Christianity and Violence

Here's a question: is non-violence a moral imperative for Christians? By violence, for the purposes of this inquiry, I mean the use of destructive force, not merely rough treatment.

I take it as a premiss that the Christian will admit, in light of the revelation of God in Christ Crucified, that each human being is granted an infinite value, in light of which the deliberate destruction of human life is, under any circumstances, to be avoided as of all crimes the most heinous.

Yet I believe the answer to our question must be no. First of all, no one can deprive a person of the right to defend his own life, or the life of another, when it is under immediate attack. If there are any natural rights at all, the right to life must be the most fundamental. As for the aggressor's right, he himself has imperiled it for the moment by willfully placing life in jeopardy. This does not mean that a Christian may not choose to insist upon his right. But this raises another question. What is the Christian's duty with regard to protecting the life of another, particularly if that other is less capable of self-defense?

Much here will depend upon the intent of the other. If such a person has a clear, stated intention to become a voluntary victim of violence as part of a strategy of combatting injustice, then one would be absolved of the duty of forceful intervention. I cannot escape the conviction however, that one would be duty bound in any other case to intervene, with force if necessary. Otherwise one would become an accessory in the act of the aggressor, and through cowardice, his moral equivalent. This is particularly true when the target of violence is a child or any other person who, by reason of immaturity or helplessness, is ill-equipped to make a choice for self-sacrifice.

Once we admit so much, we are compelled also to admit that participation in a defensive war would not be a violation of moral principle. My view here is that while nothing that is in accord with natural law can be in conflict with Christian practice, yet Christians are called, though not compelled, to follow a higher path, particularly in the case of war, where violence tends always to become indiscriminate and more impenetrable to moral vision. Also, where any alternative to the destruction of human life exists, we are bound to pursue it. Often these alternatives to violence will require more, not less, courage to enact; and all too often we have absolved ourselves of the imperative duty to exercise this courage.

I will be thinking about this more in days to come, but these are my first, sketchy thoughts on the matter.

Crime and Punishment

I recently finished reading Dostoyevsky's novel, Crime and Punishment, and have been pondering the similarities and differences between the characters of Sonya and Raskolnikov. Raskolnikov, a desperately impoverished university drop-out living in St. Petersburg in 1865, has developed a theory, based on historical observation, that the man of genius, the superior man, in view of his potential for becoming a benefactor to humanity, may commit murder if to do so will catapult him to the position of power and influence for which he is destined. Consequently, Raskolnikov works out a plan to murder an old pawnbroker and steal her money. He reckons that, with 3000 rubles, he will, as a gifted and promising student of the law, be enabled to commence a career which will benefit thousands, and his one act of evil will be more than compensated for by his future largesse, particularly since the victim of his crime is an avaricious old woman who profits from the wretchedness of the poor. The murder is carried out, but Raskolnikov's scheme goes awry when he is unexpectedly confronted with the pawnbroker's innocent and simple-minded sister, whom he had expected to be away, and is compelled to murder her, as well, to conceal his moments-old crime. He loses his nerve at this point, and flees the scene without even stealing his victim's money. This precipitates a moral crisis which manifests in Raskolnikov as physical and mental breakdown, since he is unable to recognize the moral dimension of his situation.

Sonya is an angelic young woman who becomes Raskolnikov's savior. She is a prostitute who has taken to the street solely to support her destitute stepmother and half-siblings because, otherwise, her father's uncontrollable alcoholism would shortly render them homeless. Like Raskolnikov, Sonya engages in transgressive behavior, in vice, for the purpose of aiding others. However, unlike Raskolnikov, her integrity and purity of spirit remain, for the present, intact. Why?

First of all, let me say that from the point of view of history, of purely natural reason, Raskolnikov's theory is correct. Leaders of nations and great movements cannot exist without murder, usually on a grand scale; and if they do not lose their nerve, and above all, if they succeed, far from being regarded as criminals, they will be revered as national heros. After all, by the death of thousands, millions are benefited. All this depends, however, on the absolute suppression of the supernatural principle of the infinite value of the human person. When this principle is recognized, there can be no more question of sacrificing another's life for the greater good...because nothing can be greater than that which is of infinite value. All purely natural scales of valuation and judgement are rendered meaningless. There can be no more question of recognizing "great" men and women apart from the "common herd". Raskolnikov fails, his nerve fails, because his essentially good heart is not as hardened against humanity as is his proud, immature and susceptible mind. It is precisely this conflict between mind and heart, exacerbated by extreme poverty, which plunges Raskolnikov into illness and near-madness, and which serves as the central conflict of the novel.

While Raskolnikov consciously holds to the natural ethic of human worth and the will-to-power described above, and is therefore motivated by a desire for self-aggrandizement, Sonya's descent into vice has no ulterior motives and no stimulus of pride. It is her humility, her Christlike willingness to suffer for others, and her concomitant sensitivity to the suffering of others, which preserves her spiritual virginity - if one may use the phrase - intact. She is the one who is able to make Raskolnikov understand that he is loved in spite of his crime and failure, and consequently to understand, finally, the true nature of his crime, whereupon repentance and healing become possible.

Buffy and the Human Condition

I love the moral complexity of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It's taken for granted in the ethos of the show that people are going to screw up often, and often seriously. People are going to make terrible decisions. There is going to be friction and loneliness and misunderstanding. Things will be confusing. People are going to betray those they love, are going to want things they shouldn't have. And if we are going to have any friends, lovers, relationships of any sort, we'd better figure out how to deal with it, how to accept one another's brokenness and our own, how to forgive, how to forgive ourselves. The necessity of radical grace is implied.

Something else: in BtVS, we continually are shown that there is common ground between us and our enemies; that just as the "good guys" aren't all that good, so the "bad guys" are never entirely evil, never beyond pity or mercy. We may have to oppose them, but we'd better not assume that they are beyond redemption, or even very different from ourselves. We're all freaks. We all need another chance.

Is that a Christian understanding of our situation? A lot closer than the all-American "gospel" of be-good-so-you-can-go-to-heaven. Truth from the fringes.