firstfruits of salvation: A sermon on the execution of Timothy McVeigh, The

2 THES 2:13-18

I am changing the course of my sermon for this morning from what was planned to what must be. And this may be the most unpopular sermon I've ever preached at Webster Groves Christian Church. Nevertheless, it must be done.

My vacation this week started with the execution of Timothy McVeigh. Of course, I was thinking about this - as were you - long before the actual day. But afterwards it continued to work on me until I told my wife around Friday that I was changing my preaching plans to speak to you about this on Sunday. Since she would be doing the children's sermon, it would mean an adjustment.

What I don't want to do is rehash what news commentators did for hours. What I do want to do is reflect on this - not his particular execution, but all executions - from a different theological perspective. This sermon sure won't finish anything, but I hope it begins something.

First of all, he was guilty as can be. He can take his place with Hitler and Jim Jones and the shooters at Columbine High. He's earned his standing in the macabre lineup. He was the archetypal misguided ideological warrior, waging his private war against the system that failed him, tacitly accepting that there would necessarily be "collateral damage" to civilians in war (that is, children and citizens who just happen to be in the building he is bombing as a strategic move in his plan). He goes to his death expressing no regret and stoic, the unmoved soldier: name, rank, and serial number, sir. His own self-delusion becomes the pain and suffering of others.

So we have not struggled over guilt or innocence. It is pretty clear-cut. And, for that reason, his case stands out in relief against a moral background. Since his guilt was so apparent and his lack of repentance so conspicuous, what do we make of capital punishment under our law, the execution of some citizens by other citizens?

There are several things I would like us to think about, and I would like to share with you where my conviction on this matter is right now. I have struggled with this, and I know you have, too.

The first thing I want us to think about together is the "why" of capital punishment. Not whether he or anyone was guilty - which he clearly was. But the motivations of a society as they execute those convicted of heinous crimes and/or treason against the state.

True, summary execution has been used by countless cultures throughout time to reinforce the authority of those in power and to maintain order. It's not new to the history of civilization. Due process is relatively new, to be sure. And though the illusion of due process may often cloak the hidden biases of a system - and legitimate the decision, such as with the case of Lori Berensen in Peru - it is an important aspect of democratic societies.

But capital punishment - whether by guillotine or sword or firing squad or hanging - is not new.

What is new is this: An awareness, now, of how many innocent people have been killed by mistake - their innocence often discovered after the deed has been done. In fact, England abolished the death penalty immediately after discovering that they executed an innocent man.

For that reason alone, I support a moratorium on the death penalty. But not only for that reason.

There is also an inordinate number of minority prisoners on death row. I do not believe this is by accident. On the first hand I believe it is a reflection of the racism in our whole society - a systemic cause. And I also believe it is classist because those who are on death row are by and large underrepresented and simply cannot buy their free-dom as those with resources can. O. J. Simpson is the remarkable minority exception - because he could buy his freedom. Ours is a broken system, and racist and classist in certain dimensions.

So these two things - the execution of innocent persons by mistake, and the racist and classist dimensions of our legal system justify in my own mind the necessity of an immediate moratorium on capital punishment.

But McVeigh was not innocent, nor was he a minority, now was he?

If he was surely guilty and justly accused, then why kill him?

Some would say for deterrence. What you do is kill them swiftly and surely, with clear and deadly consequences. This fore-knowledge of the penalties will deter the capital crimes. That is the theory. But does it work? The evidence indicates that it does not. Capital punishment does not end up deterring these violent crimes. In fact, the statistics seem to indicate the opposite, that the execution of violent criminals increases violent activity around the time of an execution - like ripples in a pond. Another act of violence by the state in response to an earlier act of violence only creates more violence. Even as one attack by the Palestinians only escalates the violence into a greater counter-attack by the Israelis the next day, so violence begets more violence.

So capital punishment does not prevent the violence it duplicates, however it is legitimated by due process.

Also - in today's world - all of the countries with which we would like to think ourselves affiliated - civilized democratic countries - have already abolished the death penalty. The company we now keep on this issue are such countries as Cuba, Russia, China, Iraq, Iran, Uganda, and Libya.

I think the alternative example of addressing the horror of violence in some kind of socially redemptive way is the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa. In the aftermath of apartheid, the commission brought together the guilty and the violated, that the truth be openly known and the guilty made morally accountable. Accused faced accusers personally. Stories of violence saw the light of day. And yet, through the leadership of Desmund Tutu and others, they recognized that the healing of their nation would not come about by stacking vengeance upon vengeance - for there is no end to that cycle of violence. If the maxim "eye for an eye" is taken to its logical conclusion, the entire world ends up blind.

Well then, why kill him?

One response is a simple one: eradicate the vermin from the face of the earth. Or, permanently remove his ability to hurt anyone else, ever again.

But that same result could be accomplished by locking him and others like him up forever, without parole, and throwing away the key. If that is the case, which I think it should be in the case of the most heinous offenders, then why kill him?

The answer is clear: vengeance. Making things right by the shedding of more blood.

Oh, don't think I haven't had those thoughts before myself. Let the ones who dragged the black man to death behind their pickup be dragged to death themselves. Oh, yes. It is the fuel that keeps all the Dirty Harry type movies in stock: justice is done. The bad guy gets his. Don't think I haven't had those thoughts, for I have.

It's interesting that the Old Testament maxim, "an eye for an eye" was established as a limit to retribution - not to mandate it so that it would not lead to the extreme. No more than an eye could be exacted for an eye. For instance, a whole village could not be slaughtered for one death. It was one early stage in moral development, but an important one.

And of course, vengeance is mine, says the Lord. Not ours, but God's.

But Jesus went far beyond this. Just listen: do not return evil for evil. Bless when you are cursed. Turn the other cheek. If someone demands your coat, give him your cloak as well. The ethic of Jesus goes a good deal further.

So if vengeance is not your motive, then what?

Do you know what I would really like for us to think about today, from a Christian perspective? A particular word became common in the language surrounding the whole McVeigh trial and resulting execution. Its origin is the mental health movement and it is often found there: the word closure. Somehow his death would bring closure to an unfinished episode and chapter in the story.

Some people used that word, closure, as a form of final judgment or vengeance: this thing will be resolved only after he gets his. But as time went on, and some of the families were interviewed following his execution, what emerged was not a sense of finality, but of emptiness. Now that he is gone, what do we have to deal with now? I thought the relationship would be finished, all the loose ends tied up, after the divorce, but lo and behold, they weren't. I thought moving to a different town would do it, but just shortly after the U-Haul was loaded, my problems surfaced again.

I thought closure would come after his execution, but there wasn't closure, only emptiness. And I want us to think about that understanding of closure today.

I want to suggest that people sought an end to their grief and suffering and loss through a false means - the death of the perpetrator. In reality, his death can bring closure to nothing.

So often we see this search for a false healing taking place in the phenomenon of patients suing doctors. And often it is not some kind of malpractice, but the fact that my family member died or was disabled and I desperately want to find a target for my rage.

This is the sharp theme of the masterful film, The Sweet Hereafter, in which an attorney attempts to convince town members who lost their children in a terrible accident that someone, something is responsible and should be punished. Then and only then would justice prevail and peace be found. In the midst of this joint acting on rage, a few citizens know that peace and "closure" will never be found this way, but only through authentic love and grief.

It is what I experienced in a community firsthand when one of our teenagers was killed in a car accident and then terrified parents organized to eradicate all the sources of death for their children. Of course, this campaign against death was impossible, and they did everything but face their own hurt and fear and loss.

It is the search for false healing, and it is extremely seductive.

The truth is much harder. Ultimately, the source of closure will not come from the source of pain and violence. Oh yes, it is best if they are brought to justice and the crime is identified and known and people protected. Yes indeed, the dangerous have to be convicted and separated from the rest of society. That's what police and court systems are for: to protect us from ourselves.

But the internal closure we seek will not come from the perpetrator. He is not the source of closure and neither his confession, apology, or death will cause that to happen.

Once the bomb was detonated, he lost all control for the healing that would eventually come - unless people handed that power back to him. And people did, of course; those who relished in his death the most sought the false healing the most. No doubt, they will be left with the most unfinished business and gaping wounds.

I remember listening to one remarkably mature and spiritual news commentator who lost her father in the Oklahoma City blast but also had to report on the story. Another colleague asked her the "closure" question and she responded that she had long ago made her peace with her loss and McVeigh - and his living or dying would not change that. It is because her closure came from God.

As long as we call for the death of the guilty as a way to our peace, we return the power to the violator, rather than reaching out for God's power. In the end, it doesn't matter if he is offering apologies or not, because he is not the source of the healing.

I want you to think about the sharpest example of all this for Christians: the execution of Jesus. He received capital punishment at the hands of the Roman government. Though he was innocent, and though he was the light come into the world, the darkness of human nature attempted to kill that light - when it got in the way of dark purposes. The same was true of countless Christian martyrs who were similarly put to death at the hands of human evil.

The highest virtue Christians can practice is exactly the opposite - to respect and protect the sanctity and sacredness of all life, protect the innocent whenever possible, exhibit a remarkable mercy for the guilty precisely because they are guilty. This is the Christian miracle found in the themes of Dead Man Walking, and, for that matter, The Green Mile.

In a sense, the killing of the one presumed guilty removes moral responsibility for their deeds; they no longer have to live with it or deal with it. It also removes any possibility for true repentance before God over time - and time it often takes.

In the same way, it removes the object of our rage prematurely - before we have the opportunity to forgive (which, as we know, often takes a lifetime of spiritual work and grace).

There is another spiritual challenge, and a challenge it is.

We Christians confess that none of us are without sin, and that God's grace, and God's grace alone saves us in the end. Some of us will knowingly repent before God before our end and lean upon that grace, and others will not. But we all stand equally before God's judgment and mercy. That is a hard thing to confess, that we occupy common moral terrain with someone like Timothy McVeigh.

Though I may not have committed those kinds of sins to that degree, I have nevertheless committed more than I want to think about on a small scale, much less the secret thoughts of my heart. If I'm honest, really, really honest with myself, as you may be with yourself, I have to admit that I am capable of the worst. You put any respectable Christian in terrible surroundings and the worst can emerge in unimaginable ways. It was true of German Christians in the Holocaust, between Christians in Rwanda and exists in every place where the worst in human nature arises.

Jesus said that though the law said, "You shall not murder," one should not even be angry with your neighbor. He recognized that inner rage is the seed of every act of murder, originating in the heart - that is its genesis. By that very fact, we are all murderers in dire need of repentance.

No, we didn't light the fuse. But in our own ways, our hearts have fanned those very same embers before.

A hard way? Yes, of course. But who said it was supposed to be easy?

The scripture this morning reminds us that we should be the "firstfruits of salvation." That leads us to a different kind of existence: a first sign of the fullness of God to come. If that is the case, we should be living like people who see a whole other world around the bend, citizens of heaven who are shaped by another vision of life. And if there is any closure to be had, it won't come as the result of one more dose of the worst that we are. It will come because we have looked across the river to the One who carries healing in his wings.

Timothy L. Carson

Webster Groves Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)

Glendale, Missouri

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