Evil

a sermon by Rev. Alan Taylor

January 21, 2001

Woodinville Unitarian Universalist Church

Evil is not something Christian was a handful. He was one of six boys in a group home for severely emotionally disturbed children. At twelve years of age, Christian loved violent video games. His favorite conversation topic was the violence he saw on tv or at the movies. Christian played rough. He didn’t hesitate to assault another child if he felt wronged. One of the staff, Francie, enjoyed him. And how she continued to do so after he broke her arm, I will never know. I didn’t mind being with Christian. He was an “easy” kid because there was little ambiguity on how to handle him. He needed a huge amount of structure and constant supervision.

One day, the other boys and staff went out for an outing. I stayed back at the house with Christian. He was having a bad day and wouldn’t cooperate with any directions. When he started slamming his head against the wall, I physically restrained him. He calmed down as I sat behind him, holding his arms that were crossed in front of him. Sometimes Christian got this look with almost a gleam in his eye, as if he was admiring the situation or being playful. He looked up at me, and when I looked at him, he’d put his head down. Then he’d look up at me again, and turn away when I looked back. This happened three or four times, until as he looked up at me one last time he lurched his torso up and went for my neck with his teeth. He managed to nip the outer layer of my skin, leaving a small red welt.

Today, I want to talk about evil. And I find it challenging. Our Unitarian Universalist tradition is relatively silent about evil. My dictionary says evil means bad, and not only blameworthy but with connotations of depravity and corruptive influence. To speak of something as evil means we must judge it to be corrupt and capable of corrupting others. As our Unitarian Universalist tradition affirms the inherent worth and dignity of every individual, it is unsettling, and perhaps terribly upsetting, to look at the shadow side of our human nature and to reflect on what corruption we human beings are capable of.

It’s one thing to believe that evil emerges in isolated incidents, such as in a different era in a different country, such as the terrible events of the holocaust. Or in isolated individuals who are labeled psychotic—like Christian who lunged for my jugular. But is evil limited to isolated events and individuals? Rumi, the great Persian poet of the ____ century, tells the following story:

Listen to this, and hear the mystery inside: a snake-catcher went into the mountains to find a snake. He wanted a friendly pet, and one that would amaze audiences, but he was looking for a reptile, something that has no knowledge of friendship. It was winter. In the deep snow he saw a frighteningly huge dead snake. He was afraid to touch it, but he did. In fact, he dragged the thing into Baghdad, hoping people would pay to see it.

This how foolish we’ve become. A human being is a mountain range! Snakes are fascinated by us! Yet we sell ourselves to look at a dead snake. We are like beautiful satin used to patch burlap. “Come see the dragon I killed, and hear the adventures!” That’s what he announced, and a large crowd came, but the dragon was not dead, just dormant!

He set up his show at a crossroads. The ring of gawking rubes got thicker, everybody, on tiptoe, men and women, noble and peasant, all packed together unconscious of their differences. It was like the Resurrection! He began to unwind the thick ropes and remove the cloth coverings he’d wrapped it so well in. Some little movement. The hot Iraqi sun had woken the terrible life. The people nearest started screaming. Panic! The dragon tore easily and hungrily loose, killing many instantly. The snake-catcher stood there frozen. “What have I brought out of the mountains?” The snake braced against a post and crushed the man and consumed him.

The snake is your animal-soul. When you bring it into the hot air of your wanting-energy, warmed by that and by the prospect of power and wealth, it does massive damage. Leave it in the snow mountains. Don’t expect to oppose it with quietness and sweetness and wishing. The nafs don’t respond to those, and they can’t be killed. It takes Moses to deal with such a beast, to lead it back, and make it lie down in the snow. But there was no Moses then. Hundreds of thousands died.

Rumi’s reference to the snake as our animal soul makes me think of scientific research on the brain. The human brain is actually made up of three brains. The most primitive brain corresponds to our brain stem. It can be called the reptilian brain because it is focused solely on survival. The second largest brain is the mesocortex, known as the lower mammalian brain. It is the source of our emotions and desire, unleashing our sense of hunger, sexuality, and rage. In late mammals, the body added a third brain, the neocortex, which allows us to solve problems of immense complexity, use language, and develop a sense of morality. Although we use only a small portion of our neo-cortex, this large and most evolved part of the human brain makes possible a conscience that tells us what is right and wrong. We are capable of ruling our lives with our neo-cortex, or if we don’t use our brains as they were created, our actions can be governed by a more primitive part of the brain, that which makes us more like an animal.

Rumi didn’t know about the makeup of the human brain, he did know of the nafs. In the Muslim and Sufi tradition, the word nafs technically means “soul”. There are four levels of the nafs: the lower nafs, which is the “bitter soul”; then the blaming nafs, which blames itself and others; then the inspired nafs, which begins to hear the call of God; and finally the nafs-at-rest. Classical Persian music is said to embody nafs-at-rest; however, all people, even Sufi masters, have an embodiment of the lower nafs, the greedy one which knows no satisfaction. The common usage of this term refers to this greedy soul and the blaming soul. An Iranian Sufi scholar and head of the Nimatullhi Order, Dr. Nurbakhsh as quoted by Robert Bly, says that the nafs basically commands its owner to do wrong:

the commanding nafs is that which has not passed through the crucible of aesthetic discipline, or shed the tough hide of existence. It actively resists all of God’s creation. This nafs is of a bestial character that harasses other created beings and consistently sings its own praises. It always follows its own desires and grazes on the field of material nature; it drinks from the spring of the passions and knows only how to sleep, eat, and gratify itself.

The nafs can be a handful. Its main task is to move people toward selfishness and greed. It is said, that one Sufi master, devout in his behavior at prayers for years, always prayed in the front row. One day when he arrived late to the mosque, he had to pray from the back. He noticed he was irritated, and the irritation filled his whole body. He realized it was the nafs, and that the nafs made him love to pray in front, so it could feel the praise. After that the Sufi master prayed in secret. As Dr Nurbakhsh says, “One of the latent voices and secret maladies of the nafs is its love of praise. Whoever imbibes a draught of it will move the seven heavens and the seven sublime realms for the very flutter of an eyelash.”

American culture seems to thrive on catering to the nafs. “When faced with two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.” Mae West, in Klondike Annie, is just one of countless female icons of the 20^th century that vaguely yet effectively pointed to the forbidden in the human psyche. But since the time of Mae West, the female icons of American culture have become overtly seductive, scantily clad (if clad at all) and alluring with the clear intent to awaken in men the deep animal within. The forbidden has become the encouraged.

Sages from all traditions teach that pursuing the animal desires or one’s wanting-energy never results in fulfillment, for there is only more and more desire. That’s why the Sufis call evil, “the insatiable soul” or the “the dragon that is now thawing out.”

As I reflect on when the twelve year old lunged for my jugular, I believe Christian was at that moment pure animal, guided by either the primitive and lower-mammalian brain; fully consumed by the nafs, with no regard for life other than its own. And so I appreciate Agatha Christie’s line in The Pale Horse, “Evil is not something superhuman. It is something less than human.”

Evil is that which is blameworthy and with corrupting influence. What can we say is bad in our world, and what is corruptive? If we answer that, we answer the question, “What is evil?” The first thing that comes to my mind is the new television show Temptation Island. It’s sole premise is to see if one or both partners of committed couples can be lured to cheat on their partners. And according the paper, sixteen million viewers showed up to gawk at this snake of a show.

Another huge snake of our time is gratuitous violence. So many video games, movies, and television shows attract young viewers with killing upon killing. Even pop music has a large following towards music that speaks of revenge, gore, and murder. Was it any surprise that Stanford University’s recent study found that violence in movies makes children meaner?

What are other snakes. Advertising that beckons young people to consume, consume, consume, yet never be satisfied. Conventional standards of beauty that lure young women to starve themselves, to buy vast amounts of make-up, and to turn off their brains so as to be more attractive. Pornography, now so easily accessed through the internet.

It’s awfully tempting to shout and declare judgment, “EVIL! EVIL! EVIL!” When I did just that in the solitude of my living room, it felt really good. It was like venting at a football game, letting go of inhibition, becoming more like…an animal! Could this self-righteousness be a part of the nafs inside me? I think so. Moral absolutes are highly seductive. Evil seems inevitable when people believe their truth is absolute, for other people and their views are summarily dismissed. People the world over believe their hurtful and even murderous actions are sanctioned by God. The Israelis and the Palestinians, the Catholics and Protestants in Ireland, and the list can go on and on. Simone Weil, in her important work, Gravity and Grace, said it succinctly: “Evil, when we are in its power, is not felt as evil but as a necessity, or even a duty.”

It is tempting to point the finger at people who display sociopathic behavior and conclude that evil only comes in the guise of overtly horrific acts. Or it is easy to be like Lois’ grandmother, quick to judge others as morally lax. I’d say that propensity to judge is from the nafs. To transcend this self-aggrandizing, we need to be affirm what Etty Hillesum said in An Interrupted Life, “I will never be able to hate any human being for his so-called “wickedness.” … I shall only hate the evil that is within me, though hate is perhaps putting it too strongly even then. In any case, we cannot be lax enough in what we demand of others and strict enough in what we demand of ourselves.”

The Sufis say that the nafs in a person may lie for years as inactive as a snake or dragon frozen on a mountain. Mary Renault, in The Praise Singer, echoes this wisdom, saying, “In all men is evil sleeping; the good man is he who will not awaken it, in himself or in other men.” But what happens when we do awaken it? And it does happen, it is a part of the human condition.

Corrupt, hurtful behavior can emerge in anyone, any time, for the snake is always dormant. It’s not the end of the world when one surfaces in your own heart, even if you get devoured by it for weeks on end, for that is a part of the human journey. It can be far more destructive to live in denial, believing that you are incapable of hurtful or even corrupting actions. For then we cannot forgive others when they have slipped. Although we at times succumb to the part of us that likes to gawk, sometimes we forget what Rumi says: a human being is a mountainside. We have so many resources open to us, but we have no access to them if we don’t have forgiveness within our hearts.

Blessed be. Amen.