Evil is not a thing, maybe
Today, I’m pondering the speculations
of theologian N.T. Wright on the nature of evil in Chapter 6 of
Surprised by Hope. I don’t
think I’m alone in the puzzlement that inevitably assails
non-theologians or amateur theologians or “ordinary Christians”
when reading “the great ones.” Nevertheless, we probably all have
understandings/misunderstandings of the great theological concepts,
impressions that shape our images of us in the world, us under God,
us with our neighbours.
Most
head-scratching for me is how past and current theology seems never
to have abandoned the reliance on treating evil (or heaven, or hell
for that matter) as a thing,
or spiritual forces as personalities.
Unless, of course, our sages have and continue to assume that
belly-scratching pew sitters can only understand the God of whom
Jesus spoke as a loving but intolerant, bearded man on a heavenly
throne.
Emmanuel Kant is
supposed to have said that “only a scholar is qualified to evaluate
another scholar’s work,” or words to that effect. I would argue
that a scholar who can’t make his/her insights accessible to others
is not a serious scholar or theologian at all, but a
scholastic-hobbyist in a scholars’ or theologians' hobby-club.
That’s not to say that we shouldn’t all of us strive toward
greater and greater understanding by being active, life-long
learners, but surely the onus for building the bridge lies mainly
with the scholar.
But back to the
nature of evil. Obviously, Wright bases his writing on his
interpretation of scripture, but variances in what, for instance,
Biblical eschatology actually says have dogged the history of the
church. Consider the following for a moment as an alternative
understanding to that of Wright on the nature of evil:
Dark is not
“a thing.”i
Light is the thing, and when light is insufficiently present,
we call that quality, dark.
Drought
is not “a thing.” Rain is
the thing,
and what we call drought
is a shortage of life-giving rain.
Hate
or indifference are
not “things.” Love is the thing, and
what we call hate or
indifference is a
failure of love.
Crime
is not “a thing.” Justice
and mercy are
the things. In their
absence, criminal behaviour happens, and we erroneously give it
recognition as “a thing.”
By
the same token, evil
is not “a thing” (and Satan is not an immortal personality, is
not an alternate god): Goodnessii
is the thing
and when it’s in short supply, things we describe as evil
fill the gap.
Does such a
viewpoint add anything to our understanding of the Christ’s
redemptive life and death? When we conceptualize evil as a
thing external to us and our lives, it fogs up our perception of what
really happens in a world full of life, full of interacting humanity. When we
anthropomorphize (visualize as a personality) Satan, we make of him
an alternate, competing deity.
Monotheism—worshiping ONE God and
only one—is critical in our struggle toward “goodness,” toward
the kingdom Christ sought to initiate.
I
repeat, evil is not “a
thing”; (Satan is not a person, is not an alternate God): Goodness
is the
thing and when it’s in
short supply, things we describe as “evil” happen.
Sin
is not a thing either; it's a condition. Disobedience to the precepts of good (God)
results in actions we call sinful. Men don’t rape women because
they’re tempted by Satan; they rape women because, either slowly or
suddenly, they’ve succumbed to the abandonment of justice and
mercy (goodness, to the prophet Micah) in favour of physical and/or
mental gratification.
The
question of why there exists a shortage of the knowledge of goodness
is well put. The further question of why we abandon justice and mercy
when they are most needed is equally concerning. The nurturing of
goodness is the 100%
content of our discipleship to Christ, after all, and a mere 50%
commitment to insisting on it as the gateway to the kingdom will
obviously open the door to the demise of goodness as a someday,
worldwide, ruling principle. Half-hearted parenting, schooling,
politicking will most likely generate even less than 50% commitment
to justice and mercy and . . . and the progression is obvious. I
think it’s most commonly called corruption.
But
the story is bigger than this. An article in The Walrus
poses the question of whether the world is getting better or worse.
By my estimation where justice and mercy, where goodness are
concerned, our world has made substantial progress. 148 countries
struggled against smallpox outbreaks in 1850; in 1979 there were
none. Slavery was legal in 193 countries in 1800; in 2017, in only 3.
World-wide literacy in 1800 was around 10%; In 2016, it stood at 86%.
In 1816, only 1% of the world’s population lived in democracies; by
2015, 56% had slipped the bonds of dictatorship. (Bruce May, “Two
Revolutions,” The Walrus:
March, 2019) None of these advances came without many people living
out impulses for justice and mercy.
A
sure defense against that which we call evil
is the overwhelming of it with goodness, with justice and mercy. Evil
is easily defeated because God
(Good) is a thing and
evil isn’t. Fill the
pail with goodness and there’s no room for anything else in any
case. (And vice versa, of course.) It needs no scholar to tell us
this.iii
iI’m
using “a thing” as its used in social media banter to mean that
a meme or claim is a figment of someone’s imagination and is
unattached to reality.
ii“Goodness”
here is shorthand for what the prophet Micah in 6:8 says it is,
namely a love of mercy, practicing justice and walking humbly before
God. You might also include in the term the characteristics of love
enumerated by Paul in
I Corinthians 13: 4-8a. The spirit God lives
in these attributes.
iiiI
find the filling of our children’s lives with books and sports and
plain old attention by parents in order to “keep them out of
trouble” provides an excellent analogy here.
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