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| Statue of Mars, Hotel National des Invalides, Paris |
The
conversion to Christianity of European peoples with strong warrior cultures was
slow and convoluted. The hold on the imagination shaped by the pagan mythology
of the warrior hero was strong. Myths die hard because myths give
meaning. Perhaps the conversion was never complete in the first place.
Those
who say America does not have a gun problem, but a sin problem are actually
onto something. We do have a sin problem. We have a sinful imagination
problem. A sinful myth problem. What those who say we have a sin problem, not a
gun problem miss is that guns and our infatuation with guns and the potential
violence they represent are a manifestation of the Sin at the heart our
imagination/mythology. We are in the thrall of the notion of redemptive
violence, i.e., violence is normal, in some situations good, and often
necessary to “save the day”. Violence is redemptive and salvific. It presumes
that some people who resort to violence are simply “good”. Most of our
fictional heroes, from Westerns to superheroes, resort to it and we glory in
it. We recount it in our history. It pervades our entertainment. It excuses vigilantism. I admit that I, too, am fascinated
by aspects of the mythology of the warrior. I have a sin problem.
I
am referring to "myth" here not as something that some people believe
that is untrue though that is certainly the case for much that is part of the
myth of redemptive violence. What I mean by myth is a narrative or set of
narratives, some more or less historical, some fictional, that are are told and
retold to make sense of our lives and the world in which we live. More than just stories, myths are symbolic. They give our lives meaning
and shape our imaginations and our sense of right and wrong. Through our myth(s) we understand who we are and how the world works. This is partly what C. S. Lewis
and J. R. R. Tolkien meant when they referred to Christianity as the "true
myth".
The
myth of redemptive violence is not the true myth. It is but a
continuation of the old pagan myth of the violent warrior hero who slays the
enemy. It is a bloody redemption. But not the blood of the cross. The myth of
redemptive violence is at odds with the truth myth of redemptive sacrifice and
love we see in Jesus. But it remains compelling. It continues to shape our imaginations even of
Christians. We might go to church. We give thanks that Jesus died so we don't
have to go to Hell. But in our heart of hearts we often still worship the quite
different god whose name is Ares, Mars, Tyr, etc. Do we really want a savior who
looks like Jesus or would we prefer one like Beowulf or John Wayne or Dirty Harry or
Batman? Do we imagine ourselves as martyrs in the self-sacrificial, peaceable way of Jesus or as warriors in the way of self-justifying violent pagan mythology? The pagan myth of redemptive violence shapes our imagination and how we engage the world. And it persists.
This
is partly due to a bad or at least an incomplete theology of the cross and
redemption—Jesus lived and died only to deliver us from Hell, from God's vengeance.
That theology is too narrow to account for the fullness of the witness of scripture and
tradition. It also leaves the myth of redemptive violence unchallenged. It misses
the point that in the death and resurrection of Jesus Death itself is defeated
and with it the fear of Death. If Death itself is defeated in the death of
Christ, then protecting ourselves from Death, whether our ultimate physical
death or all the little deaths along the way, is unnecessary. Even more, it is
an unfaithful witness to what Christ has accomplished. It reveals a lack of trust in
the resurrection. Because Death is defeated, we are free from fear and free to imitate Christ,
free to turn from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it (Psalm 34:14) with
non-defensive, non-retaliative patience, gentleness, generosity, hospitality,
forgiveness, etc. That is where Christian conversion takes us. It is a
reordering of our myths, our imagination, our values, our behavior. Otherwise,
our conversion is incomplete.
We have a sin problem. But another problem with the myth of redemptive violence is that it does not take sin seriously enough. In fact, it mostly denies that the one exercising redemptive violence on our behalf is all that much of a sinner in any radical sense. In our fantasies, that includes ourselves potentially being the violent savior hero. Either way the hero, however flawed, is the good guy and the enemy is clearly the bad guy. Christianity, though, asserts that even if we get our theology right and are as close to Jesus as we can be and rejoice in whatever healing and forgiveness we have experienced, we will still be infected with sin. This is true even if we are as sure as we can be that our cause is just. Our hearts are still prone to selfishness, greed, deceit (not least, self-deceit), and violence. Our hearts. My heart. Your heart. Not just the “bad” guys. Not just those who lack maturity, self-control, or emotional stability. If we believe in sin at all, we believe it is pervasive and universal. There are no “good” guys. Even the best of us is prone to being a bad guy at crunch time. We all need be aware of our own susceptibility to sin and violence. If we really believe in our own sinfulness, we might be more uncertain of our own ability to play the good guy. We all need redemption. We all need conversion.
And
so, the myth of redemptive violence makes it hard to see the need for
repentance and conversion. It allows us to presume that our violence is good
and our cause is always just, simply because they are ours. It makes it easy to
assume that our security or freedom are all that matters. It excuses—even
celebrates—vengeance. It allows us to pretend that we do not belong to one
another—including our enemies. It creates a social environment in which
violence is acceptable, to be expected even. It allows us to presume our own
innocence. It minimizes or ignores the awesome gravity of the taking of
any human life—the very image of God. It minimizes or ignores the savagery,
suffering, and trauma inherent in all violence and experienced on all sides. It
excuses or pardons whatever "excesses" of violence are committed by our hero. Or denies them. It suggests that some people's suffering
and trauma don't matter as much. Or even that they don't really count as people
on the same level as us.
And
that is where it really gets hard for us. Because the myth of redemptive
violence is often interwoven into the way we like to imagine our nation's
history. And we are resistant to acknowledge sin and the need of repentance
there. But there is nothing redemptive about the violent taking of the land and
decimation of native peoples. Or the violence of slavery and racism. Or the
violence against minorities and new immigrants. And given the pervasiveness of
sin it would hard to argue, from Christian perspective, that every war any country, including America, has fought has qualified as a just war. Fundamental to
Christianity is self-reflection, confession, and repentance. Such things are anathema
to the pagan myth of redemptive violence.
It
might be, given our broken and sinful humanity, that under certain prescribed
and circumscribed circumstances a degree of violence as a last resort is
necessary and therefore just. But in the Christian tradition that violence is reserved for those trained
and authorized to exercise it under the law and with discipline and dispassion
(there are reasons the rest of us are called civilians). We are grateful for
their service. Even so, that use of violence the is a concession to tragic
human reality shaped by Sin and not something – for Christians, anyway – to
bless, revel in, or glorify.
Still,
we have a sizable portion of our fellow citizens—in the political society of
the Church as well as the political society beyond—who are enchanted by the
mythology/theology of redemptive violence and vengeance. That myth won't just
go away. Myths die hard because they give meaning. Attacking them head on might
not be the most effective strategy. We need to advocate for reform of our gun
laws and ensure that weapons are in fact "well regulated". But the problem that needs addressing is much deeper. It
goes to the heart of what makes so many think that the idea that sinful
unregulated civilians should possess weapons designed to kill humans is a good
one. We have a sin problem. Our hearts and imaginations need healing. The myth of redemptive violence
needs to be addressed. And we need to help each other as we wean ourselves from
it. It is about conversion.
See also
The Way of Spartacus, the Way of bar Kokhba, or the Way of Jesus
