Kill One, Spare One

I was watching the third episode of season one of BBC’s Survivors yesterday it got me thinking. And yes, this brief post will be wrapped around this episode, so spoiler alert.

Now to catch you up to speed, a virus has infected the world and millions of people are dead. There’s only a handful of people left and people are forming clans across the globe.

In this particular episode we follow, Abby (perhaps the “mainest” of characters), as she goes to search for her son. Eventually she runs into a clan that is run by former government official, Samantha, who is trying to keep society in tact. Now Samantha has seemed to have things altogether until we see her go a bit crazy towards the end of this episode. Two people have stolen from her clan and so she calls a court hearing in order to keep modern society running. The clan gets together and all agree that these two people, are in fact, guilty of stealing, though at least one of them has returned what they stole.

Samantha then pulls out a gun and shoots one. She then prepares to shoot the other, but Abby runs up and protects him and tries to cool Samantha down. Samantha decides to spare this one and states, “Justice and mercy: this is our law.” She then walks off more or less distraught at what she had done.

My mind was immediately taken to the laws of the Old Testament as there are many laws in the Torah that required death if broken. That was the way Samantha was operating in attempts to maintain society. But when God came down to earth in flesh, He showed us a better way. I’ve shared this story on my blog here before, but I love the way that Orson Scott Card paints the significance of how Jesus reacted to the woman caught in adultery in his book Speaker for the Dead:

A Great Rabbi stands, teaching in the marketplace. It happens that a husband finds proof that morning of his wife’s adultery, and a mob carries her to the marketplace to stone her to death.

There is a familiar version of this story, but a friend of mine – a Speaker for the Dead – has told me of two other Rabbis that faced the same situation. Those are the ones I’m going to tell you.

The Rabbi walks forward and stands beside the woman. Out of respect for him the mob forbears and waits with the stones heavy in their hands. ‘Is there any man here,’ he says to them, ‘who has not desired another man’s wife, another woman’s husband?’

They murmur and say, ‘We all know the desire, but Rabbi none of us has acted on it.’

The Rabbi says, ‘Then kneel down and give thanks that God has made you strong.’ He takes the woman by the hand and leads her out of the market. Just before he lets her go, he whispers to her, ‘Tell the Lord Magistrate who saved his mistress, then he’ll know I am his loyal servant.’

So the woman lives because the community is too corrupt to protect itself from disorder.

Another Rabbi. Another city. He goes to her and stops the mob as in the other story and says, ‘Which of you is without sin? Let him cast the first stone.’

The people are abashed, and they forget their unity of purpose in the memory of their own individual sins. ‘Someday,’ they think, ‘I may be like this woman. And I’ll hope for forgiveness and another chance. I should treat her as I wish to be treated.’

As they opened their hands and let their stones fall to the ground, the Rabbi picks up one of the fallen stones, lifts it high over the woman’s head and throws it straight down with all his might it crushes her skull and dashes her brain among the cobblestones. ‘Nor am I without sins,’ he says to the people, ‘but if we allow only perfect people to enforce the law, the law will soon be dead – and our city with it.’

So the woman died because her community was too rigid to endure her deviance.

The famous version of this story is noteworthy because it is so startlingly rare in our experience. Most communities lurch between decay and rigor mortis and when they veer too far they die. Only one Rabbi dared to expect of us such a perfect balance that we could preserve the law and still forgive the deviation.

So of course, we killed him.

Card, Orson Scott. Speaker for the Dead. New York, NY: TOR, 1986. Print.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s