“We ought always to deal justly, not only with those who are just to us, but likewise to those who endeavor to injure us; and this, for fear lest by rendering them evil for evil, we should fall into the same vice.” — Hierocles

As winter sets in, I swear I slip further into darkness than I intend. I’ve been dreading the decreased sunlight and loss of Daylight Savings even as I look forward to the radiant colors of the leaves turning, nature’s last flare-out before it settles in for a long, dark, respite.

This, of course, gives me time to reflect on some of the darker topics, more specifically the problem of evil. Now, not to dwell too hard on what evil is, or what people consider evil, it’s important to note that this is one of the few concepts that is purely human, involves humans, and can only be perpetrated by them. I’m fairly certain that Mother Nature’s meddling in our lives is simply mindless destruction, whereas Uncle Sam’s meddling in our finances is pure, unadulterated, evil.

So, evil is a human construct, the act of doing harm to others. In ethics, even as far back as Plato, and probably even further, we are told that evil is simply an ignorance of that which is best for all. This definition seems to fit well with our dealings with government — the politicians obviously don’t know what the people want, and their legislative misdeeds are almost always explained away by a misunderstanding of what’s best for their constituents.

In public discourse, this definition of malice as ignorance doesn’t, however, seem to hold up when we ask ourselves about crime, or indeed any evil done by one person to another. Does the pickpocket on the street really not know the suffering he’s causing when he lifts your wallet? Or does he instead chuckle to himself later on, muttering, “Sucker — have fun canceling all your credit cards!” I’d be hard-pressed to imagine the second scenario, but you can bet there are people out there that would attribute such an act to something other than ignorance.

That “other” seems to stem from the more religious descriptions of evil. The more you hear them talk about it, the more abstract they get. It is the work of Satan in the world, spreading suffering like a plague. It is the sinister half of the struggle between Ahura Mazda and Angra Mainyu. In whatever form it’s given, almost always, in religion anyway, evil is represented as a person.

One might question the good these personifications do us. If we ask ourselves, “Was Satan at work here?” whenever a person does harm to us, then do we not find it easier to slip away from compassion in judging their actions? In leaning on the abstraction, we pull away from engaging with the person who has done us harm, in effect returning the favor.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had occasion to participate in a downward spiral of discourse which some might, upon review of all the outside evidence, consider evil. The conflict started with a simple conversation with a friend of mine over a sermon we had heard at a church nearby. Now, being Unitarian Universalists, we are used to disagreeing with our preacher, sometimes to the point of writing an angry letter or storming into his office to give him a piece of our mind. However, in this instance, the preacher in question was not the regular preacher at the church, and I decided it would be best for everyone if I simply stopped going to services until the regular minister, whose sermons I could stand, came back to the pulpit.

Several emails later, flung back and forth between various parties, and I was summarily ejected from leadership in the church. Now, in retrospect, the intentions inherent in this action were noble — since my departure coincided with the exit of several new attendees at that same church, I was perceived as being the ringleader of the dissenters, and rather than take the issue up with the church, I must simply have spread the seeds of malice among them and convinced them to leave, all without fully working out the conflict with the person I was disagreeing with — the preacher. I couldn’t be allowed to lead others away.

The church I’m speaking of has had this issue before. A group of congregants, unhappy with their established minister’s preaching or whatever else, worked very hard to gather critical mass to remove the preacher. Now, I believe they eventually succeeded, but not without much pain, and indeed a massive schism. Those dissenters eventually left the church to attend another, and the rest of the group was left to pick up the pieces and put themselves back together again.

Several years later, on the road to healing, and I come along. In the face of my actions, it was easy to jump to the conclusion that I must be attempting to perpetrate the same misdeeds. The cycle of suffering must be continuing once again.

But that’s just it. I had no evil intentions (this story wouldn’t be nearly so interesting if I had) — I was simply trying to get out of what I thought was a harmful situation for me, and it turned out that several other people felt the same way. However, their departure was coincidence, not spurred on by my machinations. After a quick 30-minute conversation with the friend who started the movement to remove me from my responsibilities, it was all worked out. Our friendship healed, my confidence in her as a leader restored, and all it took was a simple clarification.

Thankfully, we Unitarian Universalists rely on reason to work things out. No matter how far down we get, we don’t have a Satan to push the burden onto. We can’t say that this person is doing these things because they’re inherently evil. Instead, we have to go seeking for the reasons, and while we are sometimes tempted to jump to conclusions, conflict doesn’t usually sit well with us. Of course we trip up sometimes, failing to go that last mile toward understanding the problem — we’re only human — but for the most part, I believe we are well served by our principles in the face of evil.

But it’s not always easy. People are complicated, and groups of people are sometimes impossible to understand. It’s easy to believe that policy makers make mistakes, and that instead of intentionally wanting to do harm to the masses, they simply don’t fully grasp the consequences of their actions. They have … good intentions.

However, it’s not so easy to believe that the man who left a bomb in the basement of the high rise was anything less than evil. In this case, we can’t fathom that this man could come to any other conclusion than that he was about to inflict such pain on so many others. This crime could not have come from a person of “inherent worth and dignity.” It must have been the work of the Devil.

We have to ask ourselves, though, where does this belief come from? Does it stem from reasoned inquiry into his thought processes, a full understanding of the evidence at hand? Or a need for retribution? It’s easier to satisfy our blood lust when we justify away the man’s humanity. So much easier to administer a lethal injection if we’ve slipped into the comfortable position that this man here, whose misdeeds could only have stemmed from absolute evil, is irredeemable, and thus must be killed.

There’s no denying that killing hundreds of people is evil of the greatest sort. A person that is capable of such things must have something very wrong in their head. No doubt about it. But what about the evil of failing to address the consequences that brought him to that point?

Whatever story I bring up, and there are endless stories about evil, you can be sure I’m going to come to the same conclusion — evil is not abstract. It is in fact very mundane, and its cure is almost always understanding. Now, the more complicated an evil act gets, the more difficult it is to understand, and so we find convenient categories to put it in, but in the end, it all comes down to human ignorance.

And we all have it. Ignorance, I mean. Not some inherent darkness waiting within us to wreak havoc on the world. Just a simple limitation of intellect.

The lesson I learned when I eventually resigned my membership from the church I talked about previously was that I jumped to conclusions; and they jumped to conclusions; and when all was said and done, it boiled down to a big misunderstanding. However, the damage was not completely reparable. I have yet to return to that congregation, not because of some malice I hold toward them, or even because I think they did me wrong, but more so because of the feelings that continue to surround the entire conflict. Even though it’s resolved, and everybody understands what happened, I still have the pain etched in my memory.

This is the devastation of conflict left unresolved. The longer it simmers, the more it hurts. And, the longer the hurt will stick around. So don’t let it cook you up inside. Take steps to work things out as soon as you can, because surely that 30 minute conversation with the person who hurt you must be easier than the weeks you sit at home wondering why they did it.

As I prepare for the winter months ahead, I’m thankful that the friends I do have are understanding of my moments of ignorance here and there. Because, I’m sure, as the days shorten, and I get more and more deprived of sunlight, I’m going to need all the understanding I can get. And I hope that, if this whole saga has any redeeming quality at all, it will be that I provide the same understanding to them that I ask for myself.

Filed by Stephen at 8:42 pm under Religion, UU