Coined about sixty-five years ago by American economist Thomas Schelling, the phrase “collateral damage” entered the US military’s official language during the Vietnam War to concisely describe any incidental and undesired death, injury or other damage inflicted, especially on civilians, as a result of military activity. Critics of the phrase claim it is a euphemism that dehumanises non-combatants killed or injured during combat and is used to reduce the perceived culpability of military leadership for failing to prevent non-combatant casualties. In colloquial use, “collateral damage” would describe a regrettable but necessary harm to achieve a greater goal. In that sense, such an attitude has a much, much longer history than the actual phrase. So common it was that Jesus had to address it in the parable we heard in today’s gospel.
The existence of evil has always been a mystery that has weighed heavily on people’s minds. Countless thinkers, philosophers, theologians and ordinary people have pondered this perennial question for centuries. Jesus’ audience was no different. Like pretty much everyone, they must have had a firsthand experience of evil, so it was reflected in the question raised by the servants in the parable: “Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? How then does it have weeds?” Considering the parable was about “The kingdom of heaven,” the master in the question represented God, whose creative actions in the beautiful biblical poem were presented as utterly, innately good: “God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good” (Genesis 1:31). So, how was it possible for evil to exist and affect the inhabitants of such a perfectly created world? In the parable, the master gave a straightforward answer: “An enemy has done this.” Jesus later clarified the meaning of the parable to his disciples: “The good seed is the sons of the kingdom. The weeds are the sons of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil.” In other words, although God is the primal source of good and satan is the primal disruptor, the ultimate responsibility lies with us, whether we draw inspiration from God or satan. It must be said that neither the parable nor Jesus’ further explanation of it delved into the deep theological aspects of the mystery of evil’s existence; it was mentioned almost in passing, as the focus was on the main message: why we must allow the coexistence of good and evil for the time being.
In human societies, there’s an almost instinctive desire for some kind of ideological purity, whatever ideology, religious or secular, drives it. The means to achieve it vary, but the desired outcome is always the same: either to convince or force compliance or to get rid of those who won’t comply. For example, in this country, until recently, Catholics were discriminated against for a long time on religious grounds, as were the Irish because of their nationality. These days, different ideologies come to the fore as drivers of purity, from the extreme far right to the extreme far left, and everything in between. The criteria used to define purity can be racial, ethnic, or political (in the broadest sense of the word). The most dispiriting aspect of all those movements is the preferred way of dealing with their opponents: dealing them a form of societal or even actual death. Silencing opponents is opted for over the old-fashioned exchange of arguments in a logically grounded, fact-based, robust discussion. To some twisted minds, taking the opponents’ actual lives is a perversely legitimate way of silencing them, as we have sadly seen too many times here and abroad. Those who suffer as a result of such purges are considered “collateral damage” on the way to the sunny uplands of blissful ideological purity.
Such an attitude is represented in the parable by the servants, eager to go to the field and immediately deal with the weeds. The master stopped them to avoid “collateral damage”: “in gathering the weeds you root up the wheat along with them. Let both grow together until the harvest.” Accidentally pulling out the green, immature wheat would reduce the final good crop. In the economy of the kingdom of heaven, this isn’t a price worth paying for moral purity. “God […] desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.” (1 Timothy 2:4)
Recently, I read an article about a woman who had been the world’s only female yakuza, a member of one of Japan’s notorious gangs. Today, after 25 years of crime, she works for a charity that helps to rehabilitate newly released gangsters from prison, herself having been turned from the evil path by another reformed yakuza member. Although the article didn’t mention any religious influences, the photo showed her wearing a crucifix, which is rather uncommon in Japan; this could hint that Christianity might have played a role in her change. The way she dealt with her past and repurposed her experience really resonated with me. She said: “I was a bad person, but I am what I am because of the past, and because of it I can understand how they feel, the bad people, and I can help them. But I was not what I am now. Please don’t regard me as the same person. I was a totally different person.” As Japan retains and actively uses the death penalty, she could have been dealt with harshly years ago, and many would most likely have welcomed it. Yet sparing her has led to a much better outcome, with many more former gangsters leaving the life of crime. Perhaps we need to coin a different phrase for incidental effects of our activities: “collateral healing.”
