Revenge!

Rabbi Gary S. Creditor
May 4th, 2001

 
Four times in my career I have preached sermons about capitol punishment. Once was a philosophical statement when the State of New York was about to vote upon it. Two I delivered here, concerning the bombing in Oklahoma City. The fourth I delivered in New York after a man named Joel Steinberg brutalized his woman partner and lethally beat her daughter. He was sentenced to eight years incarceration.

I was outraged over that sentence and wrote a sermon to give vent to my feelings. I remembered all of that very vividly when I saw the sidebar in the international news this week that the Pope had called upon President Bush to commute the sentence of Timothy McVie. I am also sure that there will be a crescendo of voices in the next days leading up to his execution. Here in Richmond, in the past, I have been solicited by various organizations to sign petitions against the death penalty, and demonstrate against capitol punishment. [Hold up the booklet]

Provoked by the audacity of the Pope's request, in anticipation of events of the next week, and the developments in the case of the Birmingham, Alabama Church bombing, I share with you my feelings, over which I am conflicted, but that at least I can accept.

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In the Talmud it states that we are "Rachmanim b'nai rachmanim," "Merciful ones, the children of merciful ones." This is a core characteristic of the Jewish people. Elsewhere we are commanded to be like the students of Abraham our father, who were noted for their generous nature, humble spirit, and modest desire. Because these character traits were fused with the moralistic exhortations of the prophets, Jews were always in the forefront of causes, which were nominally called liberalism. My grandparent's socialism came directly from core Jewish teachings. I understand this nature of our people. We were to be a kindlier and gentler people, and at God's behest, were commanded to make the world over in our image. Perhaps this is what the prophets had in mind when they said that we were to be an "Or LaGoyim," a "Light unto the nations."

I, too, have inculcated into myself these values in my attitudes towards life and its problems. My sermons have authentically evinced my concern for the downtrodden, the hungry, and the poor. My children have helped me schlep food to soup kitchens. I have consistently supported the ADL, Southern Poverty Law Center, and sometimes even the ACLU.

But on a rare occasion, another voice speaks inside of me, with a rage, even if quiet, a real rage.

And I don't feel so liberal.

And I don't feel so gentle.

And I don't want to be Abraham's student.

Instead I want to hear the plain "mamaloshen" of Torah very clearly. I want the original text of the Torah, undistilled by Rabbinic interpretation to cry out:

A person, who strikes another person and kills him, must surely die.

That's what it says in the Torah portion of Mishpatim in the book of Exodus in plain language. If it's an accident, if the head of the ax does flying off, and the person walking by is fatally struck, that's manslaughter, with no death penalty.

But for the purposefully striking of another human being,

For intending to kill men, women and children,

That's not manslaughter in any degree,

That's murder!

The penalty for which, is death!

And that's the sentence I want meted out and fulfilled!

When I first wrote those words, originally about Joel Steinberg, and now about Timothy McVie, I asked myself: "Is this me talking? I'm a liberal. I embrace the values of liberalism! I repeat the exhortations of prophets and sages that there should not be any killing in God's holy mountain." I haven't killed anything more than an insect. I turn away from ER and other medical shows, even when I know that they are acting! My evolvement is not a matter of getting older and wiser. I know who I am, or at least I think I do.

And I know my Jewish tradition very well. Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Tarfon, in response to their colleagues, said: "Had we been members of the Sanhedrin, the death penalty would never have been inflicted." I know that the humanity of the Rabbis was repulsed by the fact that the Torah legislates the death penalty for four specific categories of sins:

[Offenses against God and religious observances;

Offenses against the social order;

Violence against the person; and,

Immorality and indecency.]

They did their best to tie the hands of these laws so that the penalty could not be administered. They enacted legal requirements that were impossible to fulfill. They required the witnesses be present who give a warning to the intended criminal, who must respond that he knows what he's doing and he know the penalty, and despite this, will do it anyway. It's like reading the Miranda Act before the crime is committed.

I know and understand why and what the Rabbis were doing.

I also think that they understood:

The death penalty won't deter anybody from committing a crime, if they really want to.

That once you begin executing people legally, there will be inequities, some will die who shouldn't and some who should, won't.

That the executor and all those involved in the process are brutalized by a system where it is legal for the state to kill.

But they didn't see the remains of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building.

They didn't watch the demolition of its ruins.

They didn't listen to Timothy McVie have absolutely no remorse for his killing of all those children, besides the adults!

They were disposable! They were expendable!

They didn't see the picture of that girl that drove me to write the original sermon.

 

The Rabbinic and Prophetic streams mingled with my innate liberalism and rationalism urge me to be compassionate and listen to the arguments against the death penalty. But there is another chord that resounds within me:

I want vengeance for the animal-like depravity to strike a defenseless child, defenseless children in a pre-school nursery.

I want vengeance for the child that resides in each of us that was diminished, even murdered.

I want vengeance for the destruction of the divine image that was destroyed in each child, man, and woman.

I want to know how a man, Thomas Blanton, Jr. can ONLY be sentenced to "life in prison" for the bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church on September 15th, 1963, wherein were murdered the four fourteen year old girls!

Having shed their blood, is not his required in recompense?

Are the victims' lives so cheap?

Why should he be allowed to live when those girls died?

I want to know how the FBI agents who knew of the existence of the tapes made of Blanton and others that they were going to and did blow up the church, and then this man could live a normal life for the next twenty-eight years – I want to know: How did the FBI agents sleep at night?

I want to know, that somehow, somewhere, sometime, the divine promise that evil will really catch heck, will come true. And I don't want to wait until the Messiah comes!

Is it so wrong to scream to the heavens that all children must be protected, so that they can grow up in health and happiness?

There is something from inside the deepest part of my kishkes that calls out for revenge. My humanity calls for the execution of divine judgment. On the scales of justice and mercy, sometimes justice must override mercy. Even if I disagree with my Rabbis and prophets, I must affirm the human cry in my heart.

In writing the original sermon and rewriting this one, I wasn't sure how to conclude. Sometimes there are events, which change life forever. We are not the same after the Oklahoma City bombing, just as this country was not the same after the Birmingham church bombing. But I want to say to myself that I am basically the same person who I always was. I don't advocate vigilante justice. The rest of me still embraces the social agenda born out of prophetic concern and rabbinic conscience. But there is a voice in me that cries out to man and to God, to protect the innocent, to shield our children, safeguard our youth and safeguard all of us from harm. From their graves, the four girls of Alabama and all the dead of Okalahoma City cry out to us, and to God. May we not betray our humanity, even as we cry out for true justice.

Amen.