Several years ago, before I was ordained, I did children’s ministry in a large church in Indiana. I am great with children! Love them! I have several young children who live inside of me and their presence makes me more empathetic with children than most adults. Sometimes I think that I understand children better than I do people my age…
My ministry with these children one day brought me into contact with a little girl who had been abused and neglected. I remember that she stood out as someone who had seen far too much for her years. Her name was Sarah, a quiet but serious girl of 10. She lived with her grandmother, and one day I asked this women about her granddaughter’s story. With some hesitation she opened up to me a world of parents who were heroin addicts… a small apartment… people coming over at all hours of the day and night… parties… abuse of all kinds… the police and social services… and finally Sarah arriving at her grandmother’s house to live!
“God only knows what Sarah has experienced” her grandmother admitted. She told me that Sarah was very well behaved, never talked about her parents, never spoke an unkind word, never spoke about the abuse, and made good grades in school.
And yet, Sarah’s grandmother explained, “there is one thing that stands out.” She told me that at nighttime, before bed, the two of them would cuddle together in Sarah’s room and say their prayers. They would then finish by saying The Lord’s Prayer with Grandmother saying one line and Granddaughter saying the next.
As she continued her description, Sarah’s grandmother took my hands and looked into my eyes with worry. And then, almost like a confession, she told me that every night, Sarah, in her serious way, would ask to be the one “who prays that special part.” And so, as the sun set and the darkness came this little girl was the one, who, in a clear high voice, lifted up to God her most fervent prayer, pleading, “but deliver us from evil.”
This story has stuck with me for so many years now. When I think about Sarah and her prayer I come to an understanding that radical evil’s prey is most often called down upon the weakest, the lowest, the most vulnerable, the outcast and the stranger. Innocent children are the main victims of evil in times of war or genocide, in times of famine or disease and in those places where poverty and racism are virulent. But evil’s dark hand also comes to rest upon others such as older ones, those who don’t fit in, those who stand apart, the mentally ill, the handicapped, and the poor, etc.
Evil chooses those who have little voice and sway in a world made for the elite and powerful among us. Therefore, a solitary 10 year old girl standing there amidst that dark night of suffering whispering, “deliver us from evil… deliver me from evil… deliver me O God!” becomes a real flesh and blood symbol that points to a humble innocence before the vast malevolent forces of evil. Like that Cross on the hilltop of Golgotha, with Jesus, seemingly deserted, mocked, suffering, alone, yelling out to God, “Why!!! Why! O God have you abandoned me… why?”
I also think about that little boy named John, in that house in Kansas City looking out from behind a closet door at the snarling face of Ms. Bloom. She had a way of turning the beautiful morning light into a highly textured dark-grey night. One moment it seemed as if God existed in a world of hope, but in the next–God had abandoned that house to leave John in the hands of a dark presence that twisted and perverted goodness and beauty into a slavish sycophantic little boy.
Yes, how is it possible for evil to be so powerful while at the same time, God is supposed to be so good and all-powerful? How can both a good God and such powerful evil exist in the same space and time? Also, have you ever wondered whether evil is about human free will gone horribly wrong or whether Evil (capital E) is a force beyond the bounds of nature and creation–a being who inserts himself into the inner workings of life on earth?
My experience tells me that both are true. There are people who are evil! But let us be clear, there is a big difference between people who are evil and people who are just bad. A murderer, more than likely, is not evil… but may be bad, corrupted, morally depraved, etc. But an evil person is different. An evil person knows that God exists, knows God’s hope for humankind, knows that love, truth, and beauty exists; and yet chooses a road that actively works against God and God’s love for humankind. An evil person is one who works against the grain of Humankind’s highest hopes and aspirations.
My experience also tells me that evil exists as some supernatural force. But at the same time, like God, there is an evil who is a particular presence that reaches out from that force to cast its shadow in particular places and times within human history and in our present day circumstances. Why does this evil force and its particular presence exist??? I am unsure… but I would venture to say that their agenda is the same as those people who work against the purposes of God; those who work against the highest humanistic goals of goodness and beauty. But this Evil also has secret purposes deeply woven into the fabric of creation. Evil (with a capital E) is a mystery that is beyond our understanding.
Even so, sometimes, many times, I believe that both evil people and that evil force will work in tandem. I think this happened during the Holocaust, Stalin’s time in Russia, in Kosovo and Rwanda. Sad to say, this list goes on and on. Yes, I think it happens often. I wonder whether evil people are often in league with this Dark Presence? I think so. I have seen it. I have experienced it. I am a ritual abuse surviver. I have experienced darkness. Miss Bloom, my nanny, worked against the grain, but I also believe that Miss Bloom did not work alone. There was another presence in that Kansas City house as well.
Therefore, I believe that one of the greatest goods that humankind can do for itself and in service to God; in service to Goodness and Beauty, is to hunt evil down, kill it, destroy it, smother it from the face of the earth. We should never sit down at the table with Evil or an evil person. There is no negotiation. There can be only war. Indeed, this war is spiritual, but at the same time, this war is about soldiers fighting and dying on battlefields with guns and bombs.
I believe that one of the greatest signs of an evil presence can be found in the act of genocide. Genocide will be a 21st century phenonmenon beyond anything we have previously experienced. And where there is genocide, humankind’s hand must come down without mercy and without grace to those who perpetrate it. The U.N.’s primary responsibility should be to stop the evil of genocide at all costs. And yet, more often than not the United Nations stands by and does nothing… The world stands by and does nothing. It is shameful.
Indeed, there is also “the evil of passivity.” Like those who lived in German villages near Nazi Death Camps. They said they “didn’t know.” They didn’t want to get involved! For me, these are some of the worst human-beings in existence. But so often, we are no better as we sit by as a country or a world or as a community and let genocide take root and flourish. In Rwanda, genocide could have been stopped if the UN security forces present would have used their guns in those beginning days. But that would have been against their “rules of engagement…” Again, we can’t sit on our thumbs when confronted with the stark undeniable presence of evil marked by the presence of a genocidal force.
Also, if an evil person is found he or she should be killed. We acted on this at the Nuremberg Trials after WWII. Yet, I believe that the death sentence for a bad person is wrong and immoral. But really, who will decide between the one who is evil and the one who is bad? I believe that the distinction can be made, but I don’t think any of today’s politicians or courts are worthy or able. And so I remain a staunch anti-death-penalty supporter.
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However, evil is fought most fiercely as you and I, as individuals, change and transform; becoming more and more human, which is to be more and more Christ-like or God-like or Buddha-like, depending upon your religion or humanistic views.
It is that spiritual and very human warfare that is fought inside the human mind and soul, that may, in the end, deliver humanity to that place called the Kingdom of God–that place where humankind reaches its highest most other-centered of goals. This searching struggling transformation of self is God’s Spirit’s main purpose on earth, and it should be each individual person’s singular priority as well. I believe that it is my responsibility, and yours, to transform, to change into that person we were born to be… To make changes within ourselves that throw off the bonds of self-centeredness for the freedom of a Giving-Life. As the Bible says, as God is holy so too should we be holy. Or, in other words, as God is a loving and giving God so too should we be loving and giving people.
But still I struggle, not knowing for sure where God’s place is in all this. I have a faith that tells me that God is with you, even experiencing the evil and the darkness when it comes upon you and me. God is there! I believe! But, is that really good enough??? Where is God when that Dark One (human or not) comes and creates a void where even a scream cannot escape… where there is no hope… and you become marked by that dark presence who whispers your name and says time and time again,
“you are mine. you can’t tell or else. it didn’t really happen. yes… you are mine.”
Maybe it is in these most dark of times when we join with an innocent 10 year old girl named Sarah praying, even pleading with God, saying, “but deliver us from evil.”
The Jonathan Alter Story–Explanation and Beginning
At jonathanalter.org I am writing the story of my life. This is a life like others, but it is also a little quirkey and broken, love-filled and violent. This is a life filled with committment, a life filled with betrayal, a life filled with darkness but always searching for the light. My life is a life of extremes, but I believe that you will find many common denominators within this story that you will be able to relate to. This auto-biography is primarily the struggle of a human-being who is searching for meaning, and therefore concerned with issues such as “who am I?” “why is there evil in this world?” “what is my purpose in life?” “why do bad things happen to good people?” “is there really a God, and if there is; what good is he/she?” “is there an afterlife?” and “how to face the fact of death today, as well as on the day I will die?” …plus other existential questions that we share in common as physical and spiritual beings.
You also need to know that I am mentally ill. I suffer from clinical depression, PTSD, anxiety, Dissociation and that very messy and misunderstood diagnosis named Dissociative Identity Disorder. I have been hospitalized for extreme disociation and suicidal ideations twice now. I am in therapy three times a week. I have been put on disability by my denomination. I struggle with my faith on a daily basis. Yet, even though I am highly critical of Christ’s Church; I am one who loves Her none the less. I am a pastor who is unsure whether I shall ever return to those sacred vows.
I write because I want to share my life- the struggle and beauty that is life. I hope that we can walk a little while together; with you sharing your life and struggles as well. I write authentically and with an open vulnerability. I invite you to do the same. My writing is also theraputic; working out life through this medium helps me draw connections and consequently unravel the mysteries and secrets of my innermost soul. I invite you to share in this healing work here at The Jonathan Alter Story. Also, please know that these writings will not follow in a life time chronological order… No, instead, one day you might read about a child, the next, me at age 50, or the next day I might just write commentary on the world issues of the day. But for now, let’s start near the begginning…
So much of my life is lost to some amnesiac black hole swirling in the abyss of my mind. However, I do remember a few things. For instance, there was the day when I was around 5 years old digging up worms in the backyard of our Kansas City home. I scooped them up with a small red metal hand shovel and would drop them into my bright red Radio Flyer wagon. After finding quite a few of these squirmers I rolled this great find into the front yard. I was going to show my mom this fantastic treasure trove only to find skinny and bossy Sally sitting on the front porch. Sally was my next door neighbor and was around three years older.
I rolled that wagon right up in front of her and showed her my glorious writhing mound of dirt. Sally was as fascinated as I was. She jumped up and chirped, “Wow John” She was on one side of the wagon while I stood on the other. Sally looked at me and explained, “you know John, if you tear these worms in half both sides will live and you will have twice the worms. Wouldn’t that be great!” With that, she quickly plucked up the first worm, held it just inches from my face, and with a big smile she tore that worm right in half. “See! Look! Both sides are still moving!”
Now, laughing, she took each wriggling creature and lavishly tore them apart one after the other. While l, on the other hand, just stood there; a silent witness to this strange horrific attempt to slaughter my poor worms.
It is then, when a tingling sensation began on the left side of my head, and as she tore apart worm after worm something strange began to take place. I felt a little dizzy… I began to disappear! I became lighter and lighter as I proceeded to rise up into the air where I could look down at my child-body and this little girl, like a red breasted Robin on steroids reaching down into the dirt to find that last worm hiding in the corner of the wagon…
Finally, the worm-tearing-experiment was done. Sally looked at me. I looked at her, but neither spoke. Sally seemed spent and maybe a little sad at this mass extermination she had accomplished in the fever of the moment.
But as for me, I was gone. My eyes were starring out into space. There was no emotion. There were no tears. I was flying off somewhere. I had escaped. For like the worms in the wagon before me; I had also been torn apart. To this day I don’t remember whether those worms lived or died… To the same extent, some 47 years later, I don’t know whether my torn apart self will live or die as well.