Timothy Stoner

On Cursing Your Enemies

Posted on 05. Jul, 2009 by Tim Stoner in Christian Life, Christianity, Essays

Few sections of Scripture are as shocking and transgressive as the Psalms referred to as imprecatory. Their name is derived from their articulated longings that evil fall down on top of the wicked. Basically they are curses on the psalmist’s enemies. David prays that God would “break the arm of the wicked and evil man” (Ps. 10:15) and that He would break their teeth for good measure (Ps. 58:6). When this happens he exults, “The righteous will be glad when they are avenged when they bathe their feet in the blood of the wicked” (Ps. 58:10). That is strong stuff. And more than a little off-putting. There are others that are worse.

It is not wonder many teachers prefer to skim right over this language as an example of an immoderate, immature phase in the development of the Christian religion, which was later brought to its zenith by the pacifist Christ. They look askance at this extreme, “over-zealous rhetoric” and with an embarrassed roll of the eyes, make a run for it seeking to find safety in the soft folds of the gentle’s Rabbi’s robes.  

I grant you, I am also tempted to create as much distance as possible from such sentiments. I wish they weren’t included in the Bible. They are so utterly Medieval and Inquisitorial. But it is their intolerable harshness that arrests me and drags me back. And it makes me wonder whether I am the one in need of change not the Psalms.

What we are reading when we pick up the Imprecatory Psalms are gut-honest warriors’ letters. More than that, we are actually listening in on desperate prayers, sobbed out in long uncontrolled bursts. You can almost hear the thunder of hoofs and chariot wheels and smell the anger and fear and spilled blood as you read.

Warriors aren’t dismayed by the sharpness of the tone or by the use of immoderate language. They do not squirm at the harsh recriminations, the bitter invectives; the occasional expletive, even. They understand what we do not. They have had to face death at the hands of ruthless men single-mindedly intent on doing them great bodily harm. They and those they love have had to suffer the pains of hell on earth at the hands of implacable foes maddened by blood-lust.

To those soft and privileged ones, like me, unacquainted with the steamy rigors and grinding, grueling agony of warfare, the tenor of the Imprecatory Psalms strikes us as vicious and excessive. We, men of peace, have not had to cradle our friend’s shattered body in our arms as her life oozed slowly onto the unforgiving ground. We have not felt our insides melt as maddened hordes flew at us from all directions, screaming out their shrill and terrifying cries, nor heard the responsive wails of those torn open by a slow and slashing death. We have not been forced to kneel and watch as our daughters or wives or mothers were so violated that they were driven into a hellish abyss of torment.

As we sit on cushioned chairs surrounded by friendly comforts inside and out, at peace with the world, how can we expect to appreciate the imprecations of men whose lives, as those of their loved ones, were hanging in the balance and whose eyes had seen bloody horrors that would turn our trendy hair white? As Dr. Grant in Jurassic Park acidly retorts to the over-fed boy who has ignorantly deprecated the graceful and violent velociraptor: “Show a little respect, will you?” Let us tread with care, recognizing that as we reach out our manicured fingers to carefully wipe mushroom gravy off our chins, theirs were covered with black sweat, greasy blood, and tears.  

We who are so starved for adventure that we fixate on reality shows where we can watch others take risks from the safety of our acoustically perfect dens should be careful about dismissing and deconstructing that which we do not understand, even slightly. It just might be possible that what needs reshaping and reworking are not these Psalms but ourselves and how we view the world. Perhaps it is not their pitch but our apathy that is the real offense. Might our irritating discomfort be in reality the inner prickling of an anesthetized limb feeling the returning flow of life; the troubling awakening of a warrior’s spirit; the stirring of a warfare consciousness? And could it be that it is these specific portions of the biblical story that so scandalize and offend our post-modern sensitivities that are the most needful?

While David’s enemies were flesh and blood, ours are not, as St. Paul makes clear. The enemies of the Christian are the world, the flesh and the Devil (and his demonic hordes). These Psalms remind us of a few things we dare not forget: there is a war on, there are two sides, there is no peace nor concordat possible for it is a battle to the death. It cost our side our very best Man, but, thankfully, He was raised back to life. And, it has cost (and is costing) thousands and thousands of His followers theirs. Though His heel was “bitten” He has managed to stomp on His enemy’s head. But the war is not yet over. That is where the imprecations come in.  

They are offensive because they weren’t written for pacifists at home in the world, comfortable with the flesh and dismissive of the Devil. They were written for warriors by warriors in the heat of battle. So, as Dr. Grant says, let us show these scathing war-poems a little respect.           

Tags: Add new tag, cursing, enemies, imprecatory psalms, war