Ambiguous Answers from the Bosom of Abraham

 The story goes something like this:

A grizzled, old recluse became the subject of persistent rumours in his rural neighbourhood, one of which was that he’d stashed away piles of cash in his house and yard over the years. “He never sets foot in the credit union, so it’s gotta be true,” was trumpeted (pun intended) as proof. Not surprisingly, the prospect of “piles of cash” watered the mouths of many and two habitual denizens of the local bar took it into their alcohol-soaked heads one night to make a withdrawal from the old man’s account.

They were too drunk to be discrete and forcing the door of his house was therefore a clumsy, noisy undertaking. Their reception was even noisier; the two barrels of a shotgun were enough insurance policy to dispatch the intruders to their eternal rewards—where cash would just flare up and disappear in smoke anyway.

I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten the ending.

How would you finish the story/parable if you were telling it? You might want more information before exonerating the old man’s decision to load and fire his shotgun, or convicting him of manslaughter. Information like: how drunk were the men? had the old man ever been convicted of a crime before? did he have good reason to fear for his life? was his shotgun registered? But then, these questions would simply be diversions; the real question is obvious, after all, and it is: “is the defense of life and property by whatever means a human right, or a moral right?”

I met a retired Texas Ranger who led us to believe that his life had been set on the course it took by the rape and strangulation of his grandmother when he was a boy. He would undoubtedly say that “Everyone has a right to defend himself against harm. Give the man a reward!”

I’ve also met people who interpret the gospel as urging us to refrain from resorting to violence, even in our own defense. They would probably say that to defend oneself as the man did cannot happen to a follower of Christ because Christians don’t arm themselves in anticipation of attack—they don’t own swords, handguns or shotguns!

If you’re like me, you’re somewhat ambivalent on the question of justifying or condemning the man who in the midst of heart-pounding fear loaded a shotgun and sent two intruders straight to the judgment seat. You don’t need to be a “religious nut” to feel that ending someone’s life—whatever the circumstances—is as momentous as it gets. But if we’re familiar with the story of Russian Mennonite pacifists taking up arms in desperation to defend themselves and their families against rape and pillaging, we might not interpret the “Peter’s cutting off of the soldier’s ear in Gethsemane and Jesus’ replacement of it” story as glibly as we tend to do.

The Bible can, of course, both exonerate and condemn the man, depending on whether or not we are satisfied by the proof-texting of our own particular choice. That’s why this meditation has no Biblical text; we all eventually tire of being bombarded by selected passages (often out of their context) in any number of “Holy Books,” pronounced from the lofty pinnacle of the pulpit . . . or blog . . . or podcast.

I wish I could remember what happened to the old man. Let’s say that in the excitement of the event he had a heart attack, died and the whole affair was placed in the lap of the final judgment where he joined the leper, Lazarus, in the bosom of Abraham. Also—let’s say—the probate court ordered his estate sold and it went at auction for a very high price. Let’s say further that the house was turned upside down, the entire yard dug up but that the only cash found was a few coins on his bedside table, but that there were masses of receipts from charitable organizations in a drawer.

Let’s say that . . . or something else that’s, well, comfortable.