deadly spiral is to stop – to recognize that all life, on both sides of the conflict, is sacred, and that the proper, humane response to suffering inflicted even on one's enemy is mourning, not vengeance. Until then, violence will continue to beget violence, and hopes for peace in the Middle East will remain a pipe dream.

Jim Rice is editor of Sojourners magazine.

In Ramah, a voice is heard, crying and weeping loudly. Rachel mourns for her children and refuses to be comforted, because they are dead. Jeremiah 31:15

Last week a spate of four deaths in our Chicago high schools was blamed on gangs and guns. Last year, the public high school killings totaled 27, and already this year 18 have been killed. As one commentator said, "It's war on our Chicago streets and in our schools." Kids held up signs saying, "Stop Killing" and "Can't you see we want to grow up?" As we approach the 5^th Anniversary of the Iraq war that moved us into devastating violence, we must take stock of our failed policies in Iraq and at home. Our current approach is not working.

Dr. Carl Bell, an expert on youth violence, talked about what prevention will take. He said young people need a sense of connectness, access to medicine and counseling, self-esteem and a sense of community. They also need to be able to communicate when they need help. Mayor Daley blamed glorified gun violence on tv and used as entertainment. So many opportunities for alternatives to violence.

Just think of what could happen if we got out of Iraq and redirected that $400 million A DAY we now spend to revitalize quality public education for all, create alternative life giving work experiences, training and jobs for disaffected youth, enable universal health care. Enabling youth to complete school, find meaningful employment would staunch the one way train to prison (which also costs us $25,000 per person annually). We have the resources. Do we have the will?

Mary Nelson is president emeritus of Bethel New Life, a faith-based community development corporation on the west side of Chicago. She is also a board member of Sojourners.

Jeff Carr was Sojourners' chief operations officer before taking a post as L.A.'s gang czar (anti-gang czar, that is) last summer. He was featured in this report by CBS News, and I'm sure he would appreciate it if you'd join with the Sojourners team in supporting his difficult work with your prayers. Watch it:

I write these words from Iraq, where I have worked through the Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) since October 2002 - before, during, and since the 2003 U.S. invasion of Iraq. CPT attempts to follow Jesus as we seek to reduce violence in conflict areas around the world. In Iraq our team has worked at this by accompanying Iraqi people in dangerous situations, "truth telling" through our reports on the abuse of detainees and other consequences of war and occupation, and training and working along side local organizations on projects of reconciliation and finding nonviolent alternatives to the problems they face. This fall and winter, we have been working in the Kurdish north - accompanying people who are sanctioned for speaking out against human rights abuses, and families displaced by violence by Turkish troops on the borders.

After five years of being in the midst of the instability and suffering of the Iraqi people - hearing their pain, fear, and increasing hopelessness as they tell us about their lives, their shattered hopes and dreams - witnessing and experiencing violence ourselves as a team; but also witnessing truely courageous people who have not lost faith and hope as they work for peace, I am led to reflect on the legacy of the war and occcupation as I write the following:

After five years of war, Iraqis live with:

• Deaths of an estimated 794,000 Iraqi civilians. (John Hopkins University study)
• A physically devastated society. The rebuilding of Iraq's society and infrastructure has progressed very little. There is still a lack of clean water, electricity, and fuel. Medicine or medical equipment in hospitals and health centers are grossly inadequate.
• Continued economic crisis. There is still massive unemployment, poverty, and increased malnutrition. The Iraqi government is under pressure by U.S. government to pass a new oil law which could allow foreign corporations equal access to new oil fields, resulting in billions of dollars in oil revenues being taken out of the country.
• Anger and despair increasing as Iraqis lose hope for a better life.
• Iraqi and U.S. forces continuing violent house raids and brutal detentions of Iraqi men. Many innocent detainees are forced, through torture, to confess to acts of terror they did not commit.
• Civilians living in fear due to daily explosions, gun battles, and personal attacks. Sectarian violence, exacerbated over the years by U.S. Military presence and policies as well as by Iraqi police and military forces.
• Women subjected to increased violence and loss of personal rights and freedoms.
• Children growing up seeing violence and killing as the norm.
• A country-side polluted with radioactive depleted uranium from U.S. weaponry used in the 1991 and 2003 wars with Iraq, resulting in increased cancers and birth defects.
• An elected government and ratified constitution, but with a government that most Iraqis feel doesn't really represents them and their needs. Sunni Iraqis fear the influence of Iranian government on the mostly-Shia, Iraqi central government.
• The U.S. military in the process of transferring "security" to Iraqi police and military - but instead of feeling protected, Iraqis feeling terrorized by these forces which have been trained and equipped by U.S. forces that have also trained human rights abusers in Latin America.
• Iraqis also being told that the only way to security is through excessive violence and giving up their civil rights.
• Continuation of collective punishment. One U.S. antiterrorism strategy in Iraq is to surround and attack, often with heavy bombing, whole neighborhoods, villages and cities. After attacks, non-combative civilians killed are often labeled "terrorists," in news reports. (During the November, 2004 attacks of Fallujah, 65% of the buildings, of a city of 300,000 residents, were destroyed.)
• Because of the hardship and dangers, an estimated 4 million Iraqis fleeing their homes to other countries or as displaced persons in their own country.
• Instead of U.S. military presence bringing stability, perpetuating instability.

Words cannot express the anguish that the Iraqi people have experienced in these last five years because of the war. The longer occupying forces are in their country, the longer they suffer the violence and hardship of daily life. We must not continue to justify paying for and prolonging this war.

Peggy Gish is a fulltime worker with Christian Peacemaker Teams, which seeks to enlist the whole church in organized, nonviolent alternatives to war and places teams of trained peacemakers in regions of lethal conflict. CPT initiated a long-term presence in Iraq in October 2002. She is the author of Iraq: A Journey of Hope and Peace.

The Iraq war has cost lives. Perhaps this is such an obvious statement that many will wonder why it has been made. It has cost lives of military personnel, many thousands of civilians in the immediate theatre of war, as well as lives of insurgents. It has even cost lives away from the war zone. In 13 African countries the rise in oil prices - which may be directly attributed to the war - resulted in loss of income, more than off-setting the increases in foreign aid. Nobel Peace Prize laureate and economist Joseph Stiglitz estimates the cost of the war worldwide as $6 trillion. Such sums indicate the loss of lives through failure to invest in education, healthcare, and housing across the world. It is estimated that for $1 trillion eight million housing units could have been built, health care funded for 530 million children for a year, or 15 million school teachers trained. Had such investment been made in the breeding grounds of terrorism, many of the causes of conflict could have been addressed.

The war has cost democracy. The 2 million people who opposed the war represented a political pressure group never seen before in the UK. Suspicion was raised over the evidence for the need for war. Democracies thrive only when truth is told, however unpalatable. A loss of confidence in government is always dangerous in democracies. The war has placed real strains upon people's confidence in government.

The war has cost us our memory. While opposing the war, it has always seemed right to support men and women and their families who fight on behalf of their country. The loss of young lives - while leading to many moving services of remembrance at a local level - has led to little public recognition of the cost of laying down life for the country. Life is the only thing we really possess. Laying it down for others requires that both the cause and the end are perceived as worthy. Many are left to mourn their loved ones. Many question the cost. Many more of us simply forget and carry on with our lives.

Jesus promised blessing to peacemakers. More than one hundred references exist in respect of peacemaking in the New Testament. It is the supreme goal of the kingdom of God. It is the 'good news' of the angels at Bethlehem. It is the intention of Christ who came to make peace. The cost of the Iraq war is great. The cost of making peace is greater. It took the life of the Son of Man; and it has taken the lives of countless men and women through the ages who have opposed war and striven for peace in obedience to the gospel. No Christian is immune from this struggle. There is no cause greater or more urgent. Think peace, pray peace, act peace.

Rt. Rev. Peter Price is the Bishop of Bath and Wells, Church of England.

We are painfully reminded once again of the cascading violence in the U.S. after the senseless killing of six and wounding of many others at Northern Illinois University. But in my low-income Chicago community, the violence and killing have almost numbed us. I hear gunshots out my window regularly in the summer, and the annual homicide toll from guns in our two-square-mile community is often more than 30. The Children's Defense Fund indicates that almost 3,000 youth die in the U.S. annually from gun violence.

David Walsh points out the strange dichotomy between our shared nonviolent, cooperative values and the values of the marketplace and TV programs imposed on our children. Eighty percent of Nintendo games have a violent theme. Violence, sex, and humor are the themes that sell TV ads; 80.3 percent of all TV programs contain acts of violence. It's hard to find a popular movie without significant violence.

We are a violent nation. We label people enemies, inflict shock-and-awe violence, and promote first strike weapons. Soldiers come back from Iraq and Afghanistan with violent responses and post traumatic stress disorder. Kids bring guns into schools, women carry guns in purses, and automatic weapons abound - doing much more damage than good. One hundred twenty U.S. mayors have called for national leadership to wage war on gun violence. Marian Wright Edelman urges, "There must be a movement to end gun violence and stop the proliferation of guns."

A recent Christian Organization Board discussion of a group of parents whose children died from gun violence admonished the leader/speaker not to get "political." When are we going to say "enough is enough" and get political? Jesus challenged us to try a different approach to violence. Why not do it?

Mary Nelson is president emeritus of Bethel New Life, a faith-based community development corporation on the west side of Chicago. She is also a board member of Sojourners.

Susan sat on her bed, looking frightened and sad. The 27-year-old had lost the lower half of her left leg when at 2 a.m. Dec. 16, Turkish fighter planes dropped four bombs on her home in a village along the northeastern Iraq-Iran border.

"When the fourth bomb exploded, everything was fire, and I heard my daughter screaming," recounted Susan's father. For several hours planes flew overhead. The blasts also killed their cows and sheep. "It was several hours later when we were able to carry her to a car that could take her to a hospital," he said. The next day they were among the estimated 3,000 persons or 800 Iraqi Kurdish families who fled border areas out of fear.

Of all Iraqis, the Kurds have been the most supportive of U.S. military presence in their country. However, U.S. policies concerning Turkish incursions into Iraqi border areas have not only caused suffering to the Kurdish victims, they have increased Kurds' anger toward and mistrust of the U.S. Such policies perpetuate the cycles of violence in these conflicts, when what is needed is leadership toward peaceful resolution.

"I have no hope for my life now," Susan told us. "I am not good physically or psychologically. I cry all day long."

This was the Christian Peacemaker Teams Iraq team's second visit to Susan's family as part of a project to monitor this border conflict and be prepared to accompany displaced families back to their villages. Tomorrow Susan has an appointment with a Kurdish organization to assess whether she is able to participate in their six-month rehabilitation and vocational program for amputees.

Susan's family isn't the only one questioning the role the U.S. has taken in allowing Turkey to fly over Iraqi air space in its anti-terrorism campaign. Kurdish Iraqis express little support for the PKK (Kurdistan Workers Party), whom they consider terrorists, operating in more remote areas of the Qandil Mountains. They expected the U.S., as the occupying force in Iraq, to protect civilians in their care. Many Iraqi Kurds believe that Turkey's real motives for Turkey's invasions into Iraq are to sabotage the possibility of a strong independent Kurdish state in northeastern Iraq, and to take control of the oil fields of Kirkuk province.

In the past five years, the actions and policies of the U.S. government have eroded most of the initial gratefulness Iraqi people had for getting rid of Saddam Hussein. Excessive violence, domination of Iraqi political and economic structures, and the U.S.'s failure to rebuild the physical, social, and medical infrastructures of Iraqi society feed into the increasing anger and violent resistance that have emerged.

Peggy Gish is a fulltime worker with Christian Peacemaker Teams, which seeks to enlist the whole church in organized, nonviolent alternatives to war and places teams of trained peacemakers in regions of lethal conflict. CPT initiated a long-term presence in Iraq in October 2002. She is the author of Iraq: A Journey of Hope and Peace.

As I wrote here last week, this year's Oscars, which take place on Sunday night, seem to have caught a cultural mood in cinema that's worthy of reflection – films that take ethical themes seriously are all jockeying for position, with the highest quality slate of Best Picture nominees in years. To my mind, the Academy Awards only matter inasmuch as they provide a snapshot of a cultural moment, and that they sometimes help decent but overlooked films reach a wider audience. And it is, of course, a valuable and often beautiful thing when artists recognize the achievements of other artists – in spite of the superficial glamour and absurd over-statement that often accompanies the ceremony.

So, in the spirit of gentle reminder that there are some pretty wonderful films out there, here are my predictions for what might happen on Sunday. (All made, of course, in the knowledge that false prophets put themselves at great risk – I trust readers will treat me with compassion for the categories where I am proven wrong!)

The Iraq war film No End in Sight is likely to take the documentary award, proving that at least some pop culture mavens have not forgotten that moral disaster. Julie Christie will probably win Best Actress for her work as an Alzheimer's sufferer in the tender Away from Her, although Marion Cotillard more than deserves the award for showing - with near preternatural incarnation - the irony of Edith Piaf in La Vie en Rose, a woman known for singing about having no regrets, but who in reality suffered torments of almost biblical proportions.

While any one of the Best Picture nominees is worthy, (Juno's delicate and witty story of unplanned pregnancy - a likely Best Original Screenplay winner; Michael Clayton's puncturing of the myth of the moral neutrality of big business economics; Atonement's suggestion that it's title is impossible; There Will Be Blood's raging portrayal of greed), the Academy is likely to reward the Coen Brothers for career achievement by giving the statuette to No Country for Old Men – a film that has divided commenters on this blog between those who see it as a cry for a change of direction in a violent world, or simply a bleak vision that suggests human nature is irredeemable. However I still consider it to be one of the most humane cinematic treatments of violence I've ever seen. It also has the potential to provoke a serious discussion about just how to end the cycle of dog-eat-dog without resorting to the same methods. The fact that this discussion has been largely ignored, having been acclaimed by most critics merely on its entertainment merits, may be something that the Coen Brothers – who will share the Best Director award - themselves consider an ironic postscript. Their film, which is so profoundly aware of the damage that violence does, has been praised for the 'beauty' of its violence, and the only performance in it that will be recognized is Javier Bardem's chilling portrayal of a psychopath when he wins Best Supporting Actor. (Although even the brilliant Bardem agrees that Hal Holbrook should be winning for his performance in Into the Wild, his exceptionally tender essay of a sage Christian who has been too committed to self-discipline to actually allow his life to breathe reminded me of the deep value of respecting your elders. The Academy should take note and give him the award.)

Daniel Day-Lewis will win Best Actor for There Will Be Blood, Paul Thomas Anderson's discordantly compelling near-opera of early 20th century greed; in which one man's lust for oil and another's pseudo-religious mania are shown to be two sides of a coin: the love of money as the root of all evil. There are of course echoes of our contemporary ways of expressing power, but this film is not an allegory – it's just a magnificently told story about how selfishness is at the heart of all sin; and Day-Lewis happens to be the strongest physical performer in movies today.

Meanwhile, rat-lovers and gourmands everywhere will go home happy when Ratatouille takes the Best Animated Film trophy – and while I know everybody praises this film til the sauce boils over, it really is that rare thing – a kids' film that works better for adults; and does more than bring a wry smile of delight to its audience. It actually reminds us that life could be better, and that sometimes it just takes a change of perspective to get us there. And from a - not purely ethnocentric - Irish perspective, I hope beyond hope that Once, my favourite film of last year, is recognized with a Best Song award. This film said something about modern relationships that reminded me of the possibility that, as Rowan Williams once wrote, no human face has no divine secret to reveal. Like I said, the Oscars are only important inasmuch as they indicate a cultural mood. On this evidence, the mood looks like the marriage between a Hebrew Bible prophet and a hopeful comedian. And I suppose you could do worse than to live in that particular universe...

Gareth Higgins is a Christian writer and activist in Belfast, Northern Ireland. For the past decade he was the founder/director of the zero28 project, an initiative addressing questions of peace, justice, and culture. He is the author of the insightful How Movies Helped Save My Soul and blogs at www.godisnotelsewhere.blogspot.com. He is also one of the judges of this year's Beliefnet Film Awards, which seek to recognise the best films with spiritual themes. Find out more at http://www.beliefnet.com/bfa/

Tim Burton's striking and gruesome film adaptation of Stephen Sondheim's musical 'Sweeney Todd' made me feel alternately impressed by Johnny Depp's singing talent and wince at the violence. The story of a 19th century barber who avenges the loss of his wife and daughter by providing the closest shave ever to a litany of customers including the judge who caused his pain left me preoccupied by thoughts closer to home.

If the film is trying to make a serious point, it is that Sweeney's spiral of violence never ends. The previous night I had attended a meeting of the Consultative Group on the Past – a body established by the UK Government to examine methods of helping the people of Northern Ireland to address the legacy of our own violent recent history. Two things were clear from the comments made at this meeting by members of the public: first, that the levels of genuine sorrow in this society are unfathomable – families ripped apart, minds taken to the edge of destruction, small communities shattered. This is real, and not interpretation. Second, we often lack the ability to empathise with the pain of the 'other' community. It is all too easy to see 'our' pain as exclusive, and to become blind to the suffering of the community on the other side of a political divide.

This is as true in situations of deep horror – such as the killing and mayhem that plagued Northern Ireland for so long – as it is for more benign contexts – such as political campaigning. I was impressed by Mike Huckabee's empathetic comments when he was asked to respond to the now well-known moment when Hillary Clinton teared up in New Hampshire. He made the common sense point that politics is tough, and that it's easy to become emotional on the campaign trail. He even risked the wrath of those who appear dedicated to brutalizing politics by acknowledging, as if it needed to be said, that Hillary Clinton is a human being and needs to be treated more humanely. I seem to recall him suggesting at a previous debate that if he were to fund a NASA mission to Mars he would want Hillary to be the first person on the rocket; so his more tender response to her tears is welcome.

Joking aside, what is the connection between 'Sweeney Todd', dealing with the past in Northern Ireland, and the US Presidential campaign? I think it's simple: a cynical world breeds the opposite of empathy. And where there is no empathy with those whom we feel are different, the killing can begin. History shows us that where no attempts are made to resurrect empathy as a meaningful part of politics, the killing may never stop. Obviously, politics requires a degree of robust debate; but all too often our political discourse is reduced to mocking, dehumanizing, or in some cases, let's face it, even killing our opponents. The serious questions I want to ask are: What would it mean to restore empathy with 'the other side' to our politics? What have we got to lose? What have we got to gain?

Gareth Higgins is a Christian writer and activist in Belfast, Northern Ireland. For the past decade he was the founder/director of the zero28 project, an initiative addressing questions of peace, justice, and culture. He is the author of the insightful How Movies Helped Save My Soul and blogs at www.godisnotelsewhere.blogspot.com

Last year, my wife Jeanette and I returned to Honduras with a group from our congregation. What alarmed me was that a decade ago the MS (La Mara Salvatrucha) had a considerable presence in many of the poorest neighborhoods. Now they have a stronghold. One of my pastor friends told me, "Gabriel, people are afraid to come to church. The MS killed a woman in front of the church just the other day." The MS is going global. Recently Law & Order had an episode that featured the MS presence in New York City. The MS has chapters in California, Illinois, New Jersey, and elsewhere. Increasingly, some of our youngest and brightest are seduced into a culture of violence that is perpetuated to their children and later generations. Violence, sample one.

Last month, Benazir Bhutto was assassinated as she sought to be a voice (in spite of her shortcomings) for democracy in Pakistan. Violence and disruption ensued as many are still concerned about the future of democracy and stability in Pakistan. Violence, sample two.

Presently, tens of thousands of Kikuyus in Kenya are fleeing from ethnic violence in reaction to questions about recent elections. The Kalenjin and Kikuyus have fought before and this struggle is re-emerging in ever more violent ways. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, fighting between Congolese Tutsis and other factions, including some Rwandan Hutus, has sparked the Roman Catholic Conference of Bishops to call for an end to fighting. In Sri Lanka, the end of a truce looms large and there is a growing concern of escalating conflict. The long standing violent impasse between Palestinians and Israelis still remains unresolved. Violence, samples three to six.

The conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq do not appear to be headed to an end and there is the growing question of how the countries involved will come to a place where governmental stability and peace for its citizens will emerge. Violence, samples seven and eight.

In the midst of all these examples, and so many others too high in number to mention, the question is, "How do the followers of the Prince of Peace respond to this surge of global violence?" I think that one of the contemporary challenges of the followers of Jesus is to hear the beatitude anew: "Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called children of God." While I recognize that many may disagree on how peace should be attained, few would disagree that genocide, gang violence, terrorism, and endless wars are not what Jesus expects from his disciples. Certainly, Jesus knew that humanity has a propensity to destroy those with whom they disagree. Still, the Jesus message is a call to a higher standard. Jesus in his life and ministry took the road less traveled.

Someone once asked a civil rights leader about his method of non-violence deeply influenced by Gandhi. The response: "It's how you pick up the phone." In short, we as followers of Jesus are challenged to emulate the Prince of Peace in even how we talk to on the phone or in traffic. People of every generation are calling for a revolution in culture where we do not rush to violence, but seek the way of peace. I am not saying that tyrants need not be confronted and that theories of just war theory are not valid. Neither am I saying that I too haven't sinfully yielded to the temptations of violence in thought or speech. What I am saying is, "There's too much violence in the world and regrettably, too often it is the first and only option." I pray for the day when all of God's children "will study war no more." Until then let us model peace, in as much as we are able.

Rev. Gabriel Salguero is the pastor of the Lamb’s Church of the Nazarene in New York City, a Ph.D. candidate at Union Theological Seminary, and the director of the Hispanic Leadership Program at Princeton Theological Seminary. He is also a Sojourners board member.

Here's the good news: The Golden Compass does not promote atheism. It isn't going to steal your children. It does not signal the end of hope for religion in the West. That's the good news. Here's the bad news: it promotes the same, shallow "don't touch my stuff or I'll kill you" message that appears in so much of popular culture. But more than this, in spite of delightful visual imagery, and a couple of performances in which it's clear the actors are having fun (an icy Nicole Kidman, and the great English theatrical knight Derek Jacobi to name two), it's simply a boring film.

At its centre there is at least an attempt at exploring interesting territory – we are in a parallel universe in which everyone is accompanied by a 'daemon' – an animal representation of their personality, and a comfort in times of trouble. Meanwhile, a shadowy authoritarian body, "the Magisterium", is abducting children and performing daemon amputations. Too much daemon, too much free will, too little for the Magisterium to do.

The religious resonances are obvious, but the film doesn't make any explicit commentary on Christianity. Rather, its enemy is the misuse of power to force people to think or act against the exercise of freedom. The image of severing our connection to that which keeps us in a state of wonder is a powerful one; and The Golden Compass does a good job of reminding us just why children can sometimes understand things that confound adults.

But, as is typically the case with such large canvas "family films," the antidote proposed is nothing more than violence on a massive scale. I have not read the acclaimed Philip Pullman books on which this film – the first in a trilogy – is based, so I don't know where the story leads, or if the huge fight at the crescendo of the movie is proportionate to the text. But while the film of The Golden Compass is angry about religious and cultural imperialism, its response is strangely Nietzschean – the reassertion of individualism and the use of physical brute force appear to be the only answer it can think of.

At the same time, it's so muddled as a film - having clearly been made by a studio breathing down the talented director Chris Weitz's neck, with scenes ended before they're finished, and a script that doesn't seem to know where it's going - that it maybe shouldn't be taken anywhere near as seriously as some angry activists think.

It's surreal watching a film like this, for you feel like you're being told something over and over again that you already know: religious power can be a dangerous mix, and so needs to be handled with care and be accountable to the community. This film wants to think that religion and power can never be used for good; and yet, in its unthinking embrace of survival of the fittest/might as right philosophy, it may actually end up on the same side as the neocons and religious imperialists it seeks to condemn.

Gareth Higgins is a Christian writer and activist in Belfast, Northern Ireland. For the past decade he was the founder/director of the zero28 project, an initiative addressing questions of peace, justice, and culture. He is the author of the insightful How Movies Helped Save My Soul and blogs at www.godisnotelsewhere.blogspot.com

After more than six years of field exercises in some of the most grueling weather our country offers, I am rarely affected by even the most chilling winter rains. Months of accumulated time in the forests of North Carolina, the deserts of California, and the wetlands of Louisiana - training for war has built up in me a bit of immunity to succumbing to the shivers. However, there is one thing that pierces my calloused exterior with ease.

Tremors begin in my chest—tiny convulsions shortening my breath. They quickly spread to my upper back and neck before spreading throughout my body. Even now as I write, my fingers pause over many keys, timing the moment they may strike with relative certainty that I will not have to delete keystrokes. My breath becomes shallow and I feel warmth leave my hands and feet.

In a tab on my browser, a Washington Post article lies hidden behind my word processing program. It is a story that hits horrifically close to home. It speaks of Army Lieutenant Elizabeth Whiteside, facing court-martial—being prosecuted for attempted suicide—while rehabilitating in the Psychiatric Ward of Walter Reed Army Medical Center. The same officer had served in the prison that sent Saddam to be hanged, in the Iraqi government's illusion of redemptive violence.

Days ago, another article, from AlterNet, described a recent CBS investigation that found an alarming trend in those who have served our country. I would never have believed the finding had it not been for the devastating news Iraq Veterans Against the War (IVAW) received last Tuesday. One of our active members had taken their own life. Their spouse, another IVAW member who suffers from PTSD, had found the body the night prior.

In 2005, an average of 17 vets committed suicide every day. No, that is not a typo: 17 every day. More alarming is the response within the Armed Forces - which is disturbingly outlined in the case of 1st Lt. Whiteside, wherein a clinical diagnosis is being utterly ignored in the interest of saving face. At the same time, many of our vets' disability claims are being verifiably reduced or denied. This treatment sends one strikingly clear message to those who have served and sacrificed: you are not worth the effort. Is it any wonder why vets of all generations are more prone to homelessness and suicide than any other demographic?

The church has historically labeled suicide an unforgivable sin, as the opportunity for repentance destroys itself with the victim's final breath. However, before labeling suicide as "the coward's way out," I think we need to look at our own corporate complicity in these deaths. In our modern era, we have not learned from the ancient orthodoxy that taught warriors to remove themselves from the community for a period of reflection and healing before reentering.

Today, a soldier can move from Kirkuk to New York in a matter of hours. What does that do to their grasp of reality? When they cry out for our holistic (not superficial) support, we fumble about, feeding them gross misinterpretations of scripture such as the Just War Theory, hoping to ease their consciences with hollow justifications. When they find no solace in that, we walk away confused about why we could not "fix their problem," casting shame upon those who can find no affirmation.

I don't think a transcendently benevolent God is that insensitive. I think God feels their pain long before anyone on earth accepts the responsibility to share in Christ's saving work, which begins even before the seed of self-hatred is sown. Surely we are not so blinded by our own plank that we fail to see that if we will not share their pain, we shall share their guilt. A suicide is anything but a personal transgression; it reflects an outright failure of community. Our heart should ache for all those who have been suffocated of hope, beaten to the point of desperation by a world that offers no source of redemptive healing for the beaten and broken.

I wonder if we get so defensive because there is no room for restitution, no scapegoat upon which to place blame. We hastily label it a personal sin, as we are made impotent by the inability to cast judgment. We forget that indeed a murder has taken place, but that the stones lay in our own two hands. It is not one stone that kills a person, but many; not one sin that destroys a life, but an accumulation. The truth leaves us naked, and fig leaves held tenuously together by half-truths and moral manipulations are all that conceal us from reality.

My fingers still quiver and the quakes in my chest have not subsided. My joints ache with grief and my hands still have no warmth in them. I am sick with disgust and contempt for the systems we have in place and their utter failure in our national time of need. This frustration is sin crouching at my door, threatening to overcome me, but I can be its master. I am not incapable of overcoming anger with compassion, defeating hubris with humility. May God have mercy on me. May I rest in peace. May God enable me to be the change I wish to see, to reach those close to death's door and be Christ's heart and hands to the least among us.

May God direct us all in being the prophetic witness to our government, to help us create means of healing for those who sacrifice their mental and physical health. May the author and protector of life give us hearts of flesh and rebuke us every time we marginalize and dehumanize our brothers and sisters by casting the stones of disregard, indifference, and neglect.

Logan Laituri is a six-year Army veteran with combatant service in Iraq during OIF II and experience with Christian Peacemaker Teams in Israel and the West Bank. He is an active member of Iraq Veterans Against the War and currently resides in Camden, New Jersey, in an intentional Christian community called Camden House, where he continues to seek ways to wage peace wherever he goes. He blogs at courageouscoward.blogspot.com.

Suddenly it seems there's a full-scale war going on in our neighborhood, and we and our neighbors here are in a new kind of danger.

On their way back to college after helping out at our weekly dinner party, our friends Jenny and Alyssa stopped at an intersection and noticed a group of guys milling around in the early evening, less than a block from our church. A moment later, guns started firing on both sides of them, and, before they could pull away, four bullets entered their car. They weren't hurt, but they could have been killed.

The next night, a few blocks away, four men carrying automatic weapons walked by our friend Helen as she was sitting on her front steps watching her grandchildren play. As she hustled the kids inside, those men shot up her block.

Two days later, back on our church's corner, an older kid I know named Wu took a bullet in the foot just after midnight. When I asked him about it yesterday he brushed me off, but I know he's scared, and well he should be. You see, unlike our college girls or Miss Helen, Wu knows exactly what's going on around here. He's part of it.

The bottom line is that earlier this year a local guy named Turtle was murdered in a bar. There were plenty of witnesses, but none of them would testify against the killer. Evidently, as friends of the victim, they wanted him to be released so they could take care of him in their own way. Of course, the killer has friends too. However, nobody on either side seems to be able to shoot straight—or is willing to hold their fire until after the rest of us are safely tucked in.

Marty and I are genuinely afraid - for our neighbors, for the folks in our little community, and especially for our precious Miranda and Roman. And, of course, we are doing all we can to keep them safe in the midst of this trouble.

Then again, we are not doing the one thing that would keep them safest of all right now: We are not putting them out of harm's way. We are not moving. On the contrary, every day we are quite intentionally rooting ourselves more deeply in this neighborhood, in spite of our frequent inclinations to cut and run.

Miss Helen has no choice in the matter. She must live here, or someplace like here. Likewise with Wu (though he could at least choose to be part of the solution from now on, instead of part of the problem). But Marty and I, Ric and Karen, Donna and Jeff - we all could go if we chose to, which is probably the most important thing that sets us apart in this neighborhood, for better and for worse. We're educated and connected in ways that mean we can never really be poor, no matter how little we may make or live on. Poverty, after all, is not so much the absence of money as it is the absence of choices.

Right now, though, it is those choices that keep Marty and I up at night, even more than the gunfire. We wonder what it means to say we love our neighbors if we aren't willing to stay with them here. We wonder what it means to say we love our children if we aren't willing to take them away. And we wonder what it means to say we love God if we still can't always tell the difference between God's will and our own desires and insecurities.

Bart Campolo is a veteran urban minister and activist who speaks, writes, and blogs www.bartcampolo.com about grace, faith, loving relationships and social justice. Bart is the leader of The Walnut Hills Fellowship www.thewalnuthillsfellowship.org in inner-city Cincinnati. He is also founder of Mission Year www.missionyear.org, which recruits committed young adults to live and work among the poor in inner-city neighborhoods across the USA, and executive director of EAPE, which develops and supports innovative, cost-effective mission projects around the world.

When a film ends with the recounting of a dream in which a weather-beaten, life-weary man searches for the fire his father is building to warm them, it's impossible not to think of the love we all yearn for and can hopefully muster. It's also a welcome spiritual respite when that film has seduced its audience on a journey into a hell of the relentless violence that follows a man after he steals drug money in the naïve belief that its owners might ignore him, and the slow-moving chase that ensues when a truly psychopathic person pursues the man and the cash. No Country for Old Men, the new picture from the Coen Brothers, based on Cormac McCarthy's 2005 novel, is probably the most accomplished film released this year.

I'll do my best to avoid spoilers, as it would be unfair to assume that readers have seen it. So I must skirt around the issues that cause me to praise this film so highly. In short, No Country for Old Men is a slow, thoughtful, frightening, and beguiling film about the selfishness of people and the desperate need to restore the virtue of community bonds. Its central character – called Anton Chigurh, and played by Javier Bardem – is one of the most titanic characterizations of evil intent I've ever seen in a film. He simply kills what gets in his way, and even plays sport with some of his potential victims - inviting them to toss a coin to determine their fate. Josh Brolin is the man who finds the money belonging to Chigurh's employers, and Tommy Lee Jones the sheriff baffled by the trail of death that ensues in their wake.

We follow these characters - scared of the killer, ashamed of the thief, and hoping against hope for the sheriff. We look away from the screen when the violence occurs, but may perhaps feel a little horrified by the fact that a part of us still wants to watch. And when one character finally stands up to Chigurh, it is not with physical violence, but by simply speaking and refusing to accept his games, forcing him to face the fact that he, and he alone, is responsible for his murderous ways. This film does not suggest that – as some critics have implied – there is no way to stop evil, but rather that we live in an age where we need to find new ways of resisting the violence many of us face. It doesn't provide simplistic answers, but suggests that the path may be found in such things as renewing the bonds of community and mutual respect, refusing to accept the moral reasoning of those who resort to force at the drop of a hat, and embracing something like the vision of the 5th century BCE Chinese thinker Mozi:

'If every man were to regard the pain of others as his own person, who would inflict pain and injury on others?'

The country where violence is king may indeed be no country for old men; but, to my mind at least, the film that takes this term as its title offers nothing less than a prophetic reflection on the most important question facing humanity today: Where do we go from here?

Gareth Higgins is a Christian writer and activist in Belfast, Northern Ireland. For the past decade he was the founder/director of the zero28 project, an initiative addressing questions of peace, justice, and culture. He is the author of the insightful How Movies Helped Save My Soul and blogs at www.godisnotelsewhere.blogspot.com

Two months ago, for the first time in my eight years living in Washington, D.C., I was mugged. Two young men rolled up in a pickup truck while I was unloading groceries from my car in the alley next to my condo building. They made me lie on the ground, held a gun to my neck as they took my money, and then locked me in the trunk of my car as they made their getaway. Fortunately I still had my cell phone in my pocket and was able to call 911 from the trunk. The police were able to free me, as well as pursue and arrest two suspects who are now in the District court system.

I was not hurt, they took little of real value, and I feel like I've done a pretty good job of refusing to let fear change the way I live. Fairly or unfairly, with my privileged status, I'm not worried about my future or my survival. I am worried about those two young men, and many others like them. What influences, role models, or lack of positive options allowed them to make such stupid and destructive choices?

In reflecting on my mugging, I've only recently begun to connect a few dots. For the past six years, I've been on the board of Urban Family Development (UFD), a nonprofit organization that currently runs programs for after school enrichment, tutoring, and mentoring - and we have lots of big dreams for expansion. However, it's always been a struggle to find funding and volunteers for this kind of work with such a great need, many worthy ministries, and a limited pool people willing to sacrifice their time or money.

I don't know what the government of D.C. is going to spend to prosecute and potentially imprison those muggers, but I'm pretty sure it would be enough to give UFD a solid financial boost - and then some. The most visible anti-crime measures in my neighborhood consist of portable floodlights rotated around sketchy street corners. A church friend who once interned at UFD and is now a D.C. policeman confirms what a band-aid these strategies are, even as he tries to do his job with integrity. Instead of high-visibility, low-impact band-aids, I want UFD to provide better options for as many youth as possible, so that fewer young men and women grow up to make stupid choices like wrecking their lives to steal my $20. I want to execute a preemptive strike on this kind of stupidity by supporting a program that provides a safe place for children, gives them mentors through the difficult years of adolescence, and then celebrates their success - all of which UFD does.

Why can't we - both as a society and as a church - do better at providing positive choices for our youth? And for me it is a both/and. I've seen more small-government conservatives willing roll up their sleeves and volunteer as tutors. Meanwhile, it's mostly the justice-minded liberals who march and lobby to end poverty and violence. How can we get more liberals to show up at UFD and more conservatives to advocate? (I know these categories are unfair and far from universal, but I've seen this dynamic over and over in my own church experience.)

Government at every level must do better at making the needed resources available, if for no other reason that the churches simply don't have the resources to do it all on their own. But the church must also be the conscience of the state - challenging not only with words, but by example in serving and caring for those at the margins of society. Conversely, the words of the prophet Jeremiah may inspire the church, but they were originally spoken to a king: "Did not your father eat and drink and do justice and righteousness? Then it was well with him. He judged the cause of the poor and needy; then it was well. Is not this to know me? says the Lord." (Jeremiah 22:15b-16)

Consider this as the onslaught of opportunities for "Canned Compassion" wash over us with the holiday season, and look for opportunities to do both justice and mercy, not with band-aids of a march here or a meal there, but with sustained service and activism that seeks real healing for our communities.

Ryan Rodrick Beiler is web editor for Sojourners.