Christians and Violence

 

What makes the Christian perspective on violence different is the goal. Christians believe the future is a world without fear or death, a world in which violence does not exist. Our goal is not to minimize violence – we have not succumbed to the death-dealing notion that it is inevitable – we believe there is an end to violence, that it will be completely eliminated.

Christians take a long view on these things. The world which is coming may not (almost certainly will not) be realized in our lifetimes. We are committed to a lifestyle that may produce no visible results before we die. It may seem pointless and foolhardy in our present; this is why it’s called faith.

In light of that, killing can never be justified. Taking a life should be something with which the killer wrestles for the rest of their days. It should be conflicting and troubling; feelings of guilt should not be unexpected. Whether it is abortion or war or self defense, killing may, in fact, be the preferred option in a given scenario, but that does not make it “right.”

It’s never heroic to kill, even in the name of justice or the defense of innocence, even if you never regret doing it. Heroism is an action of discipline or creativity or plain dumb luck whereby someone stumbles into a non-violent means of making a real difference in the world. No action ever makes a person a hero or a villain, because no human being can ever be entirely defined by what they do.

History has shown us that opposing violence with violence only compounds the problem, even if some short term benefits are realized. If the goal is to minimize violence, there’s some argument for force opposing force, but if the goal, as it is for followers of Jesus Christ, is to realize a world without violence; it is never the answer.

Yes, we live in a world where killing exists and one where there will continue to be people who kill with the best of intentions. Our response, though, should not be to absolve them of guilt or normalize those actions – it should be to wrestle and grieve alongside them as they process the primal violation of existence that is the taking of life. Our job, as it is at all times, is to love unconditionally, because it is only love – especially love of those we would like to kill – that will ever end violence.

Nothing is Worth That

You should know by now, I'm not on any "team" when it comes to elections. I encourage you to vote for me, where you can. I'm even fine if you don't vote. What I would like you to do is not vote for someone in order to register a vote against someone else. That's not cool.

What's more, it's not ethical, especially for Christians. That's who I hear talking the most about this. I've tried, over the last few months, to figure out exactly what Hillary Clinton did in the '90s to raise the absolute ire of the evangelical right. I know she did something, because I grew up with the impression she was one of the worst people on Earth. I couldn't, though, even at this point, figure out why. I've heard her called a liar a lot, but I haven't found evidence of egregious falsehoods - at least not any more than the typical politician making empty promises kind of way.

Anyway, I'm not here to defend her, just explain that lots of conservative Christians hate her with an inscrutable passion. This is what leads so many to tacitly support Donald Trump this time around. What I hear most often is the old Roe v Wade argument - "we need a republican President to save the Supreme Court." It's a pretty universal reason for Christians to vote GOP.

These Christians need a reason, because the guy is almost universally recognized as unconscionable. He's crass, selfish, mean, and immoral.* I might say he's more amoral, because I'm not sure Donald Trump possesses the typical human ability to differentiate between right and wrong. People don't like the guy; Christians can't excuse or defend him - and points for actually admitting it (for the most part).

It's the power game, though, that's troubling to me. The argument becomes one of power, particularly the Supreme Court and the underlying message of abortion - the single greatest motivating factor for conservative evangelicals. It is the only issue for so much of this particular part of the electorate - and it's giving Trump some life in this election. It's pretty much the only thing. Without that fear, I'm guessing the electorate might look a little more like Utah - with the religious vote largely going to someone with a very slim chance of winning.

I don't much care who someone votes for in this election. Someone will win and someone will lose. Life will get easier for some people and more difficult for others. Life will go on and things will, on the whole, change very little - even if there are some very noticeable differences that make for good headlines. I do care, however, why people are voting.

To be consistent, at least ethically, Christians really can't use this Supreme Court excuse to vote for Trump. If you genuinely like the guy or his policies, please say that. If you just simply don't trust Hillary Clinton and are terrified of her winning, say it. Don't - please, please please don't - say you're voting for Trump to save the Supreme Court.*

What you're saying there is that the ends justify the means and I know I've written the ethical, theological, and real life problems with that idea into the ground. I searched for "ends means" in my blog directory and found a full 15% of my posts at least mention them both. That justification is bad. It's terrible. We can't justify our means by the ends - that is the very antithesis of the life and teaching of Jesus. The whole point of Christian life is to make the good, right, ethical, and loving choice now, regardless of the consequences. We believe in a world without end and thus the ends are decidedly irrelevant.

I believe some important guy once said something about gaining the whole world while losing your soul.

I suspect the religious right in the US has already lost its collective soul by reckless pursuit of power - that's probably a decades old occurrence at this point. It doesn't have to be the future, though. This is why I so strongly oppose the idea that we have some moral or theological obligation to vote. That's a trap set by the powers that be, attempting to force people to choose the lesser of two evils - to put the ends before the means. You don't have to do it. There is more to the world than elections and government and courts and laws. Life is about relationship, specifically the relationships you have with your coworkers, friends, and neighbors - the people you see every day.

There is nothing - no court case, no law, no election, no cause - that is worth the sacrifice of principles, conscience, ethics, or soul. We can't; we cannot allow the means to justify the ends for us who follow Christ or we have been converted away from the gospel we long to live out.

Vote or don't. Don't feel obligated. If you like one candidate or another, please, by all means, vote for them. If you like neither, vote for someone else. If you're in Colorado, you can just fill in the bubble next to my name. If you're in a dozen other states, you can write me in and it will count. I promise, I won't win. I'd probably be a terrible President anyway - but if I were, I guarantee it won't be because I put the ends above the means.

Please, you don't do that, either. The faith we profess is bigger, better, stronger, and more powerful than anything we might win by betraying it.




*Please understand that these arguments equally apply to people pinching their nose and voting for Clinton because they can't stand the idea of President Trump - I just don't know many people in that situation. It's largely my Christian friends using Christian excuses to violate what I see as a core part of the gospel message. If there's a choice between Clinton and Trump, I'd rather have Clinton, but there's never just an either/or choice - there is always another option - that's part of the Good News of Jesus, too.

American Sniper and Selma

Thanks to my brother-in-law and the miracle of cloud-based storage, I've been able to watch all the Oscar Best Picture nominees this year - a first since they expanded the field. I imagine the actual showdown between artsy-indie films (Birdman and Boyhood) will be less than exciting for the public at large. The two movies people seem to care most about are Selma, a telling of the events surrounding the Civil Rights march on the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Alabama, 1965; and American Sniper, the dramatization of a memoir by Chris Kyle, Iraq-veteran and accomplished Navy sniper.

I don't know exactly what to say about American Sniper. It's a good film. There's a humanity involved, despite the horror and death, mental and physical trauma, there is a guy searching for meaning and ultimately finding it. We can debate all over whether he's looking or finding in the right places, but the story is honest and it rings true.

The story in the film, that is. The real story is, as always, much more complicated. Chris Kyle was unabashedly black and white, seeing the world only in terms of good and evil. Clint Eastwood, as blunt and unrelenting as he can often be, really captured the essence of Kyle without necessarily buying into Kyle's narrative. There is plenty of room in the movie to see and judge violence and war in many different ways. I think they did as good a job as they could with the movie while still doing justice to the man at the center of it.

I am not a fan of violence. So it would make sense to be drawn more to Selma, a story on the other end of violence. Black marchers, peacefully assembled, were beaten bloody and without mercy by local police and state troopers, while trying to march from Selma to Montgomery in pursuit of voting rights. I find it interesting to ponder how the Chris Kyle of 1965 would have defined good and evil in that scenario. But that is ultimately beside the point.

Upon first viewing of these films (about twelve hours apart from one another) it seemed easy to parallel the two themes. The war movie, in some sense, justifying (if not glorifying) the "honor" of war becomes a surprise smash hit, breaking all sorts of box office records, while the little, largely African-American production about protest and non-violence goes by largely ignored. It could be seen as a symbol of the way our culture views this issues - non-violence is just a tough sell.

I wanted to write that kind of post. In the end, though, I think these movies are far more similar than we give them credit for - and I'm not sure that's a good thing.

Both Selma and American Sniper put us in the mind of strong, heroic people, summoning great courage to face difficult, near-impossible situations. The stories are not about violence and non-violence, they're about inner strength. Each film is about doing what you think is right, even if it is unpopular and causes great suffering for you and your loved ones. The main drama in Kyle's story is the same as in Martin Luther King's - was the pain inflicted upon their families justified by their higher callings.

I suspect most American would say yes on both counts. King was doing things the right way - conflicts within a society must be handled peacefully; whereas international conflicts, like the one faced by Kyle, require a brute force. We've so often been taught how to recognize justifiable and unjustifiable violence, with just these scenarios as examples, it's easy to fall into line.

Neither movie really challenges the status quo. As a radically peace-loving Christian, I have a hard time glomming on to either film. I don't think war is ever the right answer. War has never, in the history of humanity, brought peace - yet we keep trying. At the same time, it's not exactly Chris Kyle's fault he's involved. Beyond the societal pressure to patriotism, only a heartless soul would expect soldiers to prioritize anything but survival in the midst of a war zone. I say that in reference to Kyle and to those he was sent there to kill.

At the same time, Selma's one extended explanation of non-violence was the opposite of a defense. The argument was, essentially, we're outgunned - fighting back will only make things worse for our people in the long run. The implication being that if there were a chance to succeed violently, then it might be worth it, but this particular battle is not going to be won that way.

In other words, if we're fighting an entrenched insurgency with the greatest military might in the history of the world, then of course we'd fight. Instead we're the rebels and we won't win that way. If you're Chris Kyle, fight; if you're Martin Luther King, you can only resist and pray.

We live in a society that believes this. It is truly the American way. It's not really our fault. Power and might is the way of empire. The man with the biggest gun makes the rules.

The power in Selma, comes from the eyes of the nation seeing innocent, peaceful marchers beaten for wanting to vote. Violence only holds sway so long as it can be justified to the masses. This is the purpose of American Sniper - at least in some measure. We're forced to ask the question: where is the line? How do we responsibly use violence, force, and might in the world. It's a difficult question. But it's easier to make peace with our answer (that war is a tragic necessity) when we have a movie like Selma to justify it. By recognizing the reality of an exception to the rule of violence, we're much more comfortable with the rule itself.

Justified violence is always a means to power. No one ever condones violence for violence' sake. We believe in violence only when it seems the best option to provide some perceived good. Freedom, security, control, peace-of-mind. It is easy, in the same way, to see non-violence as a means to power. Certainly the Civil Rights movement gained great freedom, security, control, and peace of mind without resorting to violence. Our temptation is to leave it there.

One of Dr. King's great legacies - something often lost in the historical priority of Civil Rights - was his absolutely insistence on non-violence as an end in itself. He vigorously opposed the Vietnam War, long before it became the popular sentiment. He did so because war causes suffering - for hero and villain alike (however we may paint them).

Our culture remains one obsessed with power - namely the power of self-determination. That is our idol and thus our culture's artistic expressions keep this front and center. Selma and American Sniper are good films. I liked both of them. I think they're well made and have important things to contribute to our collective conversation. They are, though, entirely within the realm of comfort for an American viewing audience. They're telling us things we want to hear, even if they do it in profound and difficult ways.

They are not different, though, only serving to support our underlying cultural structure. We must first understand the ends we pursue before we can really grapple with the means by which we arrive there. I'm not sure these films pull back the curtain far enough for us to find what we're truly looking for.

An Unending Roller Coaster

Ethics is the philosophical study of principled action. A lot of definitions like to say it's got something to do with right and wrong, but really it's about what we think is right and wrong and why we think so.

Usually this question has to do with goals - what is the point of this action? What am I trying to accomplish? These goals are mostly all about the long term. Even when we're intensely focused on an immediate result, it's often a cog in a grander machine. I'm spending Saturday in the library to do well on this paper to get a good grade, to get into a good school, to secure a well-paying job, which will give me greater freedom to enjoy life.

Despite the focus on goals, ethics tells us that every goal comes from a presupposition, a principle we assume to be truth (whether we know it or not) and ultimately determines our actions. Tension in life, what moves us beyond instinct, is the struggle between competing goals. If your presupposition is that happiness comes through fulfilling desires, there might be an ethical struggle between eating that extra plate of nachos today and avoiding an extra half hour on the toilet tomorrow.

It becomes a discussion of ends and means; what means will I use to achieve the ends my principles demand? This becomes more difficult when the decision moves beyond timing to morality itself. Is killing one person right, when it potentially saves the lives of ten or a hundred others? In this case, the goal is saving lives; the means might be to violate this truth for a more complete fulfillment in the long run. This is where we get, "the ends justify the means."

Over the last year, I've come to one interesting realization. As a follower of Christ, this idea of ends and means don't really apply. It's more than simply disagreeing that the ends justify the means, but a disavowal of the whole ends/means system.

If our grounding principle is that Jesus Christ was raised from the dead as a precursor to universal resurrection and eternal life, then there is no "ends" in our equation. This is something that the idea of an afterlife confuses. Biblically, there is no afterlife, there is just life again - resurrection. You don't die in one world and wake up in another, you die in one world and then return to that world (albeit a redeemed version). There are no ends because there is no end.

That leaves followers of Christ with only means. We trust that whatever long term goals exist in life, they are the purview of God. Our task, as God's people is to focus on right action in each moment. We are a means people. Simply put, if we are to walk in the footsteps of Jesus, we are to love, to act selflessly, in each moment. The Christian presupposition is that the ends and means are one and the same.

This realization has an alarming effect. It's both imminently comfortable and deeply challenging. We're trained to be ends and means people; it's ironically instinctual how this internal analysis is so ingrained. Most ethics is simply recognizing these inherent and unconscious principles and prioritizing our goals. With Christ, ethics involves learning an entirely different system; it requires a change in our very nature.