On Peace, Redemption, and Kobe

I was definitely shaken reading about Kobe Bryant’s death earlier this week. I was genuinely shocked from the very first report. Kobe was still so young—assuredly an icon. You don’t need his last name to know who everyone is talking about.


And then word broke his daughter Gigi was with him on that helicopter that crashed. Dear Lord, the tragedy grew, and I immediately turned to thinking of wife and mother, Vanessa. She isn’t a single-named icon to the masses. She is a mom who will have to go on without her partner—and worse—without her daughter.  And Gigi’s sisters. Good gracious. That’s unbearable. Truly. Those ladies all woke up the next morning morning hoping that it was all a hellish nightmare. It wasn’t a dream, at all. The reality moments like those are hideous.


I've been working through two sets of thoughts on this tragedy: One is pretty personal while the other is a bit broader. We’ll see how they weave themselves together as this goes along.


In times of tragedy I often tell people that I am praying for Peace for them. I am praying hard for the Bryant family. The capital P in Peace is important here. It’s the Peace the world cannot give. Earthly peace is of very little use in times of tragedy, from where I sit. That kind of peace is looking out at a calm lake or the quiet of the house when the kids fall asleep. It isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it is a very lovely thing, that peace. But it isn’t what is needed when your world is shaken to its core. When your breath is ripped from you, it is the big P, Peace you need.


On January 11, 2008, I was driving to my parents’ house to drop off my daughter so my mom could watch her. I stopped at my UPS Store mailbox and while I was in the parking lot, my dad called. He sounded urgent and distressed. He said, “Your mom is having another stroke.” He knew I was on the way and thinking of what that would mean and would look like. 


He’d called the ambulance and they were there. I said, “I am on my way. I will be there in a few minutes.” He said he’d wait so he could ride with me.


I remember driving Bridgeport Way that day. It’s burned into my memory. I was praying, fervently. I kept thinking that maybe Dad meant Mom was having another seizure. She’d had a few after she’d had a stroke four years earlier. My ability to try and craft an intellectual "out" for that conversation with my dad was kind of amazing. But I knew. And as I crossed from 19^th Street to 27^th, and almost to the shopping center where I would turn toward my folks’ house, I was overwhelmed. I could feel a Peace about what was to come. I began to argue with God. I did not want this Peace. I think I shouted as I drove my red Jetta. No, not this. I begged God to take back the Peace and give me something else instead. But, in His great and divine mercy, he kept pressing me toward the Peace. My heart was shattered, but I had this undefinable “thing” that I knew was with me. I am still grief-stricken and heartbroken, even all these years later, but the Peace in that time was the greatest gift that allowed me to stay present, then and now.


As I drove up the street toward the house, I saw the ambulance driving away. My mom was in there. And I knew it. And it was awful. Really awful. But, I was able to pull up and get to the house where my dad was waiting for me. He was white as a ghost. His sickness in the moment was palpable. The air tasted of fear and grief. He got in the car with me, and my tiny eight-month-old daughter and we made the longest drive to the hospital ever. It was not peaceful. But the Peace was all we had.



Today, I have a small sense of what it might be like at the Bryant’s house. There is a small seven-month-old baby girl who needs her mom. Her mom and sisters are devastated, but they all need each other. And they need Peace, “The Peace of the Lord that surpasses all understanding.” There is no earthly peace for them, but may they have the otherworldly Peace, at least in bits and pieces for now.


Writing this, I know that the Bryants are Catholic, like I am. They have heard these phrases about Peace—that surpasses all understanding; the kind the world cannot give. They hold true to a Gospel that says that we live and serve in this life so that we may be happy with Him in the next. And we hope we have lived a life that fulfills those promises, which brings me to my next thought. 


Kobe Bryant was a very complicated “hero.” He is one of the all-time great basketball players. I stopped loving NBA basketball at some point, years ago. Don’t get me wrong, I love basketball. Give me the passion and athleticism of high school or college hoops any day. Those folks are playing like it could be their last game. The showbiz of NBA basketball holds very little interest for me. That being said, I knew who Kobe was. We all did. And, in 2003, we knew when he was accused of rape. I remember news stories about Vanessa’s new bling because Kobe did a bad, bad thing. Even if it was consensual, though many reports contend the contrary, his infidelity was news and Vanessa had to walk in that. Vanessa was sometimes slighted in the press and sometimes praised. I remember thinking, “How can people still be praising this guy?! So, he can play basketball—so what?” These feelings about Kobe went on for years. I didn’t care about anything else he did. 


That all changed Sunday. There were so many stories being shared about who Kobe became. He recommitted to his marriage after he and his wife separated for a while. He began programs for youth basketball that helped elevate people in their talents and strengths. He was a great philanthropist. And, his love for his daughters is written in everything he does. He apparently went to daily Mass frequently. That’s not the bare minimum stuff, that’s a man who was committed to transformation. It hit me. Kobe’s story is the kind of story we all love. It’s the kind of story we all need, desperately. It’s a story of redemption. 


As a media writer and commentator, I am always aware of how often the story of redemption plays out in the narratives we love. It is written in our hearts that we can try again and hopefully be better tomorrow, or the next day—or at some point. As St. Augustine is famously quoted as saying, “"Please God, make me good, but not just yet.” We sometimes struggle to keep redemption on track, but we know that in the end we want to be right with ourselves, with others, and with God, or the Universe, or however you see it. 


For the very famous struggles and faults that Kobe had, it seems like he wasn’t in the “But not just yet” stage of life. He was working on redemption in a lot of ways. Was he a flawed human being? Aren’t we all? But, if we all could acknowledge and appreciate when people take the helm and try to right their life, we might all actually get better. I hope no one’s story ends at 21 or at 41. We all hope to have a long time to get it together, but nothing is promised. As I say too often, there is no rewind button in life. We have from this moment forward. I hope and pray that our culture opens their eyes to the power and promise of redemption. Kobe seems like an excellent example available to us right now.


In that light, a lot of people are dredging up a lot of the worst moments of Kobe’s life—along with so many of his very best. Maybe Vanessa is paying no mind to what anyone is saying, but just walking through her own memories with joy and heartache. Maybe her Peace will come in knowing who Kobe was, in who it seems he became for himself, for their family, and for the world. I pray for her burdens of whatever she is carrying to be lifted so she can find that true Peace in knowing that we can love and serve in this life so that we may find an even greater share of that Peace and blissful happiness in the next.


Peace be with you all.