Last Sunday dawned dreary and rainy. My phone flashed a tweet from President Donald Trump, “Something very big has just happened!” Then came the president’s voice over the radio: “Last night was a great night for the United States and for the world. A brutal killer, one who has caused so much hardship and death, has violently been eliminated – he will never again harm another innocent man, woman or child. He died like a dog. He died like a coward.”

The apparent good news of the demise of Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi should have brightened the morning. Baghdadi had been the head of the group known as ISIS, ISIL, or Daesh. He was known as the leader of the Islamic State, with a global terrorist network that drew tens of thousands of recruits from 100 countries. He had directed and inspired acts of terror in more than three-dozen countries, including the beheading of journalist James Foley from our own state of New Hampshire.

Baghdadi was the world’s most-wanted terrorist leader, responsible for thousands of deaths and the subject of an international manhunt.

However, the tone of the president’s account raises a cautious, uncomfortable concern. In his announcement, he revealed an unsettling excitement as he gloated over the “violent elimination” of Baghdadi. He described watching it from the Situation Room on a screen with an “absolutely perfect view of very good quality, as though you were watching a movie.”

“I saw it all,” he said boastfully, vicariously wallowing in the details. He excitingly described Baghdadi running to the end of an underground tunnel, “whimpering and crying and screaming all the way.”

The caution is this was not a fantasy movie or video game of super heroes exterminating the enemy to the cheers of the audience. It was real life, real people suffering and dying: soldiers, women, men, children, and yes, the son of a shepherd who had been radicalized with a distorted religious conviction and 11 months of American custody in a detention center at Camp Bucca.

There is no disputing that Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi’s terrorist leadership, threats and actions resulted in great human injustice, suffering and death. However, with trepidation that I may offend victims of his actions, I suggest that we take no delight in the circumstances of his death. When we proclaim revenge, mock weakness and celebrate death we risk becoming like the enemy we seek to overcome. We dance the dance of our own demise. We may not be terrorists, but we cultivate the soil to grow a future of terrorism.

Also, such joy is contagious. For example, Rep. Adam Schiff, Democrat of California, said “good riddance” to “a bloodthirsty killer,” calling the raid “an important victory.”

The alternative is to recognize the tragedy of the situation. It is tragic that our soldiers had to risk their lives to cause the death of Baghdadi. It is tragic that the military actions brought injury and death to people near Baghdadi. It is tragic that Baghdadi was willing to discharge his suicide vest, killing three children with him. And the potential mental and psychological effects experienced by U.S. soldiers raises serious concern.

It is completely appropriate to feel relief that the world has been freed from a very dangerous person. But, at the same time, it is also important to recognize the common spark of humanity that we all share. Whenever that spark is extinguished in a person, no matter its justification, it is a time for dismay and sorrow. It attests to a tainted peace effort.

There is no rejoicing in the death of another human being. The best we can do is hold in balance conflicted feelings and reactions, dampen our pride, admit our shortcomings and entertain new life-enhancing solutions to future persistent violence.

Indeed, “Something very big… happened” Saturday, Oct. 26, 2019. It was big enough to call out the worst and the best in us. When we choose our best, we give honor to our country, our military and the potential for life-enhancing human behavior. It will be a very big happening that day when the sun dawns bright on humanity’s best.

(The Rev. John Buttrick, United Church of Christ, lives in Concord.)