One of my favorite ways to engage scripture is to imagine yourself in the shoes of each character you encounter and seeing what new insights arise. It’s especially interesting in stories where there’s an obvious hero and villain dynamic at play. What do we find when we try to relate to Pharaoh instead of Moses? How does our understanding shift when we see ourselves as Goliath instead of David? What can we learn when we adopt the perspective of Judas instead of Jesus?
Of course, it’s much easier (not to mention more satisfying) to picture ourselves as the hero of the story. Today’s scripture reading is a perfect example. We usually focus on just the first half to heavy-handedly compare ourselves to Samuel, often at an ordination or commissioning service. We use it as a mechanism for imagining ourselves as the hero of our own story. The message is that you, too, are called by God to a righteous mission! You, too, can be a vehicle for God’s holy work in the world! Go you!
But when we use scripture exclusively to accentuate our own heroism, we’re not being fully honest with ourselves. Although we like to picture ourselves as uncompromising champions of righteousness, that’s more wishful thinking than anything else. The truth is that despite our best efforts, we all eventually wind up taking a turn as the villain. So it’s important for us to be able to see ourselves reflected in ALL aspects of scripture - even the less pleasant ones.
When we continue reading into the second half of 1 Samuel 3, the focus seems to shift from Samuel to Eli, and the narrative starts to get complicated. In verses 11-18, Eli’s role unexpectedly changes from that of a supportive father figure to the villain at the heart of Samuel’s very first prophecy (talk about a plot twist). Of course, most of us will still be tempted to see ourselves reflected in Samuel - we humans can rarely resist the opportunity to tell someone that they’re wrong - but let’s see if we can resist that urge. Let’s see if we can put ourselves in Eli’s shoes instead.
The most relatable thing about Eli here is that he probably didn’t want to see himself as the villain of his story, either. Eli was an important leader in Israel, serving both as a high priest *and* as a judge for 40 years. He’d had two sons who *also* become community leaders (they were both temple priests), and he’d even taken on a foster son in Samuel, the burgeoning prophet. He’d never committed any major sins against God as far as I know - small transgressions, maybe; but in general, he comported himself with dignity and righteousness. By most human standards, Eli had led a successful and respectable life; the kind of pleasantly uneventful life to which most of us aspire.
Can you see yourself reflected in Eli so far? Can you relate to the legacy that he’d spent his whole life cultivating - his career, his children, his conduct? Can you empathize with his self-understanding up to this point? From his point of view, he’d done pretty well for himself, all things considered. How many of us share this perspective of ourselves?
Then comes the twist in verse 12, when we learn that God doesn’t see Eli as the hero he likely imagines himself to be. God’s condemnation is harsh and unambiguous: despite his otherwise respectable life, it turns out that Eli is this story’s villain. He is in the wrong. Any good that he might have done throughout the rest of his life couldn’t outweigh his failure to stop his sons’ sinful actions.
Now, this might be the point at which some of us start finding it difficult to relate to Eli. *We* would certainly never let evildoing continue unchecked once we knew about it. *We’ve* had those difficult conversations with family members. *We’ve* been to protests. *We* know that God’s people can’t just “mind their own business” when it comes to matters of justice and morality; we have an obligation to speak up. And if Eli just stood by while his sons behaved in ways that were abhorrent to God, then clearly he deserved everything that he had coming to him (unlike us).
The thing is, though, Eli *didn’t* just stand by. Towards the end of chapter 2, he *had,* in fact, chastised his sons for the evil that they’d been doing. He *had* told them to stop sinning against God. He *had* attempted to intervene. He’d done everything we would have, and yet God still considered him the villain. The hard truth is that according to God, Eli hadn’t done *enough*. God didn’t accept, “Welp, I tried!” as an excuse. At the end of the day, what Eli had done hadn’t worked, and God still held him accountable for his sons’ terrible actions.
This has some jarring implications for our own lives. It turns out that committing explicit evil isn’t the only way to wind up the villain of a story. We’re not off the hook just because we don’t use racial slurs, or because we don’t harass women outside of Planned Parenthood, or because our Church doesn’t exclude the LGBT+ community. And we’re not absolved just because we vote according to our values every four years or signed a petition once or twice. If we aren’t actively and constantly pushing back against those who *do* persist in evil, then we, too, are guilty of sinning against God. Until the kindom of heaven arrives in full - until *all* humanity lives in peace, safety, comfort, and joy - our inaction and insufficient action will continue to make us inadvertent villains in God’s story.
Now, this is a profoundly uncomfortable truth: that we, who try so hard to do the right thing, still bear responsibility for the mess that the world is in. In a desperate attempt to absolve ourselves of this responsibility (and its associated discomfort), some of us make the choice to deny that the world is in any sort of mess at all: we deny that racism still exists and thrives in our society, despite firsthand accounts from those experiencing it. We deny that there are still significant wage and healthcare gaps among genders, despite the data proving it. We deny that our country is not equally free and fair for everyone, despite the evidence that we can see with our own eyes. We deny, and we rage against any prophets who dare suggest otherwise. You see, if we manage to convince ourselves that everything is actually fine, then our hero fantasy can carry on undisturbed. But of course, these aren’t the actions of a hero at all. These are nothing more than the fabrications of a cornered villain.
Surprisingly, however, this isn’t the way that Eli reacts to Samuel’s prophecy at all. When confronted with his own inadvertent villainy, he doesn’t double down. He doesn’t deny his responsibility or try to justify his actions. He doesn’t take out his frustration and anger on the messenger. He doesn’t do any of the things that we might be tempted to do in his situation. Instead, he receives the news with a quiet acceptance: “If that’s the way that God sees it, then that’s the way it is.” This moment of calm clarity doesn’t suddenly turn Eli into a hero, of course - and it doesn’t insulate him from the consequences of his actions. But accepting God’s judgement of his sin instead of his own judgement was the first and most important step in repentance.
Denial and anger in the face of our guilt only serve to separate us further from God. Humility and acceptance, on the other hand, are the first steps in restoring our relationship with the divine. Inadvertent villainy doesn’t have to be the end of your story - it all depends on what you choose to do next. We will all return to sin again and again, sin that we’re well aware of as well as sin that we’ve overlooked or ignored. Villainy is a lamentable part of human nature. But the divine nature is such that no matter how many times we fail to act heroically, there will always be another opportunity to repent, another opportunity to try again, another opportunity to do better. The only catch is that we have to swallow our pride, recognize that we’re not the heroes we think we are, and accept the opportunity.
It's easy to follow God when you think you’re the hero of the story and God is on your side. But sometimes, we wind up on the wrong side of God without even realizing it. God will always love us, but God will not condone even our smallest sins - not ever. The test of true faith is what we do when we discover that we’ve been an inadvertent villain like Eli. Do we turn to denial, or do we listen and learn? God is sending us prophets like Samuel even today, to shake us out of our complacency and to show us the ways we’re still allowing evil to flourish around us. Our challenge is to receive *all* of their messages with humility and forbearance, no matter how difficult they may be to hear.
The good news here is that we don’t HAVE to be the hero of the story in order to serve God faithfully. An inadvertent villain, as long as they’re willing to reckon with their own sin, can be just as helpful to God’s plan. God can work with that - thanks be to God! So instead of telling ourselves false stories of our own heroism, let’s face our villainy whenever and wherever it arises just like Eli did: with openness, acceptance, and full trust in God. At the end of the day, that’s probably one of the most heroic things a human being could ever do. Amen.
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