One wishes to be able to say something
helpful and meaningful in the time of death, in the time of violence, in the
time of injustice, and in a time of polarization. There are others of course who think the unbridled
expression of their anger and frustration is legitimate, who seem to think that
because they gain applause due to what they say, or social media market
share, that what they say is actually profound.
Notwithstanding that some of these sentiments are filled with passion,
many of these sentiments take us nowhere but to further alienation and
conflict.
We
live in a time of slogans. We live in a
time where the benefit of the doubt is no longer part of the salary
package. We live in a time of
attributing base motives to every action and word, especially if its source is from what we perceive as the opposition
Our age seems to be one where we refuse to give a generous allowance
that things our opponents say might actually
be true or correspond to reality.
As a follower of Jesus Christ we hold to the
idea of truth, in fact we hold to the idea of absolute Truth. This means we think what is true is true for
everyone and people cannot legitimately define reality according to their own
subjective perspectives, although we understand that perspective is
important. That is not the same as saying
that reality is relativistic. We seek to judge all ideas, thoughts, and words
with a sense of realism, that we live in a real world which has real events,
but we also judge with the idea that God’s values are the standard to which we
hold all others.
Sometimes this commitment to Truth nails us
in our own hypocrisies, it exposes our own unfortunate tendencies to eclipse
the truth, it illuminates our own self-deceptions. If one agrees to turn the light on in a dark
room it means everything in it is exposed.
The light is a better place to be even when it shows us things we might
not like to admit or face.
We live in an age where people wearing dark
and cloudy glasses keep pointing out the faults and discrepancies in the houses
of their neighbors, which are equally dark.
If we are going to have peace with our neighbors we are going to have
some dialogue built on a willingness to have light expose our own thinking. We are going to have to listen, we are going
to have to learn, and we will need patience in the process.
We live
in a society (and one might see this as a mark of progress that victims
actually get to have any voice at all) where those who have been offended, the
victims and/or the oppressed, call us to an immediate recognition of their
plight, to a speedy restoration of their rights, the remediation of the
circumstances in which such injustice has taken place, and possibly to
retribution.
Righteous
justice (as the offended might define it) is the defeat (anything from
exposure, indictment, conviction, condemnation, or elimination) of those they
have designated (or who have acted) as their enemies. They sense and feel no other compulsion but
one of re-establishing justice and are prompted to self-defense. This compulsion, built on actual personal
experiences of attack or attacks on group-identity solidarity, may be born out
of insult, maybe fear or pride, or born out of a need for vindication. Whatever it is born out of it can grow into
hatred.
Those who (and especially those who) are
facing real injustice cannot be blamed for the feelings they have. The true victim
of injustice always has the moral high ground against the oppressor. Yet, if the narrative in which victims
arrange their story is one of revenge rather than a restoration to the
equilibrium of justice and/or true reconciliation, then more conflict, struggle
and war seems to be the (usual) inevitable outcome. We are brought back to "an eye for an eye" until we are all blind.
Sometimes victims have little choice as to
how they arrange their story. If their
oppression leads them to be full of self-loathing, if they feel trapped, if
they have no outside hope and feel that the way they are treated by others, (especially
by authority and those with power) actually defines them, then it will be
extremely difficult for them to interpret the circumstances of their existence
as one of dignity. The indignities they
experience will push past the safeguards of their constructed identity and equilibrium
and they will feel dangerously exposed and vulnerable.
If the pain of their hurt causes them to
hate, and that hate causes them to respond in ways that are violent, illegal, and
vindictive then they move from victim to predator, from morally wronged to
being wrong.
Those who are accused of perpetrating injustice but internally
resist a conscientious vulnerability tend toward self-righteousness; a
defensiveness that inevitably leads to the blaming of the victim. Once the mental designation of those claiming victim-hood as an ideological enemy has been made, then every complaint from
them about any incident can be thus dismissed or deflated and given no sense of
legitimacy. It is hard to have a
conversation that brings about progress in relationships with these kinds of
attitudes.
Faith allows us to arrange our story in a
larger context. We are able to see
beyond immediate conflict with people or groups. We are able to see beyond our own
helplessness in the face of power or violence.
With faith, and that not of the escapism kind but rather that of an
intimate knowledge and relationship with the Sovereign King of the universe, we
are able to see our very personal (but limited) story as part of something much
bigger.
All of us like to hold onto the
tangible. The material gives us a
visible sense of place, belonging, control, security, and even a possible
future. Our bodies, marriages, families,
houses, vocations, and communities seem to give us a sense of permanence. So, who in all of the world’s history has
been able to hold onto those things? The
sports world uses terms like, “unforgettable,” “greatest game in history,” even
“immortal.” Really? The question is simply how many years will it
take before none of us remembers the players, or the game?
If our story is not arranged in the Immortal
God, then no one will remember our names either. But, and here is the hope in the midst of
violence, some of us do belong to God.
Belonging to God is permanence, it is dignity, and it is
significance. Belonging to God means His
will trumps all the decisions of mankind, and I am safe in that will. The hatred, oppression, or violence of
others, though surprising, cannot take me out of God’s story. Attack me, rob me, debase me, kill me, I win
if I am hidden with Christ in God. This
faith gives people amazing courage (and hope) to pursue justice for themselves
and others.
This is not to say that we should put up with injustice, or
oppression, or hatred and its attendant violence. These are condemned by God and
should be condemned by society. It
should be resisted by everyone, both individually and corporately. Our goal is the equilibrium of justice,
brought about by truth, repentance, forgiveness, and love.
Every call to hatred should be opposed,
every excuse for an oppressive use of force should be intellectually dismantled. Every rationale for a failure to treat people
humanely, no matter their color or profession, should be rebuked in whatever
forum we see or hear it. We must not
stand idly by while people build an apologetic for the abuse or murder of
others, and it may put us at risk to be that kind of peacemaker. Peace is worth the risk, the life of another
is worth the risk, and love demands we take that risk.
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