Sermons

Sun, Aug 30, 2020

Vengeance is mine. Really?

Series:Sermons
Duration:14 mins 6 secs

This week, in Christchurch, the Australian white supremacist–– 

who committed the terrorist attack on two mosques last year––

was sentenced.

There was…

reportedly…

“public celebration”…

when the judge handed down a life sentence without the possibility of parole.

Given that the perpetrator is only twenty-nine years old…

that could mean more than forty years behind bars.

Kris Gledhill––

the Professor of Law at Auckland University of Technology––

writes that there are two components to a ‘life sentence’.

“The first is the period that must be served for punishment purposes before an application can be made for parole”.

But, he notes, “The guiding principle behind how we deal with prisoners is the need to attempt rehabilitation”.

That’s why there’s the second component––

the parole-period.

To hand down a sentence without the prospect of parole means that the judge––

and, thus, the Law–– 

has determined that there is either no hope of rehabilitation…

or… 

there is to be no effort made towards rehabilitation.

Professor Gledhill notes that without any effort to rehabilitate–– 

or any incentive to rehabilitate––

“detention risks becoming arbitrary”…

and…

“It could also be said to be inhuman and degrading not to allow some hope for the inmate”.

Indeed, the European Court of Human Rights claims that “prisoners must be left with some mechanism to ensure that hope is not extinguished”.

Yes, the rights of victims––

and society as a whole––

need to be protected from violent offenders…

and from those who would follow in their footsteps.

But when does that go too far?

When in our need for safety––

and, let’s be honest, our need for revenge––

do we go too far and we risk… 

effectively… 

treating a perpetrator like they treated their victim?

While most thoughtful, enlightened people eschew capital punishment for such reasons…

is not a sentence like this in a similar vein?

With this type of sentence––

and the “celebrations” surrounding it––

are we not, ultimately, still indulging our primitive instincts for vengeance?

 

Aren’t we seeing those sorts of urges and instincts played out––

over and again––

be it President Trump retaliating against those who cross or slight him;

or young white men shooting and killing those protesting police brutality against black people…

out of their sense of privilege-under-threat?

 

Even when it’s simply the product of how we perceive or interpret events…

when we feel we’re under attack…

when we feel threatened or slighted…

when we feel humiliated or wronged…

our instinct is to fight back…

to defend ourselves…

to seek vengeance or revenge.

It underpins so much of who we are.

It underlies so many of our structures and so much of our way of life.

It undergirds our adversarial political system––

with its insults, retorts, and one-upmanship.

Despite the most noble, philosophical spin that we put on it…

it infuses our legal-penal system.

In acts of road-rage and neighbourhood squabbles…

in domestic violence…

and in online, social media discussions, it raises its ugly head.

The desire to retaliate when slighted…

the need for revenge when wronged…

is just so ingrained and so instinctual.

And we saw that, perhaps, in Christchurch as well.

In delivering their victim impact statements… 

the rage and pain of family members was reflected in the insults they threw at the gunman.

One man, whose father was killed in the attack, asked the court to place the gunman in “mainstream prison”—

not in protective custody where he is currently being held––

with the unspoken assumption, of course, that he would be harmed…

or, preferably, killed…

by other prisoners.

 

But there were some noticeable exceptions.

One of the imams addressed the gunman’s family…

and acknowledged the suffering and grief that they are experiencing.

One woman, whose son was killed in the attack, told the court:

“The damage was done and Hussein will never be here”.

“So, I have only one choice…”

she said, believing it to be what her faith taught her… 

“I decided to forgive you”…

she said to the gunman.

As hard as that seems…

she did what Paul suggests that we should do in our reading from Romans:

“Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all…Never avenge yourselves…No, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink…Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good”.

Don’t simply lie down and let evil have its way.

But, at the same time, don’t retaliate––

because revenge only creates a vicious cycle.

Instead, break the cycle.

Thwart evil… 

by naming it…

by exposing it for what it is…

and by overcoming it with what is good.

Yet, it’s not about doing what is good simply as a manipulative way of getting back at people.

It ought not to be a sly and subtle form of revenge.

It’s not, as Oscar Wilde once quipped, 

“Always forgive your enemies––nothing annoys them more”.

As much as it goes against our instincts, the way to overcome evil is by doing good––

not as a means to an end…

but as an end in itself.

After all, violence––

whether overt or latent…

physical or verbal––

only begets more violence.

And even when we eschew vengeance and violence––

overtly––

there can still be a latent violence lurking.

I think we see that even in Paul’s response.

“Never avenge yourselves”…

he says…

“But leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord’.”

Don’t avenge yourselves.

But, don’t worry, God will do that for you––

eventually.

It’s a very primitive notion of God.

We’re simply remaking God in our own image––

imputing our needs and wants, and our primal instincts onto God.

Paul, here, fails to see the full implications and impact of his own theology––

a theology that has at its core and centre the cross of Christ.

The cross––

insofar as it manifests the nature of God––

demonstrates that God does not respond to our violence with violence.

The cross demonstrates that God is not interested in revenge or retaliation.

Through the cross, God responds to our violence only with love and forgiveness;

and demonstrates that such love and forgiveness is the only way… 

in which we will counteract the violence of our world…

and our instinctual nature.

As Martin Luther King jr once said…

“Jesus eloquently affirmed from the cross a higher law. He knew that the old eye-for-an-eye philosophy would leave everyone blind. He did not seek to overcome evil with evil. He overcame evil with good…Only goodness can drive out evil and only love can conquer hate”.

As hard as it is––

and as much as it goes against our most primal instincts––

the only creative response to dealing with hatred…

and abuse…

and latent violence…

is love.

That doesn’t mean ignoring or condoning inappropriate behaviour.

It means respecting ourselves enough…

and the other person enough… 

to deal with it constructively;

and, also, not to allow that behaviour to dictate or change how we respond to the other person.

We owe it to them––

we owe it to ourselves––

to respond in love.

As the cross so powerfully proclaimed––

love… 

and only love… 

has the power to change the world…

and us.

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