God's Swordsman

Fighting evil ain't easy. But no good duty ever is.

In my article about Christian action, I proposed an unfolding scene of horror: a madman, armed with a brick, is about to smash open an infant’s skull. I argued that it’s not only our right, but our duty to prevent that outcome.

In his response to the article,

Paul Kingsnorth

wrote the following:

There is also a clear distinction, as you say yourself, between evil aimed at you and evil aimed at another. If my children are attacked, I am not going to stand by passively. I am going to defend them, because there is no greater love than laying down a life for a friend. This influenced, for example, someone like Dietrich Bonheoffer in World War Two, who practised non violent resistance against the Nazis and did what he could to save the Jews, but refused to take up arms. That seems to me to be the practical Christian response to tyranny. Action, informed by the gospel - but not 'activism' as an abstract 'change the world' ideological response.

I won’t quibble about Mr. Kingsnorth substituting “(his) children” for the stranger’s child. That’s just the reflexive magic trick of empathy at play. It’s also the kernel of strategy embedded in sayings like, “There but for the grace of God goes I.” That’s not a bad way to look at it, per se: imagining a more personal and valuable stake can be helpful, in the war against Evil. But the fact remains: it’s not just your own flesh and blood that you’re required to defend. You need to stand ready to defend your neighbors — and even total strangers — when Evil pays one of its surprise visits.

I’ve pondered Mr. Kingsnorth's full reply for several months now. Given he was gracious enough to comment at all, I figured I owed him at least that much. There’s a lot I agree with him about, but I confess I find the phrase, “I am going to defend them, because there is no greater love than laying down a life for a friend,” even more troubling now than I did at first blush. As far as I can discern it, the first part stands in vague contradiction to the second.

It’s not that I doubt Paul would try to defend his own children, or the stranger’s baby, or any of his friends and neighbors. But the operative question is: How?

After all, our goal in the thought experiment isn’t merely to “lay down” our lives, but to actually save the kid. To do so requires the use of our heads. And by that, I don’t mean, “Just stick your head in the way of the brick.” After all, the maniac can always swing a second time, once your righteous skull has been crushed. The kid’s still dead, the mom’s still haunted, the passengers still physically and mentally scarred. In misunderstanding Christ’s command, you’ve merely added your own scalp to the horror scoreboard.

So let’s revisit the experiment. We will upgrade the killer’s brick to a machete this time, since that seems to be the orc’s favored weapon du jour. In our scene, we see him waving it around, mid-monologue. Perhaps he is screaming about his allegiance to Allah, or his abusive bitch of a mother, or simply yammering the nonsense words of whichever demons possess him. Whatever the case may be, he is building up the horror, before he unleashes the terror. Within this window of horror, there’s a chance, however slender, to stop him.

But how do we stop him?

After all, to stop him via direct and violent action is to “resist evil”, in some readings of Christ’s instruction. I’ve already made my own case — to read them frankly instead of extending them through poetic interpretation — so I won’t reiterate it here. But no matter how you interpret it, the moment of truth has arrived. The killer is standing before you, in the flesh. He is telling you what he plans to do, and you believe him.

If you’re armed with a gun, the answer is clear: You draw it and you fire, center-mass. You cannot hesitate or warn. The killer’s arm will move faster than your ability to recalculate your intent. The kid’s still dead.

You must shoot until the threat is stopped, no more and no less. Then, you or someone else with training must tend to the downed target, and order an ambulance. We must save what we can of God’s creation, including the wicked. That’s not always possible, but we’re required to try.

The order is shoot first, save later. To approach it otherwise risks not only prolonging and compounding the horror of this scene, but perhaps converting it into pure absurdity. For instance, suppose your plan is to simply position your body between the killer and the kid. You might absorb the first strike, and maybe the second. But after that, your human shield tactic will fail. Your body will go into shock, fall into unconsciousness or death. Once you’ve been dealt with, the kid’s still on the killer’s menu. Lucky for you, your soul is still intact and spotless. The mother and her child are on their own.

Now imagine a long line of such wannabe-martyrs, stretching the length of the subway train. After each Good Christian gets hacked to bloody ribbons, the next one shoves his human shield into place. Note: this plan isn’t entirely bereft of strategy. After all, the killer’s arm will get tired of swinging at some point, right?

I can imagine the romantic’s version of this martyr circuit, captured in a painting. A line of gentle Christian soldiers, each head crowned with a halo. The bodies piled up at the killer’s feet show modest signs of damage, perhaps, but sanitized in order to appeal to General Audiences. There’s no severed limbs and heads, no brains and intestines spilling onto the dirty floor, no stray fingers or eyeballs. What we’ll notice most is the beatific smiles of the recently departed, their souls having fulfilled their earthly duties and soaring off to receive their heavenly rewards.

In other words, you’ll see something like this:

The Martyrdom of St Stephen, Annibale Carracci (1603)

Pictures like that can’t move or talk, however. We are spared the next gruesome frame.

Now imagine a similar frame in our thought experiment. The killer’s arm raised high, the saintly martyr covering the child. You won’t hear the train car rattling along, the wet thud of the machete chewing into muscle and bone, all of the screaming. In particular, you won’t hear the mother’s final heartbroken howl, once the line of martyrs is dealt with and the killer finishes the job on her kid. You won’t hear it in the car itself, either, if you were one of those brave martyrs who “used his head” as a target instead of a tool. You’ll be too busy enjoying your reward.

If you used your head some other way, prepared your mind and body for combat, you might have resolved the situation with a minimum of tragedy and loss, just as Daniel Penny resolved it in his own subway battle. In the real version of this scene, Mr. Penny even tried to save the life of the would-be killer, as his Christian duty requires. He unfortunately failed in that part of his mission, but not for lack of trying.

Had he simply offered up his head as a blood sacrifice, the tally of satanic horror might’ve been much greater that day, and may have still included Neely. To murder a human being is to cross a threshold that would take great strength — if not an act of God — to recross. To the killer who’s already wandered so far from the light, all hope for redemption will now seem lost. In his twisted mind, the only way forward is through. More bloodshed, more loss, and possibly ending his killing spree by adding himself to the tally, to escape a future of accountability and punishment.

We see this sad story play out so often, it almost precludes the need for an example. But an excellent one fell into my lap the other day, in the form of Pacific Southwest Airlines Flight 1771. You can read all about it, absorbing its every tragic detail. But what we mostly see is a lengthy string of lost opportunities and inactions, culminating in the smoking rubble of 43 human lives.

In such frenzied action scenes, when time is of the essence, what does God want you to do?

How well does He expect you to do it, and have you prepared yourself to meet that standard?

If our only answer is, “Do not resist murderers,” then there exists no standard to meet. Just secure your place in the cattle chute, march blindly forward into the meatgrinder. and soar straight off to paradise.

Sayonara suckers!

It sounds nice on paper, doesn’t it? It’s certainly easier than honing yourself for mortal combat, so you can be a sword when swords are needed. Surrender is easier than putting up a fight, which is why it’s so suspicious to so many faithful Christians. If you don’t act to stop the threat, you may comfort yourself afterwards by claiming all violence is ultimately fruitless. If you place your head on the chopping block, you might even compare your blood sacrifice to Christ’s own.

Is that hubris?

I’m not sure. All I know is that you'll risk leaving behind a pile of twisted human wreckage, pointless misery, lifetimes of nightmares and agony in its wake. We’ve seen it happen too often to ignore.

But it could get even worse, as Christ’s teaching is twisted further into pretzels.

For instance, let’s suppose our killer — like so many killers stalking my city — is also indigent and homeless. We can’t know his pathways through life, what string of choices and accidents might have brought him to this lowly condition. All we know is that he’s dirty, and he smells bad. His clothes are ragged. He looks hungry and poor.

Maybe the solution, in this dire moment of choosing, is to feed and comfort him?

And so, another line of “Christians” forms the opposite way behind our killer, supplying him with Gatorade, back massages, and sweet words of forgiveness. After all, our enemy is also our neighbor, and we should show him love! Never mind the ongoing slaughter. Love thine enemy! Just try not to slip on all the blood.

Sounds ridiculous?

What if I told you this twisted scene is playing out every day, and on an unimaginable scale?

For example: If you look at our nation’s southern border, it is speckled with the pixie dust of “faith-based” NGOs who help facilitate the tsunami of illegal immigration. What if I told you these Judas-tier prebendaries — who run under banners like “Catholic Family Services”, “Jewish Family Services” and “Lutheran Immigrant and Refugee Service” — rake in hundreds of millions worth of taxpayer silver, in exchange for their grand betrayals?

And by that, I don’t just the betrayal of our nation and its laws; recall those 300,000 missing kids, sold into the black machinery of the cartels and other demonic clientele. These holy-sounding organizations not only span the border, but have tentacles that plunge deep into American cities and towns. They provide aid and succor to human-trafficking coyotes, opioid smugglers, organ thieves, and pedophile rings.

All with the “Word of God” tumbling out of their spotless mouths.

There’s nothing new under the sun. Or the moon, in this case, which transforms their moral vanity into a monstrous business model. Back when Dubya pushed for the public funding of “faith-based” organizations, I recall the pushback came mainly from the godless Left, and largely for rhetorical reasons. To them, God was a dangerous fiction, and only the mighty State could wield power for good ends.

But how many of the “faith-based” cheerleaders on the Right imagined that this would be its diabolical result?

That’s one reason why shelters like Annunciation House, which have received millions in taxpayer funding from the Biden administration, have rightly attracted the attention of the Texas attorney general’s office. These shelters, after all, don’t just give migrants food and a place to sleep for a few nights. They also effectively serve as hubs for the illegal immigration black market. When migrants arrive at a place like Annunciation House, they are often given assistance obtaining bus or plane tickets, making contact with employers or extended networks across the United States, and frequently provided the means to get to their destination.

Many migrants are highly motivated to get where they are going as soon as possible, because they need to start working so they can send payments—not just to their families back home, but to the cartels that know the identities and whereabouts of their families. The cartels have developed sophisticated ways of gathering and verifying information on migrants who pass through their territory, and often demand additional payments once migrants get to the United States and start earning higher wages.

Inside Mexico, those who can’t pay, who might have run out of funds by the time they reach northern Mexico, are often held in stash houses until funds can be extracted from family members back home. This is common in Mexican border towns, where not just local law enforcement, but also the National Guard and federal immigration officials are part of the human-trafficking pipeline. These debts, whether incurred by the migrant or their family, must be paid. One of the horrifying realities of the border is that payment is often extracted, in kind, from women and girls, who are routinely raped by smugglers and cartel associates.

They don’t all have their hands in the money jars. Some of these confused people serve the Devil pro bono. Their earthly reward is the smiling faces of all those women and children they are sending to their doom. Their hearts tell them they’re doing the Lord’s work. If the head questions this at all, the heart immediately filibusters and drowns that grey organ out. The assistant is convinced her heart would never lie to her, that no snakes live inside it. They refuse to “use the brains God gave them”, as my ultra-Catholic grandmother used to say.

And so, the satanic engine of murder, rape and chaos chugs along, fueled in part by “Christians” wearing beatific smiles. Meanwhile, the world’s greatest horror-artists would probably look at this tableau and say, “That’s a little much, don’t you think?”

The Harrowing of Hell, Hieronymus Bosch (c.1450-1516)

This is what I meant when I wrote “God is not a madman or a fool.” To which Mr. Kingsnorth responds:

As for 'God isn't crazy.' Well, no - but, as Jesus teaches clearly, and St Paul does too, perhaps even more so, God's values are not those of 'the world.' What God, and Jesus, want from us certainly seems 'crazy' in the eyes of the world and according to its values. 'Do not resist evil' is violently resisted by many Christians for precisely that reason. And yet the early martyrs took it seriously, and died in their thousands practising it. Were they 'crazy'? In the world's eyes, certainly. But in God's?

I think he makes two important errors, here.

The first is his bundling of all “the early martyrs” — a cast of thousands, known and unknown — into a gray, undifferentiated mass, instead of individuals with unique stories. Each one dealt with his or her own particular set of abilities, circumstances and available options. The latter is the most important of the three, in my opinion, in any discussion of Christian action. What options were available to you at the time?

(excerpt from “Being Unconquerable”)

I will die. You will die.

But how will we die?

Will we die on the run, hunted down like dogs by our oppressors?

Will we die fighting, in service of our noblest principles? That’s said to be a much better way to die, and I agree. But that doesn’t mean it’s necessarily the best way. It depends on the circumstances, and the logical options that are available.

And that question leads us to the second error, which is hubris. I once developed a calculation which I nicknamed “The Law of More Meat.” I might elaborate on that in written form someday, but the basic idea is that — all else being equal — the odds of victory against multiple opponents slopes much more sharply upwards than most of us imagine. In fact I believe the curve becomes something like infinite after ten.

At this point, you not only can’t fight your way out of the situation, but you also cannot run (or, at least, not for long, unless the plane you run on is similarly infinite and flat). If ten people of equal size and ability decide to hunt you down, beat you to death, and roast what’s left of you on a open fire, that outcome is basically guaranteed.

Can you talk your way out of it? Maybe, but I believe that tactic also slopes more sharply than most think, and contains other weird curves within it. Can one man talk ten bloodthirsty foes out of murdering him? Perhaps. A hundred? Unlikely. Ten thousand? Oddly I think that’s more likely than a hundred, because the capacity to communicate to that many souls at once suggests power of a kind that may enhance self-preservation in general. Or, at least, it used to suggest that, in the time before the rise of global communications networks. Perhaps it will again, if the evil powers are able to seize full control and censor us.

The point is, eventually you will run out of tactics of any kind. This is true even if you are the wealthiest person on Earth, or hide from all risk in the safety of your bedroom. Death will eventually hunt you down and eat you, in one form or another.

You might die in any number of ways. Sudden and accidental, long and torturous, so absurdly that it wins you one of those Darwin Awards.

In rare cases, your death might be a gift. If so, it will be the most precious gift you ever give, because you can only give it once, and they can never re-gift or exchange it. Therefore, when death is on the line, an honest assessment of our options is crucial, if you actually want something good to come from it.

I don’t know if I’ve ever “violently resisted” the anti-resistance of evil. I do know that I’ve been called to violent action in the past, to stop something terrible from happening to someone else. That’s not my preference. I’d much prefer to prevent tragedy with my words instead of my fists. But our preferences don’t always align with our options.

That’s especially the case when a fight breaks out. In the romantic’s idealized version of such confrontations, there will be opportunities aplenty for word-heroics. In the Hollywood film, the villain takes his time to monologue, elaborating on his evil plans and schemes. The hero might get his chance to speak too, even if he uses it to spout some lame action-hero quip. Although that chatter is usually only a prelude to the violence, it creates theoretical opportunities for other outcomes. There are many options on the movie menu. Sometimes, they'll even go the peaceful route.

Most of the time, though, Hollywood will choose the violence, the gorier the better. They think that’s more “satisfying” than a surrender, or a chokehold. They cheerlead for death, which is an expression of their system’s moral corruption. Perhaps Mr. Kingsnorth and I can agree on that, if nothing else.

But out here in the muddy scrum of calories and molecules and microseconds, there often aren’t many options. That’s an unfortunate condition of our earthly lives. We make choices in the whirlwind, and do our best to align them with God’s will. We must make do with the the opportunities we’re given, regardless of what we’d prefer. We help others when we can, spread joy when we can, to the best of our abilities. We also fight when we must, to the best of our abilities, when all other options to protect our neighbors are swept from the table. The choice to fight is not ideal, but to expect perfection in the world is the surest path to Hell.

To be honest, I’m not sure that Paul’s interpretation of “do not resist evil” implies a mindless or suicidal pacifism in the face of imminent threats. I sense he is confessing a general preference against violence as a solution. Not a bad one, either: I share it.

But to eliminate violent action from our stack of rescue options shows a lack of understanding for what combat is, and for what is actually being staked. It especially misunderstands the dilemma of the Christian fighter, who must fight evil with the “handicap” of conscience. To fight well enough to stop evil without causing undue harm requires much greater skill and courage than the man who fights without rules of any kind. That’s why the vagueness of a word like “defend” might lead us astray. It’s often said that “the devil is in the details.” But he also hides in the shadows and fog of unclear language. He wants us to fill in the blanks with our own selfish priorities, instead of God’s.

Lack of specificity leads to other errors as well. For instance, the desert martyrs of Mr. Kingnorth’s example weren’t braver than Daniel Penny for surrendering to death without a fight (if that’s indeed what occurred). It’s not a contest of bravery. At best, we could say they were each brave in accordance with their options, relative to the stories they were telling with their lives.

Penny’s bravery was rooted in speed instead of contemplation. It wasn’t a matter of hearing word that the bandits were on their way, and conversing about their plans to fight or flee. In the tale of Black Moses, he protects his brothers by telling them to leave. In Penny’s version, the door to the monastery is suddenly smashed down. It’s a surprise attack, with no time to parlay. What decision does Moses make under these conditions? How will he protect them under those conditions?

Perhaps his sword would flash out then, to delay and parry the bandits’ blows as best he can while covering their retreat. I don’t think he would fight to kill, given the story arc of his life. But accidents happen in a fight. Any time you pick up a sword, there’s a chance you’ll kill.

In that regard, Moses and Penny would be the same. When Jordan Neely shrieked at a bunch of terrorized passengers, “Somebody’s going to die today!” he was more right than he knew. But Penny wasn’t trying to kill him. We even might say he was trying to save Jordan, and not just in the physical sense. If Jordan survived, perhaps his soul could have been healed as well.

But it wasn’t enough for Daniel Penny to simply choose to stop Jordan Neely from killing a bunch of strangers. He had to overcome many real and imminent fears in order to actually do it. He also had to use his head — and as more than just a punching bag or machete magnet.

To be fair to Mr. Kingsnorth, there is nothing easy about choosing when to fight, and not all opponents can be defeated with violent action. For instance, under most circumstances, I’d have zero chance to win a fight against a Sikorsky Blackhawk that’s mowing down a crowd. But if I’m properly armed and trained, secluded in decent cover, wearing my ghillie suit and greased up with camo, possibilities emerge. Perhaps then I can act in time, and well enough to stop the carnage.

What if our enemy doesn’t possess a traditional body? What if it can’t be targeted physically or directly? In that case, victory-via-surrender might indeed be your best available option. A surrender of this kind might induce the enemy to lower its guard, and perhaps even defeat itself. That’s the woman’s preferred method of attack, due to her limited physical options. It’s what the artists behind Nosferatu illustrated in the story’s climactic scenes, both in the original 1922 version and in Robert Eggers’ redux.

My apologies for spoiling a 100 year-old movie.

But when we look at the source material, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, the final confrontation with evil is heroic in the masculine way. Mina/Ellen’s surrender isn’t enough to stop the evil of Dracula, and instead puts her soul in further danger. Saving her requires the hunted to become the hunters. They must test their minds and bodies to combat a seemingly invincible foe. Not all of them will make it out alive, but they do make it out with their souls intact.

Good men don’t relish these kinds of challenges, no matter the nature of the opponent. Fighting is a duty. I’m suspicious of most people who claim to relish their duties, because that destroys the meaning of the word. If you enjoy doing it, it’s not quite a duty. It might not even qualify as “work”, depending on your definition.

That’s the problem I see when confronted with calls for pacifism as the solution to every problem. If someone informs me that it’s my “Christian duty” to lay down on the floor when baby-killers are about, I absolutely wouldn’t enjoy doing that. I would feel like a coward. On the other hand, I also wouldn’t enjoy fighting the psycho. That could involve a lot of pain, injuries, and medical bills, even if I win.

Either choice could lead to my death.

What to do?

I think the answer is we do our best to meet the challenges of evil, in whatever forms they arrive, in accordance with the best available options that we can discern. We will pray for guidance in our discernment. But if we’re called to action, we must use every gift and tool we’ve got to love our neighbors, and to protect them from harm.

If we’re called to give comfort and support, we must see deeply into the dark forest of causes and effects, and discern who or what it is we’re truly serving. God is no fool, and neither can we afford to be foolish. The Devil hides his bloodiest work in holy words and short-term goods. It’s a nasty business: you may think you’re showing God’s kindness to someone, when you’re really sending them directly to the front of the butcher’s line.

If we’re called to fight, to be God’s swords and shields, we must fight by God’s rules. That means restraining our darkest instincts and impulses. We must ignore all the snakes that nest in our hearts, including the mighty serpent of Fear, who will snap its fangs from start to finish. We need to fight well enough to stop the threat, and know when to stop fighting. And once our opponent is sprawled helpless and bloody at our feet, we must show him our mercy and our love.

When I lay it out like that, it doesn’t sound so easy. But who said being good was easy?

The path is steep and narrow, after all.

---

This is already getting long. So I’ll end it by revisiting the experiment. This time, we will remove all absurdities from the picture. There are no long traffic jams of saints, alternately feeding the killer’s stomach and his knife. There are only a bunch of normal people, cowering in fear. Some are praying for the train to stop, and the doors to open. Others are praying to their Father as they were taught, to deliver them from evil.

Who will God choose as his agent of deliverance?

Strangely enough, he chooses a great sinner. Or maybe not so strangely; I have noticed that’s a recurrent motif in our Creator’s mysterious work, reiterated in the company Christ chose.

We’re all sinners. We all miss the mark. But this guy misses it wider than most, and more frequently. He’s a drinker, a smoker, a night owl who hunts for one-night stands. He’s also no stranger to violent work. He’s been to war, and it has left its scars and fingerprints all over him. It has also left him with some tools. Rusty tools, maybe, and ones he’s misused and abused in the past, squandering them on war profiteers, property disputes, barroom brawls, bragging rights. Today he will use them to defend his fellow straphangers, and transform his past sins into righteousness.

And that’s what he does. As the killer’s arm winds back to strike, he flashes out and entwines him, like a python snatching a mouse. He squeezes like that serpent, too, hooks his leg, rolls both of them down to the bloodslicked floor.

But our sinner is no snake, and the killer is no mouse. The fight is fraught with danger. The killer kicks and strains with a demon’s strength, tries to rake the sinner’s eyes out, claws at his balls. But his opponent stays calm, remembers his training. Soon enough, the killer’s strength begins to wane. He has abandoned all hope of counterattack, and instead paws helplessly at the sinner’s iron grip. A few seconds later, he is snoring.

The engine stops.

So does the train.

What do the passengers do?

Do they accuse the sinner of breaking Christ’s command? Do they pelt him with insults and rotten fruit, or pat themselves on the back for not helping him “resist”?

Or do they thank their Father for placing him on that train?

---

The Cat Was Never Found is a reader-supported blog. I don’t publish much paywalled content, so your generous patronage is very much appreciated. As a reminder, a paid subscription will also grant you access to Deimos Station; the happiest place in cyberspace!

P.S. If you found any of this valuable (and can spare any change), consider dropping a tip in the cup for ya boy. It will also grant you access to my new “Posts” section on the site, which includes some special paywalled Substack content.

My family could really use your help this month, even if it’s just the minimum $5 donation. In fact, if you’ve ever enjoyed any of my work for free, this would be the time to show your support for it.

Thank you and God bless you.