This is not the end. This is not the beginning.

God save us everyone
Will we burn inside the fires of a thousand suns
For the sins of our hands
The sins of our tongues
The sins of our fathers
The sins of our young

-Linkin Park, "The Catalyst"

If execution is a proper deterrent, why do we still have to use it?  One might think the possibility of losing one's life as retribution for actions taken would serve enough to keep people from committing said actions.  That said actions continue to occur, I can only conclude that it does not serve as a deterrent, and if it doesn't, then why are we killing people?

Tonight, Facebook is inundated with statements from friends regarding the execution of Troy Davis in Georgia.  Many of my seminary and clergy friends are weighing in on the injustice of everything this evening, while none of my friends beyond that sphere seem to have noticed.  The general sentiment is that the state of Georgia has just murdered an innocent man, as serious doubt emerged that he actually killed and off-duty police officer in 1989, but I'm not here to argue his guilt or innocence.  I didn't read the news at the time of the supposed crime, I didn't sit in the courtroom as the evidence was presented against him, and I did not sit on the jury to convict him.  In fact, before the last 24 hours, I'm not sure I knew anything about Troy Davis.

I wonder which of my friends did know something about him.

Glaringly absent from the commentary on the death of Troy Davis was commentary on the death of Lawrence Brewer.  While I didn't know his name before today, either, I did know his story, and you might too.  Lawrence Brewer was convicted for killing James Byrd, a name I didn't have to look up.  Byrd was chained to the back of a pick-up truck and dragged to his death in 1998 by Brewer and two accomplices.  I clearly remember it because it was a very high-profile case of modern racism by a white supremacist.

As I read about the stories of Brewer and Davis earlier today, I felt a sense of loss for both of them, but I must confess I felt more compassion for Brewer.  So many voices rose to the defense of a possibly innocent man to prevent an atrocity, with hardly a whisper of concern for a clearly guilty man facing the same atrocity.

Of course, the atrocity isn't that an innocent man would die.  The atrocity is that any person might be murdered by the government.  And, of course, as we are a government of the people, by the people, for the people, what we mean to say is that we are the murderers.  It's tough to stomach the thought that I had a hand  in someone's death.  Just because I didn't agree with it or didn't support it doesn't change the fact that I have, as have you, had a hand in numerous state deaths.

So I mourn for Davis.  And I mourn for Brewer.  And I mourn that Brewer death slid past us almost unnoticed.  Outside my window I can clearly hear the chimes of the clock tower on Cal campus every hour, on the hour, and when I heard the bell toll tonight I felt it was convicting me.  Who am I to recognize one death as more or less important than another?  But, more importantly, who am I to focus on this for the day of death for both men, and claim ignorance every other day?  How can I argue for an injustice when I only do so at my convience?  I'm pretty sure that's not how it works, or at least how it is supposed to work.

Did you know there are three more executions scheduled across the country this month?  Did you know there is one scheduled in Alabama tomorrow?  As I considered what I felt was my own failure to recognize the need for equal compassion to all condemned to die by the hands of the state, I found a desire to not let it happen again.  So I found a website that will give you all kinds of information concerning capital punishment in the United States, including a schedule for upcoming executions.  I hope to be more aware of these events moving forward.  Do with it what you will, but I feel the least we can do is pray for peace and compassion for the victims of those convicted of crimes resulting in the death penalty, as well as peace and compassion for the convicted.  For it is not up to me to say who lives and who dies, not matter what the cause.

I found solace tonight in music, as I often do.  While Linkin Park was a heavy dose for the evening, I also held on to a song I heard coming home from my internship tonight, a thought that surely echoes those of many affected families tonight:

Why can't we pantomime, just close our eyes
And sleep sweet dreams
Me and you with wings on our feet

-R.E.M., "The Great Beyond"

I'm left wondering about the divide between those that oppose the death penalty and those that support it.  I wonder how a roomful of humans can applaud a statistic that place Texas at the forefront of state killings.  I wonder how to start a dialogue with those people, to see what kind of injustice it is for any person to lose their life at the hands of another.  I wonder what kind of action we might consider as justice to soothe the pain caused by violent crimes.  I wonder a lot about how to make things better, and I'm no closer to an answer than I was when I started, but I feel as though I'm starting down some other unknown path.

Tonight, I pray for Troy Davis.  Tonight, I pray for Lawrence Brewer.  Tonight, I pray for Derrick Mason. Tonight, I pray for the day when I no longer need to pray these prayers.