"Evil" as the Diagnostic Refuge of Laziness

The editors at the Wall Street Journal are right to anticipate a “torrent of pop sociology and national psychoanalysis” in the wake of mass murder at Virginia Tech. We will, no doubt, collectively and individually search our souls and our cultural personality and seek to make sense of – or at least come to terms with – the horror of such an act. The editors go on to offer their own pre-emptive diagnosis/conclusion/dismissal: “There are evil and psychotic people in this world willing to do great harm to others if they aren’t stopped.” Their summative word? “This was a malevolent soul.”

Perhaps, but I’m not able to dismiss the matter so simply. It reminds me of the summary cataloguing of the events of 9/11 – the people, not simply the acts – as rabid evil. And in the spirit of the old farmer who notes that when a dog goes mad you take it out behind the barn and shoot it, we have been wearing a path dragging things back there ever since. Before long, I fear, we as a nation will have created a veritable mountain range out of the carcasses piled behind our barn.

Sometimes truth is the shortest distance between two points; sometimes the simplest explanation is the correct one, but the nauseous discomfort in the pit of my soul, however, tells me that defining something as “evil” is less an accurate answer than merely an easy one. Evil is not something to consider or understand; only something to overpower or contain. As such, simple “eruptions of evil” quickly fall into the same category as tornados and hurricanes: you can prepare for them, take certain precautions and ultimately try to get out of their path, but you can’t finally prevent them. After the storm we can dust ourselves off and get on with the “healing,” but we don’t have to trouble ourselves with the messy consideration of our own culpability. Perhaps this is why so many people resist the problem of global warming. As long as it is a naturally occurring phenomenon, we can rest at ease in the belief that “I don’t have to do anything about it.” If, on the other hand, we are culpable, we are therefore capable, and that requires too much effort.

And so, for the editors, the shooter in Virginia is summarily defined and then dismissed as “evil,” along with Osama bin Laden, Saddam Hussein and any other “demon de jour” who happens malevolently along. Track him down, drag him out behind the barn and shoot him – except in this case the shooter saved us the trouble. Never mind considering thornier possibilities…
…like whether he might have been in pain…

…and why…

…and how such pain can be avoided or soothed…

…and not simply multiplied.

Oh, we know well how to multiply pain. The shooter, himself, has done a fine job of that, with trigger after murderous trigger. It’s the understanding part – the healing part; the comprehension of the complexities of human experience that sometimes elevate and ennoble us, sometimes bruise and distort us – that eludes us.

It is, finally, too much work.

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"...the hopes and fears of all the years..." are met in crowbars and sledgehammers

I've read enough Brother Cadfael mysteries to comprehend that monasteries aren't always chanting pools of spiritual and fraternal placidity. Monks are, after all, people with all the complexities, emotions and frailties that designation implies. Still, I was surprised by the small news notice that appeared in the waning days of Advent titled "Rebel monks hole up at chapel after clash at Orthodox sanctuary." The short paragraph went on to describe the conflict in Thessaloniki, Greece between "rival groups of monks" -- a description that already seemed jarring -- "carrying crowbars and sledgehammers" that had to be subdued by police after seven people were injured. And what, you might ask, is the rub between these two prayerful fellowships? A "long-standing dispute between legally recognized monks and a rebel monastery that opposes Orthodox Church efforts to improve relations with the Vatican" (The Des Moines Register, Friday, December 22, 2006).

God knows we can't tolerate any improved relations -- especially between church bodies! Next thing you know we could find ourselves engaged in something ominous, like real dialogue; then -- and this gets really scary -- maybe even genuine understanding. Before you know it, we could find ourselves mired in an inextricable morass of tolerance, respect and -- perish the thought! -- peace. Better for those with their prayerful ears to the ground to nip such an ominous eventuality in the bud with their crowbars and sledgehammers. After all, if such a tectonic shift in global affairs and human interactions were to actually materialize, what would be next? Wolves living with lambs? Calves and lions and fatlings together? Cows and bears grazing side by side? Lions eating straw alongside the ox?

What would the church -- and its monastic constituents -- have left to pray for, hope for, work for? It's as though we would be out of job.

Now there is an Advent prayer, made even more vivid in the bright light of Christmastide.

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