Jesus saw people as becoming someone, not as trapped in their own identity. In the Parable of the Vineyard, Jesus explained how those who arrived late to the vineyard were to be rewarded for who they had become at the eleventh hour, not for who they had been earlier in the day. And Jesus understood Peter’s fragile spirituality better then Peter himself, but loved him for the apostle he would someday become. Even Nicodemus, standing apart from from the vilified Pharisees, was welcomed by Jesus by night, to discover the life his sect could not see in the daylight. Jesus saw the end from the beginning.
Another parable about becoming is the Parable of the Sower, in which Jesus separates people for the way they receive and incorporate the Word of God. People are represented as fertile or infertile soil: seed falls along the path, in the rocky places, among the thorns, or in rich soil. Only the soil in the fertile places takes root, but it is clearly a matter of growth, not identity, that allows the seed to prosper. We have the expression, “good seed” and “bad seed.” Jesus knew only good soil and bad soil, because the soil represented potential, not a fated outcome.
The kingdom of this world glibly identifies the good and the bad. In the wake of the tragic Manchester bombing, Donald Trump addressed the terrorists of the world as “losers.”
“I will call them from now on losers because that’s what they are. They’re losers, and we’ll have more of them. But they’re losers — just remember that.”
As we all know, President Trump is a “winner.” “My whole life is about winning. I don’t lose often. I almost never lose.” So losers are the “anti-Trump,” the worst entity he can imagine. The leader of the free world constructs the battle against terrorism as a comic book conflict of winners and losers. In his mind I’m sure this emasculates them, but when I hear “losers” I think of many who failed through no fault of their own, many who are victims, rather than depraved or hateful. I think of the inhospitable soils they came from.
Yes, terrorists are degenerate humanity. They kill indiscriminately without regard for the victims, without even knowing the victims. They are damaged, but damaged from innumerable causes: from socio-pathology to homophobia, from schizophrenia to indoctrination, from childhood abuse to fanaticism. To conflate them all with the adolescent insult “losers” shows no attempt to seriously understand their pathology, to understand the soils of their souls.
Or consider this response to Manchester:
“All acts of terrorism are cowardly attacks on innocent people, but this attack stands out for its appalling, sickening cowardice, deliberately targeting innocent, defenceless children and young people who should have been enjoying one of the most memorable nights of their lives.”
These were British Prime Minister Teresa May’s words the morning following the carnage. It was the action, not the actors she vilified. Rather than name-calling the Prime Minister pointed to the extreme cowardice of targeting “children and young people.” Even when ISIS claimed responsibility, as if it were a political act, the words of Teresa May indicted the bomber for targeting the “defenceless,” spotlighting the barbarity of the act.
This is not so fine a point or a bow toward “cultural correctness.” It is a view of a fallen world trying to redeem itself. In another parable Jesus describes how weeds might grow among the seeds deliberately planted. The servants of the farmer ask if they should pull up the weeds, but the farmer replies,
No . . . because while you are pulling the weeds, you might root up the wheat with them. Let both grow together till the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them into bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn. (Matt 4:29-30)
Whatever else this parable means, it shows how difficult it is to separate the wheat from the weeds until the final reckoning. They grow side by side, perhaps even indistinguishable at times. Why else does the farmer worry the wrong plant will be pulled if they are pulled prematurely? They are each becoming something, and “Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” (I Corinth 13:12). The weeds and the wheat will finally be known, not now, but then.
If naming is judging, then Jesus is urging us to withhold naming. The battle for hearts and minds will not be won by name-calling, but by considering what embittered people are becoming. Uncounted Moslems pivot between sympathy and outrage for acts of terrorism, because they are becoming something: outraged world citizens or persecuted martyrs. They keep their moral compass, even as it drifts from true north. They are listening to the victims and defenders of terror.They might descend into vengefulness, but they have not reached depravity.
President Trump does not lack the resolve to defeat terror. He lacks the focus and rhetorical sense to address the outrage more than the perpetrator. He assumes the role of tough guy, thumping his chest during international crises, instead of the prosecutor of justice. He still favors the punishing language of “radical Islamic terrorism,” manufacturing enemies instead of courting friends. He resorts to common put-downs like “evil losers,” instead of taking the moral high ground.
But each act of terror has its own motive and lineage. ISIS would have us believe every act has political meaning, but peeling back the layers shows what each terrorist is becoming. Some are sociopaths, some are martyrs, some have perverted notions of justice, some are duped children. What they did testifies to who they are, not to who they may become.
Prime Minister May’s words rose to that challenge of naming the outrage, its emptiness, its lack of political voice. President Trump’s adolescent name-calling did not. Instead of addressing a world tribunal, he presided in a comic book universe. In that universe, the “Great Satan” still struggles against Allah. We charge out onto the field to pull weeds, heedless of the wheat we trample under foot. Our hasty judgment may also determine who we are becoming. We are the Pharisees accusing Jesus of being soft on the law; we are the grumbling workers in the vineyard feeling cheated by Jesus’ generosity; we are Peter standing in the way of Jesus, whose eyes are on the cross.