The Rule of Evil, the Rule of Good

In 1986, my younger sister Sarah went to Liberia, to a little town in the bush, 300 miles from the capital city, Monrovia.  She went there to work in an old Episcopalian mission, established nearly 100 years before by the Holy Cross brothers.  In the days when freed slaves from America were moving to Liberia to settle, the Order of the Holy Cross decided to support that idealistic movement by setting up a mission and a school in the little town of Bolahun.  The children of the Americo-Liberians were educated in the school, and they went on to become the leaders of that emerging nation.  This order of things persisted for almost 100 years until it began to break down.  The mission was left with one aging priest.  The school was taken over by the local village.  Amidst accusations of corruption and elitism, the Americo-Liberians found the government moving out of their hands and into the hands of the military.  No longer did the children of the president, vice-president, supreme court justices, and other ruling elite come to Bolahun for their education and preparation for university.  

In 1986, when Sarah went to work in Bolahun, she found a sleepy, little African village and a run-down church building, with a library of less than 100 volumes, and a school that had students some days, but not on others, because the local families didn’t really see the point of sending their children to school at all, much less on a day when they needed their labor at home.

But the year after she left, 1988, the situation broke down into complete chaos - no, worse than chaos, things entered the realm of hell.  In 1988, oil baron Charles Taylor sent his armed forces throughout the country to try to seize power on his behalf, while another man, Prince somebody, sent an army to try to seize power on his behalf, and the Liberian army tried to fend off armed rebellion on two fronts.  Civilians were killed indiscriminately in a civil war that quickly degenerated (as most of the African civil wars during the past few decades have) into armed groups of men killing for food, money, weapons and drugs to keep them going for a few more days or months.  

In 1988, Sarah received a letter from someone who had lived in Bolahun telling her what had happened.  One day, a group of armed men who said they were fighting for Charles Taylor appeared in the village and brought all the villagers into the center of the village at gun point.  They had been lead into Bolahun by a boy, the son of the school mistress, and he announced to all of them that they were now under the authority of Charles Taylor and they must give these men all the food and money they had to help their fight.  These men would also be staying in their houses and occupying the village.  

His mother came forward to ask her son why he had lead these armed men into their peaceful village.

The boy spat in her face.

What do we call the force that compels a child to act in such a way?   ?????? (evil)

That was it – the end of order, the beginning of the indiscriminate rule of violence.

That night, under cover of darkness, all of the villagers who could, left.  They knew that if they stayed, they were not long for this world.  And yes, the armed men destroyed the village, burned all the buildings, took everything they wanted, and moved on to do the same in the next village.

And so many of these armed ones were not men at all, but just boys like the one who lead them into Bolahun.  

I’ve heard off and on about these boy-soldiers for years now, and wondered how on earth they could ever be restored to life in a civil society after what they must have seen and done in the midst of these horrible wars.

A couple of weeks ago, I saw the memoir of one of these boy soldiers, Ishmael Beah of Sierra Leone, in the library.  I picked it up and began to read.

I don’t want to go through the hell of all that happened, and all that he did in the midst of the civil war.  It is gut wrenching.  And we see way too much of such hellish violence in movies.

Instead, what amazed me was the rehabilitation process.  Ishmael Beah, by the sheer grace of God, found himself in the Benin Home for Boys, a place dedicated to rehabilitating boy soldiers.  He described himself as possessed by anger and hate during that time.  He looked at every teacher and worker in that school – all authority figures – with anger and hate.  He did not want to be told to do anything, not taught math or reading, not taught how to behave in civil society – since when were these civilians ordering him around.  And the other boys had the same terrible habit – they hated all civilian authorities and wanted to keep the power they had learned in the war, the power of taking whatever they wanted by violence.

What a challenge for a teacher! What a challenge for a houseparent! What a challenge for anyone working in that school from the janitor to the headmaster.

Ishmael wrote that the workers in the school were regularly tormented by the boys, himself included.  They would act out their hatred by attacking the workers in gangs, stabbing them with sharpened teachers, tying them to trees.  And these people would respond again and again with warm smiles, and strong loving words, saying: “You are not responsible for what happened in the war.  You were only children.  You are still only boys.”

What do we call the force that compels ordinary people to display such a strong commitment to selfless, sacrificial love even when they are under attack?  ???????? (good)

Jesus speaks of the times when hell shows its face – when wars ravage the land, when brother betrays brother, when no one is safe, when everyone is betraying everyone else, and violence and hatred rule.  And he tells his disciples this “This will give you an opportunity to testify.  So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict.”  And so when evil rules, it is time to testify to the good of God.  And God will guide us, if we hold fast to his truth.

The boys could not contradict the love the teachers gave them.  They could try to fight it with hatred, with violence, but they could not make the teachers hate them back.  They could not make the teachers fight with them.  They could not start a civil war in that school.  The staff responded with strong, clear, loving force, stating the truth, stopping the violence and never retaliating.

The boys ganged up on a janitor in the building and beat him so severely he had to be taken to the hospital.  Five days later, he returned from the hospital limping, his head still bandaged, and when he saw them, he smiled lovingly and said, “You are not responsible for what happened in the war.  You were only children.  You are still only boys.”

As he described it, with the evil that still possessed him, Ishmael hated that man when he expressed such strong, sacrificial love.  But in the end, it was the perseverance of the workers in the Benin Home for Boys that saved him, that and the love of God that came through a few others in amazing and self-sacrificing ways.  He learned that the law of the jungle is not the only law.  There is a higher law, and one that is ultimately much more powerful.  The law of God builds its temple in our hearts, even when the temple built by human hands is destroyed, even in the midst of terrible wars; it still survives and seeks to save the lost.  It is the love and truth of God that we see it shining in the face of Christ, even after the temple of his body was destroyed by the crucifixion.  It is the resurrection, and its power transcends even death.

Amen.

The Rev. Edie Bird
25th Sunday after Pentecost
18 November 2007


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