This week’s reflection is by The Rev. Ellis Crum. Before becoming a United Methodist pastor, Ellis served as an active duty Army officer as well as in the Department of Defense. In light of this experience, he offers important insights about labeling others as “evil” while ignoring our own complicity in evil. Please take the time to read and reflect on Ellis’ words as our nation engages in a war with Iran. Ellis serves on the Cornelius Corps Board of Directors.
Praying for Peace – Jim Melson, Executive Director of the Cornelius Corps
When We Call Others Evil
The Pot and the Kettle Problem in a Time of War – The Rev. Ellis Crum
When political leaders describe an adversary as “evil,” Christians should pause. That word is a moral and theological claim, and it demands careful examination.
This weekend, as the United States carried out airstrikes in Iran and Iran responded in kind, the language of evil surfaced again in public discourse. In moments like this, our words can widen or narrow what we are willing to see and excuse. What gives me pause is not war; it is the word evil.
There is an old proverb about the pot calling the kettle black. It endures because it exposes something in us: our tendency to see clearly in others what we struggle to confront in ourselves.
I hear the word evil through two callings that pull me in different directions and therefore sharpen the question. I am a former combat arms Army officer who spent a career in the Department of Defense, where national security is responsibility carried by real people making hard decisions in imperfect circumstances. I also pastor multiple churches in a cross-racial and cross-cultural ministry context, where questions of power, justice, and national identity land differently depending on lived experience. Faith insists power, policy, and patriotism stand under the judgment of God.
The tension between service to country and allegiance to God keeps two questions in front of me: By what standard do we name evil? Does that standard apply to us as well? Those questions do not deny the obligations of the state, including the responsibility to protect citizens and restrain violence. They ask whether we apply the same moral standard to ourselves that we apply to others.
If evil is defined by the pursuit or use of overwhelming destructive power, moral reflection cannot stop at national borders. The United States (and its allies) maintains nuclear arsenals; why, then, is evil only ascribed to our adversaries? Even “intent” or “regime character” can become selective categories depending on who is “with us.” In this case, “evil” is less a moral judgment and more a political designation. That selectivity is reinforced by the stories nations tell about themselves. America’s story includes freedom, sacrifice, and democratic ideals, and much of that story is true; moral maturity also admits that nations, like individuals, are capable of both justice and failure.
Christian faith insists evil is real and therefore it must be measured by something larger than national preference. Western societies often equate moral righteousness with particular political values, but those values are not identical to the moral demands God places on all people. Protecting innocent life, rejecting cruelty, and resisting exploitation are moral principles rooted in the character of God. Therefore, evil cannot simply mean “not like us,” and righteousness cannot simply mean “ours.”
Confusion deepens when religious faith and national identity become indistinguishable. The danger is not love of country, but assuming national success signals divine approval and treating criticism as disloyalty; then moral scrutiny moves outward instead of inward, and power borrows the authority of faith. The biblical prophets resisted that impulse: they confronted their own kings before condemning foreign nations. A prophetic posture today begins the same way; it names our own temptations to unaccountable power before it assigns ultimate moral labels to others.
If we are serious about defining evil, we cannot apply the word only abroad. Our national life still wrestles with accountability, treatment of vulnerable communities, immigration enforcement, and democratic participation; beneath these debates are deeper questions: Does power remain accountable? Is human dignity preserved? Are the vulnerable protected? Scripture, especially in the prophets and in Jesus’ concern for the least, locates evil wherever power escapes accountability and human dignity is diminished. Not only among adversaries, but wherever injustice takes root.
The state and the Church do not share the same authority, but they share moral terrain. Power and deterrence are not inherently evil; what must be judged is whether power remains accountable and whether human dignity is preserved. The Church does not wield the sword; it carries conscience. Its task is to remind every nation that justice and human dignity must never be suspended in the name of security.
Christians live in both worlds, citizens of nations and citizens of the kingdom, and that dual citizenship calls for humility. If we are going to use the word evil, we must use it carefully and consistently; the measure cannot shift depending on whose flag is flying. Evil is defined by what contradicts the character of God and that measure applies to every nation, including our own.
And when we forget that, the proverb returns to haunt us. The pot and the kettle begin arguing over darkness, while neither notices the soot on its own surface.
If faith becomes a tool to justify power, it has lost its way. Faith was meant to speak truth to power.