I’ve long believed—or tried to believe—that there is no such thing as Evil. Weaknesses, flaws, psychological injuries, yes, but evil as a separate concept that often seems to be chosen was too frightening for me to consider. In the last few days, I’ve had to face the fact that now, if for the first time, Evil is operating in our world.
As I thought about this, I realized that Evil has a smooth and a rough face. The smooth face is the often beautiful face of the tempter, the seducer, the one who waylays with charm. The rough face is ugly, hairy, almost monstrous. But are these really useful definitions?
There are so many gradations in between: the smooth face that hides a hideous skull, the rough face that looks as plausible as a naughty child’s. And, of course, the face is not what matters. By their fruits ye shall know them, and the fruits of Evil are destruction.
I sometimes think of Evil as being oblivious, unaware of consequences. But in the case of Evil that we are considering today, I don’t think this is apt. Evil is not always or even often stupid; that would limit its effectiveness. It is perfectly aware of consequences, and the more destructive they promise to be, the more delighted is Evil. For in destruction, of the opposing individual or the earth itself, Evil is supreme. “Tear’em down, slats and all” as the old song urged. In the smoking ruins, Evil finds its delight.
There are a few ways to limit the effectiveness of Evil. One is by the power of community, for Evil has no community, only its sycophants, and they tend to fall away when their interests are ignored. But the spontaneous gathering of people to help other people, as happened during our two Code Blue nights early this week, when the temperature dropped below zero and our homeless population was threatened, is an example of a bulwark against Evil and its power.
Our three shelters were full to capacity and so a group of volunteers opened the big Farmers’ Market building to everyone living on the street. The Red Cross loaned cots and blankets, the Animal Shelter loaned cages for accompanying dogs, and the hastily called together group of volunteers cooked supper while staff from a community health program provided oversight during the night. 45 people were housed and fed. Evil had no power to cast out or injure these people, some of whom were certainly undocumented, or to destroy this program.
Then there is the power of the individual voice, too seldom raised in protest. We’re embarrassed, afraid. Perhaps we can take as an example the sermon the Episcopal Bishop of New York gave at the inauguration. She pleaded with Mr. T, sitting in the front pew, “to have mercy on the people in our country who are afraid now.” She mentioned transgender people in both Democratic and Republican parties and children “who are afraid their parents will be taken from them.” She reminded Mr. T that the Bible advises us to be merciful to strangers, since we were all once strangers. She explained the essential services immigrants, documented and undocumented, do for our society, cleaning office buildings and homes, working construction, taking care of children and the elderly.
Mr. T sat listening with an exasperated expression, surrounded by the mob of the peroxide blond women who are his sycophants. Afterwards, he opined to a reporter that the sermon “was not too exciting.” Later a Republican congressman from Georgia spouted that Bishop Budde should be deported along with all the other illegal aliens. She was born in New Jersey.
Her words hang in the air. They were not intended to be exciting. And the work of building and reinforcing communities of resistance goes on. Now we need more women’s voices, speaking out forcefully and without fear.
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