Who’s To Blame? — A reflection from Good Friday at Bike Church
Every Good Friday my church finds a place in our city where the spiritual longings of our friends and neighbors are already on display. This year, we held our service at Bike Church. Creative Machines built Bike Church to be an ecumenical invitation to remember people who have died in biking accidents. It’s also a beautiful and compelling piece of public art; it’s interwoven recycled bike parts, powder coated white, decorated with multi-colored glass catching the eye of commuters on their way downtown.
We opened our service by singing the song How Deep the Father’s Love for Us. The song ends with the words “his wounds have paid our ransom.” We Christians believe that Jesus’ wounds have paid our ransom. Ransom, in the Bible, is to redeem from punishment by paying an equivalent of the debt that is deserved. It is not to cancel a debt, but to absorb it. It is not to let something go, but to ensure that justice is upheld, while also extending mercy. The Father’s love for us, we believe, is deep indeed.
One of the ways we’ve learned to display the love of God our Father here in Tucson is through volunteering for Cyclovia. Our loving father made us creative and relational beings. He made us to enjoy our world together. He made us in his image, so we’ve created all sort of transportation devices. We see these at Cyclovia. Hybrid bikes, tall bikes, decorated bikes, cargo bikes filled with smiling children…the trike with the drum set on the back! It’s always a beautiful and fun afternoon where we see that transportation and community don’t have to be separate…they unify. We zip-tie baseball cards on spokes, share snacks and drinks, play giant jenga, and hold caution tape across the intersection to keep people safe. That’s our job, to keep our interception safe. And we do our best. God, our father, smiles upon it, and we have a good time in the sun.
Except…that one time, when we thought we were witnessing horror. We were at an intersection in South Tucson several years ago; doing our thing. When BANG…a vehicle backed into the pillar of the old gas station turned repair shop we were standing next to. We all turned our heads, surprised at the noise. “Whew, it’s just a little accident.” Except now, the massive SUV with dark tinted windows is lurching forward, peeling out, racing onto the street we have blocked off toward hundreds of people, children, on their bikes. It’s careening back and forth. Bodies are flying to the left and right. My co-pastor Nick and I begin sprinting down the street expecting the worst. In those split seconds I began to prepare myself for dead bodies, and weeping, and chaos.
The vehicle, thank God, did not strike any people. Eventually the driver swerved off the Cyclovia path and, though people were shaken up from diving or scrambling to safety, nobody was seriously injured. I’ll never forget that moment, but it’s not nearly as seared into my memory as it could have been. It could have ranked as one of, if not THE, worst moments of my life. And who’s fault would that have been?
Some have said that Cyclovia is too idealistic, and that the event should happen in areas like South Tucson, where the community doesn’t completely embrace the idea of having it’s streets flooded with bikers from all over town. Maybe it’s their fault, for setting up such a possibility. Maybe it was us. If we’d made the boundaries of that intersection more clear, it may not have happened. We speculate that the driver of the vehicle freaked out when he saw the police who were at the intersection, and was trying to get away from them. Maybe it’s their fault…the police. Maybe that driver had negative experiences. And then there’s the simple answer; it’s the driver’s fault. He was either doing something wrong in the first place (stolen car, or illegal cargo?) so they responded in a very erratic way. Maybe the driver wasn’t sober! But that doesn’t exhaust the possibilities, because even if they were to blame; Why were they in that state? Why does one live a drastic life and engage in criminal activity? How were they raised? What economic factors were present? What opportunities to do the right thing even existed?
This is a complicated question…Who’s to blame? Bike Church stands to help us remember the dead. Those who died riding their bikes. All over our city Ghost Bikes stand to commemorate those who died on bikes, where they died. Tucson loves bikes. In 2016, we were rated the number two city for bike riding in the nation. One year later, we were rated the second most deadly city for bike riders. We die doing what we do best. But, who’s to blame? Bikers not wearing helmets, riding intoxicated, not being careful? Motorists not being aware of bikers, deciding to drive instead of the more economical and sustainable mode of bike riding? Sometimes it’s far more complicated to discern. Sometimes, the biker loses their balance because they just run over a rock that happens to be sitting in the wrong place.
This isn’t the only reason people die. People die in school shootings, car-on-car accidents, hiking accidents, altercations; the list goes on. On Good Friday, we remember Roman Crucifixion. Jesus, who claimed to be God come in the flesh, was killed. Who’s to blame? When Jesus hung on the cross he prayed for forgiveness for those who killed him. Forgiveness only comes where there was a debt.
What’s the difference between the motorist who struck and killed a cyclist, and me? Depends on the situation I suppose. Let me tell you though, in my case, it’s not much. When I was young I had a lowered mini-truck. I loved that truck. I fixed it up with rims, stereo and limo tint. I got it tinted extra dark on the south side, where some shops will even even tint your windshield so people can’t see in to see your stereo equipment or YOU. I used to love the feeling of sitting in my truck, and nobody noticing I was in there. One night, late, I was driving home from a friend’s house in the rain. I approached a turn I took all the time, and eased into it, until in a split second, I hammered the brakes because a cyclist appeared out of nowhere right in front of me. I missed him by inches. What’s the difference between me, and the people who killed the cyclists we remember at Bike Church? Inches.
Who’s fault would that have been? Most logically, mine. I was operating the vehicle, I chose the window tint. But then again, the shop that tinted the windows did so illegally (and told me not to disclose). The biker was riding in the rain with no lights! But none of that would have mattered. If I’d killed a man on his bicycle that night, my life would have never been the same. And it doesn’t stop there. A family would have lost a son, a father, a brother, an uncle, a cousin, and my family would have had a killer in their home, someone guilty of accidental manslaughter. The death would have led to death upon death; the death of relationships and the death of dreams. That’s not what happened, but I’m still the guy who almost did it. I am the same as those who have done it.
We crucified Jesus on a Roman Cross. Roman soldiers executed their orders, lived out of their cultural values, and killed Jesus. One of them punctured his side and finished the job. He finished the killing of him. The earth shook. It became dark for three horrific hours. Jesus had cried out to his Father, “Into your hands I commit my spirit!” A crowd gathered, the historian Luke says, “for the spectacle.” The Roman Centurion made the great confession “Truly this was the Son of God.” The killer makes the great confession.
What problem in the world disturbs you the most? Bike accidents? Or is it something else? The list is inexhaustible. Who do you blame? What’s the problem? Can you figure it out? Where do you factor in? Could it even be solved, or is it one of those metaphorical rocks in the road; all the fault fixing in the world, wouldn’t stop it from happening?
As we remembered Jesus’ death that Good Friday, we placed rocks in our pockets, to remind us that even the most incidental impacts of sin, were placed upon Jesus on the cross. He paid our ransom. Our mourning, even our anger at the realities of sin and death are not unreasonable. But also, Jesus died to pay our ransom. We kept the rocks with us until Easter evening, when we savored the good ending God has in store.
Cyclovia wants to make the possible visible; the harmonious use of public space. The Bible declares that restoration is possible, even in the face of death. Death, and all of it’s causes are all around us! Bike Church reminds us that this is true. Even the night we were there, a broken vehicle mirror lay inside the structure. Did that mirror strike another bicyclist? Who’s to blame? Jesus died on a Roman Cross, and innocent man. What does this mean? What beauty might arise from this broken world?
