Sainthood in a Violent World

ALL SAINTS SUNDAY

Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18

Psalm 149

Ephesians 1:11-23

Luke 6:20-31

Prayer of the Day: Almighty God, you have knit your people together in one communion in the mystical body of your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Grant us grace to follow your blessed saints in lives of faith and commitment, and to know the inexpressible joys you have prepared for those who love you, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.” Ephesians 1:20-23.

The “power” of which Saint Paul speaks, the power that raised Jesus from death is love. God’s power is God’s refusal to be drawn into the vortex of retribution that has drawn humanity into orgies of bloodshed since the dawn of time. God loves the world, even when it goes off the rails. God loves the world, all of it. God loves the arctic regions newly opened to the fossil fuel industry crying, “Drill, baby, drill” with the rapist’s grin on their faces. God loves rivers choked with industrial sludge, lakes dead from acid rains and oceans plagued with floating islands of plastic. God loves animals and plants on the brink of extinction whose preservation is deemed economically unfeasible. And God loves God’s human creatures responsible for so much of this planet’s misery, creatures who, when offered the most precious gift God had to give, nailed him to a cross. In response to the crucifixion of Jesus, God did not retaliate. Instead, God raised up the crucified and rejected Son and offered him back to the same creatures that rejected him. Vengeance, wrath and retaliation are not God’s way. Neither are they the way of Jesus’ disciples.

Our gospel lesson for All Saints Sunday spells out with unmistakable clarity what sainthood looks like. Jesus calls upon his disciples to exercise the same love for their enemies God exercises toward the world that rejected the Son. “But I say to you who are listening: Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you; bless those who curse you; pray for those who mistreat you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt.” Luke 6:27-29. The way of Jesus reflecting the power of God does not look anything like power as we understand it. Mao Tse Tung once said that “All political power comes from the barrel of a gun.” That is not far from the American Marvel Comic book mythology animating so much of our thinking about conflict and the way it must be resolved. It underlies the uniquely American gun fetish and a growing conviction on the part of so many that our fellow citizens are all potentially hostile, our neighbors cannot be trusted and our government and laws are incapable of protecting us.  

In their recent book, The Myth of the American Superhero,[1] John Shelton Lawrence and Robert Jewett argue that, in a culture that doubts the integrity and ability of its government and institutions to achieve justice, people are naturally drawn to the uniquely American “monomyth.” This “monomyth” supplies the underlying plot for stories about heroes who must take the law into their own hands in order to rid a community of evil. The world of entertainment is laced with such monomythic tales. We find them in the oldest black and white westerns that feature a virtuous gunslinger riding into town to rid the populace of a criminal gang neither the law nor the courts can handle. The same basic plot can be found in such productions as the Star Wars movies in which “jedi knights” with superhuman powers and a code of law all their own rise up to destroy an evil empire that has usurped the powers of the old republic. The most insidious element of this myth is the unspoken and unquestioned assumption that, when all is said and done, evil can only be eliminated by violence.

That assumption shapes the prevailing understanding of God in much of American religion. The god we meet in much of white evangelical religion is an angry, controlling and violent tyrant with an anal preoccupation with sex. This is a god who damns to hell a loving same sex couple while blessing a politician who works to deprive millions of needed healthcare. This is a god who cares more about his picayune rules than about the people he supposedly created. Because this god is toxically male, it comes as no surprise that he wants men to be in charge and women to submit. For the god of American evangelicalism, the cross is not sufficient. This god must come back at the end of time with military like fire power to beat the world into submission in a final cosmic battle. This is a violent god that appeals to violent people. As the poet remarks, “Give us burly gods to pummel the world and us.” I do not know whether people become mean, bigoted and hard hearted because they worship such a god or whether the god they worship is merely a reflection of their own hateful souls. Either way, this god is not the God and Father of Jesus Christ we meet in our lessons for this Sunday.  

In a culture with such a distorted understanding of who God is and that is spiraling ever deeper into violence, in a culture where mass shootings are weekly occurrences, civil war rhetoric is becoming mainstream and law enforcement increasingly unrestrained by legal limits, I believe sainthood must take the shape of radical pacifism. Our bishops need to be saying with clarity that no disciple of Jesus has any business owning or carrying a weapon, the one exception being those serving in the military or law enforcement.[2] We need to ensure that our sanctuaries, offices and events are weapon free zones. Our churches need to be challenging police violence, use of the military against our citizens and using the “war on drugs” as a pretext for military attacks on unarmed foreign ships in international waters. More than this, we need to be prepared to practice hospitality and offer sanctuary to victims of our government’s violent and ruthless immigration policies. That might place us in legal jeopardy-or worse. But love that is grounded in the love of our God who put the life of the Son on the line requires nothing less.  

Here is a poem by Father Daniel Berrigan with an expression of such faith and the difficulty of hanging onto it.

Astonishment

Wonder

          why illness

an odious plague dispersed

settles again after deep knives made

of the loved face a tragic mask.

Wonder

          why after one

tentative promise

raised like a green denial of death,

life resumes

its old mortician method after all.

Wonder

        why men break

in the kiln, on the wheel; men made of the sun,

men sprung from the world’s cry; the only men,

literal bread and wine, the crucial ones

poured out, wasted among dogs. Wonder,

And the lees of men, the stale men, there

in the fair vessels, a mock feast;

take it or leave-nothing else in the house.

Wonder

          at omnipresence of grey minds,

the shade of that made

O years ago, ash of the rowdy world.

Wonder

          at incapacity of love;

a stern pagan ethic, set against Christ at the door

(the discomfiting beggar, the undemanding poor).

Wonder

          woman and man, son and father

priest and sacrifice-to all right reason

one web of the world, one delicate

membrane of life. Ruptured.

Wonder

Transcendent God does nothing.

The Child plays

among the stocs and stones

A country almanac

moon phase, sun phase

hours

records and elements, grey dawn and red;

He sleeps and stands again,

moony, at loss, a beginner in the world.

History makes much of little, bet He

of clay and Caesars, nothing.

There is no god in Him. Give us burly gods

to pummel the world and us, to shake its tree

quail and manna at morning!

Wonder, wonder,

                           across his eyes

the cancerous pass unhealed, evil

takes heat monstrously. What use

the tarrying savior, the gentle breath of time

that in beggars is continuous and unruly,

that in dumb minds comes and chimes and goes

that in veins and caves of earth

sleeps like a tranced corpse, the abandoned body

of violated hope?

Wonder

given such a God, how resolve the poem?

Source: Selected & New Poems, (c. 1973 by Daniel Berrigan, pub. by Doubleday & Company, Inc.) pp. 133-134. Daniel Berrigan was born May 9, 1921, in Virginia, Minnesota. He entered the Jesuit novitiate at St. Andrew-on-the-Hudson, New York in August 1939 and graduated in 1946. Thereafter, he entered the Jesuit’s Woodstock College in Baltimore graduating in 1952. He was ordained the same year and appointed professor of New Testament studies at Le Moyne College in Syracuse in 1957. Berrigan is remembered by most people for his anti-war activities during the Vietnam era. He spent two years in prison for destroying draft records, damaging nuclear warheads and leading other acts of civil disobedience. He also joined with other prominent religious figures like Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, the Rev. Richard John Neuhaus and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. to found Clergy and Laity Against the War in Vietnam. In February of 1968 he traveled to North Vietnam and returned with three American prisoners of war he convinced the North Vietnamese to release. Berrigan died on April 30, 2016 of natural causes at a Jesuit health care facility in the Bronx. He was 94 years old.


[1] Lawrence, John Shelton and Jewett, Robert, The Myth of the American Superhero (c. 2002 Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.)

[2] This is in accordance with the “Just War” doctrine held by most orthodox churches. I have long expressed my doubts about this particular teaching which I believe to be contrary to the gospel. I would welcome serious dialogue within the church concerning its legitimacy. That being said, the church would do well in standing by the doctrine’s insistence that pacifism is the default position of Christians in face of the American assumption that gun ownership and the use of guns for self defense is a sacred right.   

1 thought on “Sainthood in a Violent World

  1. “…The most insidious element of this myth is the unspoken and unquestioned assumption that, when all is said and done, evil can only be eliminated by violence.”

    That way is unsafe for our children. Perhaps it developed over long spans where children often didn’t make it to five – so they needed to be replaced in quantity or things like the family farm couldn’t survive. Ergo, it was necessary to keep the women pregnant and trying to get those kids to adulthood.

    I wonder if that’s what our HHS Secretary Kennedy is trying to achieve – a state of affairs that justifies cruelty and somehow leaves white men in charge of everything – because it is necessary. And how he got that way.

    47 was raised by that kind of father, too.

    Toxic – or they have no particular worth.

    Like

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