“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44, NRSVUE).
As I scrolled through my social media feeds the day after Charlie Kirk’s murder, I was struck by the number and variety of reactions. People condemned his death; others condemned violence but focused more on his polarizing political views and vitriolic comments. Still others dismissed his death as a consequence of his own violent rhetoric. There were also the usual conspiracists and bots to stir the pot and bait others. Sigh.
I think each of these opinions offers some insight into the complicated nature of human beings, our propensity toward violence – in particular, America’s epidemic of gun violence – and the interconnectedness and messy mesh of our political and religious values. For how we understand God has a direct effect on the type of society we want to create. We see this at work in public discourse in the easy slippage between religious and political language.
In his book Exclusion and Embrace, Miroslav Volf begins with a story that can help us in this moment. He writes: “After my lecture, Professor Jürgen Moltmann stood up and asked one of his typical questions, both concrete and penetrating: ‘But can you embrace a četnik?’
It was the winter of 1993. For months now, the notorious Serbian fighters called ‘Četnik’ had been sowing desolation in my native country, herding people into concentration camps, raping women, burning down churches, and destroying cities. I had just argued that we ought to embrace our enemies as God has embraced us in Christ.
Can I embrace a četnik––the ultimate other, so to speak, the evil other? What would justify the embrace? Where would I draw the strength for it? What would it do to my identity as a human being and as a Croat? It took me a while to answer, though I immediately knew what I wanted to say.
‘No, I cannot — but as a follower of Christ I think I should be able to.’”
A paradox at the heart of Christian theology
Volf reveals a paradox at the heart of Christian theology. We know Jesus says to love our enemies. We may even believe it intellectually. But when confronted by our enemy, our belief is challenged. Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount challenges us beyond the abstract and into the concreteness of human experience.
We know Jesus says to love our enemies. We may even believe it intellectually. But when confronted by our enemy, our belief is challenged.
As we all continue to process the death of Charlie Kirk and monitor the fallout, there are a few things for U.S. Christians to consider.
Retaliation and the death penalty cannot bring justice
First, Charlie Kirk’s death reveals much about the political divide in this nation, but it says even more about the disparate theologies that underpin it. For example, the myth of redemptive violence once again rears its ugly head. Immediately after the shooting, there were appeals for the death penalty, as if executing the one responsible for Kirk’s murder would be satisfactory. The truth is, Charlie is not coming back, no matter who is convicted or killed.
Any acts of vengeance or retribution are doomed to fail because violence begets violence. “Then Jesus said to him [Peter], ‘Put your sword back into its place, for all who take the sword will die by the sword’” (Matthew 26:52). Peter wanted to stand his ground, but Jesus told him to put down his weapon. Violence can never bring about justice or lasting peace. Can we really value life if we advocate for policies of death, i.e., the death penalty, war, political violence, etc.?
Naming harm without erasing humanity
Second, Charlie Kirk was a child of God and made in the image of God. However, this does not mean we have to accept the whitewashing of his legacy, which downplays and erases what he said as a divisive public figure, for example, the ways he embraced White supremacy. As Christians, we must hold others accountable for their rhetoric and the real harm they cause. Sticks and stones break bones, and words do hurt: “The power of life and death is in the tongue” (Proverbs 18:21).
Kirk’s death occurred just a few months after Minnesota state representative Melissa Hortman was assassinated in a shooting at her home. There has been a growing list of instances of political violence and the targeting of specific leaders. We should never forget the insurrection on January 6, 2021, though the current administration has pardoned all the convicted insurrectionists. As Christians, we can decry violence in all its forms and critique/oppose what Kirk stood for.
Confronting White Christian nationalism and whitewashed legacies
Third, Christianity needs a reckoning. Kirk was a controversial political figure who espoused White Christian nationalist ideologies (among other extremist views on race, gender, sexuality, capital punishment, and vaccines). We must pay attention to how others (mis)characterize Charlie Kirk after his death. I’ve seen a lot of “good Christian,” “patriot,” and “family man” talk that does not mention the hard truth about his hateful rhetoric and violent ideas.
Watch his videos. Listen to the things he said. If this man were a Christian, which I am not denying, I would have to question the evidence of the fruit of the Spirit in his life. His last words were anti-trans and racist.
I fear that what these political and religious pundits are really saying is “His death matters because he was one of us.” They won’t say that part out loud, but look and listen to what they are saying. What are they implying? Who aren’t they talking about? White supremacy conveniently erases and whitewashes things, like Kirk’s legacy, for its own benefit. It dismisses the lives of people of color and discounts other victims of violence that are not White, wealthy, or well-known.
The narrow road to which we are called
Finally, in our current moment, how we treat those with whom we disagree, those whom we may even consider enemies, will determine how (if?) we move forward. Will we move toward each other in an honest conversation about the epidemics of gun violence and White supremacy, or continue to drift apart and spiral into more violence?
The way of Jesus requires encountering those who are different from us in a way that doesn’t diminish their humanity, even when they diminish others’.
The way of Jesus requires encountering those who are different from us in a way that doesn’t diminish their humanity, even when they diminish others’. Jesus invited his disciples to deny themselves and pick up their cross. This is not weakness; it is what Jesus taught and modeled, and it is the narrow road to which we are called.
Can I really love my enemies? Probably not, but it is the work to which Jesus calls Christians, nevertheless. Perhaps God will bless even our failed attempts to pick up our cross and lay our weapons down.
The Presbyterian Outlook is committed to fostering faithful conversations by publishing a diversity of voices. The opinions expressed are the author’s and may or may not reflect the opinions and beliefs of the Outlook’s editorial staff or the Presbyterian Outlook Foundation. With every submission, we consider clarity, accuracy and respect. We also consider if the position adds additional perspectives to the discussion. You can join the conversation on the “write to us” page.
