Bratton Clovelly, Sourton, Second Sunday before Advent, 18/11/2012
The new James Bond film is out now. Skyfall, starring Daniel Craig, has been well received by critics and at the box office. Now, whether you’ve seen it or not I imagine that you know what you're going to get in a James Bond film. And sure enough, the plot of Skyfall is the familiar mix of attack and counter-attack, intrigue, spectacular shoot-outs and death-defying stunts, flirtatious dalliances and dangerous alliances. As in every Bond movie, Bond’s nemesis traps and tries to kill him, Bond escapes, and thwarts the evil plot by killing his opponent. The key to every James Bond film is this: Bond saves the world from apocalyptic madmen - and he always does it by using violence. [1]
The idea that we can be saved by a hero who overcomes evil by force; the idea that we can be redeemed by an act of violence - this is the plot of virtually every thriller you can think of. Hollywood loves this plot. It uses it all the time: whether Superman, or Tom and Jerry, there’s good guy with whom we identify, and a bad guy who represents all that is wrong with us. In the story the bad guy gets the upper hand - it looks like the dark side is going to win. But always, by an act of violence, the good guy overcomes, and the world is safe again.
The writer Walter Wink calls this this storyline the myth of redemptive violence [2]. The idea that a final violent act can save the world for us. And this is not just a Hollywood thing. He says that our modern world believes this myth more than any other. He says that "Violence is the ethos of our times. It is the spirituality of the modern world." And though its devotees are not aware of it, violence is a religion to them.
The leaders of nations believe it. Hence the violence reigned on Iraq after 9/11 in the faith that this would redeem the West; the pursuit to the death of Osama bin Laden, in the belief that his death would atone for the deaths in the United States and put things right again.
This myth of redemptive violence is in fact the oldest story of all. Way before Christianity, way before Babylon, the very first people believed in a story of a god who by brutally killing his mother brings about creation. Evil came first but - by violence - good overcame it, and the world was born. In every culture, every religion, ever since, this myth has provided stories of creation, and also stories of the end times, sometimes called apocalyptic or millenarianism, the belief that society is soon going to be transformed, and that after this change all things will be better than they are now.
Millenarian believers claim that the current society and its rulers are corrupt, unjust, or otherwise wrong. And so they will soon be destroyed by a powerful force. In this popular storyline, a disaster or battle to come will be followed by a new, purified world in which the true believers will be rewarded.
The Plymouth Brethren, the Mormons and Seventh-day Adventist Church each believe that we are living in a time when Christian prophecies of a final divine judgment are coming to pass. And in the best-selling Christian novel by Frank Peretti, called This Present Darkness [3], the people of a small town fight a New Age plot to subjugate them by using the power of prayer to conjure up an avenging angel who - by acts of violence - saves them.
The myth of redemptive violence affects us all. But many are uncomfortable with it, many question it. Think of the many ex-servicemen deeply troubled by their memories of killing another human. Picture, at the war memorial on Remembrance Sunday, the ex-serviceman standing there out of duty and respect but feeling deeply torn inside, burdened with unresolved guilt, recalling the consequences of their actions:
The tears in the eyes of veterans during the annual two minutes’ silence may not be for those whose names are etched on the memorial, but for those whose names they never knew. [4]
Such people are made heroes by the myth of redemptive violence, but their hearts cry for a different sort of atonement altogether.
In Jesus' time people were as concerned as we are to find a hero who would overcome evil and transform the world. And they were as liable as we are to look for that hero in the wrong place, to search for a hero who would redeem the world through violence.
Jesus challenged his followers to be very, very careful that they didn't get caught in that trap. He told those closest to him not to be led astray by people who come as Messiah, or some sort of saviour, saying ‘I am the one!’. Jesus wants his followers to understand that his own coming will not be like this at all. There will be no doubt about his coming, but he won't be coming like a Messiah, like an avenging angel, like a 007.
Now, when things are in crisis, when the signs of the times we see alarm us, we long for a hero of this sort to come and dramatically save us. But Jesus urges us to step back from this state of anxiety. He says,
‘When you hear of wars and rumours of wars, do not be alarmed;
this must take place, but the end is still to come...’
Jesus says, don’t let these wars, battles and portents alarm you. These violent events will not redeem the world. They are in no way acts of God. And this speaks directly to the questions of our day.
The attacks on the World Trade Center - were they God's judgment on a greedy rich nation? Jesus says, don't be tempted to think in that way. The execution of Saddam Hussein - was that God's way of bringing about justice and peace for the people of Iraq? Jesus says, such thoughts are not God's thoughts.
Of course, such things are going to happen, and Jesus knows very well that there will be wars, and nation will rise up against nation: he predicts the coming violence in his part of the world that will result in the destruction of the Temple.
But through all of this Jesus wants his disciples to tread carefully, and to dissociate ourselves from the myth of redemptive violence. For his kingdom is distinct from the kingdoms which are founded on such violence. His story denies the myth which underlies the James Bond stories.
The great questions of our day are easily answered by people championing violent means. What do we do about youth disorder? Lock them up; Terrorism? Bomb their countries; Asylum-seekers? Travellers? Move them on, send them away. But Jesus says, ‘beware that no one leads you astray’. He offers a different kind of moral leadership altogether.
Jesus urges us to disbelieve all rapid and dramatic solutions to the problems of the world. He urges us to embrace the good news that the kingdom of God will come - but will come slowly and almost unnoticed. And he invites us to contribute to its coming, for the kingdom of God will emerge through tiny acts of grace and love, through modest lives lived faithfully; it will develop by means of a community of faith whose members encourage and provoke each other to love and good deeds, it will grow each time we do something which demonstrates our love for enemies, each time we offer prayers for those who persecute. Through the gentle witness of Jesus’ followers the new kingdom will come, slowly and almost silently, to all nations. [5]
The Christian watches for signs of God's kingdom emerging as we try to engage graciously with the hard questions of our time. This week in the UK is Prisons Week [6], where the church people working with prisoners ask us to consider carefully current issues around crime and punishment, and respond to them with nuance. It is a difficult task, working out what salvation might mean for the prisoner, the victim of that prisoner’s crime and the society which deals with each of them, and we are asked to pray about these things this week.
The myth of redemptive violence tells us that salvation comes to the victim of crime when they eliminate the perpetrator; but figures show that when victims choose to participate in restorative justice programs with those who committed the crime against them, a vast majority of victims find satisfaction there; and the frequency of re-offending drops by 14% [7]. This brings us a long, long way from Skyfall but somewhat closer to Mark’s gospel.
James Bond is a great hero. He offers rip-roaring entertainment. But the follower of Jesus keeps a critical distance from the James Bond myth that a final violent act will save the world for us. We look for a different sort of salvation altogether - which comes through Jesus, the gentle and peaceable myth breaker.
Notes
This is a rewrite of a sermon preached at Good Shepherd, Liverpool, 19/11/2006 (when the new Bond release was Casino Royale).
[1] Various details regarding James Bond and Millenarianism were culled from Wikipedia
[2] Walter Wink, Engaging the Powers; Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination
[3] Frank Peretti, This Present Darkness
[4] Ted Harrison, Whom and what are we remembering? Church Times, 9 November 2012
[5] My concluding analysis of kingdom response to myth of redemptive violence, owes much to this week's Girardian Reflections on the Lectionary, particularly the James Alison passages.
[7] Restorative Justice Council - What is Restorative Justice in Criminal Justice?
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