Warped Images

VII. RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL MEN

Maybe idea of loving our neighbors as ourselves seems impossible, and seems like an unreasonably high standard. This is a sentiment that's been expressed before, in order to get out of the responsibilities that are associated with Christianity, and hide behind, "I believe." We've got to try and let Christ transform our hearts, because the transformation is necessary. No, we have no power to do it ourselves, but you don't get to then conclude that it either can't be done, or the way it's done is some sort of feel-good metaphysical transformation with no bearing on who you are in day to day life. How often do we exempt ourselves from responsibility by reassuring ourselves that our soul has already been transformed and cleansed by Christ, without ever pausing and saying, "Wow, it's wild that I've been cleansed and purged of sin, and yet my love of pornography hasn't subsided." That's stupid, that's a damn stupid concept, and frankly, you know it. Not only do you know it, but the critics know it too. Christian hypocrisy is the downfall of the Church, and it needs to be stared at in the face. Yes, if you fall into temptation, you can obtain forgiveness by Christ's blood, but ask yourself, "do I keep falling into little holes on my walk to Christ, or is it that I've never really begun walking, and I'm in a huge pit, looking at his light from below and saying I know it." 

I don't claim to have transcended any of these states, I don't claim to be an exception, I just want others to recognize if they're in my boat. Dostoevsky's greatest work, The Brothers Karamazov has a character named Father Zossima, who is a Catholic Monk, and an elder in the Monastery where the protagonist lives. Zossima goes through a series of revelations after a challenge to a duel, and enters into a journey of faith. Eventually, after being verbally abused by Ilyusha's father Fyodor, Zossima leaves the room, bowing extremely low to Fyodor. Knowing that Zossima often has deep meaning behind his actions, everyone marvels and wonders what the gesture must mean. Zossima reveals this to Ilyusha through telling his story of personal revelation, where he concluded that, "Everyone is really responsible to all men for all men and for everything."

What if Zossima has it right? What if the proper way to view ourselves as Christians is simultaneously responsible for all everything, instead of exempt from it? We seek to be filled with Christ, and this is certainly how he felt. Zossima, a pious man, bowed in apology and respect to an abusive sinner, because his heart was in pain for the man's condition. Perhaps, if we adopted this mindset, we might be able to welcome the Spirit into us enough that we could uphold the Lord's high standard of loving our neighbors as ourselves. However, Zossima also sets forth an extremely high standard, because it demands us believing something that is, taken of itself, ridiculous. How can any of us be meant to feel responsible for everyone and everything else?

Perhaps, if we truly believed in the propositions set forth in the Book of Genesis, we wouldn't find the idea so ridiculous. As far as feeling responsible for everything, all humans are called to participate in having dominion over the Earth, so we are its stewards, and that responsibility is implied. But for everyone else, we need look no further than their creation: "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness." If we truly believed that everyone was an image of God, a representation of the one true God, wouldn't it be hard not to love them?

The problem is not with the concept, the problem we run into is with the application of the concept. It's very hard to imagine a child predator, or a serial killer as an image of God who we love. But, if we start with them being an image of God, we then begin to observe their current state less and less as them being evil to the core, and more as them being good in the core, and warped and twisted into something evil. Imagine the thought of going into a maximum-security prison filled and interviewing all the worst criminals and asking them their story. More of them than we'd want to acknowledge have some circumstance in their past that we're thankful we're not currently contending with. Whether it's some great tragedy, some set of horrifying circumstances, or some mental deficiency. Make no mistake either, if you're raised to think that bad is good, that is a tragic circumstance.

The worst people to ever exist were warped in some way into convincing themselves (sometimes poorly) that evil was good, or that it was in their nature to do evil, when in reality, they were doing nothing but rebelling against the nature of their creation. We shake our fists at the sky, hoping that our disrespect will harm God, but we harm only ourselves by diminishing ourselves from what we're meant to be. It's worth clarifying that sympathy isn't the only feeling that's appropriate, Christ himself is often filled with righteous indignation toward sin, but in this way we can truly "hate the sin, not the sinner." Once we believe in the ideal version of humanity, and then see the state, we see the vice grip that sin has on people, and how it's warped them.

But, here's the surprising part: once you start noticing how people are almost always simultaneously victims of the bondage of sin, and oppressors in the process of victimizing others, you may begin to see patterns. You'll see how the same anger and fear that drove someone to murder only drove someone else to verbal abuse. Once you've spotted the pathways of sin, it's only a matter of time before you look down at your feet and notice that you've been walking on them too. Are we meant to have pride that the murderer is further down the pathway than us? Of course not, look what Christ says:

Doth he thank that servant because he did the things that were commanded him? I trow not. So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants: we have done that which was our duty to do. (Luke 17:9-10)

We're not to take any pride in the fact that we're doing what we're commanded, but we're definitely not to take any pride in the fact that we're doing less than what we're commanded, but more than someone else. Imagine someone defending a rapist with, "Well, they aren't a child rapist, so that's something!" Sure, being a bully will likely manifest in less harmful ways than you being a murderer, but look at who's sharing the road with you. Then, realize that it's not just them sharing the road with you, it's you sharing the road with them. Eliminate your sense of superiority, and you'll see where they're coming from, and possibly be able to understand how they've gotten there. Once we've gotten over this hurdle, and can look at the worst people on Earth and see ourselves in them, then we're getting a bit closer.

Does this mean that they're off the hook? God forbid! They're not off the hook, you're both on the hook. Being a Christian means that you can no longer plead ignorance to the nature of sin. Now, if you see yourself in them, and you remember the parts of you that are an image of God, you can try to start to see the parts of them that are. Even if you can't spot a single redeeming quality, just know and recall that in their core is the divine spark. Once that's been spotted, and you've gotten past thinking you're superior, you'll be able to better perceive the shell of darkness they've built around their core. Why? Because, you'll recognize that you'd done the same thing, even if it's to a lesser degree.

If unjust anger is murder, and lust is adultery, then we've all committed the same sins. So, what, we commit them less now than before? So many former addicts get involved with addiction recovery because they can relate, and want to help those people get past the state that they knew all too well. Adopt this mentality, and you'll be less judgmental, and more inclined to view every wicker person, as someone who is lost, just like you. Now, bearing the fact that you can understand their sin just as well as them, and you either were or currently are lost in darkness, if you see the light that leads out, shouldn't you tell them? If you're going to escape the darkness, and you leave them behind just because they're more lost than you, do you really deserve the light? This is the duty that Father Zossima must have felt when he bowed to the wicked Fyodor. This is what it would mean to be "responsible to all men for all men and for everything."

Every sinner is someone who is lost, just like you either were or are, and every person who you don't want to help once you've seen the light is someone you're abandoning in the same darkness that you once walked in. Fine, you can't save everybody, but God help you if you step out of the darkness, then look back at it as though you don't know it. When we think of things this way, how can we fail to see ourselves in everyone else and everyone else in us? We're all images of God fundamentally, and at some point, we've warped that image into something new and worse. We're all distorted images, judging others for seeming more distorted. The Christian proposal is not that you can fix yourself on your own, restoring your own image. The Christian proposal is that you conform yourself to the one human being who truly walked the narrow path for his entire life.