Minority Report: A Higher Standard

By Paul Marchbanks

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In Stephen Spielberg’s latest sci-fi excursion, Minority Report (2002), law enforcement has discovered a means of anticipating and thereby preventing violent crimes. A trio of prescients called precogs see the details of murders before they happen, allowing armed policemen to show up on the scene and arrest the perpetrator before the incident has even occurred. Interestingly, the absence of any actual, illegal behavior does not exonerate the would-be criminal or in any way mitigate their punishment. No therapy or group sessions for these individuals—they’re judged in a matter of seconds and incarcerated for life with no chance of parole. The crime is in the thought and intention, not the associated behavior.

Though Spielberg’s flick ends up being more about matters of free choice and destiny, it does tap into this very interesting question of whether we should be held responsible for the thoughts that precede and inform our actions—independent of the actions themselves. Jesus seems to think so. In his sermon on the mount in Matthew 5, Jesus suggests that from a divine perspective, lust is as great a sin as adultery, and that anger—without grace—incurs God’s wrath and judgment just the same as actually allowing that anger to manifest itself in violence. In addition to the more obvious lesson that we are all sinners and cannot justify ourselves by legalistic, surface adherence to a set of moral guidelines, Jesus underscores that our real moral character is located in what others may never see. While emphasizing the importance of practicing mercy and justice in very physical ways, Jesus also claims that real moral achievement occurs in a realm invisible to others, an immaterial and highly personal realm in which God alone meets and deals with us.

Jesus goes on to say that a signed and stamped certificate of divorce does not necessarily a divorce make, and that the many words we thrust into others’ faces mean far less than whether we actually follow through with what those words promise and signify. And, in a passage that my high school students in the mid-90’s found very difficult to swallow, he suggests that we should turn the other cheek to those who strike us on one side, and love those who hate us. Instead of dismissing Jesus’ words as so much rhetorical exaggeration—remember, he also tells us to remove body parts that are causing us to sin—I think we’re called to remember that the material form we inhabit isn’t really the thing, that it’s only a vessel for the truest part of ourselves. I would even suggest that Jesus is serious, that we should be willing to sacrifice those bodies we’re so concerned about adorning, chiseling and protecting, if our desire to preserve that body is preventing us from seeing beyond it.

In a culture that instinctively grades every aspect of experience as a failed or successful performance—that highly values physical beauty, athletic prowess, academic achievement, and just plain hard work—little attention is given to comparative unknowables like motivation or cognition (unless, perhaps, you’re in counseling). Jesus’ words highlight this very realm we tend to ignore, those elements of reality that can’t be empirically verified or measured in a lab, that go unrecognized and unvalued by the academic society in which many of us move and breathe, and that in some ways remain beneath the radar of even those who know us best.

Jesus’ words remind me that it doesn’t matter how many people pat me on the back for doing a decent job as a human being—as a father, teacher, or friend. What truly matters is what they do not and cannot see. It’s a high standard to which Christ holds us, and just because we will fail does not mean we’re supposed to quit striving and coast into heaven on his grace.

Posted by Paul Marchbanks at May 5, 2005 12:59 PM