Nov/Dec 2004
GROWING PLACES
Washing “the Evils”
Each Christmas a church near my home constructs the city of Bethlehem on their back lawn. Every detail is included, with live sheep, grouchy innkeepers, fierce Roman soldiers, shady tax collectors and, of course, Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. When you arrive, villagers welcome you with a handful of shekels (which are actually various sized washers) to spend on rock-baked bread, dried fruit and leather bracelets… as well as on taxes if the Roman soldiers catch you.
As you wander the streets, you are turned away by the innkeeper’s wife, told unbelievable stories by starry-eyed shepherds and hear the whole story of Jesus’ birth from Joseph himself. At least once during the evening a Jewish zealot attempts to start a riot by shouting, “Down with the evils of Rome! The Messiah has come to save us!”
Last year, this particular character caught my 4-year-old daughter’s rapt attention. As we watched, cold-faced Roman soldiers began to circle him. Soon they made their move, kicking him to the ground and shackling him as they drug him away to their headquarters. My daughter was horrified by this seemingly unwarranted attack and needed a lot of time to process why being excited about Jesus would get you a kick in the gut. (We did explain that in this Bethlehem it was just pretend, but she was appalled nonetheless!)
A week or so later, we were out driving, and Rachel was continuing to process her feelings toward “the evils”— her pet name for the Roman soldiers (since the zealot had been shouting “Down with ‘the evils’ of Rome”). She began to ponder out loud what Jesus would do if he encountered an “evil.” Maybe, she thought, he would find a sharp stick and poke him. If that wasn’t effective, maybe he would punch him super-duper hard. Finally she asked me, “Mom, what do you think Jesus would do?”
I paused for a second, and then made the outrageous suggestion, “What if he loved them?” Rachel got quiet, and I could hear her little brain tossing this idea about before she finally asked, “How would that work?”
The “pointy stick” solution to the problem of evil makes sense to a 4-year-old; often it even makes sense to me as I watch the news and witness the horrible things neighbors can do to neighbors. Why doesn’t God just get rid of evildoers? Although I know and truly believe that love is more powerful than the sword, sometimes I just can’t see it.
Until I took a lesson from a creek bed. A couple of months ago, on a weekend getaway in the mountains, I took a long, quiet walk and came upon a dried creek bed. I knelt over to examine the rocks along the bottom of the bed. They were worn smooth and round while their neighbors nestled on the bank were angled and rough. And it hit me— that’s how love is more powerful than a sharp pointy stick.
In any given snapshot of time, the water in that shallow stream seems flimsy. It is so pliable, flexible, submissive. When it comes upon an unyielding rock, it moves around it, over it and through the cracks in between. The rocks on the other hand, seem imperturbable, boldly defying the malleable liquid.
And so it is with love. As love washes over us, it does something to the sharp pointy angles that even the toughest rocks can’t resist. The rules of might and power are suspended as the weak are made strong and the last come in first. Love turns the world upside down.
My Christmas prayer for our family and yours is that you will be water
for this world’s rocks. That you will wash over “the evils”— the people
who don’t seem to deserve love— because that is what Jesus did and that
is what will change the world. As Rachel and I are learning, you don’t
always need a sharp pointy stick to win the war.
—Susan Reedy