Luke 16: 19-31
“He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to
Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from
the dead.’”
Woke up this morning to find on AOL: Louisiana pastor killed during sermon. It happened Friday evening while preaching
during a revival. A man came into the church, shot Pastor Ronald J. Harris, Sr,
and then fled – the shooter later turning himself in. In the comments that
followed, a dangerous place to look to be sure, were reactions ranging from
“there must be more to this story,” to “no doubt the NRA will argue that had
more people in the congregation (good people) had guns this could have been
prevented.”
For me this of course brings up memories of
that day in May 2012 when my two closest working colleagues at Saint Peter’s,
Ellicott City, Maryland, were shot and killed in the church office. And later
that year the shooting at a Sikh temple in Wisconsin. People think of, or at
least used to think of, churches, synagogues, temples, as safe places – refuge from
the storms of life, sanctuary, a place set apart from the violence that
surrounds them on all sides. Now such sanctuaries seem to be nothing more than
a part of the greater terror landscape that accompanies a society seemingly
obsessed with guns, violence, violent “games,” etc. In a couple of weeks I will
be filling-in for a colleague at a nearby church for Sunday services. Should I
fear for my life?
Was it something the pastor did or said,
some people were asking online? Does and answer to that really change the
framing of the problem? I find myself thinking back on the Hebrew prophets, not
always a popular bunch, who like Socrates were constantly challenging the
status quo. They put Jeremiah in the bottom of a well to silence him, to leave
him to die, for challenging the status quo. What status quo was he challenging:
the right to self-defense. Jeremiah advocated a non-violent solution to the
pending invasion of the Babylonians. The town-folk appealed to the king that it
would be heresy not to defend themselves. The tradition honors Jeremiah. It’s
all in Jeremiah chapter 38.
Back in the 1990’s there was a surge of
violent behavior in churches across the land – a backlash against clergy of all
denominations, of all kinds of churches. It was thought to be a reaction to a
downturn in the economy – people were being downsized or pink-slipped across
the board. People felt helpless to act against their employers, the government,
banks, or whatever institutions they felt were responsible for the downturn in their
personal life. Churches, it was felt, were safe places to act out anger, fear
and aggression – after all “the church” has to forgive me, right? Ironic isn’t
it? The church once a sanctuary from violence now viewed as a safe place to act
out violence one cannot act out anywhere else without reprisal. The church,
among other venues, becomes the one safe place you can be assured of killing
one or more innocent people to assuage your anger.
Jesus tells the story of a rich man and a poor man named Lazarus – no relation to the
brother of Mary and Martha of Bethany. The gist of the story is that people
have become disconnected from the Word of God – disconnected from the ethical
demands of being a faithful person – demands such as to love and care for one’s
neighbor. The rich man learns that for ignoring the ethical demands of the Ten
Commandments life after life is not going to go so well. Accepting this, he
pleads for someone from the dead to return to warn his sons, family and friends
so they will not make the same mistakes he has. The story concludes: “He said
to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be
convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”
Admission: I grew up and card-carrying
member of the National Rifle Association, and spent many Saturday afternoons at
the local police firing range earning my medals up through Sharpshooter Bar
VII. I cannot in good conscience be a member today. There are no more
fundamental commands in Holy Scripture than the Sixth Commandment against
killing or murder; and the command of Jesus to love your neighbor, and even to
love your enemies. Despite the millennia-long existence of Just War Theory in
Christian theology, that has always applied to government regulated armies or
militias, not individuals. Further, the origins of Just War Theories of
self-defense and proportionate response were conceived when people were
fighting from chariots and horses with hand-held variations on a club or at
best a spear or a bow and arrow. Even the NRA has its origins in responsible
use of rifles – it is not the NHA, National Handgun Association, after all.
I admit I have never been much of an
advocate for the kind of WWJD (What Would Jesus Do) jingoism that has seized
much of what passes for Christianity these days. Nevertheless, this morning as
I pray for Pastor Ronald J. Harris, Sr, and his alleged assailant, Woodrow
Karey, and the witnesses in the
congregation who I now know for a fact will never be able to forget the
nightmare that unfolded before their eyes, WWJD might not be a bad place to
start. His story about the richman and Lazarus is at one dimension a venting of
his frustration as he tries to challenge the status quo of a society seemingly
gone off the rails. Just as Jeremiah was venting frustration as his people were
facing exile at the hands of Babylon. No one was willing to engage in any sort
of meaningful listening to warnings they were issuing.
Walter Brueggemann has always been fond of
asking the key questions in our time. One of which might be: How much gun violence does a society have to
endure before it admits it is already in exile? Jesus is no doubt correct on
this one: we have been told and told and told again what life is meant to look
like. Even if someone were to return from the dead to warn us today, would we
even bother to listen? Or, are we so distracted with protecting our so-called
“rights” that we would not even hear a word he or she might say to us?
No comments:
Post a Comment