'The Kings and Their God's: The pathology of power' stands as my introduction to Daniel Berrigan. He writes as a practicing Jesuit priest. He can also be described as a poet (of sorts) and an activist. This suggest he is also writing from a certain level of dark experience. It also narrows in his audience, which happens to be American patriotism.
This sentiment is often overused (including by me), but this book is certainly not for everyone. It is not a familiar structured commentary. He fuses modern political commentary with something of a poetic meandering as he makes his way through the book of Kings, beginning with the familiar story of Solomon (well, actually his father David). American patriots... well, all patriots, will likely struggle with some (or much) of what he says regarding leaders, power systems, and above all war. Conservative Christian's (depending on where you fall within that certain stereotype) might struggle with the candid picture of the Biblical characters, not to mention a tough Biblical history. However, if you have never looked candidly at this history and narrative (particularly in the book of Kings), I would think it would be hard to see these popular stories through the same lens. This is a part of the challenge of the book, to go back and reread and revisit some of what we have popularized and idolized as upstanding spiritual characters. If Berrigan has one central purpose for writing this book, it is to climatize our own spiritual character and outlook to the fact that reality then and now remains an incredibly messy and complicated relationship between hope and despair.
Berrigan writes, "And of course (we) have missed the point. The Bible has small interest in the 'ideal human' or a 'lofty tone'. Are we tempted to cleanse the book of its dubious characters, grubbing, irksome, besotted, incurably violent- and now and again relentlessly unmasked? Too bad for us. How rarely in these pages, as in life itself, there appears a saint, a plain-speaking prophet, a martyr... The implication is unmistakable: the Bible is interested in- us. In the near infinite variety, the verve, joy, terror, the valiance and yielding, the falling and standing again, the crimes and (now and again) the consequence, the denying and affirming behaviour, the life-giving, the death dealing- ourselves."
This quote represents much of Berrigan's insistent approach. When we come face to face in the opening pages with the characters of David and Solomon (and the mask is pulled off), he assumes some level of shocking revelation in the fact that these revered characters are, well- simply not very upstanding at all. I can remember personally coming to this realization some years ago when I made my way through a commentary on 1st and 2nd Kings. David, it turns out, stands equally (and at many turns all the more) implicated in his actions (which are politically charged, self serviced and oppressive), as those who we perceive as the enemy. Berrigan goes on to write,
"An imperial god in heaven; and on earth- Solomon. By every supposition and evidence, this is implied, baroquely. The god approves the imperium, its wars and plunders, its forced labourers (drafted for the construction of the temple), the social class schema, the rich and the impoverished. Such a system, we note, is new on the biblical scene. It had not existed in the 'days of unlikeness to the nations'. And now? All, all is changed. They are equals, all. Economic, military, and diplomatic structures of "the nations" stand free in temple and palace, and claim the heart of the king. They hold what one would name today "a like worldview". They amass riches (read oil); wars, diplomacy, and world markets name their game; prosperity, pontification, emissaries, and merchants wend in and out of open borders, sail afar in quest of markets... In Solomon's day (as today) we have on the king's part a detached sense of a god of detachment. In such a day, the poor and victimized, the beggars, the homeless, the widows and the orphans dear to the prophets (and where have the prophets gone)- those social embarrassments simply do not exist. Human and divine ordinances are synchronized. Let nothing, no human need or lack, no injustice or suffering impede this lofty intercourse."
Here is the heart of the matter, which becomes well represented in the pages of this exploration of the nature of power, and political power at that. The most difficult part of the revelation that all of these characters (which include David and Solomon, but also Elijah and Elisha and every king to take the throne) are extremely "flawed", is that their god seems to follow suit. Over and over again the question is asked, where is the moral foundation and imperative in this narrative flow? And how do we reconcile the god who appears to consistently reflect the similar nature of the kings and priests and prophets. Or is the reflection the other way around? There has been a long and ardent struggle against what appears to be a god of war, brutality, violence, revenge, and at times graceless "grace" in these (Old Testament) stories.
Berrigan stops short of absolving us of all hope in this particular Biblical narrative. In fact, he uses this feeling of despair to shed light on the opportunity this tension can represent. First, we recognize that this story of a pathology of power is certainly not the way it always "was" in the Biblical narrative. Berrigan does us a favour by allowing us to see in the development of the kings a shift from prophet to king, and from a nation set apart to a nation in which human (gainful) interest became equal (synonymous) with the god(s) that endorsed them. Second, we recognize the hopefulness of a story in which flawed characters do not determine the favour of these god(s) and their divine course of action. This hopefulness is represented in the reality of the way things are, not only for them but also for us. Notions of justice and injustice that work to created the good guys and the enemies distort this reality. Berrigan writes,
"The part played by the god of Israel in the wars of the "chosen" has often troubled. God and prophet (appear) yoked in war. Perhaps (we) are being reminded that, the second millennium underway, we Christians have yet to let go of 1) a god who takes sides, and 2) a conviction notorious and contradictory: it is ourselves, not the current enemy, with whom the god sides."
Much of this should push us towards a certain level of self reflection. The directive finger pointing easily falls towards the American political (and economical and religious) landscape. But there is a fine line between actively standing against one entity for the sake of another, and simply engaging the same exercise of divisiveness over and over again by shifting these entities to different sides of the line at will. The truth is in war there are not winners. The truth is in positions of power (whether in politics, church or economics) we will consistently find abuse and oppression. The truth is we will always find these tendencies within our own selves. Thus we must strive to carry the way things "ought" to be with the way things "are" without turning a blind eye to either or. And Berrigan I think would stress that this is the full point of a narrative such as "Kings" in which the god of war and the god of justice, compassion and attentiveness to the orphans, widows and week converge in such a puzzling contradiction. We are never that far away from either or, and that is perhaps what should cause us to embrace the kind of humility that is necessary to keep a pathology of power from winning out in the end of the story.