“They that hate me without a cause are more than the hairs of mine head: they that would destroy me, being mine enemies wrongfully, are mighty: then I restored that which I took not away” (Psalm 69:4).

 

I was twelve years old and in the sixth grade when I first tasted the bitter dregs of hatred. My last name is spelled Sala, S-A-L-A, and next to me in gym class at Thatcher Elementary School was a Hispanic kid whose name was Frank Sedillos. We lined up alphabetically for roll call, and since our names were so similar, he stood next to me for physical education, known as gym.

Now Frank was no ordinary kid. Without mother and father, he had been placed in a state home or orphanage where kids survived by their brawn, and the meanest kid was boss. The problem, however, is that Frank brought all of his pent-up meanness to school with him and bullied everybody who was in his path. In a matter of days, I decided not only that I disliked this kid, but everybody else who was Hispanic, something that I had to unlearn as God in later years worked in my heart. So, everybody who is Hispanic is as mean as Frank Sedillos, right? How foolish; yet such is the logic of hatred.

Though some have disputed the allegation, it is said that as a student in Vienna, Adolph Hitler was walking down the street when a rabbi, dressed in black, with side curls, reading a book, bumped him, knocking him into the muddy street. Adolph got up, cursed the rabbi, and vowed that someday he would destroy every Jew. Whether or not the story is true, it is certain that his hatred for Jews, stemming from whatever cause, irrationally destroyed millions of families and lives.

In the past century, the bitter seeds of hatred have taken the lives of uncounted millions. To that infamous list you can add the purges of Stalin which took the lives of as many as 35 million, the Cultural Revolution of Mao targeting any who disagreed with his ideology, the rampage of Pol Pot in Vietnam, and the ethnic cleansing of Bosnia along with the incessant conflict between Israel and her Arab neighbors.

Following the bombing of the World Trade Center in New York on that dark Tuesday, September 11, many people were shocked at the intense feelings of hatred which had driven Osama Bin Laden and his cohorts to take the lives of thousands of people, leaving 15,000 kids without at least one parent. And in the days following, some American Arabs were equally surprised at the venom of hatred they felt simply because of their ethnic background.

Well, it is easy to say, “This problem has always been with us and nothing can be done about it.” Yet, ignoring the growing epidemic of hatred today only fuels the fire. It can be reversed. The madness can be stopped.

I sat in the home of Maren Nilsen in Tromso, Norway. This talkative, smiling woman with silver hair had been a prisoner in a German concentration camp. As we sat in her home and drank rich dark coffee and snacked on little sandwiches she had made, she told of having survived the prison of war experience by stealing potato peelings out of the garbage. Surely, she had every reason to hate those who took her freedom and almost her life. “Did you hate the Germans after you were released?” I asked cautiously. Quickly, she replied, “No, not at all,” but then added, “But we must never forget.” In her life, her faith in God made the difference.

He did in my life as well. Only the alchemy of God and grace can take away the hatred and help us to see hurting people as individuals worthy of our love and respect. May God help us to learn to turn hatred into love.

 

Resource reading: 1 Peter 2.

Note: I would like to tell you that years later, the kid who terrorized me and taught me to hate him became a trusted friend, but I never saw him again. I have often wondered, though, if perhaps his life might have been different had I known how to handle the fear and hatred I had for him.