I've written before that I oppose the death penalty for religious reasons. That doesn't always go over well with my fellow conservatives or many of my fellow Christians, and I'm sympathetic. My fellow conservatives who support the death penalty argue their case with logic and reason, and their positions are … well, logical and reasonable. Many Christians find support for capital punishment in the book of Romans and in the Old Testament. Their arguments are clear and rational, and yet I don't share them.

Then, something happens like the apparently justifiable and necessary execution of Saddam Hussein, and I feel compelled to examine my position.

(By the way, you can see a fairly upsetting cellphone video of the execution here. HT: LGF.)

My opposition to the death penalty has been a major factor in my personal religious journey. I used to support capital punishment adamantly. For me, the acid test was the horrific murder of Polly Klass by a vile career criminal named Richard Allen Davis. On October 1, 1993, Davis abducted 12 year old Polly Klass from her home in Petaluma, California. By morning Davis had molested and murdered Polly and left her body in the woods. When convicted of his crimes, Davis made obscene gestures at the jury. At his sentencing, Davis found one last way to inflict pain on Polly's family; he claimed that the young girl had indicated that she'd been molested by her father before he murdered her. If ever anyone deserved to be killed, It is Richard Allen Davis. For years, this piece of subhuman fecal matter was my lodestar for supporting capital punishment.

About five years ago (not long after 9/11), while I still supported the death penalty, I had a conversation with a good friend about the subject of state-sponsored execution. (I won't identify him, but he comments here and may chose to identify himself.) My friend opposed the death penalty on the grounds that people simply don't have the authority to execute it. He believed that only God could create life and that only God had the right to end it. I recognized that argument. I'd used it for years to explain my opposition to abortion on demand.

Although everything in me recoiled, I ended up having to admit that my friend's argument was logical. All my attempts to attack his point of view were really attacks on men of straw. He wasn't saying that the lives of unborn children were of equal merit to the lives of murderers, he was just saying that we don't have the authority to take any life. He wasn't arguing that people like Richard Allen Davis didn't deserve to die, he was just saying that it wasn't our job to kill him. He wasn't even arguing that my rage against Davis was unjustifiable. He was simply, tacitly saying that none of us have the authority to take any human life. No, not one.

I couldn't find anything in the Bible that backed up my point of view or refuted my friend's position. In the New Testament, as opposed to the Old, forgiveness and submission are the orders of the day, not revenge. Jesus spoke plainly against seeking revenge in the gospels, and in his letters Paul cried out for mercy, charity and compassion that exceeds what our enemies deserve. Even Saint Paul's instruction to follow the laws of the land (Romans 13) is not instruction to silently obey the law at the expense of the Christian model. We are called to be Stephens, not Samsons. Undue, unchristian laws must be identified and called to account. That's obvious to Christians when it comes to abortion on demand. For me, it became just as obvious (though not as easy, certainly) when it comes to the death penalty.

I realized that I could no longer support the death penalty and claim that I was following Christ in the way that I believed that the Holy Spirit was leading me. The religion I'd been practicing was Lewis's infamous "Christianity and water", and it wasn't going to be good enough. I'd been trying to change Jesus to fit me. I was supposed to do the opposite.

I began listening more closely to the still small voice, and eventually I concluded that it was leading me to Rome. It might lead others to other churches. It's almost inconsequential. No Earthly local is the ultimate destination, and I can't imagine that we'll find denominational segregation when we get there. I hope to make it there myself and find myself in communion with a myriad of the faithful, including those who have been "a law for themselves" (Romans 2:13-16).

So, what of Saddam Hussein?

When Saddam was executed this weekend, I remembered the slow and lonely death of Pol Pot, a dictator responsible for tremendous genocide. For his crimes, Pol Pot was apparently given something he'd denied to well over a million Cambodians: a prolonged and painful death due to old age. After years of despotism, Pol Pot died in a mud hut under house arrest in 1997. His death wasn't as galvanizing as a public execution would have been, but it was just as final.

There was, of course, an element of temporal satisfaction in the hanging of Saddam Hussein. I won't argue that he didn't deserve execution. By any Earthly standard, he did. Still, I believe that we Christians will be judged by another standard, and we must try, even in our frailty, to live up to that standard. Arguing to spare the life of a genocidal murderer is distasteful, but I can't find anything that indicates that Christianity is supposed to be tasteful. Quite the opposite. From what I can tell, the Christian life is often divisive (Matthew 10:34-36) and involves tremendous self denial (Mark 8:34), and sometimes requires us to advance unpopular truths at terrible personal risk (Acts 7:51-60). Clearly it involves the sacrifice of our individual will for the will of Another.

The fact that Saddam Hussein was executed by Muslims and not Christians isn't relevant from my point of view. Even removing religious considerations, I still believe that other options might have been better. Had Saddam's life been spared, had he been allowed to grow old in prison, the new Iraqi government might have set a brave and merciful new precedent. I'm naïve enough to believe that it might have been a good thing in a region desperate for bravery and mercy.

Labels: Faith, News, Politics