Monday Musings: The Weight of Other People's Heroes

The killing of Charlie Kirk was a curious one, mostly because of how far the shockwaves reached, reverberating all the way to Manila. I had never even heard of the man before his death. And yet, suddenly, my feed was full of mourning posts from conservative acquaintances. They were grieving him like he was a fallen hero.

Naturally, I looked him up. What I found was unsettling. There it was, in black and white, years’ worth of inflammatory, cruel statements. Statements that, frankly, seemed to target people like me. People like some of those very same friends now praising him. I am shocked that people I know - the very people Kirk seemed to hate and want to disappear from his version of America - are defending his views.

It was jarring. I couldn’t help but wonder: how could they, kind and respectful in person, rally behind someone whose rhetoric was so steeped in hate?

I had to take a step back and remind myself that my acquaintances aren’t bad people. They’re not evil in their day-to-day lives. I’ve seen them be generous, thoughtful, deeply rooted in their faith. Maybe that’s what they saw in Kirk, too. He was someone who stood firm in his beliefs, someone who spoke what they believed to be “truth.” Everything else might just have faded into the background for them. It’s kind of like when we read the Bible and we often pick and apply what aligns with our own world views. It’s not like we’re punishing people who mix different fabrics like wool or linen in this day and age, or kill those who worked on a Saturday..

And so: where is the line?

At what point does admiration become complicity? Is it enough to say “I liked him for his faith” while ignoring the harm he caused with his words? I don’t have the answers, not really. But I do know that who we choose to elevate says something about what we’re willing to overlook. And that silence, especially in the face of hate, can speak just as loudly as endorsement.

So I sit with the discomfort. I try to understand, even as I draw my own lines in the sand. Because I believe we can hold space for nuance and accountability. We can love people in our lives without agreeing with everything they stand for. But we must also ask hard questions, and be honest about what we’re willing to accept - and what we’re not.