At this point, each aspect of the killing of Renee Good and Alex Pretti has been dissected and analyzed from every conceivable angle. Perhaps this is presumptuous to suggest one more look unrelated to all the ink spilled to condemn or justify the actions of all parties involved. Instead of Good and Pretti under the microscope, I propose to view the “What happened?” question with a telescope. Rather than a microscopic view, I propose a macroscopic view of what occurred.
Rodney Kennedy
To kill or not to kill? Has this become the question? Of all the options a law officer has in the heat of a dispute, how did “shoot to kill” move to the head of the line? The questions upset a usual presumption that most Americans see themselves as nonviolent, with exceptions — defense of family, law and order, the nation, etc. If we only argue about exceptions, we are all pacifists in most cases. As a people insisting we are not violent, we assume the users of violence — those who kill — bear the burden of proof. If this is close to the truth about our attitude toward violence, there is a small range of cases when violence might be argued as tragically necessary.
The wide scope of our problem becomes clear when the multitude of interpretations are applied to what sounds like a common, ordinary command: “Thou shalt not kill” (Exodus 20:13). Our English translations are at odds over what God means in commanding us not to kill. The New Revised Standard Version reduces the scope of the commandment: “You shall not murder.”
When Gary Gilmore was executed in 1977, prior to the state of Utah killing him by firing squad, he twice tried to kill himself. Both times, the state went to extraordinary measures to save his life. Will Campbell asked, “If it is in the best interest of the society for a man to be dead, what difference does it make if he does it himself? Unless, of course, we get some depraved gratification from doing it ourselves.”
The laws of the Old Testament, still a prominent part of evangelical understandings of killing, violence, and the power of the state, found 23 legitimate reasons to execute people. Among these offenses: “You shall keep the Sabbath, because it is holy for you; everyone who profanes it shall be put to death” (Exodus 3114). No preacher would use this text on Super Bowl Sunday.
Murder, rape, occult practices, bestiality, idolatry, child sacrifice, adultery, incest, male homosexual intercourse, blasphemy, perjury, and rebellion against parents are all causes for execution. Thinking we are more moral and compassionate, our laws allow the death penalty in the case of murder. On the federal level, treason and espionage are death penalty offenses.
Still, we argue about the death penalty. 60% of Americans favor the death penalty, with 54% saying it is morally acceptable. And we still argue about “just war”. Has there ever been a just war? WWII is usually the paradigm for supporters of just war theory.
Now they have killed Good and Pretti in Minnesota. Moral leaders among maga* evangelicals, most of whom support executions, men such as Franklin Graham and Andrew Walker, insist the killings were justified. Evangelicals warm themselves by the fires of Romans 13:1 – 4, leave the rest to the state, and “go down” to their houses justified.
Still the issue of “killing anyone” for “any reason” has not been resolved. Good and Pretti were killed by law enforcement agents. A law enforcement official killing someone in the line of duty is still relatively rare. There are over 800,000 police officers in the U.S. In 2024, police killed 1,365 people. Less than .002% of police officers were involved in killing someone that year.
Even if we continue to argue and bash each other on Facebook from now until Doom’s Day, Good and Pretti will not be “undead” or raised from the dead. They are gone. But our attitude about killing says a lot about our moral foundations. Are you an advocate of just war? Do you believe in the death penalty for violent crimes? Are you a pacifist?
God spake all these words (1876) by Currier & Ives. Original public domain image from the Library of Congress. Digitally enhanced by rawpixel.
By raising the issue of pacifism, I have played my own hand — all my cards face up on the table. I am a pacifist. I am obligated to “love my enemy” even if my enemy may still kill me. Like Stanley Hauerwas, I think it is important to testify to my pacifism because I am such a mean and potentially violent person. I need a people, a church, to help keep me faithful to my commitment.
I connect my pacifism to the Sermon on the Mount. “Blessed are the peacemakers” is my life text as I equate peacemaking with pacifism. Whether or not my pacifism produces good effects is irrelevant. Even as both sides continue to make arguments for or against the killings in Minnesota, they are desperate for a “win.” My commitment to pacifism doesn’t require winning; it only requires faithfulness. As Hauerwas insists, “If Jesus is Lord, we betray the hope that makes our commitment to nonviolence intelligible if we try to prove it.”
Ultimately, my faith in the resurrection overcomes all the arguments and positions. John Howard Yoder argued our faith in the resurrection sustains a “hope that cannot be destroyed by my failures or jeopardized by my inability to manipulate events.” A commitment to nonviolence doesn’t promise success.
Embracing the love that refuses to achieve the good through a disavowal of violence, I make a public stance, a witness. My rejection of the use of mechanical models of cause and effect to force history to move in what is assumed to be the right direction means the promise of victory can only be found in the resurrection.
To bring up the resurrection in the middle of a knock-down fight over “killing” will seem naïve and simplistic to some. Others will dismiss this as hopelessly idealistic. My prior commitment to pacifism requires my allegiance to the KJV translation of Exodus 20: 13 — “Thou shalt not kill.”
*I have made the deliberate choice to stop using upper case for “maga” because I believe the movement has so lowered itself in fealty to Trump that the lower case is the only appropriate way to speak of this group.
Rodney Kennedy has his M.Div. from New Orleans Theological Seminary and his Ph.D. in Rhetoric from Louisiana State University. The pastor of 7 Southern Baptist churches over the course of 20 years, he pastored the First Baptist Church of Dayton, Ohio — which is an American Baptist Church — for 13 years. He is currently professor of homiletics at Palmer Theological Seminary, and interim pastor of Emmanuel Friedens Federated Church, Schenectady, New York. His eighth book, Dancing with Metaphors in the Pulpit, is out now from Cascade Books.
