It was a moment of epic furry. I was with a group of my college freshmen classmates at the fraternity where we had just been accepted as pledges. I was invited upstairs into a member’s room, and as soon as I entered, I was set upon by three fraternity members.They tried to wrestle me to the floor and tape me up. I fought back. I was furious that my freedom and agency were being overpowered.This was a “game” to my older “brothers”; the first step in the annual pledge hike. Some of my classmates were willing to play and readily submitted. I didn’t. I resisted. It wasn’t a game to me. I don’t remember ever being so angry. I was barely in control. It was everything I could do to not hit or kick. They won. I was taped up. Eventually I calmed down, particularly in the bizarre pride I felt that they had to bring in another brother to subdue me.
Epic Fury is the title of the current military operation in Iran. Reliable accounts indicate that the name was chosen by President Trump. His choice is in keeping with his repeated intentions to stir up the fury of those who share his hostility toward his growing list of enemies, and at the same time to stoke the fury of those who oppose the growing litany of his immoral actions and incendiary rhetoric. Fury has become a verbal and military virus, which he is committed to spreading.
Unlike my college freshman experience in which my fury was a response to what I experienced as an attack, fury is the barely disguised motivation for the ongoing lethal attack of Iran. And unlike my early fraternity incident, where I maintained a semblance of control in spite of my rage, Epic Fury is out of control: 175 schoolchildren were killed in a bombing that relied on outdated intelligence; and the goals and endgame are an endless spinning roulette wheel of explanations, corrections, re-corrections, all interspersed with misinformation and fantasies. And some leaders, notably the President and Secretary of Defense (I can’t bring myself to call it the department of war), speak of the operation as if it were some sort of video game — that they are taking down an opponent and taping them up. The White House has issued a 14 second video featuring Sponge Bob rejoicing after a bomb explosion, with the words, “Wanna see me do it again?” It has been seen 9 million times. “Lethality” is a termed coined by Secretary Hegseth, one which he uses repeatedly. Lethality has become part of the military lexicon, and is expressed as an important value. For me, and I suspect for many of us, lethality severs the speaker off from humanity; lives become game figures that can be wiped off the screen, a bell rings and points are awarded. This jingoistic — and juvenile — talk, and the claims that everything is under control reveal that it is anything but.
Fury can do that. Fury can generate a lack of discipline, sloppiness of strategy, and unfettered cruelty. The fury renders an anxious world even more vulnerable and dangerous. And yet what for me is even more troubling about Operation Epic Fury is that there is a temptation, if not an intention, to justify the military assault as an act of obedience to God’s will. No doubt that in some quarters biblical citations are being invoked: fire and brimstone rained down on Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 19); “Those who break the covenant with God will be burned out by sulfur and salt” ( Deuteronomy 29:23); “He has judged the great whore who corrupted the earth with her fornication…the smoke goes up from her forever and ever” (Revelation 19:2-3).
These and other biblical citations refer to God’s anger, God’s fury, God’s punishment. What for some is that these and other biblical passages are a command from God to continue the lethality of God’s judgment. Difficult though it may be, we need to acknowledge these citations of violent judgment that run through scripture, AND at the same time we need to lift up the many more biblical examples of God’s mercy, which for me is the core of biblical witness. A phrase from the psalms sums it up for me: “The Lord is full of compassion and mercy, slow to anger and of great kindness.” (Psalm 103:8) And the command, “let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:16)
There has been, and will continue to be, an ongoing competition of cherry-picking bible verses to justify actions and positions. That competition highlights what has been an epic historical battle between being warriors of God’s fury or apostles of God’s mercy. It may be an oversimplification to theologically reduce the complexity of the biblical narrative down to a binary between fury and mercy, but an extension of what is perceived to be God’s fury is what is being rained down in Iran. Unlike my freshmen experience when my tormentors were trying to subdue but not hurt me, Operation Fury is horrifically different. It is not a game.
In the face of such lethal violence, the response of mercy may seem naïve. I would say that mercy is necessary. To hold on to mercy. To invoke it at every opportunity. To claim, as American slaves did in the face of regular merciless fury and inhumane judgment, when they sang, “There is a balm in Gilead, to make the wounded whole… to heal the sin-sick soul.” That balm, that mercy, is a life preserver. We need to hold on to it – and offer it to others as often as we can. It strengthens our resolve, offers healing, and provides hope. And can mitigate, if not thwart, the fury that produces unspeakable violence.
