Violence is redemptive to Flannery O’Connor. She did not believe in the lovey-dovey Christ of the New Testament; to her, faith is nowhere near as easy as simply saying you believe. The storm of the wilderness prophets, of the tormented Old Testament madmen, burns behind O’Connor’s words; we are not ready for an easy path to Christ. We must learn of salvation through violence. Faith is struggle, faith is sacrifice, faith is violent pain. Rayber’s lack of violent pain illustrates his severance from God. The greatest threat to salvation is to reject violence, to reject passion. Rayber’s hearing aid represents this—the violent gunshot of the old man does nothing but become the physical representation of Rayber’s spiritual deafness. To reject violence is to reject feelings of loss, pain, hurt. One must have the capacity for suffering in order to know redemptive love. Tarwater runs and runs from his destiny; but God is relentless, and when Tarwater, exhausted, allows himself to baptize (and subsequently drown) Bishop, God has shined his mighty violent mercy on Tarwater, and is violently trapped in God’s love. Tarwater burns his world, only to have his eyes burned open. He is brutally raped by a demonic stranger, and awakes with his soul on fire. His uncle Rayber rejects his violent inheritence, and in doing so, damns himself to emptiness.
Flannery O'Connor's explanation and her proffered answer to the question why does evil exist almost satisfy my own hunger for truth. I am not sure whether I can yet accept Christ, but I am compelled to fall behind O'Connor's definitions.
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