When news broke that martial arts superstar Chuck Norris had died at the age of 86, people did what they always do whenever a celebrity passes: they immediately began posting responses online. Some of the responses came from the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jean-Claude Van Damme, who paid tribute to their fellow action star. Others, like movie critic Drew McWeeny, shared fond personal memories of the actor’s generosity. As a sucker for Norris’s ’80s action movies like The Octagon and Lone Wolf McQuade, I even posted a tribute of my own.
Other responses were less charitable. Noting his long-standing conservative views, which included support for Proposition 8’s ban on gay marriage and tacit endorsement of Barack Obama “birther” conspiracy theories, some chose instead to celebrate Norris’s death and dismiss him as a MAGA racist, sexist, and homophobe. Some went even further and criticized those who had paid tribute to Norris. When The Office’s Rainn Wilson posted a Chuck Norris memory on Instagram, some of his followers responded with disappointment and dismay (e.g., “He was a Trump activist who went against everything you claim to stand for,” “Really sad to see you make this post”).
Just as the Bible contains imprecations that cry out for God to move against those who seek our downfall, God’s word also contains warnings against our own selfish desires, lest we be the ones who bring about our downfall.
I suspect, however, that many of those who celebrated Chuck Norris’s death were none too pleased when President Trump celebrated Robert Mueller’s death. Mueller, who died the day after Norris, was the former FBI director who oversaw the investigation into Russian interference in the 2016 presidential election. Although the investigation ultimately found no evidence of wrongdoing by Trump’s campaign, it was obviously embarrassing for Trump, who consistently called it a “witch hunt” and never hid his dislike for Mueller. Thus, when Robert Mueller’s death was announced, it wasn’t too surprising that Trump celebrated on social media. “Good, I’m glad he’s dead,” posted Trump. “He can no longer hurt innocent people!” Subsequent posts only doubled down on his disdain and continued to paint Mueller’s investigation as a travesty of justice.
Trump has a long history of denigrating political opponents who’ve passed, including John McCain, former Secretary of State Colin Powell, director Rob Reiner, and now Robert Mueller. As ugly as those comments are, though, they take on an added layer of hypocrisy given how quickly and forcefully the president and others on the Right condemned anyone who celebrated or was otherwise critical of right-wing activist Charlie Kirk after he was killed last September.
In a statement issued shortly after Kirk’s murder, Trump called it the “tragic consequence of demonizing those with whom you disagree day after day, year after year, in the most hateful and despicable way possible” and claimed that “radical left” rhetoric is “directly responsible for the terrorism that we’re seeing in our country today.” Others in Trump’s administration went further: Vice President J. D. Vance stated that people celebrating Kirk’s death ought to lose their jobs; Attorney General Pam Bondi announced plans to “target” those guilty of “hate speech”; and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth issued orders to fire military service members who “celebrate or mock the assassination of a fellow American.”
So just to recap, left-leaning folks celebrated the death of a conservative actor even as they criticized the president for celebrating the death of a political opponent, and this very same president previously condemned those who demonize their political opponents. It’s a real mess, to be sure, one that’s compounded by our innate desire to justify ourselves, our modern tendency to reduce people to their politics, and the dopamine rush of social media. And it raises a simple question:
Should we celebrate someone else’s death?
Though it’s often misattributed to Mark Twain, Clarence Darrow—the lawyer best known for defending the evolution-teaching educator in the Scopes Monkey Trial—famously wrote, “I have never killed any one, but I have read some obituary notices with great satisfaction.” I have no doubt that each one of us could come up with at least a few obituaries that we’d probably read with “great satisfaction.” Indeed, we might even look forward to the day when we’ll be able to read them, an admission that probably comes with a slight pang of guilt.
Nevertheless, we’ve all felt that impulse, that deeply felt desire for someone to finally—finally!—get their ultimate comeuppance. They’re gone, and they can’t hurt us anymore. We feel that impulse because we all know, on a fundamental level, that this world isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. The weak are dominated by the strong, the poor are fleeced by the wealthy, and the innocent are destroyed by the wicked. We long for justice, for those imbalances to be corrected, but how? Who is to blame for this? Who can be held accountable? What needs to be changed?
The world is broken, yes, but it’s also extremely complicated, and further complicating things is the fact that we all have different answers to those questions. That doesn’t mean morality is relative, but rather, that our answers are filtered through individual perspectives that have been shaped by a million influences that we couldn’t begin to list even if we tried. For Christians, though, our desire for justice must ultimately be shaped by the Bible. And indeed, the Bible contains numerous cries for justice.
The “imprecatory” Psalms, in particular, are filled with language that’s quite blunt and shocking. Psalm 69 finds David weary and overwhelmed by his enemies, and in response, crying out to the Lord: “Pour out your indignation upon them, and let your burning anger overtake them. May their camp be a desolation; let no one dwell in their tents.” Later, in Psalm 83, Asaph asks that God’s enemies would “be put to shame and dismayed forever” and “perish in disgrace”—words that are surprisingly similar to posts that you might see on social media today.
The Psalms, however, make it clear that any such judgment ultimately belongs to the Lord. The very same David who asked God to pour out his wrath and indignation also wrote Psalm 37, which counsels the reader to “Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath! Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil.” We are told to “be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him” rather than give into worry. “Better is the little that the righteous has than the abundance of many wicked,” writes David. “For the arms of the wicked shall be broken, but the Lord upholds the righteous.”
Does this mean Christians should remain silent and not call out evil and injustice when we see them? Obviously not, since that’s precisely what David, Asaph, and the other psalmists do throughout their writings, and never once do they mince their words. But are we crying out for justice so that God may reveal himself to the world and put the wrong things to right? Are we yearning for God’s redemptive plan to come one step closer to fruition? Or are we crying out for justice for our own selfish benefit (and social media clout)? Is our desire for justice and fairness in fact a masked desire for vengeance? Do we really just want to see our enemies, political or otherwise, fall into disgrace and be revealed as fools, thus proving how right—and righteous—we are?
Just as the Bible contains imprecations that cry out for God to move against those who seek our downfall, God’s word also contains warnings against our own selfish desires, lest we be the ones who bring about our downfall. Thus Proverbs 24:17-18 warns us against rejoicing in our enemy’s defeat “lest the Lord see it and be displeased.” Even Jesus warns us against presumptive declarations of who deserves judgment. In the opening of Luke 13, he uses a recent disaster to challenge popular and convenient notions of who might be good and evil, and instead, urges his listeners—and us—to reflect on our own mortality and need for repentance.
The final song on Luxury’s 2015 album, Trophies, is a piano-led ballad titled “The Gates of Paradise (Give Praise Where Praise Is Due)” that finds frontman Lee Bozeman reflecting on brokenness, the fragility of existence, and his duties as an Orthodox priest. At one point, in his Morrissey-like croon, he wonders “Do I feel love where I used to feel hate?” Those words have become a sort of internal refrain that’s often played in recent years as I consider my own culpability in our current state of affairs, including the selfish thrill I get when I think about those aforementioned obituaries.
In our sinful state this side of eternity, it might prove impossible to completely deny ourselves that thrill. The desire to see our enemies get their comeuppance is just too strong, especially when paired with the dopamine hits that come from social media interactions. Perhaps the best we can hope for is to simply keep such thoughts to ourselves, or share them with a close confidant who won’t judge us, and pray that God will redeem such desires. That we’ll begin to feel love where we used to feel hate, mercy where we once sought judgment, peace where we once felt urgency, and trust where we once felt the need to take justice into our own hands—even if said justice only ever exists in the form of a snarky social media post.
