“We’re going to bring them back to the Stone Age where they belong”. “All Hell will reign down”. So President Trump has said and written in the last few days as the bombardment of Iran continues. Many of us viscerally recoil at the wanton illegality, the unbridled cruelty, and the bald crudeness of his language as he displays a shocking disrespect, if not contempt, for humanity. But before we allow our outrage to boil over at his continuous displays of rage, it is important to acknowledge that to some degree we have all done what he is doing. Maybe not with the with the invective that the President insists on dispensing it, but all of us, at one time or another, when we have been hurt, scared or depressed, we have wanted to inflict pain on someone in response. Some of us may have actually done it – verbally, if not physically. Most of the rest have wished it – often with thoughts, words or gestures that may be just as vile as Trump’s.
The President is no doubt convinced that his outbursts will trigger not only support for his words and actions, but a similar commitment to vengeance. There is no end of historical precedent for that sort of reaction. wo thousand years ago, when Pontius Pilate tried to release Jesus after being arrested for treason, the crowd would have none of it. “Crucify him”, they shouted at a volume that could probably be heard all the way to Jericho. Before Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire, people flocked to the Coliseum to witness the “entertainment” of Christian converts being slaughtered by lions. In this country, for over a century people gathered by the hundreds to picnic and take photographs at the site of yet another lynching. In 1916, the lynching of Jesse Washington attracted 15,000 spectators.
Trump is assuming that his bloodlust will precipitate a similar cultural contagion. It is not working. His unfiltered and chaotic rants are not only unmasking a serious illness that is putting the whole world at greater risk, but are generating a growing resistance. Trump’s glorification of violence, threats of violence and exultation over violent outcomes is being met by more and more expressions and actions that are founded and framed by a commitment to nonviolence. No Kings Day gathered millions of people across the country to witness, demonstrate and discover solidarity with one another, without any reported incidents of violence.
There are countless diplomatic, political, economic and military issues to be considered as the US seeks to extricate itself from the quicksand of the Iran war. Yet we should not leave this volatile situation to the diplomats, politicians, financial experts and generals alone to figure out. We need to participate. Keep up the pressure – nonviolently. Recognize our own temptations to engage in violence – and resist them through prayer, deep breathing, exercise, engaging in conversations with trusted friends. Something. Offer hope, strength and support to those who feel hopelessly defeated, despondent, or disoriented.
And discover and claim your own vulnerability.
On Sunday, most of the Christian world celebrated Easter, the faith that by God’s hand Jesus rose from the dead. His crucifixion was designed to demonstrate the absolute power of the Roman Empire, and at the same time display Jesus, who was accused of treason, in a place of maximum vulnerability. Nailed to a cross; and he died – horribly and painfully.
It is a commitment of faith to say that he came back to life again. How that happened has contorted scholars and believers for centuries. Was it magic? Miracle? An explainable physics? A hoax? Merely a metaphor?
As I wrestle with these and other questions every year at this time, what came to me is a phrase from the famous passage from St. Paul, read at more weddings than I can count: “love never ends” (1 Corinthians 13:8) Love never ends – not even on the cross. Love lifted Jesus into new life, because love never ends. I know that love Most of us do. Most of us have had moments or seasons in our lives when we were flattened by anger, fear, depression, or grief, someone – a relative, a friend, a smile, something — embraced us with love, and brought us back to life. Love never ends.
I want to finish with an Easter story that I didn’t know was an Easter story until I was writing this post. Last Tuesday, as I do every Tuesday with my partner Jamie, I went to the county jail where we either teach a class or offer pastoral support to the 50 or so inmates in one of the jail’s units. After leaving our time on the unit where spend most of our time, we went to another unit where an inmate we had met had been transferred. He was young, arrested for a drug deal that went badly, causing several deaths. After his arrest he found that the Justice department under Pam Bondi was seeking the death penalty. He was – and is, in an incredibly vulnerable situation.
He was surprised to see us when we came in, and then his face opened up into a smile that reflected a love that he may not have known he had. His smile kindled life in me. It was an Easter moment. Love not only never ends, but can show up when we least expect it. It can lift us back into life.
Trust that love. Embrace it. Use it.
