Farewell Falwell

Grave-dancers always make me feel a little ghoulish, to be honest. I try to think of a redeeming moment from just about anyone when they die. And in this case, it's difficult. Jerry Falwell championed segregation and fought against civil rights, showed zero compassion for AIDS victims, pushed a dangerous dominionist agenda for the country and took the effort to dehumanize and stigmatize people like myself to almost sublime levels of absurdity (see Tinky-Winky).

About the best I can come up with is those first days after Matthew Shephard's murder. It was Falwell who agreed to meet with Rev. Mel White's Soulforce in an effort to try to tone down the rhetoric against gays and lesbians to perhaps quell further violence. It was a damage control move, I'm sure, because remember: This was when many of us were getting our first look at the nasty underbelly of Fred Phelps -- who, by the way, was no fan of Falwell either and will undoubtedly be picketing his funeral. And, as far as I can see, it didn't really change anything. But it was an effort that showed a shred of decency, at least.

However, those who are wringing their hands over some of my progressive brethren's lack of compassion about Falwell's death, let's recall those few days after Sept. 11, not 24 hours after Congress members from both sides of the aisle stood together at the capitol building and sang "God Bless America." It was Falwell who fired one of the first partisan shots, blaming the attack on the ACLU, atheists, gays and the rest of that laundry list of the far right's enemies. He obviously cared little about our mourning then, so I can hardly condemn those who care little about ours now. I'll also be sure to visit the hand-wringers should Michael Moore or Jimmy Carter drop dead anytime soon.

At any rate, rest in peace, Rev. Falwell. Here's hoping that God shows you a bit more compassion than you showed a good portion of the population during your lifetime.