By now we all know that Charles Manson passed away at the age of 83 on November 19th. My initial reaction, which I imagine was shared by many others, was to simply turn my head and think to myself, “Good riddance.” In social media, I even posted an animated gif of the famous scene from the movie “Tombstone” when Powers Booth’s character looks up at Wyatt Earp as Earp is leaving town and says, “Well (long pause) bye.” It was my attempt at both a humorous and classically passive aggressive farewell.
After a couple of days of reading many other posts and salutations to Mr. Manson I’ve decided to stop and take stock of my truer feelings on the matter. Most of what I’ve seen are the expected “burn in hell” comments, but occasionally I’ve come across comments of “requiescat in pace.” Even a few seem to have venerated him in one way or another, which I confess made me feel uneasy. After a couple of days this sent me into quiet contemplation. I had to ask myself, as an openly practicing Christian, how would Christ expect me to react to this news?
I began to recall various other criminals who either did or did not repent of their transgressions. Although I thought about each of these people and their crimes, what held my attention more was how society reacted to either their executions or their Christian conversions, or in some cases, both. Some of the names that come to mind are Timothy McVeigh, Karla Faye Tucker, and David Berkowitz.
I distinctly remember the day of Timothy McVeigh’s execution, but what I recall even more clearly was the day before. McVeigh was executed early on a Monday morning, so when I showed up at my church the day before I couldn’t help but notice all the discussion. As expected most people were gladly anticipating (I might even say in some cases celebrating) the coming execution. I was close friends with the Rector of my parish at that time, and it was he who had, a couple of years before, spoken out on my behalf as an aspirant to the priesthood. He walked up to me in the narthex of the church and expressed to me how disturbed he was at all the revelry surrounding the eminent execution of McVeigh. He knew, like him, I was no fan of the death penalty, but I believe my response was somewhat of a disappointment to him that morning. I told him that even though I was against the death penalty I was having a difficult time feeling sorry for the man. I will never forget my sense of failure when I looked at the sadness in his eyes as I said that.
Should it matter how I feel even though McVeigh was brashly unrepentant of his horrible crime? I think we can be pretty certain Manson was equally unrepentant over his crimes as well. How does Jesus expect us to react in these moments? The moments of our enemy’s destruction. Not just their fall from Grace, or their un-repented sin, but of their eternal place of desolation that comes from dying in a state of sin. Before I try to answer that let’s look at some other criminals who did, in fact, have conversion experiences before their death.
Consider the case of Karla Faye Tucker, who was executed in Texas on February 3rd, 1998. There was quite a groundswell of support for her leading up to her execution by many celebrities and even the Pope. This gave me cause to look into her case. The murder she committed was a gruesome tale of drugs and chaos gone out of control. There were things she said at the time of the murder that were dreadful and nearly pornographic. But shortly after the trial she had her conversion experience, which she seemingly held strong to for the next 15 years. Leading up to her execution there was much talk of the “credibility” of her conversion, or if even an authentic conversion could warrant a commutation of her sentence. As in all these cases my attention went not to her, but to the conversation around her.
Most people my age or older can recall the infamous Son of Sam killings in New York between 1975 and 1977. David Berkowitz was eventually convicted of the murders for which he received six life sentences. About ten years into his prison sentence Berkowitz had a Christian conversion experience, and has remained committed to it ever since, even to the point of declining parole hearings. Again, we can debate the authenticity of his calling, as many do, but I am less interested in the authenticity of his conversion than I am in our response to the mere possibility that it is real.
So here I have given four examples of criminals, two who have confessed and repented, and two who never did. One of each met their end in execution and one of each was allowed to live out their natural life behind bars. Can we, or should we, feel equally about all four of these individuals? In the case of Tucker and Berkowitz some may find it easy to allow for compassion, though there are many professing Christians that still can’t bring themselves to that, even in light of what we know. It is one thing to romanticize about the idea of a conversion experience as we’ve come to understand it in Scripture, such as the conversion of Saul of Tarsus in in Acts 9, or Christ’s promise to the criminal who was being crucified next to him in Luke 23: 39-43, but it is a whole new challenge when we are face-to-face in our own time with a criminal we know, and who’s criminal acts we are deeply familiar with.
Remember always the first sentence from Acts 9:
But Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any belonging to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. (RSV)
Imagine you were a family member who witnessed your spouse or child beaten, bound, or even murdered by thugs under order of Saul as he looked on. Like Charles Manson, we don’t know whether Saul physically committed these acts or simply ordered his minions to execute them. What we do know is Paul’s confession these things were done under his command. We must face the harsh reality that even the worst criminal can be turned in faith. It is a Christian imperative to accept any and all who call on Christ’s name and ask for mercy, as Paul says in I Corinthians 1:2, we are “called to be saints together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ…” We must push through the doubt and embrace with hope and compassion anyone’s proclamation of faith.
But what of these unrepentant folks like McVeigh and Manson? How then, are we to feel about these people when they are defeated in this life and in death? These people who have done awful things and seem to have gone to their death with no remorse? Again, Jesus is clear about this. Christ gives us the unambiguous call to love our enemies (Matthew 5:43-48, Romans 12:20). John Donne, in his Meditation 17 of Devotions upon Emergent Occasions, makes a clear point on how we might expect to respond to Christ’s call for us to mourn the dead—even those with whom we have such little in common:
“And when she (the Church) buries a man, that action concerns me: all mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God’s hand is in every translation…”
Charles Manson’s chapter may have been translated by justice, or some may think justice was never fully served, but either way God’s hand is in that translation and into God’s hands Manson will go. It is not for us to relish the harsh judgement we wish to come upon those whom we see as evil. It is for us to mourn such great loss along with the tragedy that befell them and their victims. As John Donne concludes in his meditation, the loss of any human is a loss for us all.
And in my own conclusion I will not defend Charles Manson, but I will take this moment to recognize the tragedy that he embodied and that also embodied him. I will try not to lose myself in the pop culture symbolism of hatred his image provokes. I will try my best to crawl over my instinct to hate back and mourn that another human was lost to evil things that seemingly cannot be undone. I will resist allowing hate to darken my heart with its cancer, for with every man’s death I am the less for it.
It is lost and yet it is not lost, for it is in the hands of God.
[Photo: Wally Fong AP]
Letters From Nod 