Evil & Suffering

May 16, 2004

Rev. Paul Beckel

First Universalist Unitarian Church ~ www.uuwausau.org

 

 

To criticize is not to reject.  This point must be emphasized, for it is the dividing line between the free mind and fanaticism.  It is the doorway to a universal religion that rigorously seeks the truth, and yet is also inclusive and welcoming to all. 

To criticize is not to reject.

Rev. Kenneth Patton (1911-1994)

 

[Regarding the battlefield] I love it.  God help me I do love it so. I love it more than my life.

General George Patton (1885-1945)

 

Courage is not a blustering manifestation of strength and power. Sometimes courage is only revealed in the midst of great weakness and greater fear. It is often the ultimate rallying of all the resources of personality to face a crucial and devastating demand. And this is not all. There is a quiet courage that comes from an inward spring of confidence in the meaning and significance of life. Such courage is an underground river, flowing far beneath the shifting events of one’s experience, keeping alive a thousand little springs of action. It has neither trumpet to announce it nor crowds to applaud; it is best seen in the lives of men and women who do their work from day to day without hurry and without fever. It is the patient waiting of the humble [person] whose integrity keeps [the] spirit sweet and...heart strong.  Wherever one encounters it, a lift is given to life and vast reassurance invades the being. To walk with such a person in the daily round is to keep company with angels....

Howard Thurman (1900-1981)

 

OPENING AFFIRMATION                                                            by Chip Roush, adapted

O Spirit of Life and Love, Unnamable Source of All That Is,

We are grateful to be alive today;

We are grateful to be here together;

 

We desire health and love;

We desire health and love for all people;

 

We know that some among us feel angry, or frightened, or sorrowful.

May we appreciate all of our emotions,

and seek to express them appropriately, safely and fully;

 

We know that all people, everywhere, have suffered;

May we accept, honor, and move through our own suffering.

We pledge to live with compassion for all beings, including ourselves;

 

Acknowledging our limited control over our lives and our world,

we seek the courage and wisdom to take appropriate risks;

 

We are grateful for this opportunity to deepen our knowledge and compassion;

 

We are grateful for those with whom we share this morning: volunteers and visitors, children and elders; May we grow together in our shared commitments;

 

We are grateful for coincidence, grace, and help in any form;

We pledge to take responsibility--for our lives, and for our choices.

We would have all beings receive enough food, and shelter, and peace of mind today;

We pledge ourselves in pursuit of this goal;

Praise for living;  Praise.

 

OPENING WORDS

This week was much like any other week. Joy and sadness woven together like threads on the looms of our lives. Pride and humility; courage and fear; anxiety and hope.

 

And this week was not like other weeks. Whether we saw them, or just heard about them, the horrible images of inhumanity were inescapable. I don’t know that we need fresh reminders of our capacity for inhumanity. And I don’t suggest that we rub our noses in it to make ourselves thoroughly revolted. But there is value in a self-loving self-awareness. To know our vulnerabilities. To face our vulnerabilities. To find hope in our deepest darkness.

 

GATHERING HYMN          #146  Soon the Day will Arrive

 

CHILDREN’S FOCUS

I don’t want my kids to be worried or distressed about what is going on in the world.  But I also don’t want my kids to be ignorant. [Who knows what “ignorant” means? One of the kids responds, “Clueless!”]

 

It’s dangerous to not know about the world. It’s dangerous to not know our own strengths and weaknesses.  It’s dangerous to not know our own feelings and how to handle them. I’m going to tell you a story about being a parent. Like most parents, the ones in this story want the best for their child. They don’t want their child to face pain and evil. And they want their child to grow up, and to be loved. Is this too much to ask???

 

[Dora’s Box, by Ann-Jeanette Campbell] Summary: A witch offers to grant a young couple 3 wishes.  They wish for a daughter; they wish she will never know evil or sadness; they wish she will be loved by all.  The witch says yes, but not all 3 can be fulfilled at once.  She gives them a daughter, Dora, and a box.  They are to put tokens everything evil or sad in the box...and make sure that Dora never opens the box.  This succeeds for many years, though Dora doesn’t relate much to others.  Finally, Dora is faced with a choice of opening the box (or not) to aid a grieving friend.  She does, and is suddenly subject to the new experiences of pain, fear, and loss.  This opens the door to the fulfillment of the third wish: that she may now have compassion, and be loved by all.

 

RESPONSIVE READING

(Text to hymn #135—As you say these words think about whistleblowers: individuals who have the courage to speak their truth and take the consequences.)

 

How happy are they, born or taught, who do not serve another’s will;

Whose armor is their honest thought, and simple truth their highest skill.

 

Whose passions not their rulers are; whose souls are still, and free from fear,

Not tied unto the world with care of public fame or private ear;

 

Who have their lives from rumors freed, whose conscience is their strong retreat,

Whose state no flattery can feed, nor ruin make oppressors great.

 

All such are freed from servile bands of hope to rise, or fear to fall;

They rule themselves, but rule not lands, and, having nothing yet have all.

 

MESSAGE

This week, facing the realities of our collective behavior in Iraq, and my complicity in it, I have been feeling red, white, and blue. Embarrassed, aghast, and despondent. 

 

What’s so great about being red, white, and blue? Perhaps we should start with the blue.  When Job lost everything, he simply sat in the ashes, scraped the sores which covered his body, and lamented. He did not curse God or blame others for his loss. He just sat for a while. 

 

I don’t suggest we go into a long-term state of blue... perhaps after an appropriate period, we could move on to being red.  Not permanently ashamed, but self-conscious, self-aware, self-critical. Reflective. Inward looking.  Acknowledging that yes, this is us, this is me.

 

And then, perhaps, we could move on to white. Aghast. Not paralyzed with fear...but motivated into action.

 

Feelings of Red, white, and blue can be very powerful—in the best sense of powerful—when we talk about them openly, so we can move through them. Like the trajectory we take through any serious loss: denial, anger, bargaining, sadness, acceptance... it is normal, it is healthy to experience these emotions.

 

It’s hard to know what we’ve lost, exactly, in this case. It’s hard to imagine that we’ve got any innocence left to lose...but clearly we’ve lost something. All the signals are here that we’ve lost something.

 

***

I think there is some value in speculating about the nature of evil.  Is it an entity of its own? Is it a projection of human values? These questions can never really be answered, but they cannot be avoided either.  Whether we experience evil with visceral pain, or simply by shaking our heads in dismayed wonder, we can’t help but ask “...how could this happen?” “...why did this happen?”

 

Evil is sometimes consciously enacted and maintained. Institutionalized through policies or customs which separate and degrade people... or entrenched in systems in which power is maintained indefinitely and disproportionately.

 

Institutionalized evil can be overt and official, as it was in the South African apartheid system. Or it can be passive-aggressive—a deniable atmosphere of dread in which everyone knows that you’d better not speak up, or else....

 

Evil can be institutionalized in passivity. Our American legacy of lynching, sexual abuse in churches, countless cases in which the issues were known but not confronted.

 

In his book, The Plague, Albert Camus wrote of plague as if it were not just a biological agent slicing through a community. More than this, the plague was an attitude of fear and loathing which took over people's hearts. A fear so powerful that it could be, and was, exploited by some to create deeper and wider spirals of terror.

 

The plague became, for some, a loss of heart. Latin: cor; French: coeur. A loss of their core; their core-age. The loss of heart in the midst of any plague of violence is overwhelming of course. And yet, some rise to the occasion. In the face of such loss their hearts continue to grow.

 

***

Ten years ago in South Africa, following decades of apartheid and racial violence, the cycle was interrupted when black South Africans acquired a revolutionary power called “voting.”

 

The overthrow of the apartheid government could have resulted in another escalation of violence. The new regime might have retaliated against those who had oppressed them. History has seen the oppressed become the oppressors again and again. In an effort to prevent this, South Africa established a Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Conscious of the magnitude of evil to be confronted, aware of the webs of evil which tied each to each, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission focused more on facing the truth than punishing every misdeed. It was acknowledged that everyone, black and white, had been enmeshed in a web of mutual self-destruction.  They knew there would be no benefit to throwing the entire society in jail.

 

Most people who have been traumatized do not turn into monsters. When given a chance, they choose not to perpetuate their pain. Others have had the sheer good fortune not to have had to face the test. Neither prison guard, nor prisoner. Neither Palestinian nor Israeli. Neither sex slave nor owner.  Neither desperate addict nor oil dealer threatening the supply. 

 

***

The Nazis were proud of their efforts to annihilate the Jews. The orders came from the top without apology. In South Africa it was different. Apartheid leaders claimed to have no knowledge of what their money for covert operations was being used for. Because the covert operations were against the law, orders could not be communicated directly. Euphemisms had to be used about “neutralizing,” “eliminating,” “removing.” It was the dirty little family secret which everyone knew but no one talked about for fear that the entire house of cards would come crashing down.

 

So if euphemism, secrecy, not talking openly can contribute to a spiral of evil, then what will interrupt such a spiral? Sharing information. Providing information in plain language. Open discussion—even discussion of sensitive topics, even when people’s feelings may get hurt.

 

***

In South Africa, for decades, some people stood by. Not wanting to contribute to the spiral. Wishing that the spiral of violence would be interrupted. Hopes had been thwarted for years; dangers were real and present. Day-to-day life was hard enough. They stood by as their black brothers and sisters and children were killed. They stood by while whites killed blacks, and while blacks killed whites, and while black collaborators killed other blacks, and then the collaborators were killed in retaliation.

 

White people also stood by, sensibly enough. Their fear of communism was rational and palpable. Their was plenty of evidence to the north: in the Congo, Angola, chaos. No one wanted those disasters repeated in their own country.

 

It was also about 10 years ago when I saw an unforgettable scene in the movie Dangerous Liaisons.  After engaging in an escalating spiral of deceit, the main character backs his way out of a difficult affair by saying over and over, “It’s beyond my control.”

 

***

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission had the heart to help the South African people face their mutual responsibilities. They listened as wives confronted Eugene De Kock, a government official who planned their husbands’ murders. Having buried their pain, and not keen to re-open the grave, they dared to expose their hearts again... they dared to release the hurt that bound them to De Kock. They told him to his face how his choices had affected their lives.  Then they wept over the loss of De Kock’s humanity. They expressed hope that he could change. And they forgave him. (They did not, however, put him back in office.)

 

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission sought understanding. Not to excuse the brutality, not to evade the truth or its pain, but to get some closure—not complete closure but some closure, where none was possible before. To be led, but not misled, by understanding.

 

Eugene De Kock, and others who had once been rewarded for their efforts to maintain the moral order, those rewarded with medals, honors, cash, and promotion, were now held accountable by their victims. De Kock was interviewed for a book called A Human Being Died that Night: a South African Story of Forgiveness. He says, “...the dirtiest war you can ever get is the one fought in the shadows...There are no rules except to win. There are no lines drawn to mark where you cannot cross. ...It’s not like you stop to think....”

 

His interviewer, Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela writes: “This is a trick most perpetrators use, especially those sponsored by a powerful government, to try to make their actions understandable by saying, “What my people have done, yours have done too.” What is tragic is that they really do believe that what they have done is no worse than the other group’s actions. Typically, the perpetrator starts off with rationalization, to convince himself of the legitimacy of his acts, then he begins to communicate his rationalization to others. At this point it is no longer a rationalization but a “truth” that releases the perpetrator from any sense of guilt he may still feel about his evil deeds. If the enemy is doing the same thing he himself is engaged in, then he can’t be that bad.”

 

De Kock captured, tortured, and threatened rebels, and in one case used his captives to infiltrate an African National Congress student group. The infiltrators taught the dissident group how to use explosives, and helped them to plan a mission. The government then supplied the students with hand grenades...with timers set to zero seconds. The media reported simply that the student group were destroyed by their own devices. Thirteen were killed instantly. Seven who were seriously wounded were arrested for unlawful possession of hand grenades.

 

***

This week, in the midst of all this pain, in the midst of our feelings of futility, guilt, and helplessness, one thing we can do is to offer this simple Sunday service to our community. It is an important thing that you do by being here, by making this gathering possible. You create a time and place to be reminded of what we value highly. A chance to be reminded of beauty... without somehow slipping into denial. You give your time, energy, money, and creative love to be here, together, to affirm that it is possible to create loving respectful relationships. You recommit to showing our children that it is possible to reconcile differences peacefully by naming and addressing them.

 

May we gain strength and hope in this hour. Not so we can solve all the problems in Iraq. But so we can re-commit ourselves to facing the problems we have in our own homes, in our own congregation, in our own community, in our own workplaces.

 

Together we pledge to respect the worth and dignity of every person. Not as hypocrites who push forward unreflectively. But neither as apathetic losers. We affirm and promote equality, the golden rule, universal human kinship.... Not to be naïve; but to be brave. What a gift we give to one another when we stand and sit and sing together. What a give we give to one another when we pledge to hold each other accountable.

 

***

This week a large group from this congregation attended the YWCA’s Women of Vision awards luncheon. We were reminded again of those who have brought forth the power of their humanity and made a difference in the lives of many. Once again, one of our own was honored for her generosity, Sue Stoddard.

 

We are a generous people. We enjoy giving. A couple of weeks ago, Kathy Schmirler and I were looking through orders of service from 40 years ago to see what had changed and what was the same. Back then, a collection was being taken for an African student who was taking classes at Eau Claire State College.  In an effort to celebrate this continuity, we photocopied that announcement directly from the old order of service, making the silly assumption that it would be clear that this was old news. No way. Your generosity will not be held back.  Our collection was more than twice what it typically was, and included one check specifically marked for “the African student.” (Not knowing what else to do with the money, we’ve added it to the piles of household goods that you are bringing in for the new Hmong refugees.)

 

Please join me in the spirit of meditation. I sense a powerful river of pain coursing through our hearts. We suffer in the presence of this pain. I am moved by your struggle and by your love for all who are caught up in the web of hope and pain. I am moved by your hope for our world. I pray that from this struggle, compassion will spring forth.

 

By being present to one another, present to the pain and suffering around us, we cannot banish evil, but we can find access to the divine love which is known within the best of our humanity. The pain may not disappear, but the suffering loses its hold on us.

 

By releasing this suffering, and by helping others to do the same thing, you are changed, and in your changing, change becomes possible for the world.

 

One of the nuns who worked closely with Mother Teresa was asked how she did her work day after day. She replied that she had to be willing to have her heart broken a thousand times a day. Such devotion is radical, not reasonable. May our hearts be so radically opened, again, today.