Jesus and the Disinherited

In Thurman’s final chapter, he outlines the role of love in the Gospels and argues for its implementation as a tool for the disinherited. He cites the parable of the Good Samaritan, claiming that “neighborliness is nonspatial; it is qualitative” (89). As in earlier chapters, Thurman points out that Jesus’s political position was a difficult one to take, and his preaching might easily be considered a betrayal of Israel. In addition to the Good Samaritan parable, the story of Jesus and the Syrophoenician woman is a biblical example of faith and love conquering cultural bitterness. Jesus’s biggest hurdle, however, was learning and teaching love for the Romans: “It was upon the anvil of the Jewish community’s relations with Rome that Jesus hammered out the vital content of his concept of love for one’s enemy” (91).

Thurman divides “enemy” into three categories. The first kind of enemy is personal, a party who is “in some sense a part of one’s primary-group life” (92). This is the easiest enemy to love. It requires reconciliation, apology, and “the will to re-establish a relationship” (92). It is easiest because the parties can rely on everything they share in common. Thurman believes this kind of reconciliation and love is often taught as basic morality, and many Christian churches teach this narrow interpretation of love, as it relates to love amongst members of an in-group.

The second classification of “enemy” is comprised of nominal in-group members who are hated and ostracized for consorting with the larger enemy. Thurman uses Jewish tax-collectors, employed by Rome, as an example: “The tax collectors tended to be prosperous in contrast with the rest of the people. To be required to love such a person was the final insult” (93). Jesus, however, befriended Matthew, a reviled tax collector at the time, who became an apostle and one of the Four Evangelists. Thurman argues that disinherited people must learn to understand the psychological motivations of these people in order to love them, but he adds that “to love them does not mean to condone their way of life” (95). He contends that this kind of enemy is still easier to love than de facto oppressors because there is still a background element of common ancestry and understanding.

The political enemy is the third type, exemplified by Rome in Jesus’s time. There is no sense of communal fellowship, only a history of injustice and violence. Thurman explains that in order to love this type of enemy, “there had to be a moment when the Roman and the Jew emerged as neither Roman nor Jew, but as two human spirits that had found a mutual, though individual, validation” (95). The only appeal is to common humanity. Given the weight of social context, this is incredibly difficult. It requires intense work and focus. Parties on both sides risk isolation and ostracization by their own people for fraternizing with the enemy. They also risk betrayal and might often doubt the true intentions of the enemy with which they seek to enter a loving relationship. They do not get quick confirmation from God, and Thurman invokes Jesus’s cry on the cross, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (97)

Thurman applies this relationship to race relations in America. He reiterates the difficulty of transcending social context, especially in the face of a crushing imbalance of power. Thurman presents that, despite a level of intimacy, most interactions between white and Black Americans are prescribed by power, as relationships “between servant and served, between employer and employee” (97). It thus takes something like a miracle for love to emerge.

Love and understanding has a better chance of success if the privileged and underprivileged parties meet in a situation that is not so strictly confined by social power relations. For this reason, Thurman argues that “segregation is a complete ethical and moral evil” (98). It reduces opportunities for breakthroughs of understanding. Love needs spaces of equality and recognition, which segregation precludes. Thurman presents statistics on the segregation of Protestant churches in America. An overwhelming majority of Black Christians worship in all-Black congregations, and Thurman speculates that the demographics are similar for other American minorities. This is a particular tragedy to Thurman, as he considers the church to be one of the primary sites of human empathy and understanding, which might overcome national and racial social contexts.

However it is to be accomplished, the goal of replacing the status of “enemy” with recognition of mutual humanity takes work, practice, and discipline. Thurman points out that it can be easy to consider one individual an exception to their group’s status as “enemy,” but this is not sufficient and only reinforces negative attitudes.

Thurman presents the story of a Roman captain who goes to Jesus, asking for help healing his servant, to whom he has grown attached. In this situation, “The Roman was confronted with an insistence that made it impossible for him to remain a Roman, or even a captain” (103). Thurman explains that dramatic occurrences such as this are uncommon and are most prevalent during times of unexpected hardship or disaster. He cites a flood in Vanport, Oregon, and the fact that families of different races welcomed each other into their homes. Finally, Thurman summarizes a story in which a group of men bring an adulteress to Jesus and ask for his judgement. Jesus commands: “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone” (105). The men consider the statement and leave. Jesus thus demonstrates “reverence for personality” (106), recognizing the human fallibility of all parties involved. Jesus demonstrates forgiveness. Like any serious project, forgiveness takes dedication and practice. Thurman emphasizes that simply preaching love is not enough, one must work with “painstaking discipline” (106).

Thurman includes the story of an American missionary in Saudi Arabia, who, upon speaking with Arabs, noticed a bitter resentment toward the British. Thurman recognizes the immense obstacle of forgiveness: The disinherited must forgive their oppressors for gratuitous injuries. He offers Christian faith as a path toward this forgiveness, since “there is no answer that is completely satisfying from the point of view of rational reflection” (107).

Christianity as a framework for forgiveness is useful in three ways. First, forgiveness is modeled by God. If “God forgives us again and again for what we do intentionally and unintentionally” (108), then humans are obliged to follow suit. Second, it recognizes the multiplicity of forces at work in human affairs, concluding that “no evil deed represents the full intent of the doer” (108). Third, it supposes, alongside God’s forgiveness, God’s justice. A human evildoer may go unpunished on earth but is bound for judgement in the afterlife. Thurman concludes his chapter on love by mentioning the book’s other themes, fear, deception, and hate, and positing that it is the defining challenge of oppressed peoples to conquer these reactions and replace them with love and forgiveness. His central argument is that Jesus’s message of love, with dedication and understanding, can overcome hate.