Here are a few highlights from our event at The Riverside Church this past weekend, on the anniversary of Dr. King’s historic speech, “Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break Silence.” We had 27 faith leaders read portions of King’s original speech, including his daughter, Rev. Dr. Bernice King. I’ll also highlight a few of King’s quotes from the speech below (along with who read them) … but you really should watch the recording of the whole evening if you missed it. It was epic.

We kicked off the evening with a gathering of about 40 clergy and leaders from around the country, and spent some time reflecting together, listening to what the Spirit is doing among us, especially as we remember King’s words in 1967 and his assassination a year later.

Bishop Herbert Daughtry shared with his daughter Bishop Leah Daughtry. He was there in 1967 when Dr. King delivered the original sermon. He shared about how powerful it is to be together on the 55th anniversary. He also shared about how courageous and unpopular it was when King first delivered it.

Here’s the backdrop… One year ago, Red Letter Christians hosted a virtual reading of “Beyond Vietnam.” Afterwards we said, “What if we did it in person next year?”

Then we said, “What if we did it AT RIVERSIDE?”

Then we said, “What if Rev. Bernice King would join us?”

And here we are…

Because Dr. King names the many of the manifestations of violence calls us to comprehensively confront violence and the conditions that lead to violence, we made those connections throughout the night. The stations of the cross on the altar are painted by men on death row. It is also Lent, a powerful reminder that Jesus subverted all our systems of violence on the cross.

“We were taking the Black young men who had been crippled by our society and sending them eight thousand miles away to guarantee liberties in Southeast Asia which they had not found in southwest Georgia and East Harlem. And so, we have been repeatedly faced with the cruel irony of watching Negro and white boys on TV screens as they kill and die together for a nation that has been unable to seat them together in the same schools.”

–MLK read by Lisa Sharon Harper

“As I have walked among the desperate, rejected, and angry young men, I have told them that Molotov cocktails and rifles would not solve their problems. I have tried to offer them my deepest compassion while maintaining my conviction that social change comes most meaningfully through nonviolent action. But they ask — and rightly so — what about Vietnam? They ask if our own nation wasn’t using massive doses of violence to solve its problems, to bring about the changes it wanted. Their questions hit home, and I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today — my own government.”

–MLK read by Carlos Rodriguez The Happy Givers NPO

“We were agreeing with Langston Hughes, that black bard of Harlem, who had written earlier:

‘O, yes,

I say it plain,

America never was America to me,

And yet I swear this oath —

America will be!'”

–MLK quoting Langston Hughes, read by Rev. Todd Yeary (RLC Board Chair)

“Could it be that they do not know that the good news was meant for all men — for Communist and capitalist, for their children and ours, for black and for white, for revolutionary and conservative? Have they forgotten that my ministry is in obedience to the One who loved his enemies so fully that he died for them?”

–MLK read by Cece Jones-Davis

“They must see Americans as strange liberators.”

–MLK read by Rev. Dr. Shakeema North

“I am convinced that if we are to get on the right side of the world revolution, we as a nation must undergo a radical revolution of values. We must rapidly begin…we must rapidly begin the shift from a thing-oriented society to a person-oriented society. When machines and computers, profit motives and property rights, are considered more important than people, the giant triplets of racism, extreme materialism, and militarism are incapable of being conquered.”

— MLK read by Rev. Dr. Liz Theoharis

“On the one hand, we are called to play the Good Samaritan on life’s roadside, but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho Road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life’s highway. True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar. It comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring.”

“A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.”

–MLK read by Rev. Sharon Risher

“These are revolutionary times. All over the globe men are revolting against old systems of exploitation and oppression, and out of the wounds of a frail world, new systems of justice and equality are being born. The shirtless and barefoot people of the land are rising up as never before. “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.” …Our only hope today lies in our ability to recapture the revolutionary spirit and go out into a sometimes hostile world declaring eternal hostility to poverty, racism, and militarism.”

–MLK read by Jemar Tisby

“This call for a worldwide fellowship that lifts neighborly concern beyond one’s tribe, race, class, or nation is in reality a call for an all-embracing — embracing and unconditional love for all mankind.”

–MLK read by Phillip Joubert from Common Hymnal

“We can no longer afford to worship the god of hate or bow before the altar of retaliation. The oceans of history are made turbulent by the ever-rising tides of hate. And history is cluttered with the wreckage of nations and individuals that pursued this self-defeating path of hate.”

–MLK read by Stephen Green

“We still have a choice today: nonviolent coexistence or violent co-annihilation. If we do not act, we shall surely be dragged down the long, dark, and shameful corridors of time reserved for those who possess power without compassion, might without morality, and strength without sight.”

— MLK read by Leslie Callahan

“Now let us begin. Now let us rededicate ourselves to the long and bitter, but beautiful, struggle for a new world.

And if we will only make the right choice, we will be able to transform this pending cosmic elegy into a creative psalm of peace.

If we will make the right choice, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our world into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.

If we will but make the right choice, we will be able to speed up the day, all over America and all over the world, when justice will roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

— MLK read by Rev. Bernice King

The last section was read by Rev. Bernice King, and we all said the final words together… “justice will roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

I knew the spoken words of King would be powerful, and they were. But what was also remarkable was feeling a fresh sense of worship, and hope, even revival stirring up among us. Some talented musicians led us in singing– Common Hymnal, Aaron Niequist, and Brian Courtney Wilson…a healthy reminder that this work does not rest on us alone…we are conspiring with God in this revolution of love.

As we challenge to the toxic versions of Christianity, we’ve got to also be ready for God to do a new thing among us. And as I looked out over this audience of faith leaders, bishops, pastors, organizers, elders, activists, authors, historians, and theologians last night I was filled with hope. I AM filled with hope.

We got this. Last night Rev. Bernice King closed us out with an invitation to come back to Jesus. She reminded us that her dad, and mom, were doing their best to reflect Jesus to the world.

We are up against some fierce principalities and powers – the triplet evils of racism, materialism, and militarism are as alive and well as they were 55 years ago. But the love of God is the strongest force in the world. Nothing is more powerful than God’s love.

It was a gift to team up with my brother Michael McBride and the spiritual force known as Rev. Traci Blackmon. There were dozens of groups that worked together to pull it off, including all the fine folks at the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft and at The King Center. Grateful for Rev. Livingston and The Riverside Church for hosting us.

Thanks be to God.

I read an article about the event in ussanews. It described those who attended the White House event as “leftists who pretend to be Catholics”. I am not sure who the author was referring to.  I knew most of the people that were in attendance. I have worked and worshiped with them.  They are among the most committed and dedicated faith leaders. They each can share their story about how being Catholic is what moved them to the work of peace and justice. I will share mine. 

My parents were poor Irish Catholic immigrants who came to America in 1950. We attended a mostly Irish Catholic parish which my parents were very active in and made sure all of us kids were as well. My siblings and I all attended Catholic schools. All of my brothers were altar boys. Several times a week my mom would gather us around her bed in the evening to pray a Rosary. Prominently displayed on our living room wall were two pictures. One was Pope John XXIII and the other was President Kennedy.  But for my mother, being Catholic went much deeper than just the rights and rituals. Mom taught me that being Catholic was more than just attending Mass and obeying the Commandments. Being Catholic was about how you lived every moment. Did you treat others with love and respect? Our neighborhood during my childhood was in transition. My mother would be the first person welcoming new folks. Regardless of the color of their skin, their race or even their sexual orientation. She told me that being Catholic was not a way to get to Heaven but a way to create Heaven on Earth. 

Stella and I have been married for 35 years. She was raised in the same town as me, but in a poor Italian Catholic immigrant neighborhood. Our Catholic faith has been a major part of our life and spiritual journey. We have four children. We did not follow the traditional route of having children. When we were first married Stella was a single mom, so I became a stepdad. We then had a child together. After a few years we decided to become foster parents and ended up adopting a brother and sister whom we were fostering. We also opened our home to several of our kids’ friends who were in trouble. It was our Catholic faith that led us to become foster and adoptive parents. Despite raising a family and both working we found time to volunteer. We both felt blessed, and our Catholic faith taught us to share that blessing. Today I volunteer at a soup kitchen at St. Thomas More Catholic Church in New Haven, Connecticut. Stella volunteers two days a week at Hospice. 

I have been an activist for peace and justice for most of my life. I have helped to organize marches and rallies, participated in acts of nonviolent civil disobedience, and have gone on extended hunger fasts.  I was the Executive Director of the Franciscan Action Network and co-founded the Global Catholic Climate Movement. Most recently I co-founded and serve as the National Co-Director of Catholics Vote Common Good, www.votecommongood.com/catholics-vote-common-good/.  I am not an activist to prove that I am a good Catholic. I am an activist because that is what my Catholic faith and the words of Jesus call me to do. I am not sure what the author meant when he called me and others “pretend Catholics”.  But based on what he wrote, I am pretty sure if Jesus were walking the Earth today, he would be identified as one of those “pretend Catholics.”  

August 2024 will mark two years since my daughter, Michelle was released from prison. Even though we have both been through so much these past thirteen years of her incarceration, in some ways, her life is just beginning.

On April 9, 2009, my daughter was sentenced to life in prison for a murder she didn’t commit. No mother should go through what I have, and no daughter should endure what she has. It wasn’t just that day when I heard the judge sentence my daughter to life that my heart broke. It was the thousand others filled with millions of agonizing moments of unrest, terror, panic and defeat I experienced as I worked tirelessly to get my daughter justice and to make sure that she would have a life once she got out.

When a person is released from prison, they are walking into a new existence. One that, ironically, may be harder than the one they left behind bars. Why? Our legal system wants to keep people chained to their past.

It shouldn’t be this way.

According to the National Reentry Center, there are “40,000 state and federal legal and regulatory restrictions that limit or prohibit people convicted of a crime or adjudicated for a delinquent act from accessing employment, business and occupational licensing, housing, voting, education, and other rights, benefits, and opportunities.” That’s forty thousand ways to hear ‘no’, when you’re looking for just one ‘yes.’ It is hard enough to have the mental energy to go to the bank to open a checking account, without having to face barriers, prejudices, stigmas and actual regulatory restrictions every step of the way. From getting a job, to renting an apartment to buying groceries or simply voting, people need help.

April is Second Chance month. I was forced to take this call; many of us can do so on our own – and should. We have to understand that once someone completes their sentence, they deserve a second chance at living – to make money, get an education, and participate in our democracy. People want to rebuild their lives. They want to be a part of society and do something that is meaningful. They do not want to feel like they are still behind bars with little to no chance at flourishing.

Michelle earned her degree; she graduated from Life University. She began studying while still incarcerated. She probably could have done this on her own, but my daughter had me by her side encouraging her to keep going. She had help.

With my daughter’s release, I’m working to get my own life back together. I’m constantly asking God, “What was all this for? What does it mean? Where do I go?” As I put the puzzle pieces together, I see the big picture: helping others.

There are still hundreds of ‘Michelle’s’ behind bars. I never forget about those ladies that are still in there. I didn’t want to say, “Goodbye, see you later” just because my daughter was free.  Now, I advocate for them. I give them a branch of humanity upon which to grab hold. I continue to fight for their second chance. I believe we all can.

I knew I wasn’t going to let my daughter down. I also knew I couldn’t help her on my own. I leaned on my belief in God. Faith was key. I truly couldn’t be here without it or without prayer – that was the utmost importance. I also turned to community. It wasn’t easy. There is a lot of shame, embarrassment and fear that rise up when you have to share this type of reality with others. There can be a lot of judgement, but United Women in Faith  helped me emotionally and encouraged me to offer my testimony. Once I put it out there that I needed help, it started rolling in. When others learned about Michelle’s education costs, they donated $2,000 toward her books. With my prison ministry, I made an ask for suitcases. We received 80. That wouldn’t have happened without United Women in Faith. Believe me, having a group of people on your side gives you discipline and spiritual friendship. When things get tough, people will stand by you. United Women in Faith helped get me connected to the National Council for Incarcerated and Formerly Incarcerated Women and Girls, build my skills and share my story. I eventually became an advocate at the Georgia State Capitol for the conviction integrity unit which ultimately helped with Michelle’s release. I’m a leader in United Women in Faith, a board member of Georgians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty, and a part of End Mass Incarceration Georgia. There are many organizations to turn to for help. The National Institute of Corrections offers a list here of Justice Involved Women Programs. You may also check locally.

Participating in Second Chance month can feel overwhelming or even unnecessary if you haven’t been affected by the carceral system as I have. However, there are two things I’ve identified in my work that help women (and others) after release. The number one thing is finding some place to stay. If women have this, it is a good start, and they don’t have it as hard. The other is to show value in a person. I show these women that they have worth; that they are wonderful human beings. For example, I write to them – even if there is no response – because you never know what impact you have on their lives. Helping someone have a second chance doesn’t have to be a family matter, as it was for me and Michelle; rather, it can be you letting someone else know they matter, and that life is waiting for them.

 – Cynthia Morrison Holland is a mother, advocate and member of United Women in Faith

LINKS in order of use:

1. https://nationalreentryresourcecenter.org/multimedia/re-introduction-national-inventory-collateral-consequences-conviction-niccc-and-clean
2. https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2023/03/31/a-proclamation-on-second-chance-month-2023/
3. https://uwfaith.org/
4. https://info.nicic.gov/jiwp/womens-programs-all?page=3

When I reached the side alley of the building, I noticed a car backed in beside an emergency exit door. The car had no license plate. The terrorist attacks weighing heavily on my mind, I was afraid someone may have been hiding in the store. In order to make sure that my night crew was safe, I called the police.

Three to four minutes after calling 911, three or four police cars abruptly surrounded my car. I had no clue what was going on. The drivers were shining their high beams into my car, and the light completely blinded me. I did not know who was there, how many of them were surrounding me, or whether they had guns drawn on me. I froze. Then I cried. I didn’t want to die.

Eventually, they yelled through a megaphone to roll my window down and place my hands outside the vehicle. My car didn’t have automatic windows, so rolling the window down meant dropping my hands below their line of sight. I couldn’t see them, what they were doing, or how close they were to me. I assumed they had their guns drawn, so I stayed frozen. Then I cried more. I didn’t dare move a muscle. My fear for my own life told me that as soon as I reached down, they would kill me. So here I was in an alley on the side of a store preparing to meet my Maker because I was certain I was about to be shot.

After what seemed like an eternity, one lone officer approached my car. He must have told his fellow officers to turn off their lights, then he tapped on my window and told me that I was going to be okay, and he kindly asked me again to roll down the window. I was terrified, and he knew it, and he saved me and the other officers from reacting in a way that could have ended my life. I was thankful that he didn’t let fear control him or the situation. He did not know me. He did not know that I was the person who made the initial call.

As I reflect on the encounter, two factors played a significant role in the way I reacted: I am Black, and I am autistic. What I wish I had known back then is that many people who are neurodivergent process information differently than those who are neurotypical. Neurodivergence usually includes autism, ADHD, and other neurological differences. One way that neurodivergent brains operate differently has to do with executive functioning, or how the brain absorbs information, organizes it, and acts on the information in a manner that is safe and effective. In intense and high-stress situations, executive functioning can become challenging, if not impossible.

I don’t tell this story very often because for so many people these are not unusual occurrences. They happen regularly. I am grateful that those officers spared my life when all the ingredients for a fatal shooting of an unarmed, young Black male were present. I have lived to talk about it, but so many others have not.

In August 2019, police in Aurora, Colorado, approached twenty-three-year-old Elijah McClain after they had received a 911 call reporting a “suspicious person” walking down the road in a ski mask and behaving strangely. When officers confronted McClain, he repeatedly asked the officers to let go of him and announced that he was going home. Elijah was a young, Black, autistic man.

Those who have sensory-processing challenges, which are common in autistic individuals, are often averse to touch, especially when they do not initiate contact. The body camera transcripts of the event record McClain repeatedly asking the officers to let him go, pleading with them, “Please respect the boundaries that I am speaking.” We can also hear McClain explaining his plan to go home. Another common characteristic of autism is difficulty switching from one activity to the next without a thorough transition or additional time to adjust to the new expectations. The random police officers approaching McClain for an unknown and undisclosed reason most likely interfered with his internalized plan of simply going home.

Finally, we hear Elijah stating, “I’m just different, that’s all. I’m just different.” Many believe this was Elijah’s way of trying to explain his autistic behavior and neurology to officers who deemed his behavior strange and, eventually, dangerous.

Officers at the scene eventually restrained McClain, who weighed only 143 pounds, using a choke hold. When paramedics arrived, an injection of ketamine was administered to calm him down. Because of the strength with which he resisted the officers, they wrongly suspected McClain was on drugs at the time of their encounter. Ketamine is a powerful sedative, and the paramedics administered Elijah a dose that was nearly twice the amount recommended for an individual his size. Shortly thereafter, Elijah stopped breathing. They then took him to the hospital, where he would die three days later.

Elijah McClain had no weapon. His family later reported that Elijah suffered from anemia, which made him cold, so it was not uncommon for him to wear a ski mask in order to keep warm. The investigation found that the Aurora police had no legal basis to stop, frisk, or restrain Elijah. Essentially, Elijah died because of implicit racial and ableist biases.

Implicit racial bias strongly shapes the treatment of people of color in the US judicial system. According to the New York Civil Liberties Union, the NYPD, from 2002 to 2011, conducted stop and frisk procedures on millions of citizens, about 90 percent of those being Black and Hispanic people. Eighty-eight percent of those minorities who the police profiled and stopped had no weapons or contraband. Often, what leads to such practices is the perception that Black and Brown bodies and the behaviors they display are inherently more aggressive—and therefore more dangerous.

There are several research studies that have found that compared to White people, Black people are far more often subject to automatic and subconscious negative stereotypes and prejudice. These thoughts usually extend beyond just negative attitudes; Black and Brown bodies are associated with violence, threatening behavior, and crime. Black men are also more likely to be misremembered for carrying a weapon because of this bias.

Let’s be honest: The stories I am sharing with you are not unusual. There’s nothing new about the statistics that prove racial bias is a reality in our country. There’s nothing new about Black authors, scholars, activists, and clergy speaking up about these issues. What is new, and what I am aiming to bring to this ongoing discussion, is that racial bias in America is not simply an issue of race. It is not simply an issue of skin preference. It is not just an issue of a lack of diversity. Race-based slavery and the enduring racial bias and discrimination it created are about disability discrimination as well. Our issues with racism are in fact issues of ableism— and American Christianity has played a significant role in influencing ableism in our present cultural context.

Content taken from How Ableism Fuels Racism by Lamar Hardwick, ©2024. Used by permission of Brazos Press.

Human Rights are perhaps the most powerful discourse that emerged in the 20th century. No other narrative has so disturbed the world order, at least since 1848. And this political prominence is perhaps one of the main reasons why religion and Human Rights “do not mix very easily,” (1) why Human Rights so often clash with religious narratives and traditions. Human Rights have paved the way to overthrown totalitarian and authoritarian regimes worldwide, including in my own country. (2) Because of Human Rights we have seen police authorities and violent bureaucrats go to jail, and we have seen presidents and generals sentenced by international courts. The fact that Human Rights discourse has also been used to justify military interventions disguised as humanitarian actions (3) does not diminish its importance – it is actually evidence that even those who violate Human Rights recognise their power in contemporary politics.

Imagine having rights that were not determined by any moral or political choice, nor limited by any action you could take. Imagine if just by being human, belonging to the human species, you could have unalienable rights, that could not be taken away from you by any decision of any individual, institution, or state. When this idea was first created it was revolutionary. This idea attached the notion of rights to a particular ethics of human dignity. The emergence of Human Rights made it impossible to diminish people’s value to that of property – or to those animals who were poorly treated by their owners. To make my point clear, I will do what lawyers usually do: I will look into three cases that help us weave the thread of Human Rights.

In late 19th century England, a woman sent an anonymous letter to Parliament requesting the approval of a bill that would allow women to be treated the same way as dogs. She explained the issue: a husband had beaten up his wife to death and, because of legislation and common law at the time, he was considered as exercising the defence of his honour, his Patria Potestas. As a result, he was not sentenced. She eloquently argued that if he had brutally killed his dog he would, at least, have been fined…

In the 1960s, in Brazil, a Catholic and conservative lawyer named Sobral Pinto walked to a Brazilian Army Barracks in Rio de Janeiro, to meet his client. At his arrival he found the young student to be sleeping over his own blood and bodily fluids, in a cell without a toilet. His body showed several marks of torture. Mr. Pinto decided, then, to file a complaint to the Courts, requesting the Statute of Animal Rights to be applied to his client…  

In the beginning of the 21st century, in Guantanamo Bay, a lawyer met the General of the US Army in charge of that detention facility. He asked the General if the Constitution of the USA would apply to his client. The General denied it. Then he asked if the Constitution of Spain would apply to his client. That was also denied. What about the Constitution of Cuba, he then asked. Finally, he asked the General about a particular species of lizard that lived in Guantanamo Bay and was threatened with extinction, and if American military personnel were taking all due care to protect that species of animal according to international obligations… 

What these three cases have in common is revealing what happens in the absence of Human Rights, when people are brutalized in ways worse than animals would be. The 75th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) celebrated last month, reminds us of a document that challenged this kind of infamy. But the event was largely ignored in Christian circles, with few exceptions. In the next section I will share a few academic reflections about the importance of the UDHR, and later about its close (and now problematic) relationship with Christianity.

The state of the art of the UDHR: global perspectives and legal paradoxes (4)

I have been privileged to work with some of the greatest minds and practitioners in International Human Rights Law. To celebrate the 75th anniversary of the UDHR, I had the opportunity to jointly organise an event and hear from three Professors in my own university: Alexandra Xanthaki, Javaid Rehman and Manisuli Ssenyonjo. Some of the ideas I am about to discuss here are owned to them, who spoke about the historical and political importance of the UDHR without losing sight of the troublesome times we are currently living in – with ongoing wars in Ukraine and Gaza.

Professor Javaid Rehman reminded us of the political and international context where the UDHR was discussed, drafted and agreed. Never before or after it a document with so many rights was signed by so many states. This was no small achievement, and one reason why we need to celebrate it. According to Javaid, there is poetry in the UDHR articles and this poetics reflects a specific moment in history, the aftermath of the Second World War (WW2). The Allied nations won that terrible war and decided to advance ideas and measures that could possibly prevent new violations of Human Rights, help keep peace and build up a new international order. However, Professor Rehman also reminded us what was left out and what has changed since then. The absence of the Right to Self-determination is probably the biggest gap in the Declaration – and reveals the building up tensions between colonized and coloniser of the time. And many states have completely changed their position since they signed the Declaration. It is the case of Iran and Afghanistan, who subscribed to its article 2 opposing distinction of “any kind, such as race, colour, sex, language, religion, political or other opinion,” but now promote what could be called a gender apartheid against women and girls. 

Nevertheless, the two biggest issues that undermine the UDHR are its lack of operationality in the International Law system and the absence of social and collective rights on its text, according to the UN Special Rapporteur for Cultural Rights, Professor Alexandra Xanthaki. These problems continuously haunt the Declaration and are currently explored by politicians who work to undermine the United Nations authority and Human Rights. Xanthaki pointed out to the democratic challenges we currently face when a significant number of UN member states are now represented by nationalist and xenophobic politicians. But she also adopted a strategic optimism when looking into new generations. According to her, people now seem to be much more inclusive and sensible to minority rights than in any generation before – such as to care and promote LGBTQ+ rights.  

The paradox of the UDHR ineffectiveness rests in its Article 28, according to Professor Manisuli Ssenyonjo: “Everyone is entitled to a social and international order in which the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration can be fully realized.” In this article the UDHR turns its own efficacy and implementation in a Human Right. However, the entitlement to a social and international order that does not (yet) exists – and may never exist – constitutes an insolvable problem. Professor Ssenyonjo asked: “Has article 28 ever been respected by the signatory states in these 75 years since the Declaration?” He then pointed out to the heart of this paradox: the fact that there is no International Human Rights Court in the UN system, no international body capable of adjudication on Human Rights violations by member states. This would make the UDHR a kind of Constitution without a constitutional court and make it impossible to impose measures to guarantee peace, prevention of violations and sanctions against state perpetrators. 

But I wonder if this paradox is not the result of previous conceptual problems in the very way Human Rights have been originally conceived. How much of the notions of humanity, universalism and natural law are still alive in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights? Perhaps looking at the mobilization of Theology in Human Rights discourse by religious leaders and political organisations might explain some of these problems.

Human Rights, Natural Law and Theology

There is no doubt that Human Rights are a direct descendant from Natural Rights. What is disputed, however, is how deep our current ideas and legal documents were shaped by the re-emergence of Natural Law in the context where the UDHR was drafted. The return of Natural Law in the aftermath of WW2 has often been dismissed as either completely incorporated into Human Rights or as a strategy to blame atrocities on Legal Positivism and free the German Judiciary from the hook – such as in Radbruch’s formula. (5) I want to claim that Human Rights were not only influenced by Natural Law tradition on its later and Enlightened form, but also developed from two theological concepts linked to the idea of Justice. (6) I believe Human Rights, in the form they were given in the UDHR, are deeply connected to the theological notions of Grace and Imago Dei in Christian theology.  

The universality of Universalism can certainly be put into question when it is used as a power tool to exclude others – and becomes a “bully.” (7) But the idea of Human Rights as an unconditional defence of human beings has a lot in common with the unconditional love of God in Christian theology. In Christianity there is an idea that the love of God for humans is undeserved by peoples and individuals. God would love human beings not for their merits, but by their likeness – their divine image which resembles the image of God the creator. (8) The Christian God’s love for humanity is based on grace rather than merit, it is unlimited and able to forgive any kinds of sins. This all-inclusive and unlimited love in Christian theology sounds a lot like the idea of universal “inalienable rights of all members of the human family” in the first two sentences of the Preamble of the UDHR – which are perhaps the first secularised version of this universal inclusion. (9)

This is relevant for a series of reasons, but perhaps mostly to rebuke a common question that has repetitively been raised by nationalists and religious conservative groups alike: are human rights only available to defend criminals? I have heard this question so many times in Evangelical circles. Of course, the answer is always a resounding ‘no,’ but what I have found more interesting in my research on Human Rights and Religion is that this kind of question – which wants to exclude some people from grace or mercy – also has a precedent, a fossil theological form. 

I refer here to the discussions between Jesus and the religious leaders of his time, where these leaders constantly questioned Jesus on why he was always sitting and associating with sinners and gentiles. Jesus’ precise answer in Mark 2:17 also works for justifying the universality of Human Rights: it is the sick who need the doctors, not the healthy. I believe a similar argument could be applied to the universality of Human Rights to answer this insincere question: it is those who committed crimes and will be punished by the state who need their Human Rights most. The ground level of Human Rights is, then, to guarantee the humanity of the worst human beings. If this is achieved, we might believe that Human Rights apply to all human beings. 

It is, after all, those in prison who are most frequently subjected to violation of their basic rights – such as in suffering abuse, torture and rape in detention facilities. It is to stop the violation of these arrested bodies – also made in the image of God, one could argue – that Human Rights prohibit the use of torture. And here we have another intersection between Christian Theology and Human Rights: torture itself can be understood as the unlimited exercise of power over the human body and its (Western) paradigmatic case is the Passion and Crucifixion of Christ. (10) This is the brutal theological meaning of Human Rights, which restricts the use of power over the bodies of those considered as the worst human beings – such as those condemned to crucifixion. This points to the minimal standard of Human Rights, proclaimed in UDHR to protect those bodies, which should be followed by every state authority. 

The last 10 years have revealed a significant division among Christian organisations and individuals regarding the ethical values of Human Rights, as a concept, and the legal documents and international organisations that grant those rights – such as the UDHR and the United Nations. We have seen Christians supporting violations of Human Rights against minorities, promoting gun ownership and violence and denying the historicity of genocides. In extreme cases, Christian leaders and institutions have supported politicians who declared Human Rights to be the “manure of vagabonds” (11) and who forcedly separated children from their families – such as happened both in the USA, under the Trump administration; and in Ukraine, which led the International Criminal Court to issue warrants of arrest for Putin. These positions were, nevertheless, challenged by both Christian and secular institutions, either by their radical example (12), public statements (13), or legal proceedings. (14)

But there are at least two different kinds of criticism that can be laid upon Human Rights, as a concept, and the UDHR, as a legal document. One is criticism of exclusionary nature and the other a critique that demands inclusion. And I believe we should all stand for the later – which we shall turn to now.

Conclusion, inclusion and exclusion

The first criticism against Human Rights that is most common to find circulating online these days, derives from ethical values that were excluded from the public sphere after the WWII, by the member-states of the (then) emerging United Nations. The criticism I refer to is often an echo of ideological discourse produced by the Axis countries before that time. The values that inform these positions today are heavily based on racism, sexism, ethnic and religious discrimination such as anti-Semitism and islamophobia, and all sorts of prejudice against migrants and minorities. These are the very opposite of what one finds in the preamble and the 30 articles of the UDHR. 

On the other hand, the relevant criticism that we need to consider here is the struggle for inclusion and expansion of more people, rights and values than what is originally stated in the UDHR. This is the critique that denounce when Human Rights are used for protecting economic interests and mascaraing wars as humanitarian intervention – or justifying military invasions as preventive, self-defensive acts. This happens every time powerful and rich states make use of Human Rights to impose their own legislation and political power over Global South countries, disrespecting the right to self-determination – something that was not included in the UDHR, but more recently recognized as “integral to basic Human Rights, fundamental freedoms.” (15) The idea that Human Rights should include promotion of social justice, social rights and food security also falls into this category of critique. 

I believe this second kind of critique to Human Rights, which includes more people in the hall of humanity, is also more consistent with Christian theologies that observe the very words of Jesus in the Gospels, when he sets the criteria with which his followers would be judged: if they helped the hungry, the thirsty, the foreigners, those who had no clothes, the sick and those in jail. (16) If Christian majorities and minorities would stand for an inclusive understanding of Human Rights, this would certainly help making these once more the language of the oppressed (17), where the right to be free from torture and the desire to own property are no longer confused.

(1) Peter W. Edge and Graham Harvey, Law and Religion in Contemporary Society: Communities, Individualism and the State (Ashgate, 2000), 177.

(2) Elio Gaspari, “Carter, Si!,” The New York Times, April 30, 1978, sec. Archives, https://www.nytimes.com/1978/04/30/archives/carter-si.html.

(3) Costas Douzinas, The End of Human Rights: Critical Thought at the Turn of the Century (Bloomsbury Publishing, 2000).

(4) As I finish editing this piece, the International Court of Justice held its first part of the hearing on the case South Africa v. Israel, concerning alleged violations by Israel of its obligations under the 1948 Genocide Convention and international law in relation to Palestinians in the Gaza Strip.

(5) Thomas Mertens, “Nazism, Legal Positivism and Radbruch’s Thesis on Statutory Injustice,” Law and Critique 14, no. 3 (October 1, 2003): 277–95, https://doi.org/10.1023/B:LACQ.0000005215.60293.99.

(6) Jacques Ellul, The Theological Foundation of Law (New York: The Seabury Press, 1969).

(7) Alexandra Xanthaki, “When Universalism Becomes a Bully: Revisiting the Interplay Between Cultural Rights and Women’s Rights,” Human Rights Quarterly 41, no. 3 (2019): 701–24.

(8) Genesis 1:26-27

(9) Juliana Neuenschwander Magalhães, “O paradoxo dos Direitos Humanos,” Revista da Faculdade de Direito UFPR 52, no. 1 (2010), http://ojs.c3sl.ufpr.br/ojs/index.php/direito/article/view/30694.

(10) See: W. J. T Mitchell, “Cloning Terror: The War of Images 2001–2004,” in The Life and Death of Images: Ethics and Aesthetics, ed. Diarmuid Costello and Dominic Willsdon (Cornell University Press, 2008). Also check: De Matos, Jesus Fights back: Easter torture and reverse racism (Critical Legal Thinking, 2022), https://criticallegalthinking.com/2022/06/30/jesus-fights-back-easter-torture-reverse-racism/

(11) Congresso em Foco, “Em meio à polêmica do Enem, Bolsonaro chama direitos humanos de ‘esterco da vagabundagem,’” Congresso em Foco, November 5, 2017, https://congressoemfoco.uol.com.br/projeto-bula/reportagem/direitos-humanos-e-“esterco-da-vagabundagem”-diz-bolsonaro/.

(12) “Evangelical Activist Shane Claiborne Wants to Beat Our Guns into Plowshares — Really,” Los Angeles Times, April 3, 2019, https://www.latimes.com/opinion/op-ed/la-ol-patt-morrison-shane-claiborne-guns-christians-20190403-htmlstory.html.

(13) Jason Horowitz, “Pope Francis Criticized Family Separations Before Policy’s Reversal,” The New York Times, June 20, 2018, sec. World, https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/20/world/europe/pope-francis-trump-child-separation.html.

(14) “Situation in Ukraine: ICC Judges Issue Arrest Warrants against Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin and Maria Alekseyevna Lvova-Belova | International Criminal Court,” accessed January 9, 2024, https://www.icc-cpi.int/news/situation-ukraine-icc-judges-issue-arrest-warrants-against-vladimir-vladimirovich-putin-and.

(15) “Self-Determination Integral to Basic Human Rights, Fundamental Freedoms, Third Committee Told as It Concludes General Discussion | UN Press,” accessed January 10, 2024, https://press.un.org/en/2013/gashc4085.doc.htm.

(16) Matthew 25:35-45

(17) Costas Douzinas, “What Are Human Rights?,” The Guardian, March 18, 2009, sec. Opinion, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/libertycentral/2009/mar/18/human-rights-asylum.

Alabama has executed convicted murderer Kenneth Eugene Smith with nitrogen gas, the first time the method of capital punishment has been used globally. Christian campaigner Shane Claiborne says the death penalty wouldn’t stand a chance in his nation, were it not for Christians.

Kenneth Eugene Smith was convicted in 1989 of murdering a preacher’s wife, Elizabeth Sennett, in a killing-for-hire. According to an eyewitness, Smith thrashed violently on the gurney on Thursday evening and the execution took around 25 minutes. The UN condemned the execution as cruel but Alabama said the process had been carried out humanely.

Billy Neal Moore returned from the Vietnam War like many veterans, with all sorts of struggles, not the least of which was financial. He and an army buddy came up with a plan: easy access to a large amount of money, with very little risk. Or so they thought.

Billy had no criminal record. This was new terrain for him, but his friend assured him that nothing could go wrong. As they went to rob a house, it turned out the 72 year-old homeowner was in. As things unfolded, Fred Stapleton was killed.

Moore was haunted by what they had done. He confessed to the crime, knowing he would face the death penalty in Georgia. And he did. But as far as Moore was concerned, that was fine. If he could have pushed the button on his own execution, he would have. He was convinced he deserved death. In fact, while in prison, he tried to end his own life.

But in the midst of the long loneliness, there was an interruption.

Grace.

This interruption of grace came from the place we might least expect it – the family of the murder victim. Behind bars Billy had already had a powerful conversion experience. He even got baptised. But it was his relationship with the family of the victim that showed him what grace really is. In his words: “It was the family of the person I killed that helped me get to the point that I could forgive myself.”

WE CAN’T FORGET JESUS’ OWN ENCOUNTER WITH THE DEATH PENALTY AS HE STOPS THE EXECUTION OF THE WOMAN CAUGHT IN ADULTERY.

The family were deeply committed Christians, with a passion for life and a profound understanding of redemption. While not ignoring the evil that was done, they insisted that grace got the last word. They told Billy that because they were Christians, they believed in second chances. They told him they believed God wasn’t done with him yet, and that he had a plan for Billy’s life. They became his surrogate family, the biggest advocates for his life, and the biggest obstacles to his execution. Over two decades (and 13 different execution dates) they were relentless. Through their prayers and persistence, they even got Mother Teresa involved. Not only was his execution stopped, but in an unprecedented move, the Georgia parole board allowed him to be released from prison.

Today, Billy Neal Moore is a pastor.

Every time he preaches, he talks about grace. With a fire in his bones, he proclaims: “No one is beyond redemption.” Grace drips from his lips. Not surprisingly, Billy is also committed to ending the death penalty, which he says: “is the state carrying out revenge—nothing more, nothing less.”

I aspire to be a champion for life on every issue. I believe every person is a child of God, made in the image of God and any time a life is cut short, we lose a part of God’s image in the world.

But here’s what I’ve found with the death penalty: it has succeeded not in spite of Christians, but because of us. Literally, on this issue, we have not been the champions of life. We have been the obstacles. It’s counter-intuitive, and tragic.

When you begin to question how the death penalty has survived, you realise the disturbing answer to that question is: Christians. The death penalty would not stand a chance in America if it weren’t for Christians. 86 per cent of executions have happened in the ’Bible belt’ – the southern states where Christians are most concentrated. The Bible belt is the death belt of America.

RACE AND RESOURCES

I’ve also found that talking about the death penalty it is a gateway to all sorts of other important topics – race, economic inequity, theology, justice, mass incarceration. It’s like peeling away the layers of an onion. We can’t divorce the death penalty from our history of race, white supremacy and the residue that slavery and colonialism has left us. The states that held on to slavery the longest are the same states that hold on to the death penalty.

Executions today are happening exactly where lynchings were happening in the United States 100 years ago. In 1950, African Americans were 10 per cent of our population, but they constituted 75 per cent of executions. 70 years later, African Americans account for 13 per cent of our population but make up almost half of death row (43 per cent) and over a third of our executions (34 per cent).

IF WE BELIEVE MURDERERS ARE BEYOND REDEMPTION, WE SHOULD RIP OUT HALF THE BIBLE, BECAUSE IT WAS WRITTEN BY THEM

When we think of the death penalty, we like to think that we are executing the worst of the worst, but the truth is, too often we are executing the poorest of the poor and people of colour. Jeffrey Dahmer didn’t get the death penalty. Charles Manson died of natural causes in prison. Harvard-educated Ted Kaczynski is still alive. More than the atrocity of the crime, what often determines who gets executed are arbitrary things like the resources, race and where the crime was committed.

And of course, the death penalty raises the massively important question of how much we trust the State with the irreversible power of life and death. There are over 196 people who were wrongfully convicted and sentenced to death, who have now been exonerated after proving their innocence. These are just the people we know about. How many others might there be?

If you wrongfully sentence someone to life in prison, you can free them. But you can’t bring someone back from the dead. As Sister Helen Prejean often say: sometimes the question isn’t whether someone deserves to die, but whether we deserve to kill. Especially when we have a track record of getting it wrong.

DEADLY THEOLOGY

I was one of those pro-death-penalty Christians for much of my life. I had all the Bible verses to support my case, and I wielded them well. I’ve always been passionate, even when I’m wrong! But when I started to look at those Bible verses again, I changed my mind.

Now I want to poke a few holes in the theology of death.

In ancient Old Testament law, the death penalty was permitted. But capital murder wasn’t the only death-worthy crime. There were more than 30 others, including disrespecting your parents, various forms of sexual conduct, witchcraft and even working on the Sabbath. When it comes to disciplining our youth today, not many parents are ready to kill their kids for playing with a Ouija board or talking back. No one actually wants to bring the full death penalty back as recorded in the Old Testament.

There were over 40 strict requirements for an execution, which ensured they almost never happened. The rabbis used to say that if there was more than one execution in 70 years, something was wrong. A rabbinical friend pointed out the irony that Jews did away with the death penalty a long time ago, but Christians still misuse Hebrew scriptures to justify it. He laughed as he pointed out the obvious: “And you all have Jesus to reconcile this with. That makes it even more baffling.”

Some say God is for the death penalty. But think of the story of Cain and Abel, the inaugural murder in the Bible. God doesn’t kill Cain, his life is spared. Moses killed a man in the book of Exodus but God didn’t put him to death. David killed Uriah, yet his own life was spared. Saul of Tarsus was a murderer, but Saul became Paul, and the gospel of grace went forward. If we believe murderers are beyond redemption, we should rip out half the Bible, because it was written by them.

THE EXAMPLE OF JESUS

A recent poll in the United States showed that 95 per cent of Americans think Jesus would stand against the death penalty. The problem is we have to convince the Christians to take Jesus more seriously.

Jesus is the ultimate interrupter of violence. On the cross, he took on the powers of death, absorbing all the evil, sin and violence in the world. He put death on display, not in order to glorify it but to subvert it. As Colossians says: “Having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.” (2:15) Jesus is like water poured on the electric chair, short circuiting the whole system of retribution, sacrifice and death. Love wins. Mercy triumphs over judgement.

And we can’t forget Jesus’ own encounter the death penalty as he stops the execution of the woman caught in adultery (John 7-8). At the end of that story, Jesus says to her, “Where’d they all go?” The message is clear. The only one who has any right to throw a stone had absolutely no desire to do so. The closer we get to God, the less we want to throw stones at other people.

THE POWER OF FORGIVENESS

Mary Johnson is a hero of mine. On February 12, 1993, Johnson’s only son was murdered. He was only 20 years old. Devastated and filled with rage, she was paralysed with the anguish of it all. The perpetrator was 16-year-old Oshea Israel, who eventually received a 25-year sentence for murder.

But something spectacular, one might even venture to call miraculous, happened. Mary was reading a poem entitled Two Mothers, about two angelic figures meeting in heaven. As they meet, they can tell by the stars in each other’s crowns that they were both mothers on earth. And they can also tell by their blue-tinted halos that they have both known the deep sorrow and despair of losing their sons.

As they describe their boys to each other, the one mother realises that she is talking with Mary, the blessed mother of Jesus. Mary describes the cruel death of her son and how she would have gladly died in his place. The other falls to her knees, but Mary raises her back up, kisses her cheek, wipes away her tears, and says: “Tell me the name of the son you love so”.

The other mother says: “He was Judas Iscariot. I am his mother.”

When Mary read that poem she was moved, compelled, to
meet with Oshea, the man who killed her son, and eventually his mother…and the healing began. As she first met Oshea, she laid it all out there. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. You didn’t know my son and he didn’t know you…so we need to lay down
a foundation to get to know one another.” They talked for hours.

Oshea couldn’t believe Mary could forgive him. He asked for a hug. And they did. Mary knows the power of her story, and she knows how scandalous it seems to our unforgiving world. When he left the room, she says she cried in disbelief: “I’ve just hugged the man who killed my son.” But as she got up, she felt her soul begin to heal.

Years later, in March of 2010, Oshea was released after 17 years in prison. And Mary helped throw a welcome home party. In fact, they ended up living next door to each other in Minneapolis.

I’VE JUST HUGGED THE MAN WHO KILLED MY SON

As he returned home, Oshea said he was blessed to have “two moms” who now claim each other as sisters.. Mary went on to start an organisation called From Death to Life.

When I visited Minneapolis I stayed in the house where they all met, a holy place called the St Jane House, with photos of reconciliation and healing plastered all over the walls. Mary came over for dinner and explained that they have two support groups  – the mums whose kids were killed, and the mums whose kids have killed – and both groups meet together whenever they can. They know their healing is bound up together; they need each other.

As Mary hugged me, I thought to myself with profound awe: “These same courageous arms embraced the man who killed her son.” I felt like I had been hugged by an angel, with a blue-tinted halo.

Grace gets the last word.

Mary was said to be ‘perplexed’ when the angel Gabriel told her she was carrying the hope of a broken people. Like her, we must set aside our fears in a divided world and respond, ‘Here I am.’

Across the globe, from small communities in southern India to the splendor of the Vatican in Rome to homes across Oregon, people will gather Christmas Day to celebrate the birth of Jesus, the Prince of Peace. It is a joyful time. Families come together, churches fill up, gifts are exchanged and children can hardly contain themselves as they await Santa in his many forms — Father Christmas, St. Nicholas, Père Noël and others.

For Christians, Christmas is also a time for engaged reflection.

Howard Thurman, the theologian, author and civil rights leader, wrote a beautiful poem called “The Work of Christmas” that can help move American Christians from the commercialism of Christmas and into the heart of Jesus’ message for the world:

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among people,
To make music in the heart.

Faith is work, after all.

Through the Hebrew Scriptures and the Christian New Testament, those who follow Jesus are given a vision of the world that directly contrasts with the world we live in. For all that is good with the world, we also live in a time of unparalleled crisis. In times of crisis, God calls us into a partnership to find solutions.

Many of the issues that confront us today, such as greed and oppression, are issues the Hebrew prophets and Jesus would have recognized. What is different for this time? The scale of what confronts us. From the reality of human-caused climate change and the implications that brings for the future of all creation, to the growing threat of nuclear conflict, to increasing economic inequality. Crisis greets us whether or not it is a holiday.

Small children opening gifts under the tree this year, regardless of where they live, face the genuine threat that climate change will, as the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change reported this past October, produce a future of suffering that will fall hardest on those Jesus called the “least of these.” Still, all of humanity will be impacted. The chaos caused by the gathering storm increases the risk of world war, terrorism, hunger and poverty, and it will further divide people along regional and economic lines.

Religion, which is too often used to divide, can be a tool to inspire the world to action. Mary, the mother of Jesus, was said to be “perplexed” when the angel Gabriel informed her that she was carrying the son of God, and the hope of a broken people. Her first response is understandable but her second response is remarkable. Like Moses and others called by God to great tasks, Mary sets aside fear and responds: “Here I am.”

This Christmas we live in the shadow of conflict. Historians tell us the United States has not been this divided since the period before the Civil War. The world itself is in peril.

At best, our government stumbles in the face of complexity; at worst, we lash out in misdirected anger fueled by racism and xenophobia as we separate children from parents and tear gas others, refugee families not unlike Mary, Joseph and Jesus.

Our answer to all this must equal Mary’s: Here we are!

At the start of the Gospel of John, we are told: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

There is darkness today, to be sure. That darkness comes in many forms. The light of God’s people, known by different faiths and traditions, can still overcome it if we reunite this Christmas Day and each day after in common cause, as Jesus taught, to free the world from oppression and offer love in place of hate. If we genuinely honor Jesus and celebrate his birth, we cannot be the generation that allows all of creation to wither due to neglect or war. We must bring light and love to help creation grow and thrive.

Merry Christmas. Let’s get to work.

A few years ago, I remember a pastor friend telling me they tried something a little different for their Christmas services. Instead of the usual holiday décor and clutter of the sanctuary, they brought in a bunch of manure and hay and scattered it under the pews so the place would really smell like the stank manger where it all began. I laughed hysterically as he described everyone coming in, in all their best Christmas attire, only to sit in the rank smell of a barn.

They even brought a donkey in during the opening of the service that dropped a special gift as it moseyed down the aisle. Folks looked awkwardly at each other. Some were offended, some snickered, and some left. But for those who stayed… it was something like they’d never seen before. It was one of the most memorable services they’ve ever had.

They were reminded of the real meaning of Christmas — God entered the crap.

Jesus was born in a dirty, stank manger because there was no room in the inn. God came into the world as a refugee, born to a teenage mom that couldn’t even afford the usual offerings given in the Temple at the birth of a new child.

As Jesus was born, the Gospels tell of a terrible massacre that occurred, an unspeakable act of violence as King Herod slaughters children throughout the land, hoping to kill Jesus… which the Church remembers as the massacre of the “Holy Innocents.”

Perhaps the original Christmas was marked more with agony and grief than with the glitz and glamour of the shopping malls and parades. From his birth in the manger as a homeless baby, until his brutal execution on the Roman cross, Jesus reminds us that God is with us.

That’s what Emmanuel means, “God with us.”  God is with us in the struggle to survive, amid the throes of poverty, in the fight for freedom, in a world full of violence. Jesus’ coming to earth is all about a God who leaves the comfort of heaven to join the struggle here on earth. God is with us.

Jesus did not just come to help immigrants and refugees; he came as a refugee. Jesus is the most incredible act of divine solidarity the world has ever known.

Let’s remember this Christmas that the Savior we celebrate was born into the crap. He couldn’t care less whether we say “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays.” He’s much more interested in us getting dirty in the trenches than decorating the Temple. What Jesus cares about is how we care for the most vulnerable people on earth — the widows and orphans, the immigrants and refugees, the sick and the homeless.

The world we live in, like the world Christ lived in, is ravaged with violence and poverty. But the good news is that a Savior is born. He has come to preach good news to the poor and to disturb the rich. He has come to cast the mighty from their thrones and to lift up the lowly. He has come to bind up the brokenhearted and proclaim freedom to the captives.

He has come to remind us that God is with us — if we are with the poor.

This reflection was first published in “Keep Watch With Me: A Daily Advent Reader for Peacemakers.”

Read More: Christ in the Rubble: A Liturgy of Lament – Red Letter Christians

** Transcript of Adam Taylor’s talk is below.

You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD. — Lev. 19:18

As evangelical Christians in America, we are grieved by the violence that has consumed Israel and Gaza and we are troubled by the ways our faith tradition has been used to justify it. Yet even as we witness gross distortions of faith by Christian nationalists in public life, we also celebrate how people from Jewish, Christian, and Muslim traditions around the world are coming together to cry for peace. So say cease-fire, some say a “cessation of hostilities,” some say humanitarian pause. Some just say, “Stop for the babies!” But the world is experiencing a kind of Pentecost as people cry out in different tongues with a unified call to end the violence.

Judaism teaches through the prophet Amos that God hears a united remnant against injustice. Islam teaches that “God is with the group.” And Jesus prayed that we all might be One, even as he and his Father are One. There is power in the unified cry of faithful people.

Judaism, Christianity, and Islam share moral convictions that ground our response to this moment.

We believe that every human being is created in the image of God. Both the Talmud and Islamic teaching say that to save a single life is to save all humanity, and Jesus extends the law of love for kin and neighbors even to those who are our enemies. Together we believe that every Israeli life is precious; every Palestinian life is precious; every single life is precious.

We also share the conviction that vengeance belongs to God. While governments have a right and duty to ensure security, our traditions insist on restraint and limits when the state exercises its power. No government knows enough to become the ultimate arbiter of justice.

Finally, our traditions share a commitment to justice, especially for those who are weak and vulnerable in this world. Whenever there is an imbalance of power, God hears the cries of those who are suffering and calls us to join their cry for justice.

Because of these shared convictions and our knowledge that a “three-fold chord is not easily broken,” we join our voices with Jews, Christians, and Muslims around the world who are calling for a ceasefire in Gaza and the safe return of all hostages and civilian prisoners taken in the present conflict.

While “cease-fire” is a technical term of international law, our faith demands that we outline a basic moral call to CEASE-FIRE.

Confront and stop immediately indiscriminate violence against any civilian, especially women, children, and the sick.

End the denial of basic necessities to any population, including food, water, electricity, fuel, internet, and medical supplies.

Affirm the image of God in every human being.

Stop the practice of holding hostages and ensure the safe return of all hostages and prisoners home.

Exercise nonviolent power to build a just peace for all people.

Faithfully work as Jews, Christians, and Muslims to support a viable alternative to the brutality of Hamas and to challenge the Netanyahu administration’s practices of occupation and apartheid.

Insist that human rights for all people are nonnegotiable.

Raise a moral cry against murder, indiscriminate violence, war, and public policies rooted in vengeance, no matter which faith is used to justify violence.

Engage nonviolently to interrupt the violence that is being carried out against fellow human beings.

As people who are committed to manifesting beloved community and overcoming violence of any kind against any person or people, we steadfastly demand that justice be done and seek to protect the dignity of all human life regardless of race, religion, ethnicity, or national identity.

We need a cease-fire for God’s sake, for the future’s sake, for the sake of the babies who are dying, and for the sake of our own humanity.

Jesus said, “If you live by the sword, you will die by the sword,” and, as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. made clear, in an era of nuclear weapons that can destroy the whole world, our ultimate choice is not between violence and nonviolence, but between nonviolence and nonexistence. Killing our future is worse than wrong; it is an act of despair that denies God’s hope.

Our faith compels us to lift up this moral call for a cease-fire. We invite any who share this conviction to join people of faith around the world who are praying and taking action for peace.

Bishop William J. Barber, II
Center for Public Theology and Public Policy, Yale Divinity School
Repairers of the Breach

Shane Claiborne
Red Letter Christians

Mae Elise Cannon
Churches for Middle East Peace

Rodney Sadler
Center for Social Justice and Reconciliation, Union Presbyterian Seminary

Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove
Center for Public Theology and Public Policy, Yale Divinity School

**Transcript of Adam Taylor’s talk at the vigil:

These remarks were drawn in part from the article published on Sojourners, Dear Christians, Cease-Fire Is Not Surrender.

Beloved—I want to thank Churches for Middle East Peace and all of the other faith leaders here tonight for this powerful witness. As we mark 44 painful and tragic days since the horrific massacre of Israelis by Hamas on October 7 and the estimated 12,000 Gazans who have lost their lives due to Israel’s bombing campaign, we continue to grieve and lament with all the families who have lost loved ones and we pray for an immediate end to the violence in Israel, Gaza and the West Bank.  

This unconscionable suffering and violence breaks the very heart of our God.  While we pray that hostages can and will be a released through a temporary pause, we know that temporary is not nearly enough.  If our nation can negotiate a temporary pause, then surely, we can also negotiate a permanent one through a ceasefire to help end the war.  We also know that a ceasefire is not a surrender, instead it is a courageous step toward peace.   

Contrary to the misguided logic of war, we know that there is no true military solution to this crisis. Jesus said “blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God” These countercultural words from Jesus’ sermon on the Mount reverberate across time and space are equally relevant and urgent today.  Yes beloved, this is a time for peacemaking — and that starts with a ceasefire. As peacemakers, we must honor the image of God in every Israeli and every Palestinian. We must be clear that our condemning of Hamas’ actions and ideology and our support for Israel’s right to security does not negate our deep commitment to justice and liberation in Palestine!  And while we must strongly oppose both antisemitism and Islamophobia, we must be clear that condemning actions by the state of Israel should not be conflated with antisemitism!

Throughout scripture, God commands both truth and action — and forbids their opposites. Leviticus chapter 19, verse 16 says: “You shall not go around as a slanderer among your people, and you shall not stand idly by when the blood of your neighbor is at stake: I am the Lord.”  And now, refusing to stand idly by means advocating that our own government use its power rightly.

And that’s why we’re here tonight. We are here to pray and to call on President Biden and his administration to apply maximum pressure to negotiate an immediate and durable ceasefire in order to help end the current war and restrain a wider regional conflict. We are here to ensure that sufficient medical aid, water, food, and fuel can reach Gazan civilians.  We are here to call for the immediate release of all hostages.  We are here to call for political solutions that provide lasting peace, security, and justice for all Israelis and all Palestinians.  It is time to replace the misguided logic of war with the imperative for peace. 

God, we pray that you will swiftly bring comfort for the grieving, freedom for the hostage, and lasting peace and justice to Israel and Palestine. We are reminded that you are rock in a weary land and a bridge over even the most troubled water.  Help us to stand on your rock today as we embrace your call to be peacemakers.  In the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and liberator we pray, Amen.  

Add Your Voice to this Call for a Cease-fire

Some participants in the criminal justice discussion focus on the fact that violent crime rates in the United States are unusually high compared to western Europe. In 2020, there were an estimated 22,000 homicides in the United States, or approximately 6.5 homicides for every 100,000 people. By contrast, the homicide rate that year was ranged from 1.4 in France to 0.5 in Italy. Likewise, the rates of other violent crimes in the United States were generally much higher than in those countries. And the combined arrest rate in the United States for these crimes is only about 10 percent. From statistics like these, some argue that what the United States needs is a tougher approach to crime control. 

Other participants in the criminal justice conversation focus on what has come to be called “mass incarceration” and, in particular, the racial disparity of the American prison population as compared to the population at large. The United States is the world’s largest jailer, accounting for approximately 19 percent of the world’s prisoners but only 4.25 percent of the world’s population. Even removing drug crimes from the calculus, our country has the highest incarceration rate among Western countries by a wide margin. And the percentage of Black people imprisoned in the United States is five times higher than that of White people.

These jarring statistics about the justice system’s input (crimes) and output (imprisonment) are certainly relevant to the conversation. More telling, in my view, are these statistics: 40 percent of murders in the United States go unsolved while, since 2000, 1,027 men and women have been exonerated of murders for which they were convicted. Thousands of guilty wander free while more than a thousand were wrongly imprisoned. This suggests that something in the American criminal justice system is broken.

But these statistics cannot tell us what is broken. To answer that question, an analysis of the design and operation of the features, procedures, actors, and laws that make up the system is required. We need an examination of the machinery, not merely the product, of the criminal justice system.

The criminal justice system is, by definition, state-sponsored violence. Every criminal law, even a just one, is an authorization for the state to use physical force against an image-bearer if he or she fails to comply with the law’s mandate. Most Christians do not believe that the Bible either forbids or condemns such violence. It is expressly sanctioned by Scripture in several passages, the most notable of which is Romans 13. This means that the sight of the criminal justice system at work, even in entirely appropriate ways, will be often violent. And viewing physical force brought to bear on another human is upsetting. What is disturbing, however, is not always unjust. Though it might be. So once we understand how the system operates, we need a Christian ethic against which to judge the justice of the system.

Running throughout Scripture is the idea that justice is, most fundamentally, an issue of love. That which is loving is no less than that which is just. As professor Christopher Marshall, a leader in the restorative justice movement puts it, “Love requires justice, and justice expresses love, though love is more than justice.” For the Christian, love is an issue of the highest order. It is foundational to the Christian ethic. Love is—or should be—of utmost importance to Christians because it is of utmost importance to Christ. The implication of Jesus’s teaching is that everything about life turns on love (Matt. 22:37–40). And justice is no exception. 

Some have objected that all this discussion about justice—social justice generally and criminal justice in particular—distracts Christians from what really matters, namely, the gospel. “Just preach the gospel,” some say. But what is the gospel—the good news—if not a gracious promise and provision of justice? The best news you will ever hear is this promise from the one who sits on the throne of the universe: “Behold, I am making all things new” (Rev. 21:5). Peter encourages us to look forward to “new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells” (2 Pet. 3:13). As Christians have confessed for centuries, we “look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.”

Anglican ethicist Oliver O’Donovan rightly observes, “It is the task of Christian eschatology to speak of the day when [divine] justice shall supersede all other justice.” Our eternal hope as Christians is found in the answer to Abraham’s rhetorical question, “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?” (Gen. 18:25). Indeed, Christ posed—and answered—that same question in his parable of the persistent widow: “Will not God give justice to his elect, who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long over them? I tell you, he will give justice to them speedily” (Luke 18:7–8).

Some might respond that while our ultimate hope is a just world to come under the only just King, we have no such promise in this present world. And that is true. We will not see perfect justice on this side of eternity. Earthly politics have a “provisional task of bearing witness to God’s justice” fully realized only in the eschaton, O’Donovan reminds us. The danger, however, is that our pessimism is overactive and our eschatology is under-realized.

I think this is a particular danger for Protestants of the Reformed variety. We rightly emphasize that Christ declares us just, but we tend to underemphasize that he is making us into people who live justly as well. We fail to see that we glorify the God who is just and who has declared us just when we, as his image bearers, do justly. As more and more justified people do justly, it makes for a more just, or at least less unjust, world. Our prayer even now is that God’s will for justice “be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matt. 6:10). As a result, “social injustice must always be denounced, even if its ultimate abolition awaits Christ’s return.” And as we live justly in this life, we point to that day of ultimate justice in the life to come. “Our membership in the kingdom of God may be transcendent,” O’Donovan writes, “but it can be gestured towards in the way we do our earthly justice.” Every glimmer, however faint, of justice in this life is God’s kingdom breaking through, a reminder that cloaked in fog, just around the bend, perfect justice is on the march. One day soon, he will dwell with us (Rev. 21:3).

And all of that is true because of love. His love. For us.

This is a book about that love and what it means for the American criminal justice system. Crime is conflict. It is a product of a fallen world. God ordained government to address that conflict, and a criminal justice system is one facet of that conflict management enterprise gifted to us by God for our use until that day when conflict is no more. The question I set out to answer in this book is how to conform such a system to Scripture—which is to say, how to do criminal justice justly. In sum, my answer is that a criminal justice system marked by Christ’s love for accused and victim alike is, in a fallen world, a crucial element of what Augustine called “the tranquility of order.”

Much of the story of American criminal justice has been a story of “us versus them.” In a sense, that approach to criminal justice has intuitive appeal. Each criminal prosecution is, after all, the People versus the Defendant. It is the “versus,” however, that frames the problem. It is the “versus” that highlights the conflict that makes love for both victim and accused seem out of reach or, worse yet, unnecessary. We too often fall prey to thinking that the “versus” of criminal justice means that there is a “them,” an accused, a defendant, who is unentitled to our love. That conclusion—or, perhaps, simply an unchallenged assumption—is wrong. It is unbiblical. It is unloving. It is unjust. It is sin. The story of biblical criminal justice is a story of “we.” For the Christian, the defining slogan of the criminal justice system should not be “law and order” but “love your neighbor.”

Content taken from Reforming Criminal Justice: A Christian Proposal by Matthew T. Martens. © 2023. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers.