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Tim Sample is a Maine humorist, writer and illustrator.
All I know about the short life and violent death of activist Charlie Kirk I’ve gleaned from public media since he was brutally gunned down earlier this month.
Kirk appears to have been a Christian Nationalist and an enthusiastic promoter of the “Big Lie” (that Donald Trump somehow magically won the 2020 election and should cling to power by any means necessary).
During his brief career (he was 31 when he was murdered), Kirk’s positions on some issues, including LGBTQ rights, seem to have shifted a bit — often for the worse. Maybe they would have evolved further in other ways had he lived.
His full-throated endorsement of the Second Amendment — “I think it’s worth it … to have a cost of unfortunately some gun deaths every single year” — might have changed if he’d known that his own assassination would be one of those deaths. We’ll never know.
Either way it’s clear that Kirk and I occupied opposite ends of the political and cultural spectrum.
Fortunately, the founding document of our “American Experiment” takes into account the diversity of opinion inherent in a free and lively public discourse.
Among other important ideas, the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution prohibits the government from establishing an “official” state religion (sorry Charlie) and guarantees every citizen the right to freedom of expression. An idea embodied in the quote, often attributed to Voltaire; “I disapprove of what you say, but, will defend to the death your right to say it.”
In Kirk’s case, this means he had a legal, constitutional and (dare I say it?) “God-given” right to speak his mind on any topic without fear of being muzzled, let alone murdered, for his beliefs.
Significantly, it also means that the rest of us, including comedians Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Kimmel and (dare I say it?) Tim Sample, has the same right to speak out, loudly, clearly, passionately and even (gasp!) “humorously,” without fear of being muzzled, let alone kicked off the air. I mean fair is fair, right?
Apparently not so much. At least not lately. At least not here in the tacky, faux gold-plated America where loyalty to the increasingly crackpot whims of an elderly, infirm, erratic, corrupt, vindictive, would-be dictator (tell us what you really think Timmy!) “trumps” the long established rule of law including individual rights you may have once thought inviolable.
Perhaps having spent 50-plus years flapping my gums in public makes me more sensitive to this issue than most. Perhaps.
But let’s return to the topic of Kirk’s relative youth. As previously noted, his beliefs, although strongly held and passionately defended, had shifted a bit over the course of his brief career. If you’ve lived long enough, you’re probably familiar with this phenomenon. I certainly am.
Fortunately, many of these shifts are benign. Example: Although a loyal “Ford Man” at age 10, by age 16 I had to grudgingly admit that the 1966 Chevy Chevelle SS 396 was a hot car!
Other life passages are far more personal and painful. It might surprise you to know that, like Kirk, had I died at age 31 I would have been remembered, by many as a “born again” Christian.
You heard right, chummy! For more than a decade, I was a genuine “If you don’t accept Jesus you’re going to Hell!” Pentecostal (dare I say it?) “Holy Roller.”
All these years later, I’m still embarrassed to admit that. The fact that, as a friend recently noted, “Everyone was a born again back then! Even Bob Dylan!” doesn’t seem to help much. So why does admitting that particular past mistake still bother me so much?
Maybe acknowledging that I no longer believe things I once held sacrosanct is disturbing precisely because my human fallibility is on full display, caught in the spotlight’s unflattering glare.
Seven and a half decades into the story I now accept that there is no “Shining Path.” No way to guarantee we never make any mistakes. In fact, it now appears quite likely that the only real choice any of us have is whether we are willing to learn from mistakes we will inevitably make.
A bit of a hard pill to swallow. But there it is.
Many years ago a wise mentor suggested that I might want to revisit my resentment against Christianity. “You don’t have to be a Christian.” He explained, “But that resentment will get you into even worse trouble.”
So I commenced rereading some of my favorite Bible verses and stumbled upon the following: The first line of 1 Corinthians 13:9 begins: “For we know only in part…”
I was stunned. Was it really that simple?
What if everything any individual knows is accurate but incomplete? Merely a glimpse of a much greater whole? What if we each own a piece of an infinite, cosmic puzzle, more complex than anyone can possibly imagine? What if the true image only emerges when all the pieces are finally in place?
That would mean (dare I say it?) there’s strength in diversity! Why, by gorry, that’s an idea as American as apple pie!
Still, if it’s OK with you, I’d prefer a slice of blueberry.
