Posts filed under 'Violence'
June 14th, 2007
This morning as I walked, I was witness to an instance of road rage. A man in a van, honking. Smashing the heel of his hand into his steering wheel. Pounding his fists on the dash. Yelling.
The air inside the van was finally too full to contain the tinder-dry rage and he opened his window to let it out. And out it came.
Everything–all of it venomous–all directed at one lady in a small blue car who misjudged the traffic light change and the line of vehicles ahead of her and wound up in the middle of the intersection preventing the van from pulling out.
The lady, wisely, stared straight ahead, not acknowledging the tantrum. Much the way, I’m guessing, she would refuse to acknowledge the tantrums of her preadolescent. But an adult male having a tantrum is a frightful thing.
I walked between the van and the car with some misgiving. The green stream carried on and finally tapered off a red light interval later. The intersection cleared and the van pulled away and left me wondering what this added and took away from his day.
What it is that sets us off?
Last evening over supper my son Mark told us about a construction site supervisor who perpetually speaks with a raised voice. It’s like he’s in a perpetual argument. Anger subsiding only in sleep. And perhaps not even then.
We are an angry bunch. This is an angry generation. We seethe. We hate spasmodically. We have scorn seizures. We curse within and we murmur audibly and beneath our breath.
We mouth breath in short gulps, the oxygen only reaching the top of our lungs, and the bile stays in our blood.
We conceal most of it, but occasionally–for some more often–it catches us in an instant and we find ourselves in the grip of an incendiary fit. The place for healthy venting having been lost.
Our desires twist us around their fingers. Our communal experiences are shallow. Violence is contagious, air-born, even recreational.
We have few models to counter all this. Certainly, for example, none in parliament. Question period produces enraged doubles. Everyone mirroring and mimicking each other–the object of debate being the debate. Any real dialogue is swallowed up and the issues long forgotten. We need to find our models beyond our "leaders."
![P1030359 [1024x768]](http://growmercy.org/wp-content/uploads/p1030359-1024x768.jpg)
We need refuge from our fear. We need a fortress from our miserly desires. Better, we need a mercy-light, and we need a love-light, held for us by someone with no axe to grind and nothing to prove.
We need to receive our lives back through a renewing of our desires…a reordering of desire through the eyes of someone without envy or rivalry. We need to open ourselves to someone with lots of time to wait at intersections.
Technorati Tags: Road Rage, Anger, Violence, Parliament, Question period, Father James, Beauty, Peace
June 8th, 2007
David Silverman / Getty Images
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Before reading scripture non-sacrificially, that is, before coming to the place of reading all of scripture through the lens of the gospel, I was a "just war" advocate. In a way, reading the Bible through the Gospels instead of the other way around is the only way to read it against yourself, instead of for yourself, an admonition, I believe, of Karl Barth.
Anyway, before this kind of slow organic existential realization, I reckoned the best a Christian can do in the face of conflicting biblical messages about violence and about God, and in the face of practical realities of human rivalry, is to accept Augustine’s "just war" theory.
The criteria for Just War is:
the damage inflicted by the aggressor on the nation or community of nations must be lasting, grave, and certain;
all other means of putting an end to it must have been shown to be impractical or ineffective;
there must be serious prospects of success;
the use of arms must not produce evils and disorders graver than the evil to be eliminated.
Hattem Mousa / AP
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Now, if there is an attractive aspect of "just war" it’s this: If administrations agreed upon these criteria, almost all of the wars over the centuries could not have been justly waged.
But then, it makes one wonder if there has ever been a "just war" and wonder, even, if there can ever be one…especially considering the last condition. So even as a pacifist, "just war" in this strict sense, seems somewhat attractive.
Of course WWII and the Nazi Holocaust is always used as the lynch-pin to support "just war" and to dismiss pacifism out of hand. However, while entry into WWII might pass the "just war" test, the argument would be on much better footing without the two nuclear strikes upon Japan. But that’s what happens in war; that is the ’spirit’ of war. Restraint becomes impossible. Violence blinds us and war becomes it’s own reason. (This is one of the lessons in Chris Hedges’ book, "War is a Force that gives us Meaning.")
Jamal Saidi / Reuters
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As well, there’s also the historical scholarship that says that if Germany wasn’t so demoralized by the Treaty of Versailles, Hitler would never have risen to power in the first place. That we help create Stalin’s Hitler’s, Hussein’s, Khomeini’s, and Bin Laden’s, through our exploitive policies and scapegoating violence, not to mention our inability to "wage just war," is evident enough. The Middle East is too clear an example.
I may be wrong but I don’t see Jesus endorsing "just war." I see Jesus as peace-giver. But I also see Jesus as angry at injustice, and as actively putting himself in the way of oppression, but always in a non-violent way. Jesus was a pacifist, but he was never passive.
Technorati Tags: Jesus, Just War, Nazi Holocaust WWII, Chris Hedges, Stalin, Bin Laden, Christianity, Peace, Violence
June 7th, 2007
A pastor, who is also a friend, is speaking this Sunday in his church on "Jesus and war," and asked me for my thoughts.
First of all I commend him for broaching the subject of war on a Sunday morning. Whatever his conviction about war, and I’m sure it is one of balance, or about our country’s involvement in Afghanistan, or the Iraq war, and here I’m gathering it’s one of restraint, it’s heartening to know there are pastors attempting to make sense of things and to point to some horizon regarding the use of violence.
As a Christian: I believe that the use of violence is wrong, therefore that war is wrong. I also believe that there is no such thing as "just war." And even so-called "just wars" are ways of justifying sacrificial and redemptive violence.
Principally, I believe all of this because I believe that there is absolutely no violence in God.
My starting point, as a Christian, is always the Gospels. I believe that the notion of a divine violence, or divinely sanctioned violence, has no place in the inspiration of the Gospels. And to read any violence into God does "violence" to the Gospel text. Even in the apocalyptic chapters, (Mark 13 etc.) the violence is always traced back and placed at the feet of humans, never on God.
This is unlike the Old testament and unlike parts of Revelation. We might read divine violence, redemptive violence, or sacrificial violence into God, but that is only because we are used to the Old Testament imagery–some of which the New Testament uses–and we are used to a wrathful god that resorts to violence to get things back in line.
Now, if it’s true that a Christian’s lens must be the Gospels, that is, that the rest of scripture needs to be interpreted from the heart of the Gospels, the centre of the passion narratives, and not the other way around, then how would this inform our belief about God? about violence? about warfare?
Janus, Two-faced god (Roman mythology)
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The alternative, to my mind, is a dispensationalist, schizophrenic, or two-faced god.
The only way I can make sense of the ’spirit’ of something like the "sermon on the mount," is that this is the heart and nature of God. And the God we think we meet in a couple places in Revelation, as in, the "lamb" that goes to war (unless this is a wholly cosmic battle against the principalities that are at the root of our use of sacrificial violence) is a regressive god. And the god we meet in the Old Testament is a god in process of ultimate self-revelation finally found in Christ. (As Christ says, see me, see the Father.)
It’s because of a gospel-lens that I’ve been brought to embrace pacifism. I’m not, however, a "passivist." There is nothing passive about true Pacifism. But this is another issue.
Now, I’m not saying this is a morally superior position. And I’m open to correction. I’m also aware that in translating my pacifism from paper to practise, in the heat of some personal crisis, some violent event, I would almost certainly fail. But this is not the fault of the gospel, or pacifism and non-violence.
Technorati Tags: Pacifism, Gospels, Peace, Religion, Violence
May 31st, 2007
Reading an excerpt of Christopher Hitchens new book, "God is Not Great," I found myself agreeing more often than I would have thought. And principally, I agree that religion poisons everything, as Hitchens exclaims, but I agree for far different reasons.
Christopher Hitchens
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For Hitchens religion is a slurry of superstition, ceremony, sacrifice, solipsism, and servility, and so is a blight and retardant on civilization. Above all, because of this, religion is an agent of abuse and violence.
For Rene Girard–whose ardent fan I am–religion can and has involved all of these factors, but more, it poisons and conceals its poison. Religion is both a cause of violence and a remedy for violence. It uses violence to cast out violence.
Because we catch our desires from each other, we are bound to desire the same objects, bringing us into conflict over those objects. When the contagion of conflict reaches a certain point, well, all hell breaks loose.
Religion began, perhaps even sprang into being, because of its dramatic way of curtailing this violence of the all against the all. If it wasn’t for religion, hominization, let alone civilization, wouldn’t have gotten off the ground.
Rene Girard
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The violence of the all against the one "saved" the many from annihilating violence. So dramatic was the resultant peace brought on by the all against the one that awe and worship burst forth spontaneously. After that, forms of commemoration, ritual, imitative sacrifice, became a "natural" way of reenacting the event until such a time as these elements wore thin and a new round of sacrificial violence was necessary.
But that’s the problem. Scapegoating violence, which is what this is, wears thin. More than this, it has been forever exposed by a living and crucified Christ, and no longer functions. Sacrificial violence is dieing a deserved death but we still haven’t learned to live without it. We haven’t grown the mercy and love and art or language required for its displacement.
I agree with Hitchens that religion is dangerous. But not for the reasons he cites. Religion is dangerous because it has lost its power, again, a good thing. But with nothing to replace it, the violence born of envy and mimetic rivalry will escalate. Only grace, mercy, and love will do. And this comes by receiving our desire though one who is love and without violence.
Technorati Tags: Christopher Hitchens, "God Is Not Great", Religion, Violence, Rene Girard, Scapegoating, Mimetic desire
May 29th, 2007
I’m indebted to Wendy Morton for reminding me of this poem in Shakespeare’s, The Merchant of Venice.
As it stands–as reprinted a couple days ago in the Writer’s Almanac–it’s a fitting entry for Grow Mercy.
However, in the Merchant, Portia, whose words these are, is attempting to persuade the unscrupulous and vengeful Shylock to have mercy on the "noble" Christian Antonio, not recognizing the fundamental similarities between Shylock and Antonio.
Nevertheless, even in Portia’s ironic near-sightedness she speaks truth about the gentle excellence of mercy. And her poetic depiction about mercy is in need of rehearsing and growing.
The quality of mercy is not strain’d,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless’d;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
’Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway,
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself,
And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons justice.
Technorati Tags: William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, Peace, Violence
May 15th, 2007
Stalin was an atheist. Atheism is rooted in scientific naturalism, therefore, science enforces mono-thought, discourages philanthropy, and espouses genocide.
Okay, my statement is hugely disingenuous. Far more than Richard Dawkins’ statement: "Religious faith discourages independent thought, it is divisive, and it is dangerous."
Far more disingenuous–but not beyond correspondence. That’s simply because of all the exceptions. Ghandi, King, Mother Theresa, et al, were all people of faith. But in bondage, divisive, dangerous? only where the non-violent struggle for peace and freedom is dangerous and divisive.
However, where Richard Dawkins will get my ear is at the same place where Mahatma Ghandi has my ear. When Ghandi said, "If it weren’t for Christians, I’d be a Christian," he was offering a valid criticism drawn from valid historical reasons. And if you’ve read growmercy for awhile you’ll know how much I agree that there are fundamentalist strains of religion that are exactly as Dawkins says. And it’s these strains that need ameliorating.
But Dawkins seems to want the totalizing effect. The riddance of all religion, from which will spring a free and peaceful world.
For me the issue is not God’s existence, but a particular interpretation of God. The God that Dawkins describes and thinks most people of faith believe in, that is, the retributive, vengeful and violent God, must be extinguished by a profound atheism.
As you may already know, today marks the death of Jerry Falwell. May he rest peacefully.
Falwell’s God, while loving, was also the wrathful God of the Old Testement. This God of polarity, is in effect the same as the God of Dawkins, and must as well be met with a profound atheism.
Technorati Tags: Richard Dawkins, Stalin, Christianity, Religion, Jerry Falwell
April 27th, 2007
While surveying the North Saskatchewan’s last iceberg I turn to find this seagull contemplating a journey.
One consideration: A question lingers in his gullish mind. The question of whether or not to live by the Rule of the Yellow Line. A question that only recently rose to the surface after he noted a major, well, slight, difference in the appearance of the rings around the bills of his companions. The question now arises as to rank, class and jurisdiction.
The Rule of the Yellow Line is inexorable. Once the differences are manufactured true inherent commonality is lost and conflict is not merely possible but inevitable.
A second consideration: This journey is a gull’s version of the Yellow Brick Road, leading to the magical Emerald City, which we all know is Seattle.
A third consideration: What do gulls need with lines, yellow or otherwise?
Observations of Seagulls and Humans at a highway campground June 15, 1997:
On the ground, graceless,
Chattering, nattering over scraps of insignificance,
Defecating beside tents, hypnotized by traffic,
Discordant, dissonant, dumbfounded and dazed
But in the still air,
Soaring, sailing, diving, rising,
a ballet of gliding grace,
a symphony of symmetry,
In silence, we too soar upwards,
the path always new, seeming to make it up as we go,
No need of a map up here, its charted in our hearts.
Technorati Tags: Seagulls, Beauty, Spirituality, Violence
April 17th, 2007
How do you grieve over Virginia Tech? It’s impossible to know. I only know about the lead weight that sat on my chest while I watched the confusion of details coming over the air waves last night. Know only the desire to shield those I love from seeing and feeling the same things. I watched for more than an hour. Enough.
For those of us outside the circle of parents, aunts and uncles, girlfriends and boyfriends, outside the circle of fellow students, outside the Virginia Tech community, it is proper to be struck dumb and to feel profound sadness.
It is also proper to struggle with making sense of the thing–as long as we end up short of doing so. And viewing the act as utterly senseless is a reasonable way of making sense of it. That’s as good as we can do, for now.
As one media personality put it, "There are evil people who do evil things. There’s nothing more to it than that." For now, this may be as good a response as any. Better than–as is already happening–the left blaming it on the National Rifle Association and the gun culture, and the right blaming it on the fostering of a libertine culture.
In time, there will be, must be, time enough to strive to give names to the thing. Because, while it may be true that there are evil people who do evil things, it’s not true there is nothing more to it than that.
But, for now, while we wrestle for reasons, before we offer answers, it is right for us to place our hearts, our prayers, our thoughts, upon the lives lost and upon the lives of their families and friends.
Technorati Tags: Virginia Tech, Massacre, Violence
April 13th, 2007
A week of technical bugs and glitches has sapped me of the little creativity I possess. I’ve been bedeviled and it’s not over.
In this muted state / man, I just can’t celebrate / only objurgate…so here goes:
Today, in pockets across the continent, people will be honouring the memory of Thomas Jefferson by celebrating his birthday.
The gentleman of Independence was a hemisphere shaper and a gardener. He was, in the strict sense, a dialectician.
As you may recall, he even has his own version of the bible (The Jefferson Bible) which was, for over two hundred years, given to new members of congress.
His bible consists of the four Gospels–sans miracles–strung together into a single narrative. In essence, it’s the life and morals of Jesus of Nazareth without any reference to angels, prophecy, genealogy, deity, or anything that smells supernatural.
It is the Testament stripped of it’s "artificial vestments," revealing the "pure principles" of Christianity.
Jefferson was sincere in his rewriting. He was after a kind of Christian system, an ultimate system to eclipse any and every Platonic or Kantian system. He says, "Of all the systems of morality, ancient or modern, which have come under my observation, none appear to me so pure as that of Jesus."
But even with all his cutting and pasting, his private hyper "Jesus Seminar," he couldn’t stick with the extraction’s essence.
In a well-worn quote that serves every autocrat from time immemorial, that continues to serve every President and Prime Minister, regardless of democratic intensity, that is, that serves every Bushite, and Harperite valiantly holding onto the principle of (sacrificial) redemptive violence, Jefferson says, "The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure."
Now what would the essential Jesus, "Jesus Unplugged," say to this?
Technorati Tags: Jefferson Bible, Christianity, Violence, Peace
April 5th, 2007
I’ve never set out to be controversial. I don’t think it’s in my nature. Not to say I haven’t tasted the desire to be…and have followed-up. But I also know that controversy for it’s own sake is a form of cover.
Still, when something settles in on me on a deep existential level, it necessitates some form of airing.
So here’s the latest airing. (It will be controversial for some, routine for others.)
Technorati Tags: Church, Afghanistan, Iraq, Ted Haggard, Atonement, Christianity, Peace
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