I remember when I heard that Osama bin Laden had been killed. I was in my dorm room with friends. We heard cheering in the halls. We saw American flags unfurled outside our windows. We also saw more mixed emotions, trying to reconcile a sense of justice and even joy with a very real feeling that another human’s death–even bin Laden’s–was something sad, something to be mourned.
The same cognitive dissonance arose when Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi was killed in 2019, and when Qassem Soleimani and Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis were assassinated in an American airstrike in early 2020.
On the one hand there is an impulse toward triumphant fist-pumping. Justice is served, isn’t it? “We” won, didn’t we?
And on the other hand, there is the inescapable sense that all death is repulsive. It feels disgusting to be happy when another person is killed. It feels more than regrettable–it feels horrible–that our sense of earthly “justice” has come to this. Was this really the best way? Was this the only way? Was this just the lesser of two evils?
So how might Christians respond when we hear of the death of people who have done great evil? Here are just a few ways.
Don’t Rejoice
Vengeance belongs to the Lord. Even though human governments are given power to execute justice, we would do well not to take pleasure in prisons or wars–even just wars. Assassinations are not rehabilitative; they are violently final.
During Christian Seders, there is a line about God freeing his people from Egypt, a move that included many Egyptians drowning in the Red Sea. The haggadah reads, “Lives were sacrificed to bring about the release of God’s people from the slavery of Egypt, and we do not rejoice at the death of any of God’s children.”
Not at all that we should make the Israelites’ freedom from Egypt equivalent to Americans’ safety from our geopolitical foes, but there is some sense in which the lives of such foes are taken to bring about, hopefully, greater safety and peace. (Whether the deaths of bin Laden or Soleimani actually produced safety and peace, or simply added gasoline to existing fires, is an important question.)
And yet, even when peace and security are the desired ends, and even when the conditions for “just war” are met, violence and death are not things to be smiled at.
God himself says, “Have I any pleasure in the death of the wicked, declares the Lord God, and not rather that he should turn from his way and live?” (Ezekiel 18:23).
If God takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked, neither should we. If God would rather evil men turn from their ways and find life in him, so should we. I do not know if Soleimani could have been transformed, converted, reconciled. It does seem unlikely. But it seems far unlikelier now.
Recognize Justice
While we don’t rejoice, we can acknowledge justice and our closest approximation to it, acknowledging also that earthly justice and divine justice are rarely in perfect alignment.
The truth is, even in a kingdom of grace, Christians should desire justice to roll like rivers. God has not abolished the law; he fulfilled it, and he wants us to fulfill it. Justice, law, accountability, discipline: these are real biblical principles and should be pursued.
But we must ask: are assassinations true justice?
That is an important question. Whether they are or not, there is a thing called “justice” that is more than an ideal. It is something to actually be sought and implemented.
In the aftermath of bin Laden’s death, D. A. Carson wrote:
Do not offer the alternative, “Should we weep for Osama bin Laden or hold him to account for his genocide and prevent him from carrying out his violent intentions?”
The right answer is yes.
Justice often goes hand-in-hand with weeping. And so we weep at the death of the wicked even as we seek to hold them to account.
Mourn Our Depravity
Not all sins are equal. But all sins are damnable.
Not all sinners are equal in ways and means. But all sinners are fallen.
We should not flippantly say we are all as bad as Soleimani, or that our sins are no different than his. But we can say sincerely that all of us, Soleimani and you and I, have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.
Seeing something like justice befall one particularly reprehensible person–acknowledging the many political and cultural lenses wrapped up in such judgments–should, on some level, remind us of our own sinfulness and the punishment we deserved, which is separation from God.
Without Christ, none of us are righteous. With Christ, we can each be righteous.
So when the wicked perish, it is a time for self-reflection. For we ourselves were once wicked, and still struggle with the sins of anger, pride, hatred, and violence. And but for the grace of God, who rescues us from our depravity, we too would be deserving of a wrathful justice.
Praise and Prayer for Salvation
But for the grace of God! Mourning the death of the wicked, recognizing justice, and reflecting on our own sinfulness, hope still gets the final word. There is a way instead of death.
After bin Laden’s death, the Vatican released a statement that read in part, “In the face of a man’s death, a Christian never rejoices, but reflects on the serious responsibilities of each person before God and before men, and hopes and works so that every event may be the occasion for the further growth of peace and not of hatred.”
I see several parts to that reflection: 1) praise for our salvation, 2) prayer for the salvation of others, and 3) forgiveness.
When the wicked die, we are reminded to praise God that he has spared his children from eternal death. That even though we deserve hell, he grants life.
When the wicked die, we are reminded to pray that the wicked who remain would turn to God. That they would surrender their lives, letting the desires of the flesh die to the ways of eternal life. The death of Soleimani or similar figures should spur us toward evangelism.
When the wicked die, we are still called to a higher way, not rejoicing in death, but loving our neighbors and our enemies. When Peter asked how many times he should forgive those who harm him, Jesus said, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.” That is, forgiveness is our perpetual call. Even Jesus, who was crucified though innocent, prayed for his killers from the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34).
Share this: