From the First Century C.E.:
Luke 13:1-4
13There were some present who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. 2He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? 3 I say no to you, but that unless you repent, all of you like them will be destroyed.” 4Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? I say no to you, but that unless you repent, all of you like them will be destroyed.”
From the Twenty-first Century C.E.: Karen Schmeltekopf
In this story found in the New Testament book of Luke, Jesus responded to comments concerning a brutal killing and a sad accident. According to reports, the Roman governor Pilate had murdered Galilean pilgrims on the way to Jerusalem, and in another occasion, 18 people died when a building collapsed upon them.
Not much has changed in 20 centuries – human beings still kill each other every day and thousands have died within the last few months due to falling buildings. Today, of course, we know about earthquakes and the necessity of building codes. We know that people with power often use it violently against those without. And while devastating earthquakes have recently hit Haiti and Chile and not California, we know that Haitians and Chileans aren’t any more or less sinful than Californians; and while many innocent Sudanese have been brutally murdered in the last few years, we know that Sudanese aren’t inherently any more or less deserving of death than Americans. That’s how we think…right?
Rationally, we do know these things. But our ability to stay rational is sometimes limited by our lower brain stem--our so called lizard brain. This lower part of our brain is where our reflex reactions happen, which in turn makes fertile ground for irrational fears and superstitions--a hangover from our evolutional march to the modern human form.
From this tendency towards irrational superstitions comes the simplistic assumption that whatever ill befalls us is likely our fault. And of course there are times when we are the cause of our own unfortunate effects. But the universe is much more complex than our first century ancestors understood, and cause and effect often has to do with the natural forces that we cannot see. So human beings are but a piece of the complexity – not the central character. The tragedies of earthquakes and tsunamis don’t occur because we are bad people; they’re about the collision of tectonic plates that produce waves in the ocean.
And while we know that, we still get triggered into reflex blaming. We wonder about the instability of impoverished families – why are the father’s not at home? We wonder why so called “welfare moms” don’t just go get a job – after all, jobs are available if you really want to work. And speaking of jobs, aren’t Americans out of work because those “illegal aliens” are taking our jobs? We look simplistically at behavior, character and societies and it is so easy to rationalize that we’re Americans and that while tsunamis occur across the world, they aren’t as bad in Hawaii as they are in Asia, as if somehow, the ocean recognizes different countries.
In the Lukan story the implication is that those with whom Jesus talked believed the ones who died deserved what they got.
This notion – that people get what they deserve, is called judgment theology. Advocates of judgment theology attribute a theological reason for anything calamitous or tragic. Judgment theology strongly appeals to that part of humanity that craves certainty about safety and well being. But because life is unpredictable, judgment theology necessarily requires a God who is predictable. God is seen as the cosmic all-powerful bookkeeper keeping track of who does what and, of course, who should get punished.
This version of God is one of anger and retribution for the unrighteous, and reward and prosperity for the righteous. Curiously enough, as it turns out those who hold to this belief system usually evaluate themselves as the righteous. The breakdown of this perspective can be seen when those with societal power are typically considered “righteous”, while marginalized people – the poor, women, homosexuals, people of color, people who are sick, people with mental illness, undocumented workers, are equated with the “unrighteous”.
Followers of this perspective invariably respond to the question, "Whose fault is it when innocent people suffer?" with the answer – the one who is suffering. If blame can be assigned to the one who is suffering -- he was speeding, she didn’t go to the doctor early enough, they live in a country where violence is rampant or earthquakes frequent-- then, the illusion of certainty and safety is used to sidestep the actual causes of misfortune. Being able to blame their human failings tidies up the vulnerabilities of life. It is a natural next-step to assume that what happened to them won’t happen to us.
But notice the two-fold tragedy of this “blame the victim” mentality. This detachment not only creates distance from the very real pain of the other, but also serves to dehumanize the blamers as well. What’s more it gives the appearance of the separateness of the Divine from those who suffer while suggesting that, in fact, that the Cosmic Bookkeeper is the source of the suffering.
Tragically, those on the receiving end of judgment theology often internalize it and render the harshest judgment of themselves. The degrading language and the scapegoating from others can reinforce their sense of shame and self-loathing. They become detached not only from others, but from their own humanity, and, of course, from anything sacred.
In the Luke text, Jesus rejects this judgment theology. His very life, in fact, teaches us the opposite. It is when we enter into the pain of others that we become more human, more present to each other, thus we find that which is sacred. Jesus wasn’t separate from those who were diseased, he touched them, held them. He wasn’t separate from the outcast, he had dinner with them, received water from them.
The example of his life, as well as the lives of the Buddha, Ghandi, and all our great spiritual teachers, show that when we bring close the pain of others, when we really see ourselves and each other, we become more fully human – which opens us to more capacity to love the other. As we respond to the needs of others, we enter more deeply into the human condition, which means we recognize our own vulnerability, we become more compassionate, and thus we find the sacred part of ourselves. As Rumi says, "If you want to know Love, become 'we.'”
You might have noticed, that the story doesn’t end there, though. After saying No, Jesus continued his answer with, “unless you repent, all of you like them will be destroyed.”
What?
In confronting the group’s illusion that they could protect themselves with judgment theology, Jesus recognized their fear; he saw the vulnerability that their anxiety opened up in them. That kind of opening is holy space because it offers us an opportunity for transformation. It is, after all, not a bad thing for us to feel the fragility of our lives -- not if it makes us turn toward the light.
So was Jesus saying that the Scorekeeping God actually condemns us? No. He’s saying that scapegoating others, using violence in thought and language, and avoiding our fears by blaming others – all beget more violence and death. The violence of judgment kills our souls; it kills the souls of others, just as tumbling buildings and tyrannical leaders kill bodies. Jesus, the bearer of peace and wholeness, calls us all to repent — to turn away from the culture of retribution and scapegoating. He calls us to turn from violence and exploitation. He calls us to turn from our fear of the unknown, to turn from our fear of the other and even our fears of ourselves, and be present to one another.
It is in that turning toward each other that we more fully encounter Divine Love because we can only love what we truly see.
As we move into our time of meditation, we are invited to reflect on our fears, and how those fears trigger us into judgment theology – whether in judgment of ourselves or of others. How do we need we let those judgments go?
Resources: Out in Scripture; processandfaith.org; rexaehuntprogressive.com; Melissa Bane Sevier, 2010, The Spiritual Practice of Empathy; “Life-Giving Fear” by Barbara Brown Taylor; sarahlaughed.net; Neil Snipes.
Sermon given March 7, 2010 by Rev. Karen Schmeltekopf at The Gathering.
