Easter: What does it mean to reject evil?

Do you renounce the deceit and corruption of evil?

It’s not a question you get asked every day.

There’s a baptism later this morning and I always look forward to how the parents and godparents respond.

Evil sounds dramatic.

To be evil you probably have to be physically deformed in some way.

If you identify as female, you’re probably scantily clad.

Or you’re a Nazi.

Because they’re our modern go-to villain.

(especially if you’re Russian).

As Goebbels himself said: “We will go down in history as the greatest statesmen of all times or as their greatest criminals”

Got that one right.

Our usual misdemeanors of drinking too much at parties;

breaking rules which we have legislated for;

or any minor acts of selfishness, prompted by tiredness, frustration or lack of time;

are hardly evil.

But aside from the truly incomprehensible acts like in Texas last week, the worst of humanity’s evils are generally administrative, rather than hate-filled.

When Hannah Arendt observed the trial of Senior Nazi Adolf Eichmann, she observed that:

‘The trouble with Eichmann was precisely that so many were like him, and that the many were neither perverted nor sadistic, that they were, and still are, terribly and terrifyingly normal.

From the viewpoint of our legal institutions and of our moral standards of judgment, this normality was much more terrifying than all the atrocities put together, for it implied – as had been said at Nuremberg over and over again…

that this new type of criminal … commits his crimes under circumstances that make it well-nigh impossible for him to know or to feel that he is doing wrong.’

It was through witnessing this trial that Arendt coined the term ‘the banality of evil’;

No pink lipstick or extended fangs – just bureaucracy.

Eichmann after all just made sure that the trains went on time –

we could probably do with his efficiency in this country –

But it’s who was travelling on these trains and where they were going that makes him guilty of one of the greatest evils of history.

The wider point is that our institutions define moral norms.

In the case of certain regimes, especially historically, we can immediately see how evil is normalised such as to make entire nations complicit.

But even on a much lighter scale institutions speak directly of our morality – how we treat immigrants and refugees, the honesty of public discourse;

changes being made to the Ministerial Code of Conduct.

And it’s not just about politics, but the standards of the companies or institutions we work for, what they and we are investing in, what countries are they working in; how do they look after their lowest paid employees.

Probably the most important ethical decisions we make are assumed in the current practices of the institutions we work in, from ‘does the cafeteria serve free range eggs?’ to the scrutiny you give to new clients.

But it also comes down to our ability to treat humans as humans.

The reason the Nazis are rightly regarded as the greatest criminals of history is not that they killed the most people –

In fact they didn’t –

But because they identified a number of different groups –

Most terribly on racial and ethnic grounds, but also regarding other identifying factors – which today are called protected characteristics –

Like sexuality, religion and disability –

And categorised them as sub-human.

So a whole raft of humanity became seen as disposable.

It’s no more murder to kill one as to turn off a computer, or use ant-spray.

Now again, this is not something we are likely to do on a day to day basis.

But the process of disconnecting is something we do all the time.

Whenever someone asks you for money, the wall comes up.

If a stranger speaks to you on the tube;

If you’re chatting with someone and hear that they support Chelsea (or Real Madrid);

There are many situations in which we immediately distance ourselves, and shut down our empathy.

Often it’s the enormity of the proposed task – how can I actually help this person –

And if I help this person what about all the other people that need help –

Or it’s an issue that is just too big:

I can stretch to ‘no-mow May’ perhaps even ‘let-it-bloom June’ but limiting the progress of Climate Change is too much.

Sometimes it’s because the way in which this person is different from us is frightening.

Sometimes it’s because we feel that what is being asked of us will lead to a personal loss in time, money or energy that we can’t or don’t want to make.

This empathy-freeze is, if we admit it, pretty regular.

We cheer on the good Samaritan, from the other side of the road, pay our taxes and wish everyone well.

So in today’s readings we can see something of the Christian injunction to love, with which we struggle.

Paul and his companions are stripped, beaten and thrown in prison.

This strange miracle occurs which effectively sets them free.

Only they don’t leave, because they realise this will result in the death of the jailer.

It’s not the miracle that brings about the conversion of the jailer.

It’s the act of compassion, for someone they owed nothing to when they themselves were harmed and in danger.

I imagine it’s hard to maintain empathy with your jailer.

There is nothing more Christian than forgiving and helping those who persecute you.

Our second reading presents the Gospel as an invitation and a free offering.

‘The Spirit and the Bride say “Come”.’

‘Let anyone who wishes/ take the water of life as a gift.’

The open invitation to all, with the repetition of the word “Come”, and the offering to all of the gift of life is the kind of inclusion and joy in connecting with all that we know the church must embody.

This is spelled out in today’s Gospel.

Here Jesus is expanding upon the command to love our neighbour.

At its heart, Jesus argues, this is a call to unity –

That we should be one –

With nothing withheld from one another.

Loving with the same sacrificial love that God has shown us.

Love begins in resisting those barriers we quickly raise in our dealings with other people.

It’s the attempt to keep open our empathy at all times.

To remain alive to the needs, fears, hopes and desires of the person in front of us.

This is what it means to be at unity with one another, to love one another.

So to return to the question –

What does it mean to resist the deceit and corruption of evil?

First of all, it requires in us honesty.

To look at ourselves, the institutions and society to which we belong and ask – are we complicit in all those structural issues that increase the suffering of those who have little in this world, and which currently are putting out world and its people in distress?

Then secondly, are we shut off from the world?
Have we turned off our empathy?
Disengaged from the difficulties of people who surround us?

Of course we have – we even shut off from the needs of our children when their voices become too insistent, too relentless;

But can we try to remain engaged and answer some of the needs of people around us?

People always say that if you resort to talking about the Nazis, you’ve lost the argument.

Evil goes beyond the Nazis, beyond gun laws, beyond the relentless irritation of Peppa Pig.

It’s not obvious in hunchbacks and low-cut dresses.

Mostly it does its work behind the scenes, or in the erosion of our ability to care.

But the love of God told in the story of the Gospel is there to inspire us to love one another – even our enemies and in-laws – and find that unity with one another, that is shared eternally between the Father and the Son.

Do you renounce the deceit and corruption of evil?

Amen.