thomstark.net

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This was published on November 1st and I got paid $25 for it. Click here to see the edited version, with only a few slight changes and an awesome picture of Dubya on Aragorn’s steed.

They even followed up my “review” with an expose on the guy who made the movie.

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Thanks for the comments, Thom. Although I must admit that I haven’t put nearly that much effort into analyzing my own thoughts. I’d like to just comment on a couple of points. I am not a scholar in Barthian theology, so my comments were limited to an (admittedly basic) observation from history. I use terms like conservative and liberal simply because so-much contemporary debate centers around these two, oftentimes loosely-defined, groups. You are right of course that the artificial labels of conservative and liberal are not always helpful and rarely, if ever, biblical. But if someone were to categorize me (or if forced to categorize myself), I would certainly “fit” within the conservative camp both theologically (or is it better to say “hermeneutically?”) and politically. I don’t disagree with your “reactionary” observation. Everyone is reactionary to a degree. To say otherwise is just plain naive. To be reactionary is certainly not negative unless all of our time and energy is spent responding to our critics and our ideological enemies instead of allowing our reactionism to drive us back closer to a biblical Christianity (which I believe is indeed happening). As to the war comments, I’m not interested in rehashing old debates in this format. Here are my observations:
1. Recent history has been manipulated and even disregarded for the sake of scoring political (and theological) points. The fact is that this war (I’ll speak specifically about Iraq since this is where most of the controversy lies, but of course I would expect you to be against all armed conflict and intervention be it Afghan or Sudanese) was not unilateral and was not begun on the whim of ignorant hillbilly president. We at least ought to acknowledge the rather complex history that led to this war
2. WWII ended in 1945 but you could argue that Europe was not at peace until 1991 (if even then). That is what I meant in my post about too quickly judging the import of a war.
3. I’m sure that you won’t agree because you’ve read much more on this than I (or most people) have, but most pacifist arguments are too clean for my liking. They fail to acknowledge the ugly realities of a world gone crazy. They fail to acknowledge the differences between interpersonal and geo-political conflict. They offer few intelligent responses to good questions about third-person suffering (pacifism is a lot easier when I am suffering, but what if someone else is suffering and I have the ability to intervene on their behalf). They oftentimes don’t distinguish between God’s future justice and God’s present activity in which he may use human agents to bring about his justice and wrath upon this world. Anyway, I don’t think that the answers are as easy as we have been led to believe – but again, I don’t claim expertise in this area.
4. For all of the self-righteous theologizing that has gone on for the past six years, I cannot help but see the reality that many simply hate Bush more than they hate war (they didn’t hate it nearly as much with Clinton). We have allowed our politics (right or left) the wag the dog of our theology. Come on. How much contemporary pacifism (I wouldn’t put you in this camp – at least you’ve done your homework) is really motivated by scriptural convictions?

Just a few rambling thoughts.
Thanks, Thom

Good comments, Thom. I should clarify however. When I talk about the arguments “that I’ve heard” I am not claiming to have read very much at all from experts in the field. I am talking mostly about what I would call armchair pacifists – people who like the sound of it and enjoy a nice theological debate but fail to catch all the nuances of the argument. I readily admit that when it comes to the deeper and more reflective thoughts on pacifism I am arguing from ignorance.

Good explanation of Romans 13, and I totally agree with your analysis. I still am wondering about the third person suffering question. I guess I’ll just have to buckle down and do some reading. If I could just find someone to teach my classes…Speaking of which, I’m late.

I’m very interested to hear from a Stone-Campbell perspective. Actually, my fiancee, Summer Boehne, comes out of that tradition in part, having worshipped with College Heights Christian Church there in Joplin while she was in high school. It would be really crazy if you knew her.

A quick note as well: Part of my argument (in fact, the crowning piece) for a Reformed strain of pacifism is grounded in the confessional covenant theology. While a lot of what I have to say does speak to Lutheranism, covenant theology does not find explicit articulation in the Book of Concord or Lutheran systematics.

And, although Bryan and I are both Baptists, I draw far more from the Anabaptist and Pietist roots of our tradition than the Reformed-Puritan dimension. I, too, am looking forward to the whole series because when we Baptists argue among ourselves about peacemaking and nonviolence, it is usually the most stridently Calvinist among us who call the pacifists “heretics.”

The covenant theology clarification was, indeed, helpful. I see now why the French Reformed folks didn’t much fit. Covenant theology is not a large part of French Calvinism as it is with Dutch, Scottish, and some strands of Anglo-American Calvinism. I couldn’t see how you were missing the Reformed structure to, e.g., Lassere’s thought in the way God’s Sovereignty played such a large part in his argument and the huge role he gave to the Ten Commandments, etc.–all very different from the way that an Anabaptist would argue for the same conclusions.
And, I know that you have not been interested in the pacifism of Barthians in the Reformed camp.

Problems with the Argument:

Ostensibly, the whole argument depends upon the doctrine of Total Depravity. Yet there is good reason to reject total depravity as a misreading of certain scriptural texts and a denial of human experience in general.

While there are certain texts that highlight the corruption of the human heart, there are others that imply or assume a general capacity in man to know and/or to do good. Romans 1, though often used by advocates of Total Depravity, in point of fact assumes a general human capacity to know what is right and to do it. Romans 2 makes this point more explicit in Paul’s account of “the law written on their [the gentiles'] hearts.” While their own consciences are said to be their accusers, they are also said to be their defenders, leaving room for the human capacity to know and to do good outside of special grace.

Some may object that even though this is possible outside of special grace, it is not possible outside of a general grace, so that it is never the human that does the good, but always God through the otherwise totally depraved person. Yet this is a dogmatic tautology. It is like saying that it is not the river that runs, but God that runs the river. If no good deed is ever done apart from the grace of God, what does it benefit us to deny the human capacity to do good apart from God? This obscures the real issue, which is human culpability for sin. If humans are culpable for their own sin, it follows that they are also responsible agents in doing good. This is not a denial of the grace of God, but an affirmation of human responsibility. To deny the latter in order to uphold the former is not only logically unnecessary, it is logically fallacious.

Moreover, as mentioned above, the doctrine of Total Depravity seems to be at odds with general human experience. One just needs to think of Gandhi and the questions become clear. To deny Gandhi “salvation” in the evangelical sense is one set of questions. To deny the morality of many of his actions is quite another. To deny the morality of his actions on the grounds that they were falsely motivated is 1) a generalization, and 2) the mistake of Lutheranism in general of internalizing sin, based upon a misreading of Paul and of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. The sin ceases to become an actual breaking of God’s law and becomes instead any act performed in order to achieve God’s grace. This is an anachronism projected back into the Judaism of Jesus’ day. To deny the morality of Gandhian nonviolence by internalizing the problem is to stretch the meaning of a “good act” beyond the ambit of intelligibility.

A Stone-Campbell perspective can affirm prevenient grace without denying human responsibility for actions whether good or bad. Otherwise it would make no sense to speak of heavenly rewards for good works, even if the proper response on the part of the saint is to pass the reward on to God, who is truly and originally worthy to receive it. We can affirm that a good deed makes no sense in any context apart from the sustaining and active hand of God in his creation, without affirming total depravity. To affirm total depravity is to render the distinction between divine activity and human activity irrelevant, and it is to undermine the grounds upon which it is properly said that a person is culpable for his or her sins.

Nevertheless, Bryan’s whole argument does not in fact depend upon “Total Depravity,” only ostensibly so. It in fact depends upon the concept of partial depravity, or, more positively put, sanctification. The notion of Total Depravity in fact has no bearing at all upon Bryan’s argument, for the only thing Bryan needs in order to make his argument is for his interlocutor to concede to the platitude that nobody’s perfect. If it were true that those outside the faith were in fact totally depraved, incapable of right moral reasoning, that is one thing. But to claim “nobody’s perfect” means nobody can make a right judgment is perhaps evidence in favor of the claim, because this is in fact a wrong judgment. If I witness a crime, wherein the victim is tortured, raped, and murdered, whatever moral imperfection I might have does not discredit the legitimacy of my testimony as a witness to the evil of the act. If I were to testify in a court of law, the judge would not be basing his verdict on his moral competency but upon the evidence of my testimony and other evidences.

Now say the evidence has been falsified somewhere, or not all the evidence is in, and the defendant is prosecuted, convicted, and executed for a crime he did not commit. That is a travesty and a horror. Granted. But that does not mean that the decision to execute the individual was made because of an insufficiency in the judge’s conscience or moral wisdom. To make the argument that the death penalty is abhorrent because of the possibility of executing someone who is innocent, that is one thing. Opponents of the death penalty make that argument all the time, but that is not a Reformed argument, nor is it an argument from moral depravity.

Bryan uses, among others, Luther to make his case. According to Luther, the Christian is always simul justus et peccatur, and according to Bryan this means no Christian can administer lethal force against a criminal. But this is a misrepresentation of Luther. Even if we grant that Christians are simultaneously just and sinful (I don’t grant this, at least on Luther’s terms, because by “just” he is referring to imputed righteousness, an interpretation of Paul which I reject), that does not have a bearing on whether it is permissible, according to Luther, for a Christian magistrate to execute another human being. For Luther, when a magistrate is required to execute someone, he is guilty only if he does so hastily, or with glee. The magistrate is Christian who regrets having to do his job, and wishes the best for the victim of execution. There are of course a host of problems with this picture, but the problem I wish to point out is of another sort—namely that Bryan’s appeal to Luther and others is not consistent with their broader teaching.

Similarly, Bryan quotes John Howard Yoder in support of his argument that Christians cannot administer lethal force. Bryan writes that Yoder “articulates several distinctly Christian arguments against the administration of lethal violence.” But he abuses Yoder here, by taking Yoder’s argument out of its proper context and fitting it into Bryan’s argument for the illegitimacy of Christian magistrates exercising lethal force. Yoder is answering the question, “What would you do if a loved one was attacked by a violent person?” Yoder is not answering the question, “What should a magistrate do in a court of law when a criminal is properly convicted of a capital offense?”. (Of course, Yoder addresses this question in his debate with Wayne House in The Death Penalty Debate, but in that context Yoder uses considerably different arguments to make his case.) Yoder’s argument in What Would You Do? attends to a situation in which decisions must be made “in the heat of the moment,” in which there is no process of defense, submission of evidence, appeals, etc. Moreover, Yoder’s question concerns one who is selfishly involved, as opposed to a magistrate who by definition is impartial. To use Yoder’s argument in this context in support of Bryan’s very different question is not only to misuse Yoder, it is to render Yoder’s argument ineffective.

Finally, the primary problem with Bryan’s argument is that it only obtains in cases where there is reasonable doubt as to the guilt of the offender. In cases where the offender’s guilt is beyond doubt, this argument becomes irrelevant. In other words, this argument from depravity serves to limit or to restrict the exercise of lethal punishment, but it does not rule it out in principle. In that sense, there is nothing specifically “reformed” about it, because in any legal tradition the idea of just punishment is predicated o

n the verifiability of the guilt of the one being punished. Furthermore, just as there is nothing specifically “reformed” about the argument, neither is there anything particularly “pacifistic” about it. It gives us no reason to question the appropriateness of the use of lethal force when the guilt of the criminal is unassailable.

A further problem with Bryan’s argument is that he does not engage the Reformed tradition precisely where it diverges from his own position. But perhaps this will be remedied in one of Bryan’s further installments, all of which I eagerly anticipate.

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Bryan,

Thanks for your good response. There seems to be a lot of confusion, however. In several cases you came to the conclusion that I did not understand you, but on every point I did. It seems to me that you have misunderstood me, rather than the other way around. I’ll just get right to it.

First, I’m not sure how your new outline is a correction of the outline I drafted, but that’s neither here nor there. Yours is shorter, so it’s probably better.

The debate about total depravity lies outside the purview of the discussion about pacifism, because of course your argument is that those who are not totally depraved are still depraved enough not to be competent to exercise lethal violence. Nevertheless, the majority of your rebuttal revolves around the status of the doctrine of total depravity. You barely touched on my critiques of your actual argument. First, however, I will address your comments about total depravity.

You assume that I am unaware of the distinction Total Depravity makes between outer deeds and inner motivations. But in fact, I explicitly addressed that distinction and argued against it in my first post. I am fully aware that the Reformed position refuses to credit a work as good if the person performing it is not redeemed. I reject this view. You think it’s scriptural. I would argue that it is blatantly unscriptural. You are right, however, that our confusion lies in our respective uses of the word “good.” For you it’s this simple: if a redeemed person doesn’t perform the work then the work by definition cannot be a good one. I think this view is very, very wrong, but I understand it completely. There is an element of truth in it, but the Reformed tradition, in my view, takes it much too far. In my view, this aspect of Reformed dogma is enormously uninformed.

To make the distinction between an act that is good for society and an act that pleases God is to separate religion from politics in a way that is inconsistent with the theocratic vision of Reformed theology. Without denying that God sees the heart and that God is concerned that our heart be rightly ordered toward him, to reduce a good act to a matter of the heart is a grave misstep, not to mention the fact that it’s an anachronistic, Western understanding of Jewish wisdom.

Furthermore, your argument is inconsistent with itself. Because a fallen person has “no goodness, in thought, word, or deed,” that person is “therefore incapable of contributing anything to his salvation.” But according to Reformed theology, no one is capable of contributing anything to their salvation. According to Reformed theology, there is nothing anyone can do to be saved; it is purely the sovereign work of God. So to say that a fallen person’s deeds are salvifically ineffective is yet another tautology, from your perspective. The real problem for you is that the “unredeemed” person is not properly ordered to God in his heart when he performs the deed, but there is no way for you to know that. Especially since, according to you, you are still a bit morally corrupt. Because of your persistent sinfulness, you prescribe yourself a dose of humility in matters of lethal force, but you refuse to take a dose of humility when it comes to judging those outside the faith. Perhaps your leftover sinfulness and selfishness is preventing you from seeing what is good in those that are different from you.

You cite Hebrews 11.6 to support your view that “the intent of the heart” is what counts in a good deed. But that is not at all what Hebrews 11.6 is saying. In fact, if we look at the list of the heroes of the faith outlined by the writer of Hebrews, we see a great deal of people who are very corrupt and very selfish. Your internalization of “faith” is yet another anachronism that is ignorant of faith’s contextual use in both its Jewish and its Mediterranean context. “Pistis” does not refer to the intent of the heart. “Pistis” is political loyalty, and it refers to deeds, to actual, tangible faithfulness. It is good when our “heart” aligns with our deeds, but not every good deed depicted in the Bible (or in my life) aligns with “the heart.” For instance, if someone breaks into my home and tries to hurt my family, my “heart” will want to do one thing (attack the bastard), but my body will do something different (seek nonviolent means with a view toward reconciliation and peace). Here, my heart is not aligned with my action, but my action is good because it comes from pistis (faithfulness, loyalty, trust in God). Your internalization of pistis is exactly backwards. It is precisely because the human heart is deceitful and desperately wicked that our activity often needs not to conform to our heart in order for it to be good activity. This kind of activity is called “faith” in Jewish thought, and what it does is it helps to bring the heart into right ordering toward God. But the heart itself is not what makes an action good.

Now, Jesus will critique some of the political leaders of his day for outwardly doing some of what is required but being inwardly wicked. That is not the same question. The problem with them is not that they are doing good deeds without right intention. The problem there is that their wrong intentions make what would ordinarily be good deeds to be wicked deeds. For instance, they may give to charity, but they do so in order to hide the fact that they support a system that makes charity necessary in the first place. They are not properly “giving to charity.” This is a different deed altogether from the person who gives to charity altruistically. Outwardly, the deed is the same, but the context in which the deed is performed (this need not be an “internalized” context, although what’s internal certainly has something to do with it) makes the deeds both very different.

A nonchristian can give to charity altruistically, just because it is right to help those who are poor. She may not believe in God, but all that does is rule out the possibility that she is giving to charity in order to try to earn God’s favor. Someone may say, “She is giving only to appease her own conscience.” But that is a judgment only the person giving can make. Here’s where the Calvinist’s dose of humility is in order. It is true that the nonchristian’s act is not properly ordered to YHWH God, but that is not the same thing for which Jesus is critiquing the Pharisees. He is critiquing the Pharisees for covering over their support of an unjust system by giving off the appearance that they love justice. (On all of this, see an earlier post of mine in which I critique John Piper’s understanding of the New Perspective on Paul.)

The point is, the stark split between the inner and the outer upon which Total Depravity depends is a latent dualism that is harmful to a proper understanding of the “good act.” The fact is, the more good a person does (”outwardly”), the better the person tends to become (”inwardly”). Obviously, I think the distinction itself is a misrepresentation of reality when taken in the way Reformed dogma (and stoicism) does. Jesus’ point in pointing to the heart of the Pharisees was not to say (as Calvinism does) that you have to be “redeemed” in order to do anything good. Jesus’ point was that you cannot claim to be redeemed if your deeds are evil. This has been obscured by Lutheranism, but a historical-contextual reading of the Gospels makes this abundantly clear.

In sum, you want to say that an act cannot be good if it does not please God. But that is not what Hebrews 11.6 says. It never says that nothing anyone who doesn’t know God does can be “good.” In context, it’s talking about how to remain in God’s grace, i.e., by being faithful. But it is ridiculous to make the claim that God sees everything done by unbelievers as wicked activity. The OT is full of instances where God praises the just acts of pagan kings, even kings that do not ackn

owledge God. To be sure, they are guilty of not acknowledging God, but that does not make their just acts wicked. When the Scriptures are read through the lens of Total Depravity, much of what’s there becomes obscured.

You said, “Thom’s whole counter-argument rests on a rejection of the need for more than external conformity to God’s law.”

That is simply untrue. I never rejected the need for more than external conformity to God’s law. But that is a very Calvinistic way of reading what I said. My position is much more complex than that, and that is not even a good caricature of what I’ve said. Moreover, never did I say that what you would call an “externally good act” is sufficient to save an unredeemed person. I simply said that it is illegitimate to refuse to call the act good just because the person is not a believer. I would just suggest you attempt to go back and read the Gospels and the Epistles conscious of your presupposition here, in an effort to see if the material might make sense from another perspective. I’m confidant you will find that more sense can be made of it without the Calvinistic filter.

Your response to my use of Romans 2 displays that you have misunderstood me on that point as well. I would ask that you read me again.

Now, let’s move away from Total Depravity, as it really has nothing to do with your Reformed argument for pacifism.

You claimed that I brought up the context of the law court “to show the absurdity” of your claims. In fact, it was you who brought up the context of the law court when you centered your argument around magistrates. I was simply following your lead there.

If, as you claim, you are “arguing against the logic of human court of law,” you are not doing a very good job of it. Your argument did not exclude the possibility of imprisonment, fines, reparations, etc., all of which are very much a part of a “human court of law.” You claimed to be mounting an argument against the exercise of lethal force by a human court of law, and the only grounds you gave for distinguishing between that form of punishment and other forms of punishment was that lethal punishment is “final” whereas the others are not. Nothing you argued exposes “human courts of law” as illegitimate, unless of course you mean to say that ubiquitous depravity renders any and every form of judgment and punishment illegitimate. If that is the case, we’ll talk about the problems with that view. But I don’t think that’s what you intend to argue. Although, I’m afraid I’m not quite clear on exactly what it is you’re trying to say.

No Christian can be a magistrate. But, then again, no nonchristian can be a magistrate either, and both for the same reason, i.e., because both the Christian and the nonchristian are still sinners. That’s what I’ve gotten from you so far. If that’s not your view, I’ll be happy to hear about it.

Next, my point about the morality of magistrates was not to say that an absolutely immoral judge can be a good judge. Obviously, if a judge is absolutely corrupt, he or she will be taking bribes and all sorts of things like that, and his or her decisions will never be based upon what’s just and good. What I was saying is that a right decision can be made about a defendant’s guilt based upon the evidence without the magistrate’s personal moral life getting in the way. Even a completely corrupt judge still has the capacity to make a just judgment based upon the facts if he or she so chooses. The point I was making is that a magistrate’s sinfulness need not obscure the facts of a case.

Next, you said that you discovered “a huge cause of confusion and error here. Thom is assuming that I am arguing that it is illegitimate for Christian magistrates to exercise lethal force.”

No. That is not a huge cause of confusion and error. I was an am fully aware that you believe it is illegitimate for a Christian to be a magistrate. I share that conviction with you. My point, rather, was twofold:

1) The only reason you gave for a Christian not to be a magistrate applies a fortiori to nonchristians.

2) The reason you gave for both Christians and nonchristians not be magistrates is not a good reason for them not to be magistrates.

The reason you gave is that they are both sinful, and their sinfulness can obscure their ability to make just decisions as a magistrate. This is a non sequitur. Now, hear me right. I agree with you that no Christian should be a magistrate in a civil court (a judge in an ecclesial court is a different matter). What I disagree with is the reason you put forward for why that’s the case.

I am glad you are a radical Anabaptist in this matter. That’s another point of agreement between you and me. But that doesn’t make your use of Yoder’s argument legitimate. Yoder never argued that a magistrate should not execute a criminal because the magistrate is a sinner and might be selfishly motivated. He did argue that a private citizen should not use lethal force to protect his family for that reason. But the question of a magistrate doing his civil duty is a different question that Yoder addresses much differently in a much different book.

You said that your argument “applies to every case a believer would face.”

But in specifics you were speaking in no uncertain terms about the legitimacy of a magistrate exercising lethal force. If you want to argue against the use of lethal force in every case, you’re going to have to use different arguments for different cases. I’m sure you’ll do that, but you haven’t yet, so I can’t be faulted for pointing out the illegitimacy of an argument you used applied to the wrong case.

You said, “We’re also talking about judging applicability of lethal judgment in addition to ascertaining the guilt of an offender.”

Yes. That is what I myself pointed out. What I pointed out was that the argument you put forward was unsuccessful because it did not address the question of the legitimacy of lethal force in principle. The only reason you gave for not exercising lethal force is that the person responsible for such an administration might be selfishly motivated or wrong. My point was that your argument against the use of lethal force only obtains if the person exercising lethal force is either or both selfishly motivated or wrong. If the magistrate is not selfishly motivated and if the conviction is not wrong, your argument is irrelevant.

My point stands. You have not argued for pacifism. You have argued that magistrates ought to be careful before they push the red button. But you have confused that argument for an argument for pacifism.

I do agree with you that your argument from depravity cannot stand alone. In fact, I would go further and say that, useful as it is in a just-war theory sense for limiting the use of violence, it is not an argument that in any way will help your argument for pacifism from a Reformed perspective. I do look forward, however, to hearing that argument. Thanks for your time and your kind response. Please take this and all of my critiques as an expression of my appreciation for your attempts to think through these issues honestly.

Grace and peace.

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Oh yeah. You nailed it. That clears up a lot. Thanks for clarifying.

The majority of my prior argument, then, (the debate about total depravity aside) would just serve to deny your side comment that on the basis of depravity alone it would be “reasonable to argue against the administration of lethal violence by unbelieving magistrates.” I think that statement isn’t true.

But now I see that your use of Yoder wasn’t in the wrong context. I took your aside as an indication that you thought this argument covered both the private and the civil case.

I’m glad we’re in broader agreement than I thought.

So… here is my response, then:

I reject Total Depravity, but your argument is from Depravity, not Total Depravity (as indicated in your title), and I can side with you there. We’re not good enough to kill. That, I think, is a biblical argument. Jesus had to earn his position as judge, by being completely obedient. The same is true of us.

However, because ubiquitous human sinfulness is not specifically a Reformed idea, you would have to concede that this is not a distinctively Reformed argument (yet). The point you’ve made could be made equally well in just about any Christian tradition. Nevertheless, it serves the purpose of showing that, while it may be an Anabaptist or a Catholic or a Stone-Campbell or an Anglican argument, it is also consistent with Reformed theology.

I’m sorry for the confusion. I look forward to the rest of your argument.

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Good deal. That’ll help me to temper my future comments. I especially look forward to the distinctively Reformed contribution!

Peace out.

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Based on an Amazon.com search, I take it your name is Alan Lunn. If that’s not the case, please let me know as I have a policy against anonymous posting on my blog.

I thank you for taking time to make some comments. I’m not sure if you’re addressing me or Bryan, but I’ll go ahead and give you my response.

You said, “Wouldn’t you consider George Bush as ‘regenerated?’”

No. I wouldn’t. For two reasons: 1) ‘Regenerated’ is more Reformed terminology, and I don’t think it’s very useful. 2) George Bush isn’t really a Christian.

You said, “He has tremendous power to wield force: Who in this world has more?”

As disciples of Jesus, faithful Christians understand that the way to power in this world is through the renunciation of it. Jesus renounced power, and God raised him up and gave him authority. To have “tremendous power to wield force” is to be immediately at odds with the way of the Crucified One.

You said, “The Iraq vision of this administration is popularly thought to have failed due to the intractable problems of Islam. We are now in a quagmire requiring our whole focus in a complex world that may have more pressing matters elsewhere.”

“We”? You are referring to the United States, particularly their military. As a Christian, I am not included in that “we.” The “Iraq vision” of this administration was a failure long before the so-called “intractable problems of Islam” arose. The problem with the Iraq vision of this administration is that it was the unjust policy of an imperial grand strategy from the outset.

You said, “And how about the issue of Providence in all of this? God is usually going somewhere with human events, bringing, somehow, those events into line with His ultimate will which I would presume to be the ‘Kingdom of God.’”

The Kingdom of God is not advanced by the military arm of an empire that stands in a position of rebellion toward God. God in his sovereignty can still channel the evil of empires for his purposes (he has done that with Babylon, Persia, Rome, etc.), but that does not legitimate those empires, nor is the work of such empires the work of the Kingdom of God.

You said, “George may not be right, but God put Him there through what some interpret as miraculous events (remember the hanging chads).”

This is ridiculous. God did not put Bush in office.

You said, “In the months following 9-11 the whole country was ready to strangle ‘ragheads.’”

What does this have to do with anything? Moreover, it’s untrue. I wasn’t, and neither were a good number of both Christians and Americans.

You said, “And if futurists are at all right, we are working our way inexorably to Armageddon.”

Well, they’re not at all right. And Armageddon is going to be the biggest anticlimax in history. Click here for an accurate representation of the so-called “Battle of Armageddon.”

You said, “I think pacifism is the correct moral stance.”

Good.

You said, “My uncle was a pacifist in WW2, picking up bodies on the front lines. Post-traumatic stress sent him looney-tunes. He eventually was a guard in Pueblo, carrying a gun. Accidentally shot his wife, then shot himself. I can make no sense of it to this day.”

I am terribly sorry to hear about this. This goes to show the devastatingly destructive power of war.

You said, “But if you are a believer and they put a gun in your hand and the enemy is saying it is you or me… well… God is just and understands this mess that throws us into existential fits.”

If I am a believer and they put a gun in my hand, I put the gun on the ground. If I am facing an enemy and he is saying that it’s either me or him, it’s pretty much going to be me. I would never kill an enemy—not a personal enemy and especially not some nation-state’s enemy. I do agree with you that God is just, which is precisely why I disagree that God’s response to war is going to be some sort of compassionate “understanding.” But God will rightly discern between the victims of war and the perpetrators of it.

You said, “I know people who are regenerate believers who are comfortable with the military, with ‘fighting for their country,’ and the basic heroic mythology we embrace as a country. I personally just barely escaped being sent to Nam where a friend of mine died just a month after boot camp. Yes, it is all insane.”

The majority of professing Christians I know are comfortable with the military and with the idea of “fighting for their country.” But they’re all wrong, and I will meet with them all one by one, if they’re willing, and hash out with them why that’s the case. Hebrews 13:11-14 I think should make it clear that Christians don’t have a country, and that the role of Christians in the world is to suffer the disgrace of our Lord outside national borders. The fact that that’s not clear to most Christians in the Western world doesn’t make it untrue.

I am glad you narrowly escaped going to Viet Nam. That certainly was an insane war, as are all wars.

You said, “Aren’t these conundrums essentially beyond our best theological constructions?”

I’m not sure what you’re asking here. But if you mean to suggest that we can’t get any clear answers from Scripture on the question of Christian participation in war, I strongly disagree.

You said, “Maybe that is what post-modernism is really telling the church. Faith is not based on even the best intentions or wisdom in accumulated knowledge. Wherever we find ourselves, faith is all there is. Other than that, God only knows.”

I don’t think that’s what postmodernism is telling us at all, laying aside for a moment the problem of assuming that postmodernism is a single message. I can’t make out what you mean by “faith is not based on even the best intentions or wisdom in accumulated knowledge.” If you mean to say that faith is irrational, I disagree. If you mean to say that faith transcends the need to have coherent ethical convictions, I disagree. If you mean to say that faith can cover a multitude of sins, I think you’re misconstruing what faith is. The word “pistis” isn’t talking about cognitive assent to a set of religious propositions, nor is it referring to a kind of optimistic grasping at an intangible mystical experience. “Pistis” means loyalty, specifically, loyalty to God and his way of getting things done in this world, as displayed in the life and death of Jesus of Nazareth. To have “faith” is to do things the way Jesus did them. Faith is precisely not a way of avoiding figuring out whether or not there’s only one way God wants us to live. Faith is taking the way Jesus lived as normative for us and living it.

This quote is from the preface of William Stringfellow’s An Ethic for Christians and Other Aliens in a Strange Land written in 1973.

I’ll be real interested to hear your reaction to Bill Stringfellow’s book. He’s one of the few prophets of my tradition (Episcopalianism), and his name is almost unknown to Episcopalians under 40.

Scott, thanks for stopping by. I’ll be real interested to read your dissertation when you’re done with it. I’d also like to talk to you sometime about what it’s like at Aberdeen. I’d like to do a dissertation on Yoder and liberation theology, with a possible emphasis on Pauline theology. I’m interested in Aberdeen, but I’m not sure whether it would be ideal for my interest in liberation theology.

Maiden, I will definitely post a response to the book when I get the chance. So far I’m eating it up. He is very exacting. Your blog is fantastic, by the way.

Michael, yes, Wipf & Stock have republished many of Stringfellow’s major works, including An Ethic for Christians, Conscience & Obedience, Instead of Death, Politics of Spirituality, Dissenter in a Great Society, and Free in Obedience, etc. I think he is about to be rediscovered in a big way. I remember reading Hauerwas writing about him, several years back. So when I saw his name and the title of his books I snatched ‘em up. I’ll be making him famous in my circles, no doubt.

thanks for the quote thom. I read through Stringfellow’s book on governments comparing Romans 13 and Revelation 13. As i recall, I liked it.

Wow! 1973?!? I’m off to find this book and other works by him. Thanks, brother for introducing me to this.

I agree with this, but our context is different from both Stringfellow’s and Newbigin’s. Newbigin writes as an Englishman (and the one time Bishop of the Church of South India)–i.e., in a context of European political culture and its exportation to former colonies. In that culture the Enlightenment arose as a reaction to the Wars of Religion in the wake of the Reformation.
The Enlightenment pushed for religion to be privatized as a way to avoid civil conflict–very bloody civil conflict. To this day, Europeans are deeply suspicious of politicians who speak about their religious faith. Tony Blair, and his successor, Gordon Brown, have to struggle as British Prime Ministers because they are known to be persons of faith–and Europeans fear a return to Inquisition and religious wars or turn to contemporary examples in the Balkans and the Middle East and Africa for all they want to avoid. This is the cultus privatus in full bloom.
To a lesser degree, this political culture also came to the U.S. U.S. politicians were traditionally expected to have piety, but never let it get in the way of realpolitik. Stringfellow wrote at the height of this version of the cultus privatus in which Richard Nixon would show up at Billy Graham crusades and then start secret expansions of the Vietnam War into Laos and Cambodia, commit the crimes of Watergate, etc.
But in the wake of Watergate a reaction came to U.S. culture with the rise of the Religious Right. This completely politicized U.S. Evangelical Christianity in a partisan way. Now churches are expected to turn out votes for the GOP and politicians are expected to pledge their loyalties to the Religious Right’s key issues–banning abortion and gay marriage, dismantling public schools for tax supported parochial schools and homeschooling, etc.
So, our problem in the U.S. will be to avoid a cultus privatus without copying the Religious Right and making the church just one more lobby for an interest group. Quietism is usually a response to either persecution or to attempts at theocracy.
Developing a cultus publicus that respects religious pluralism and that refuses to be made a tool of imperialism is our (very difficult) task. It won’t be easy.
In the ’60s, theologians thundered at U.S. churches to quit being privatized and quietist (as ways of hiding from the challenges to segregation, war, racism) and to realize that faith had political consequences. When the Religious Right appeared–audaciously claiming the mantle of the Civil Rights revolution (a BIG lie!)–theologians sputtered, “Wait! That’s not what we had in mind!” but no one was listening.
After 30 years of the Religious Right, there will be much hunger in the nation for churches to return to quietism. Finding a third way will be quite the challenge–and getting a hearing for that third way will be even harder.

Michael,

Thanks for this helpful analysis.

The description you’ve given of the shape of the cultus privatus in Great Britain seems now to be entirely apt in the Canadian context. Craig Carter has just posted a commentary on the current situation there, and if things are going the way he makes it sound, the Canadian churches are about to face the issue under discussion here in a very big way—in a way I suspect more reminiscent of the first century situation than anything we’ll experience in the U.S. for some time to come.

“So, our problem in the U.S. will be to avoid a cultus privatus without copying the Religious Right and making the church just one more lobby for an interest group. Quietism is usually a response to either persecution or to attempts at theocracy.”

This is exactly right, and while the former may increasingly become the danger in Canada, the latter I think is exactly the danger we’re facing here. Many of us 20-30 somethings have been so turned off by our Theocratic uncles and so turned on by the Resident Aliens typology that we still tend to be suspicious of any attempt to actively engage the government, even in apocalyptic utterance, let alone toward positive transformation. We agree with Jim Wallis’s political positions, but his political methods still look too Constantinian to us, and we don’t know how to navigate what you’re calling (following Wink?) a “third way.” We gravitate toward the Hauerwasian idea that singing hymns and taking the eucharist are two of the most political acts anybody can partake in. While I certainly don’t think he’s wrong naming them political, it tends to produce more of a fideism in practice, whereas the Yoderian sacramentalism is fundamentally political (eucharistic fellowship is economic solidarity, etc). (I will post sometime soon on the question of Yoder’s sociological reductionism, brought up by so many Hauerwasians. I think Hauerwas himself understands him better on this point.)

I’m digressing too much and this comment is getting too long. The point is that the danger for this next generation (the one I’m in) is a kind of self-righteous quietism. We’ve discovered pacifism, and we’ve discovered that America isn’t Zion, and we pat ourselves on the back for not being James Dobson, or even Jim Wallis. And we go to our churches and our mission is to try to get all the baby boomers to think the way we do (which they never will), and if we can just do that (which we never will), our twisted sense of Hauerwasianism tells us that we’re being political. In the meantime, James Dobson is still successfully ignoring Jim Wallis and America continues to perform Babylon under the guise of Zion.

So what does our “third way” look like? We’re afraid of looking and sounding and just plain being utopian, because Stringfellow’s sobriety resonates with us. We don’t expect America to quit being Babylon just because we voted for the right people and affected the right policies. We are suspicious not of George Bush but of power, and its effect on whoever comes to wield it. (I should rather say that power wields the powerful.)

On the other hand, we can no longer accept the clean, easy distinction between the church and the world. While in one sense that distinction is indispensable, in another sense it is idolatrous. And where does the line lie?

So what are some practical “third way” steps forward for us?

Some suggestions:
– increasingly public prophetic discourse, outside of the traditional church setting (street preaching?)
– the formation of ecologically-minded intentional communities
– continued and increased nonviolent direct action
– letter writing and dialogue with political theorists and/or pundits in the public square
– more churches dedicated to housing the homeless and worshipping where they are
– the production of Christian lawyers supported by intentional communities to do full-time pro-bono work on behalf of the oppressed
– etc. etc.

Let’s get some more on this list, and talk about what’s already there.

Secondly, what are still other ways that the powers attempt to absorb the church into its own system? Michael has highlighted two of the primary ways: through 1) the threat of persecution, and 2) the promise of theocracy. What else is there?

What about distractions? Stringfellow mentions professional sports in America as a demonic power in service to the supreme power of the state. Sports serve the state in two ways: 1) by distracting us from our political consciousness and 2) by creating in us a culture of spectatorship akin to the public executions in the coliseums of Rome. Reality TV, publicized court cases, celebrity gossip, televised warfare, etc. etc.

Does anybody disagree with this commentary? Does anybody agree? Why? What other devices do the powers use to make us politically innocuous, and how can we begin to resist? What radical measures might be in order? How can we become a cultus publicus, both integrated and separate, both ordinary and out of step? I’m not talking about the theoretical possibility of it. I’m asking for particulars.

Wow, this is quite a post, and the comments are great.

My take on this third way is that Christians are to withdraw from the “political sphere”. but I am not advocating quietism. I am advocating an ecclesiology that sees the church as polis and not within a polis, being forced to submit to the politics of power of that polis. What I am suggesting is for us to see the Church as interacting with politics, but as a separate political entity. I think the Church should relate to the governments as though it is a colony within the Empire.

I think that Thom’s practical suggestions are helpful, and I would echo. I agree that intentional communities are a practical way to advocate this third way in the context we find ourselves. I think more churches should invest in these communities, and even become these communities (or learning from them) especially in regard to caring for the poor and ecology.

This might be more theoretical than practical, but that is what going to a Christian college will do to you.

Also, I thought Michael’s thoughts were very interesting and thought-provoking. agree with his comparison between the way we talk about sports and the way most Christians talk about politics.

B.t.w., I just noticed that you’re reading Millard Lind’s Yahweh Is A Warrior. I read it for a paper on Israel’s Holy Wars a few years ago, and from what I could find it’s one of the best books out there on the subject. And he was buddies with Yoder!

Tony Anderson:

I miss you, buddy. Simpre yo tengo mas tortillas para ti cuando sea las quieres.

Michael DeFazio:

I’ve responded to your insightful comment in a new thread.

Also, don’t forget to read this post which is food for thought for our discussion here.

Tyler Stewart:

You asked, “I’m proudly not a dobsonite or a liberal who likes Jesus but am I much more than a cynic?” This is the problem Michael Westmoreland-White brought out in his post on the death of Richard Rorty. Specifically, Michael does not think “irony is a sufficient answer to oppression,” and he’s right. Not to dispense with irony! It can serve to facilitate the kind of imagination necessary for the struggle against oppression, by potently calling attention to the (tragically) comic character of the established society’s self-presentation. But in itself it is not a sufficient response. Marcuse would say that irony without objective political action allows itself to become marketable in a way that it actually renders itself impotent against the Establishment. The Establishment can stomach and can even encourage such ironists because rather than posing a real threat to the status quo they have the effect of giving off the illusion that the Establishment is being threatened. For instance, jazz music, as an expression of rebellion against the white man’s order, was defeated when it was allowed to be marketed and sold as a product for the white man’s enjoyment. The rebellion remains but is rendered politically innocuous. In that way, even our attempts to expose the principalities and powers can become instruments in their service, if we do not actually pursue an alternative to the society our mouths reject.

You said that you have no idea what I meant by “continued and increased nonviolent direct action.” In that case, click here for a few examples.

Your last question is very significant. What does all this mean for the concept of evangelism? (1) Aren’t you borrowing Live to Tell from me right now? Start by reading that. (2) Evangelism comes from euangelion, which means that to evangelize is to recruit political revolutionaries. (You won’t find it put quite that way in Kallenberg, but the process of recruitment is there.) Evangelism is not about “winning” new “Christians.” Rather, evangelism is the long, active process of learning and exampling a radically counter-establishment lifestyle informed by the life and death of the Original Revolutionary. I don’t think we can easily separate “evangelism” from our own activism, from our own responsibility to be obedient all the time. Evangelism can’t be something we do for fifteen minutes over coffee with someone who has intellectual questions. It has to be a whole life or else we won’t be calling people into the euangelion of peace through Jesus Christ.

…

Thom, you have never been one who has really shown all that much interest in sports. So it is not surprising to me how you point out the danger in our fascination with sports. What’s surprising is that Defaz was the one who brought up the issue. Correct me if I am wrong but not only is Mr. Faz a big sports fan, but he regularly participates in them.

I know how sports divide, create enmity, and a partisan spirit. I have done all of those today to the kids I am preaching to tonight as I am wearing a Texas Longhorns T-shirt where Aggie fans abound.

Say I grant the unChristian nature that competitive sports bring. What does that say, our participation in them, or anything competitive for that matter. Michael, should you quit playing basketball with the Church there becasue even healthy competitiveness desensitizes you and helps you become a person of violence. What about wanting to win when I play a board game with friends? What about wanting to win a point of debate? Do not all these things, at some level, lead to some level of violence?

Go Spurs Go.

…

I know that I’m guilt of being too competitive in sports and board games. I think that my upbringing in American Athletics has really fueled that. I grew up playing soccer and the only time I spent with my dad, and connection I had with him was through soccer. I need to repent.

However, I also love to play sports with friends. I know that Jeff Snell is a huge sports fan, but he can’t justify watching them all the time. So he’ll keep up with them without wasting hours of time watching sports. He’ll play them for fun and to keep healthy. I try to play sports to keep healthy and remain fit, but sometimes I do too far.

I’m glad to hear you qualify your post a bit Thom, but it is a message we need to hear. I hate getting comments about the length of my sermon in relation to the football game. But I’m also guilty of checking scores when I should be working on my sermon

Thom
Good thoughts. I think your illustration of Jazz music is especially helpful. I will read Kallenberg. I also agree with what you’re saying about the coffee conversation about Jesus, but in the same vein as your words to Stephen, I’m interested in the particulars. What are the particular actions (or words) we participate in. What does it mean for you and me to actually evangelize, not just theorize evangelism? I’m not trying to be polemical here, just struggling with the question.

Also, I like your words to Stephen, I felt my self echoing Stephen’s words but still feeling like I said a lot and done little with it. However, I do think there is something to what you wrote, “If our politics fundamentally entail the denial, the contradiction of the world’s politics, in what sense could we be said to be interacting? . . . wouldn’t that be a bit like hitting a basketball through the field goal?” In relationship to your above post about McAlister and Dawkins, isn’t our politics kind of like playing a whole new game with a whole new set of rules?

Keep it coming boys, I’m feeding off of the conversation. Michael Westmoreland-white, I’d like to hear more of your thoughts. Also, what’s with the hyphen?

I felt the same way about Lind. JEDP is helpful, I think, in allowing us to recognize the complexity behind the text. As an evangelical, I have no problem with saying that the final form of the text is a composition that depends on various other documents. But JEDP is content with just recognizing complexity, and never does anything with the obviously intentional structiuring of the text. It’s obsession with getting “behind the text” ultimately leads it to do violence to the scriptures. This is why I have found the approach of Childs, Cassuto, Sailhamer, and Brueggemann (to a lesser extent, since he isn’t terribly strict with method) to be much more helpful in understanding the text as a literary whole. I read Cragie and Longman, I don’t remember being too impressed by them. Von Rad is always great, though I’ve never read the Heilige Krieg book. There is some really good stuff in Brueggemann’s book, The Land, and also in his commentary on Samuel, specifically his interpretation of the Plague against Israel because of David’s census. He interprets this as Yahweh’s judgment against the institutionalization of the military. Also, Everett Fox’s comments on the Red Sea in The Five Books of Moses, while charecteristically terse, are outstanding.
l’ll send you a copy of that paper if I can get ahold of it from my old computer (I switched to a mac a year ago). Be warned, though, I wrote it as a 19 year old sophomore, and so it will probably seem pretty juvenile. It’s basically a reading of the old testament through the lens of Yoder’s essay, “If Abraham Is Our Father.” (I don’t think I even cited it, though).

The essay I’m referring to, for any other readers, is called “Crucifying Messianic Triumphalism” and is available for download from this website. Simply click on the “Essays” link above.

I have some thoughts that I’ll post soon. Right now I’m watching the game. (The Cavs are fighting to stay alive against a extremely and senselessly violent opponent.)

I was going to post a comment earlier, but when I noticed that my picture was conveniently left out of the cool-club, whose photo’s semi-regularly come up on the top of this blog, I decided to protest through boycotting. I have dealt with this internal problem and am posting now, which is already apparent

One practical expression of this faithful/revolutionary/parabolic life will soon be lived out through MSGF’s first missionary team. Here are a group of Christians, who through their lives and actions, are showing the church and their families and friends that their allegiance to and fascination with the world/America has become like a vapor in comparison to their allegiance to and fascination with Jesus and his kingdom. Their political statement will be the preaching of the gospel and the planting of the church in Tokyo.

I think that one of the most political things that the Church can do is raise up more people/families of faith like the Greers, Ackermans, Parsons, Chases, etc. and send them around the world to proclaim a political message about Jesus and his kingdom. We need to send out such teams to Iraq, Afghanistan, Niger, England, Washington D.C. and all over the world. I know that I am not saying anything too unique, but the missionary work of the church is one, if not the, most effective political statements we can make. But there has to be a change in the way that we think of missions work….and in the way missionaries think of missions work. If MSGF goes over to Tokyo and helps the people believe in a justification-through-faith only Jesus and teaches them to live a better life, than while they have successfully saved some people from the flames of Hell (though Mike may not agree) they have not been overly political (though their example would still speak volumes to us). If, however, they proclaim Jesus as Lord (Acts 2-28), establish communities that worship him (Acts 2-28) and not the million other things vying for their adoration, embody enemy-love (Matthew 5/ the Cross), share not only bread and wine with each other and the poor (Acts 2), but a common purse (Acts 4:32-37), look after the sick and hungry widows that the government does not want to care for (Acts 6), raise orphans whose parents don’t want them anymore, engage the intellectual and religions leaders with the compelling message of Jesus (Acts 3,4,17), and testify to the political rulers about how God revealed himself through Jesus and offers new, true life in him (Acts 13, 24, 25)—then indeed they will be making a political statement that cannot be overlooked, misunderstood, or stopped. I pray that they will do the latter, and I will do everything in my power to serve them and enable towards such an end.

Thom this post is wholly inappropriate.

Wow. I had knowledge of this already … but when it’s laid out chronologically and tangibly like this it stings even more.

Stephen,

Before I get started, let me say that I love you very much and that I treasure your voice in my life. The fact that I disagree with you on this issue is not a reflection of my perception of your worth as a human being and as a friend and brother.

Now. First of all, the language and the images are not mine. The language was Bush’s, and the images were of Bush and his employees. I did not create them, but I arranged them in a way that tells the truth about the situation. There was more “inappropriate” language I could have used, but didn’t. For instance, when Bush was told before the invasion of Iraq that Saddam had nothing to do with 9/11, Bush retorted, “Fuck Saddam!” I did not quote that language, but if I had, would I have been violent? Would it have been my fault that Bush said “Fuck Saddam”? Would I have been violent by reporting that fact in a way that exposes the gravity of the statement?

You’re chastising me for being violent in my language against violence, and yet none of what you’re referring to was my language. I am simply acting as a mirror here. Moreover, you’re conflating hard language with warfare. I don’t think that’s legitimate. My language is not coercive language. The weapons of protest are not in the same category as the weapons of warfare. To conflate the two is a gross misstep. I don’t deny that language can be violent, but again, this has not been my language. “Nigger.” “Spick.” “Sheila.” “Raghead.” “Fatso.” “Wetback.” “American Indian.” “God Bless America.” That’s violent language—violent precisely because it lies, because it denies the truth of the humanity of those it rages against. My “language against violence,” as you call it, is not violent precisely because it speaks the truth. It may be hard. It may be condemning. It may be too black and white for you. But it is not by the definition of violence I’ve given above in any way violent. It is the contrary, for it exposes the violence in the lie that the U.S. is a liberator.

My wife says that she sees where you’re coming from, as do I. The images I posted make us uncomfortable. They strike us as too harsh. They hurt our eyes. They make us squirm in our seat. They make us want to get angry, if not at the U.S. military, then at least at the jerk that put the images in front of our face. All of this I understand, but the fact that these images make us uncomfortable does not make their exposition an act of violence. Rather, it is our comfort with the status quo that is violent. It is precisely our comfort that is the problem, and the only way to fix that problem, that violence, is to make ourselves uncomfortable. The house is burning down and I’m asleep. If you have to slap me to wake me up, I’m not going to call that act violent. I’m going to call it an act of kindness.

Nevertheless, when the prophets paraded through Jerusalem naked, when they ate feces, when they married prostitutes, all to expose the nakedness, the shittyness, and the harlotism of Israel, were they being too violent? Would you have been among the majority of Israelites who objected to their tactics? Were they announcing the peace of YHWH’s reign in a way not commensurate with carrying the cross? Why then were so many of them murdered for their tactics? How is that not cross-carrying? Why, in Matthew 5, does Jesus command us to emulate them, by speaking and embodying the truth in a manner that brings down persecution? Why does he call us blessed to be among their number? Why would Jesus or Jeremiah or you or I be carrying a cross in the first place, if none of us had “raised an eyebrow” or two, if none of us had upset the balance of power?

When Jesus called Roman rulers dogs and pigs (Mt 7:6), when he called the teachers of the law snakes and beasts and liars and idolaters and sons of the devil, was he being “active about peace” in a way not commensurate with cross-carrying? When John the Revelator called Rome a harlot, a beast, a dragon, and a whore, was he being “active about peace” in a way not commensurate with cross-carrying? When Paul called Caesar “the lion” (2 Tim. 4:17), thus condemning him as a pagan idolater (by way of reference to Daniel), was he being “violent”? When Mark parodied the Roman military in chapter 5 of his gospel, calling them pigs and sending them to their watery grave, was he being too violent for a cross-carrier like yourself? When Jesus tore up the temple, disrupted its orderly business, when he branded the temple regime as thieves and criminals, was he being too violent for you? Was he renouncing this cross-carrying you’re so fond of? Or rather, wasn’t it such activity that put the cross on his back in the first place?

I’m surprised at you, Stephen. I think you’re wrong on this one. You underhandedly attempt to chastise me for trying to “raise eyebrows,” for trying to “gain a hearing” with extreme leftists, for seeking attention, and what are you doing? Besides jumping to foregone conclusions about what motivates me to do what I do, what are you doing? In whose lives have you been actively involved lately? How many people have you reconciled to one another this past month? Upon whom have you quietly and inconspicuously brought shalom, between philosophy books?

Instead, you want to chastise me for having a “violent language against violence.”

Woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort. Woe to you who are well fed now, for you will go hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all men speak well of you, for that is how their fathers treated the false prophets.

I suppose this language against violence must be of the nonviolent sort. There’s nothing violent at all in condemning the violent masters of men to death and disaster. There’s nothing violent about pronouncing blessing on the occupied and calamity on the occupiers.

I think, rather, that your conception of “violence” is more informed by academic postmodern sensibilities than by the biblical model. Don’t get me wrong! A nonviolent postmodern sensibility is great, but yours is entirely misplaced. Apply it to the enemy. Apply it to those outside. Apply it to Muslims. Apply it to homosexuals. Apply it to the poor. Apply it to “illegal” Mexican immigrants. I’ll apply your nonviolence to these groups right alongside you, and right alongside Jesus. But don’t apply it to the oppressor! Don’t apply it to the enemies of justice and the friends of the rich! Don’t apply it to murderers, to false Christians, to Babylon the Great! Love them, but don’t you dare pretend you like them!

Rather, join me in turning their own foul words and their own misdeeds against them. Join me in exposing for what it is the myth of benefaction they use to legitimate their lust for power. Join me and together we will be prophets of the kingdom of God. With Jesus, John and Jeremiah, prophets of blessing and prophets of woe, prophets of spirit-baptism and prophets of the baptism of fire.

The choice is yours whether you will be a quietist or a cross-carrier. But I assure you, you will never find a cross to bear if you’re not willing to “raise a few eyebrows” here and there. Can you handle it, Stephen? Or is blood thicker than water?

P.S.

I love you, and I like you. And peace be with you all the more as you pursue a more biblical model of peacemaking. I don’t have it all figured out, of course, which is why I’ve been asking for your help, and the help of many others, over on the “Toward a Cultus Publicus” thread. I’ve missed you there.

Tom–

Thanks for your thoughts here and in earlier posts. I really appreciate them, and your blog in general.

I’m sending around this invitation to bloggers I read and respect. I’m inviting them to share their thoughts in a posting on this specific question:

“What is torture, and is it necessarily immoral?”

As the posts get published, I’ll link to them over at Maiden.

I’d love it if you have the time to participate in the dialogue.

Thanks again!

Inappropriate?

As inappropriate as Amos’s remarks about fat cowes of Bashan.

As inappropriate as “Mission accomplished”, when one thinks of what was accomplished.

I realize your speaking as a Christian to other Christians, so while I’m in agreement with you as a Christian, what would you say to a non-Christian? Is torture immoral for a non-Christian who does not follow a tortured Savior? I agree that it is, but I’m wondering how you would articulate your idea of Eucharistic resistance intelligibly to a nonbeliever. I’m not looking for some objective, a-Christian definition of ethics as it relates to torture – just wondering what you would say.

These are some great responses. First, I want to point out that the graphic at the top of this post I designed from two real pictures. A friend of mine thought the bottom one of the torture victim was a fake. It is an actual photo taken inside Abu Ghraib. If anybody wants to see the originals, email me and I’ll send them to you. Of course the one on top is a picture of a military chaplain about to serve the Eucharist to the troops. Obviously the juxtaposition of the two images nicely displays the inherent contradictions of the imperial pathology.

Maiden: Thanks again for challenging me to write a sustained piece on this subject. Your blog is one of the most important blogs I’ve come across.

Nathan: This is a very important question. Before I answer it, let me make a few comments about why I chose to approach the question from primarily a Christian perspective. First, millions of alleged Christians in the United States are advocating torture. I think their fear of the rise of “extremist Islam” cannot be separated from their fear of the decline of Constantinian Christianity. Nevertheless, I think it is very important for Christians everywhere to confront American churches with the reality of their antichrist pathology. To support torture is to support the same kind of system that crucified Jesus; it is, almost literally, to “crucify the Lord Jesus all over again.” I think it is insane that we should even have to talk about this in the churches, but that just goes to show the depth of our religious commitment to Liberalism. Talk we must. We should shout if we have to. Preachers must preach against torture from the pulpit. Our worship should correspondingly focus on the sufferings of Christ. We must not allow our fellow Christians to be comfortable about this. I was tempted to call this an “issue.” It is not an “issue.” Being anti-torture is not a “cause.” It’s part of the grammar of being Christian. This is an integral matter of identity.

The second reason I took the approach I tried to indicate above. I don’t think there can be a successful move to persuade the powers against their recourse to torture until we have been properly formed into counter-torture base communities, pockets of resistance, viable alternatives, real threats to the status quo. I’m getting ahead of myself. The point is, my decision to focus on the Christian perspective was based on what I think is the right order of things. We cannot properly resist torture until we are prepared to be tortured.

That said, the question is, What would I say to non-Christians?, and secondarily, How would I communicate the concept of “eucharistic resistance” to non-Christians in a way that is intelligible to them?

In answer to the first question, it all depends on which “non-Christian” I’m talking to. My approach is obviously going to be different depending on who I’m engaging, and the contingencies of their belief system. But I am certainly not opposed to using other belief systems to argue against torture. We can put our opposition to torture in terms of human rights, habeas corpus and other legal approaches, character and virtue ethics, pragmatic realism, even in terms of Darwinian evolution if necessary (a species that tortures itself is a species that tortures itself, a species committed to its own self-destruction). There are countless possibilities. Of course, I don’t expect any of these arguments to convince everybody. If you already commend torture, there’s something wrong with your ability to reason morally. More moral reason isn’t necessarily going to fix that. What is required is a demonstration of eucharistic resistance powerful enough to lay bare the truth before the eyes of the torturer. Even then, some will be hardened, some will be saved.

What is this eucharistic resistance? How can it be made intelligible to non-Christians? Well, I suppose that’s precisely the question I posed for further discussion, meaning, what do you think it is? How do you think it communicates? My initial response is that it communicates by display. What was it about the way Jesus died that opened that centurion’s eyes? What did Newton see that caused him to renounce the slave trade? Our peculiar Christian language is perfectly communicable when it’s properly embodied. That does not guarantee that those to whom it communicates will like the message, but it communicates nonetheless. The message that is eucharistic resistance (I don’t want to reduce eucharistic resistance to the “container” of the message, as though the message were something different from its performance) will always be foolishness to some, a stumbling block to others, and salvation to those who are called.

So when we gather ourselves together and stand in solidarity with the oppressed, with the tortured, we are communicating something beyond the ambit of moral reason. When we abandon our circles of influence to suffer with those who are suffering, we are embodying the gospel of sufferings, which is a subversive alternative to the gospel of peace through torture. When we non-terrorists, we U.S. citizens (according to the U.S. anyway) stand up next to those who are being targeted, we become targets with them.

But the government doesn’t want us to do that, because it undermines their program. The legitimacy of their tactics supposedly hinge on the idea that there is a clear distinction between the good guys and the bad guys. When we traverse that artificial line, we undermine the structure of their program. This is what eucharistic resistance is. When we participate in the eucharist, we celebrate and share in the sufferings of an enemy of the state. We stand in solidarity with the defeated, the tortured, the crucified. We take upon ourselves his plight. Ultimately, eucharistic resistance terminates in vicarious suffering. When he calls us to take up our crosses and follow him, he is calling us not just to renounce violence, he is calling us to follow him in suffering, suffering vicariously for our so-called enemies. When we who are “innocent” begin to suffer on behalf of those who are “guilty” (these are all designations assigned by the established system) the depravity of the system is exposed and those who were once captivated by it are now freed from it, if they so choose. Like Jesus of Nazareth, we must push the powers to go too far, we must traverse the lines they draw to draw out their core of violence, in order to expose the lie that their violence comes out only when it’s in society’s best interest. We must expose them for what they are, by redirecting their violence onto ourselves—we who seek no violence except the violence of compassion. If we can discover ways to undermine their propaganda, to expose the oppressor by loving and joining the oppressed, we have learned the meaning of Eucharist. And when the world looks upon such displays of solidarity, such displays of hope in the midst of such great injustice, the problem of communicating “eucharistic resistance” disappears. The world will look upon us and see what it means to be Christian, see what it means to be believers, see what it means to be human. They can reject it or embrace it. They can become converts or attempt to reappropriate it in terms of their own tradition. What they do with it is up to them. But our responsibility is to preach, and to preach is to act, and to act is to suffer.

And this is precisely where my good friend Andy Rodriguez brings up a vital point. The eucharistic resistance of torture is not just about resisting systematic violence against an alleged enemy. It is about becoming a people in whom there is no guile, a people in whom there is no violence, no anger, no fear, no impatience, no selfishness, no capitalism. If our resistance is to be successful, if it is to be intelligible to the watching world, we must rid ourselves of every

form of evil: deceit, envy, malice, injustice, slander, manipulation, etc. Our solidarity with the tortured must be built upon a solid foundation of freedom—not the kind offered by capitalist democracy, which is only bondage by another name, but the kind offered by the Spirit of the living God who indwells the cruciform community. We must love our wives. We must respect our elders. We must not take advantage of those weaker than us, but rather we must extol the weak as the greatest among us. If our resistance does not flow naturally out of a community that fosters this kind of character, it cannot be vicarious—it loses its power. The only way to resist injustice is to create justice. The only way to resist evil is to be and to do good. The only way to resist slander is to speak the truth. The only way to resist torture is to be kind. This does not mean we should have no unkind words for those who abuse (and are thus abused by) power. But our prophetic proclamations of judgment are only legitimate when they are preceded by our prophetic proclamations of kindness to the weak. The weak are our enemies. The weak are our children.

I don’t know that I have much to add, but I don’t want to continue being referred to as your “estranged friend” so I have to say something.

A couple of thoughts, actually, in no particular order and without a great deal of thought as to whether I am asking the right questions or offering observations that will further the conversation.

- One of the things that I think is interesting about your post is how passionately you assume that torture is obviously wrong. I don’t disagree with you, and I of course see why you speak as you do, but such statements rarely convince hard-thinking Christians who do not share the same assumption. I like dramatic presentations of assumptions when I agree with them, but I also want more people to agree. I guess I am saying that what I regard as your most important paragraph (the one beside the picture) is too quick – more of an overview than a sustained argument. Depending on your audience this might be appropriate, but when I think about the friends I know who (a) claim to follow Jesus, and (b) would approve of torture in certain situations, what they need is a step-by-step clearly laid out case for this statement: To approve of torture is, literally, to be antichrist. “Those who commit themselves to following a victim of torture must be willing and ready to become torture victims themselves, but they can never become torturers, for to do so would be to follow the Caesar over against the Christ. To commit the act of torture is to commit the ultimate act of treason against the Crucified King.”

- Just before this you state that you cannot conceive of a reason why a person who follows Jesus would approve of torture. In addition to the point I was trying to make above (emphasis on trying), namely, that many Christians simply have not been taught to think about Jesus’ life and death as significant for their political perspectives, I am not quite as flabbergasted as you that some people could think this. That sounds stupid to me, so let me explain. I would not myself argue in this way, but I could conceive of an American Christian – who desires that as few people die as possible – supporting torture of a hostile soldier with information that would stop many lives from being taken. This is certainly not an inconceivable situation in itself, and I don’t think that a person is stupid or painstakingly obviously ignoring Jesus for arguing that the pain of one man is a lesser evil than the deaths of many (sounds eerily like Caiaphas, huh). Once again, I am not convinced by their argument, but because such arguments are possible I reinforce my first point: we need to clearly (and dare I say exegetically) explain (a) that the way of Jesus is a comprehensive eschatological vision for all of life; (b) that the way of Jesus is diametrically opposed to the way of Caesar; (c) that “democratic capitalism” is but one dress worn by the way of Caesar. Or something like that.

- I must admit that your final question is quite a doozy. It is not very difficult to imagine how we might express solidarity with, say, homeless people in downtown Philadelphia – we can simply go sleep on the street with them (and therefore absorb the violence and hopefully transform the violent, at least on some level). The same cannot be said, however, in regard to victims of torture. We obviously don’t have the same access to accepting their fates along with or instead of them, nor would we be accepted as substitutes by those doing the torturing. I am not allowing the question of utility to dissuade the need to embody and (thus) scream the truth, but am merely recognizing the difficulty of embodying said truth in this situation. Sorry I can’t be more help, especially considering this is the one of if not the most important question(s) for us to answer.

- One more thought. I am still a bit confused on why and in what ways we should attempt to change current structures and systems. I have only read a fraction of Hauerwas and Yoder, but I was gathering that according to them at least, our task is not to make the world a better place but to be the better place for which the world longs; or in other words, to embody and eschatologically sign forth the kingdom of God, against which all kingdoms of the world pale in pathetic comparison. Why and how, then, from this starting point – or of course you can try and replace it with another starting point – do we end up trying to change the way “America” does things? I am not opposed to such action or intent, I just want to understand how it is rooted in the gospel I preach. I suppose it has something to do with Jesus being Lord, but … well, you get my question, so I’ll just let you deal with it.

Peace and Love

…

Thom -

Thanks for the book suggestions on my blog – thankfully I have a birthday coming up and can put them on my wish list. I’m going to try to work up a response/rumination this post and your answers to my question on my blog.

But I also want to echo Michael’s last bullet point because it sums up some of my questions in this post.

Sorry, all, for the lateness of my responses.

Aric,

Thanks for the comment and for the recommendation. I hadn’t heard about Christ and Horrors. I took a look at it and it looks great. I look forward to reading it. Thanks!

DeFaz (and Nathan),

Yes, you are right in pointing out that my post was not a sustained argument directed at Christians who approve of torture. I was merely attempting to narrate the “issue” from a disciple’s perspective. If I were debating or conversing with a Christian who argues for the justifiability of the use of torture in certain situations, I would not put my case in quite the same way as I’ve done here. Part of the reason I only presented my position and did not argue it exhaustively is because my post was already getting long and my friend Michael DeFazio says nobody reads my posts because they’re too long. I was conscious of that, so I just opted for narration over against more explicit argumentation.

That said, Michael’s positive suggestions, that my argument needs a more exegetical and theological treatment of the life of Jesus and its significance for Christians, its normativity, etc., are correct, and I think you could look at my entire blog, with each separate post, representing that comprehensive argument, even if in an ad hoc sort of way.

Regarding the question of eucharistic resistance and what it looks like, how we can tangibly and intentionally absorb the world’s violence, I think Jesus is our model. Those who were oppressed and suffering, he liberated and restored. In doing so he undermined the distinction between good guys and bad guys that supported the existing power system of his day, thus resulting in his own suffering and death at the hand of the powers. He effectively replaced those in captivity and bondage. What’s more he empowered a community of followers to carry crosses, commissioning them to do the same work of liberating the oppressed and suffering on their behalf. This is why the Apostle Paul can say that he suffers on behalf of the Corinthian churches, that they might be rich and free. The oppressed are taken into the community and trained to be disciples. The disciples call the oppressed and suffer the consequences of stealing them out from under the powers.

How can we do this today with victim’s of state-sponsored (or any kind of) torture? We have the model in front of us. Now we just need to get creative and get to work. Where are these secret torture chambers the U.S. has across the world? Who do we know that can help us find them, and get to them? That’s one of a thousand questions for which we need answers.

In answer to your last question, I think you’re largely correct. Our task is not first to make the world a better place, but to be that better place, “to embody and eschatologicaaly sign forth the kingdom of God.” But I don’t think Yoder and Hauerwas put the same measure of emphasis on the desired result of this embodied “realized eschatology.” They’re close, but not identical, and Yoder I think is the more interested in seeing real change, historical, tangible, in nation-states, and in the world at large. Yoder sees the church’s task not just to embody the kingdom as a sign, but prophetically (primarily through embodiment) to call the nations of the world to fulfill their God-given responsibilities to uphold and pursue justice.

In other words, we’re to embody the kingdom in such a way that we’re almost forcing the state’s hand. Our counter-imperial communities should be a source of constant shame for the state, shame or inspiration depending on the state or the specific question.

While the distinction between the church and the world is crucial for us to sustain an eschatological and christological vision of our task, the distinction is also dangerous because it can prevent us from seeing the cosmic import of our presence. According to Yoder (primarily in The Christian Witness to the State) we are here as servant to the state, which means we are here to encourage, empower, and guide the state to become the just society the church signs forth. Our means are not constantinian, to be sure. But our task is no less cosmic, lest we fall into the danger of sectarianism or escapism. We have a vision of the church, but it is actually a vision for the whole world. To see it as anything less than cosmic is not to be sufficiently eschatological.

Thus Hauerwas is right to point out that the first task of the church is to be the church. But we are dead wrong if we take that to mean that we have nothing to say or even to demand of the state. From the state we should never accept anything less than the recognition that Jesus is Lord. Our message and our witness is absurd, to be sure, but it is no less a political manifesto to all of creation by virtue of that fact.

Now, in many cases we can communicate our message in a language the world can understand and to which it can concede. Orthopraxy is the proper terminus of orthodoxy anyway. This does not render orthodoxy unimportant, but it is precisely in those instances where our message is untranslatable, unintelligible, that orthodoxy becomes so crucial.

For instance, if it is impossible to communicate to a mature capitalist democracy (in its native tongue) that state-sponsored torture put to use in the hopes of preventing further suffering is immoral, orthodoxy reminds us that we can’t let this one slide just because we can’t translate it. Orthodoxy says that Jesus Christ suffered under Pontius Pilate. It says that Jesus Christ is somehow present with us in the Eucharist, which is the celebration of that torturous day in history.

Thus it is precisely where the message is unintelligible that orthodoxy becomes so vital in shaping orthopraxy, for in such cases only orthopraxy possesses the potential of intelligibility. The only hope that the powerful might see the truth is in our capacity to suffer with the same kind of grace as Jesus of Nazareth.

(I’ve just realized that this is Hauerwas’s primary argument in With the Grain of the Universe.)

We want the world to change. We want nations to recognize Jesus as Lord and to adopt his politics. The difference between us and the constantinians is that we refuse to make those changes ourselves and we’re not surprised or derailed when the world fails to live up to the gospel. We realize (even with Marxists like Herbert Marcuse) that the only way for an unjust society to be transformed is for the people in it to be transformed persons through the cultivation of counter-imperial or counter-capitalist communities, and that is precisely what the church specializes in. We realize, both as a redeemed body of people empowered by the gift of the Holy Spirit and as a body of people who have a long history of tremendous failure, that a governmental body not empowered by the Spirit has little chance of maintaining a just society for very long.

Finally, we realize, as followers of the Crucified One, that often the world will respond to our liberating witness with tremendous hostility and violence. But we welcome such hostility and violence not because we do not care whether or not the world is just but because as confessors of the resurrection we recognize that it is precisely through our suffering that God chooses to transform the world. These transformations are not always local; they are rarely immediate. But we believe that God is reconciling all of creation back to himself through the suffering of his faithful ones. And if, as in the case of Jesus, such suffering is the result of direct and/or indirect engagement with the powers, the vision of a transformed society is always in front of us, on either side of the cross.

Our means for achieving this are what they are not just because they are characteristic of the Father (though that is of unspeakable importance) but also and very importantly because they are the only means by which real transformation can be achieved. One of th

e things we learned after Christendom is that societies cannot be transformed from the top down. They just subsume, usurp and absorb those who would seek to transform them. Literally, the only way to build a just society, which is a society categorically different from the kind we now know, is to use the means displayed in the life and death of Jesus of Nazareth. We have healing, sharing, loving, truth-speaking, and suffering. We have counter-imperial communities not just because we’ve renounced “power,” but also because they alone possess real power–the power to make a better world.

If some of you Yoderians or Hauerwasians wish to object that it is not our job to make a better world, but God’s, I just ask you to take that to Jesus in prayer and ask him if the distinction makes any sense to him. Yoder wasn’t speaking as a Lutheran when he insisted that the work of changing the world was God’s not ours. He was making a distinction between kinds of human activity, but the objective of the activity on both sides is to change the world.

“it doesn’t matter what you believe so long as you let others believe what they want.”

Religious liberty for all should never be seen by Christians as meaning that “all roads lead up the same mountain” or truth is subjective, or like nonsense. Treating all folks alike under the law gives us “articles of peace,” not articles of truth. We can still debate and evangelize.

But it commits us to noncoercive means. If our truth is to be seen publicly as THE TRUTH, this can only be because we persuade others of this–and not because we use the powers of the state to enforce our beliefs, however true, on others.

Political peace between rival faiths is not an ultimate end. It is a real, but limited, temporal good–preventing wars of religion, religious persecutions, etc. Questions about whether other faiths have any truth, how much if they do, or whether God is at work in any of them, which one(s), to what degree, etc.–are all very different questions.

In other words, someone who believes that salvation is exclusively through conscious faith commitment to Jesus Christ can be just as committed to religious liberty as any inclusivist or pluralist.

I would like to see you cite chapter and verse to back up the claim that Yoder says that the church bears the meaning of history. I don’t believe Yoder says that anywhere. He is far too much a student of Barth to say that.

The meaning of history is the Reign/Rule of God which has been inaugurated in and through the life, teachings, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. What else could it mean to “bear the meaning of history” than this? The Church’s task is most assuredly NOT to bear the meaning of history and it usurps the role of Christ (as in medieval Christendom and the idea of the pope as Vicar of Christ on earth!!!) when it attempts to do so. The church’s task is to bear witness to Jesus Christ and to the inbreaking Rule of God. Period. When the church tries to be the “bearer of the meaning of history” it too becomes a Fallen/Rebellious Power–Christendom or mini-christendoms.

I admit that I was returning from Yoder to the Anabaptists in calling the state “an order of preservation.” Yoder interprets Rom. 1 as simply saying that God “ordered” or “made order” out of the governing authorities. I went with that for years, but I have not found a single N.T. scholar or Greek grammarian(in 20+ years of looking for confirmation) who agrees with that exegesis, so I have recently backed off. Even Yoder can and did make mistakes.

But in my original note to you, lost in cyberspace, I placed “the state” in quotation marks and immediately switched to the language of Powers and Authorities. Here Yoder is on firmer ground. To speak abstractly of “the state” as you were doing is to reify something which is merely one of the Governing Powers. In using your language, but in quotes, and then switching terminology, I was following a very Yoderian method: Begin with the terms set by the other dialogue partner, but, if they are inadequate, redefine. (The only place where Yoder referred to “the state” in the abstract was The Christian Witness to the State. Every place else, he refers to the Powers and Authorities of which governments are one. This is my preferred terminology, too.

In claiming that the Powers are created by God, I am going not with Yoder, but with Berkhof’s Christ and Power which Yoder translated from Dutch to English and then cited as support in Politics of Jesus as well as with the further studies on the Powers done by Jacques Ellul and Walter Wink.

You say nothing about my Bonhoefferan argument about the Ultimate and the Penultimate which I think crucial to understanding why relative goods like (relatively) better government, relatively just laws, etc.

Chapter and verse:

“Yet, it is clear in the New Testament that the meaning of history is not what the state will achieve in the way of a progressively more tolerable ordering of society but what the church achieves through evangelism and through the leavening process. This ‘messianic self-consciousness‘ on the part of the church looks most offensive to the proponents of a modern world view, but it is what we find in the Bible.”

John Howard Yoder, “Peace without Eschatology” in The Royal Priesthood (Eerdmans, 1994) p. 163. Emphasis mine.

Yoder was indeed a student of Barth, but as you pointed out in your tribute to Yoder, he was also a professor at Notre Dame. But neither of these influences account for this quote. This is precisely where he took Barth to task in Karl Barth and the Problem of War. Barth’s Christology wasn’t Christological enough, because ultimately it disengaged Christology from ecclesiology. Yoder consistently refused to separate the two, and that is why he can rightly say that the church is the bearer of the meaning of history without being a papist or whatever.

Regarding Yoder’s preference for “ordered/directed” over “created/established,” Kittel supports him. But the point isn’t that God isn’t setting people up as rulers. (At least, that’s not my point.) My point is that God didn’t do it to begin with, as though the principalities and powers started out as something good. That’s not biblical. It’s been a while since I’ve read Berkhof, but I would just flatly disagree with him there. Moltmann would flatly disagree with him too (cf. The Politics of Discipleship and Discipleship in Politics, p. 127), probably for slightly different reasons than me.

Regarding the problem of referring to “the state” as an abstraction, we seem to agree with each other on this point. My early use of it as an abstraction was just that, an early use of it. I agree with you that it can be unhelpful. But it can also be helpful to get the ball rolling. I could have just substituted “states” for “the state” and the problem would have been largely avoided.

Finally, you’re right. I have said nothing till now about your Bonhoefferan argument. I have said nothing about it because for the most part I’m in agreement with it. The only problem I see with it (and I don’t think this is insignificant) is that dichotomizing the ultimate from the penultimate (where the ultimate corresponds to the kingdom and the penultimate to worldly governments) creates the potentiality of an overemphasis on the latter, the potentiality of slowly relegating the ultimate to the land beyond time. We must insist that the church itself is the true political community. This does not deny that we should work to make a relatively better world through relatively modest demands of worldly governments. It’s only meant to sternly remind us that our first, best, most important, and most political work is the work of building up the Body of Christ. And I think Yoder would say that if we are more focused on the “penultimate” than the “ultimate” (I don’t think he’d ever use that language; it’s too indebted to Enlightenment politics) we’re ultimately not doing justice to the penultimate.

I just read your second comment:

Yes. You’re right about the distinction between Yoder and Cullmann. Obviously I’m influenced by Yoder on this point, but my readings in Horsley, Elliott, and even Wright (in certain spots) have supported Yoder’s thesis that Romans 13 and Revelation 13 are saying pretty much the exact same thing. Cullmann (The State in the New Testament) and Stringfellow (Conscience and Obedience) and most NT scholars see the two texts in tension. They’re wrong.

On your last two points I agree with you, especially the last one. On governments being “reigned in” in certain cases (like modern day Switzerland or Japan?), there’s nothing specifically Christological about the fact that some governments are not so monstrous. There were times before Christ when governments were not so monstrous. Never the big ones, and even then only rarely and for not very long periods, but there are examples. So basically I guess I agree with you that it’s right to make a distinction between monstrous and not so monstrous governments (you might like to call them halfway decent), I don’t agree with the Germans who saw that as a kind of direct metaphysical result of the work of Christ. Revelation 12 says the opposite. It was precisely the work of Christ that really pissed off the beast, and sent it headlong into rebellion. Before that, Satan was more substantially “reigned in.”

Great discussion. Thanks for all your input.

Daniel, the question turns on how to translate the term usually translated “ordained.” That’s what Thom and I are disputing–but both of us agree that Rom. 13 is not endorsing blind obedience to whatever government is in power (the Nazi reading).

Thom seems to think that government as one of the Powers was never created by God. But that denies the basic doctrine of creation itself: There IS NOTHING “visible or invisible” as Colossians puts it which God did not create!!!!! The Powers were created good and fell/rebelled and therefore can be redeemed. Anything else is a Manichaean view of creation and heretical.

Ultimate and penultimate are terms Bonhoeffer draws from theology, Thom, not from Enlightenment politics. I’d be interested in seeing Locke, etc. using any such terms.

Your opening quote, Thom: “Yet, it is clear in the New Testament that the meaning of history is not what the state will achieve in the way of a progressively more tolerable ordering of society but what the church achieves through evangelism and through the leavening process. This ‘messianic self-consciousness’ on the part of the church looks most offensive to the proponents of a modern world view, but it is what we find in the Bible.”

John Howard Yoder, “Peace without Eschatology” in The Royal Priesthood (Eerdmans, 1994) p. 163. Emphasis mine.

Did you notice that it does not prove what you claim it proves??Nothing in that quote calls the church the bearer of the meaning of history. If that’s as close as you can come, you’ve lost your case–at least as far as having Yoder as an ally. What Yoder says is that the church will achieve through evangelism and through the “leavening process” (i.e., through being salt and light–through influence in society). That does not make the church the bearer of anything–it makes it the elect witness (and, by grace, invited participant in) God’s redeeming work in the world–i.e., the elect witness to Jesus Christ.

And Barth never separated Christology and ecclesiology as Yoder himself says in his essay, “Karl Barth: How His Mind Kept Changing,” in How Karl Barth Changed My Minded., Donald K. McKim (Eerdmans, 1986). Just as Barth saw election centered in Christ, so also he saw the church, if it was to be truly the Church of Jesus Christ, centered in Jesus Christ.

I have also just noticed a note you write elsewhere that is a clue as to why you are misreading me in a Constantinian direction that I do not support: You write about confession that I find Stout more helpful than MacIntyre, you put in parentheses Stout’s most recent book, Democracy and Tradition. But I didn’t cite that book because I have yet to read it. I was thinking of Stout’s Flight from Authority as a better account of the problems stemming from the Enlightenment than MacIntyre’s After Virtue and Stout’s Ethics After Babel:The Languages of Morals and Their Discontents as a superior account of how moral traditions evolve and communicate with each other than either MacIntyre’s After Virtue OR his Whose Justice? Which Rationality?. I will probably like the latest book, too, but I don’t know how much since I haven’t yet read it. (Cf. also Michael Walzer’s Thick and Thin: Moral Argument at Home and Abroad.) I know there will be some points of disagreement because Stout is a self-professed agnostic who values some kinds of religious voices, whereas I am a Christian.

I am not an enlightenment liberal nor a closed communitarian, but an open communitarian with liberal sympathies.

You also state somewhere (I’m tying up loose threads) that I want OT insights on “the state.” While nice, I didn’t say that. My comment on the Old Testament was to be horrified that MacIntyre could be so dismissive of the entire Hebrew tradition–his Aristotelian/Thomism is a form of Marcionism–and violent and Constantinian to boot.
I also do not claim that drawing out the biblical view of justice gives an untraditioned definition–It gives a NORMATIVE tradition for Christians.

Thom seems to think that government as one of the Powers was never created by God. But that denies the basic doctrine of creation itself: There IS NOTHING “visible or invisible” as Colossians puts it which God did not create!!!!! The Powers were created good and fell/rebelled and therefore can be redeemed. Anything else is a Manichaean view of creation and heretical.

Michael,

I realize you don’t have the time to be in this dialogue, but your responses are growing more impatient, and less attentive. And now you’ve implied that I’m a Manichaean dualist (the absurdity of which I’ll get to in a moment) and thus a heretic. (I won’t respond to that.)

First, I gave a scriptural argument which you haven’t addressed. The first consolidated human government (organized by Nimrod) was an outright act of rebellion against God that God opposed and broke up. I am not denying the fall, Michael. I am denying that consolidated human government existed before the fall, and I am saying that consolidated human government itself is a symptom of the fall.

Moltmann doesn’t believe the powers ever fell. Is he a Manichaean? Is he a heretic? The powers didn’t fall. Humanity made the powers powers when we gave them power over us (that’s Moltmann’s point on p. 127). Before the fall there was only one power, and after the redemption of creation there will only be one power. The powers will not be redeemed. They will be dissolved. They will either be snuffed out, or they will cease to be powers. This is hardly Manichaeanism, Michael.

Ultimate and penultimate are terms Bonhoeffer draws from theology, Thom, not from Enlightenment politics. I’d be interested in seeing Locke, etc. using any such terms.

You skipped over most of the much more important stuff in that paragraph. Nonetheless, what I obviously meant was that it creates the potential (I used that word) of separating the kingdom of God from the governments of the world on a chronological timeline. Calling it “enlightenment liberalism” was just sloppy. I could have called it Greek.

Regarding the Yoder quote, you said:

Did you notice that it does not prove what you claim it proves?? Nothing in that quote calls the church the bearer of the meaning of history. If that’s as close as you can come, you’ve lost your case–at least as far as having Yoder as an ally. What Yoder says is that the church will achieve through evangelism and through the “leavening process” (i.e., through being salt and light–through influence in society). That does not make the church the bearer of anything–it makes it the elect witness (and, by grace, invited participant in) God’s redeeming work in the world–i.e., the elect witness to Jesus Christ.

Michael, how do you define bearer? I’m appealing to a dictionary:

1. someone whose employment involves carrying something; “the bonds were transmitted by carrier” [syn: carrier]

2. a messenger who bears or presents; “a bearer of good tidings”

To bear the meaning of history is precisely to be a witness to it. We come bearing what—the meaning of history, which is what—Jesus Christ. I am not disagreeing with you. You are disagreeing with me.

As for your reading of Yoder’s quote, I think you’re missing it just a bit. Let me cut out the subordinate clause and give you the basic sentence:

“Yet, it is clear in the New Testament that the meaning of history is . . . what the church achieves through evangelism and through the leavening process.”

Okay. You’re right. He doesn’t say in so many words that the church is the “bearer of the meaning of history.” What he says is that the church achieves the meaning of history in what it does. He goes on to say that the church has a “messianic self-consciousness” which means Yoder believes that the church is supposed to see what it does as the work of Jesus, which is the meaning of history. If that’s not good enough for you, how about this one:

“In the Bible, the bearer of the meaning of history is not the United States of America, nor Western Christendom, but a divine-human society, the church, the body of Christ.”

John Howard Yoder, “Reinhold Niebuhr and Christian Pacifism,” Mennonite Quarterly Review 29 (April 1955), p. 113.

If that’s not good enough I’m sure I’ve read him saying the same thing in a couple of other places. (But several of my Yoder books are loaned out right now.) Anyway, here we have in no uncertain terms Yoder saying that the church is the bearer of the meaning of history. Now either you can concede that we’re saying very similar things with different language, or you can disagree strongly with Yoder (and me).

And Barth never separated Christology and ecclesiology as Yoder himself says in his essay, “Karl Barth: How His Mind Kept Changing,” in How Karl Barth Changed My Minded., Donald K. McKim (Eerdmans, 1986). Just as Barth saw election centered in Christ, so also he saw the church, if it was to be truly the Church of Jesus Christ, centered in Jesus Christ.

That book’s on my shelf and I’ve read the essay a couple of times. But Karl Barth and the Problem of War is an extended argument that Barth fails to be properly Barthian (i.e. Christological) precisely in his ecclesiological ethics. This was the single exception in Barth to his marriage of Christology and Ecclesiology, an exception that only someone with the patient reading skills of Yoder could pick up on.

I have also just noticed a note you write elsewhere that is a clue as to why you are misreading me in a Constantinian direction that I do not support: You write about confession that I find Stout more helpful than MacIntyre, you put in parentheses Stout’s most recent book, Democracy and Tradition. But I didn’t cite that book because I have yet to read it. I was thinking of Stout’s Flight from Authority as a better account of the problems stemming from the Enlightenment than MacIntyre’s After Virtue and Stout’s Ethics After Babel:The Languages of Morals and Their Discontents as a superior account of how moral traditions evolve and communicate with each other than either MacIntyre’s After Virtue OR his Whose Justice? Which Rationality?. I will probably like the latest book, too, but I don’t know how much since I haven’t yet read it. (Cf. also Michael Walzer’s Thick and Thin: Moral Argument at Home and Abroad.) I know there will be some points of disagreement because Stout is a self-professed agnostic who values some kinds of religious voices, whereas I am a Christian.

Cool. Thanks for pointing that out.

I am not an enlightenment liberal nor a closed communitarian, but an open communitarian with liberal sympathies.

Yes indeed. And I’ve never accused you of being an out and out liberal. Like I said above, we agree on a lot more than we disagree. I am just trying to probe you to see exactly what you think, and I’m slowly finding out.

You also state somewhere (I’m tying up loose threads) that I want OT insights on “the state.” While nice, I didn’t say that. My comment on the Old Testament was to be horrified that MacIntyre could be so dismissive of the entire Hebrew tradition–his Aristotelian/Thomism is a form of Marcionism–and violent and Constantinian to boot.
I also do not claim that drawing out the biblical view of justice gives an untraditioned definition–It gives a NORMATIVE tradition for Christians.

Yes, we’re in full agreement here. And I realize(d) I was being a wee bit unfair with that OT statement, but it was meant to be slightly humorous, not precise.

Thanks for keeping up the pace! Grace and peace.

Congrats on the new banners! Er–Joan Baez, the agnostic?

Yes, I was growing impatient. Sorry. See why I never believed in perfect sanctification?

I agree with the set up and knock down pattern, but still believe government is not just a result of the fall. I have that Moltmann book and will relook at it. I can’t imagine him saying the Powers are uncreated. To admit that anything is uncreated except God is Manichaean–whether one wants that to be the case or not.

You are right about Yoder’s argument in KB and the Prob. of War, of course. And your further quotes from Yoder are provocative. But I am still very wary of this “bear history” idea. If I had John here, now, we’d be having a vigorous discussion, I can tell you. We are the followers of the Messiah, but, it seems to me that the Church has had far too many times in history when it had a “messianic self-consciousness”–and usurped the role of Christ.

Yoder once said in a speech I heard that Church had the potential of being the only unfallen (or fully redeemed) Power. But, he agreed that it didn’t often live up to this.

While I am very aware of the potentials of governments to become demonic–and think ours is very much along those lines, now–I am also aware of the Church’s similar potential. (Or why would there be Confessing Church moments?) And when a demonic-leaning church teams up with the state, we have REAL problems.

We are closer to agreement than many. Arguments between siblings can be fierce, no?

The Bible doesn’t say the Powers will be dissolved in the eschaton, but transformed: “The Kingdoms of this World will become the Kingdom of our God and of His Christ.”

Okay, I understand why your view (and possibly Moltmann’s) is not Manichaean. I still don’t agree, but at least I see you don’t believe a huge heresy. This was a big point because I believe that Hauerwas and many disciples have too undeveloped a doctrine of Creation and its goodness.

One reason why I am surprised by the Yoder quotes which seem to support your “bearer of history” view is that Yoder warned constantly that “it’s not our job to make history come out right.” That’s God’s job. Believing that it is ours (whether “we” are the church, the nation-state or some other “we”) involves the temptation to violence. If, instead, our job is to bear witness to GOD’s redeeming work in history, then we, the church, have the possibility of remaining faithful. If “messianic self-consciousness” means we are followers of the Messiah, o.k. If it means we think WE are the messiah–NO WAY. That’s the road of imperial fantasies and much bloodshed.

In fact, I am convinced that you must be misreading Yoder to think that the church is to “continue the work of Jesus” because he was such a constant critic of the “building the Kingdom” theme in the Social Gospel and he was a huge critic of similar impulses in liberation theology. That way leads violence and burnout and unfaithfulness. We don’t bring in the Kingdom–God does and we announce it joyously. Of course, God may use our faithful actions in this work–but that in itself is an act of grace.
Yoder’s constant theme of worrying more about faithfulness than effectiveness is relevant here.

Now, about the destruction of the kingdoms in Revelation. Notice that the kings of the earth who are destroyed by the “sword of his mouth” of the Rider on the White Horse (Whose Name is Word of God!) come into the New Jerusalem in the next chapter “bringing their glory with them.” That is, every Power, including every State is against Christ (there are no Christian nations) but they are conquered by evangelism and then redeemed. Each culture, stripped of its sinful elements and glorified, becomes part of the Heavenly City.

You are right that this is an inhouse debate, but things are still important. I worry about temptations to neglect penultimate things, to neglect relative goods (including good governance). I also worry that overemphasis on the Powers as always demonic amounts to “all cats are grey at midnight” and keeps us from making good judgments about relative goods and evils–things that are not simply demonic or divine.
I worry about churches blinding themselves to correction from pagan voices because “we are a truer body of people.” We need rather to be open to great surprises, “I have not found such faith in all Israel.”
Finally, I worry that some Hauerwas influenced folks collapse the doctrine of the Church and the doctrine of the Kingdom of God. The Church is NOT the Kingdom. In some ways the Kingdom will be wider and others narrower. We pray not for the triumph of the church, but for the coming of the Kingdom. The church, the People of the Way, are the pilgrims traveling to the Kingdom, the witness of it, those who receive it with joy–but they do not rule it and they do not bring it–except by God’s grace in Jesus Christ.

This will be my last post for awhile, friend Thom. I have to finish some things this week for the upcoming summer meeting of the Baptist Peace Fellowship of North America. Yoder used to visit sometimes and Jim McClendon often came and I miss them both. But Glen Stassen will be there and many others whom I see once a year.

Grace and peace,
Michael

Perhaps the conversation has petered out a bit, but I’ll throw my 2 cents in.

Is Christ the bearer of the meaning of history…or is Christ the meaning of history while the church (and not the state) is the bearer of that meaning? …how is this question significant?

While I’m not entirely familiar with the specific writings you guys have discussed in such detail, on a surface read, I’d have to say that Christ is the meaning of history and that the church, as the body of Christ, bears Him. Not just bears witness to Him, though that frequently seems well beyond our reach here in America, but actually bears him out into the world – reaching out, healing, serving, restoring; all are manifestations of Christ through us, by us, in us. Apart from OT Israel, I don’t think any state could possibly lay claim to that kind of activity.

Did God create the state, did he establish it as an order, or did humanity create the state as a way of usurping God?

At first blush, I would say man created the state. I understand why you point to Nimrod and Babel as the first example of the state (or consolidated government), but even before that, the first city mentioned in the OT is one built by Cain; a person of rebellion if ever there was one. But I’ve been reading through Ezekiel and came to ch 28 yesterday after reading through this conversation. I point specifically to verses 12-19. God begins the chapter by referring to the leader or ruler of Tyre, but then in verse 12, references the “king of Tyre” who is obviously a divine being. Whether this is specifically Satan or not, he is clearly tied to Tyre in some way. I think this might support Michael’s contention that the state was God’s creation due to their linkage with these obviously supernatural entities. But I’m still fairly undecided on the matter.

If the latter, did God “reign in” the state under the lordship of Christ at the crucifixion/resurrection/ascension (as Yoder believed following Cullmann and others), or did the state only delve deeper into its “original sin” (as I believe)?

I think its a mixture of both. The supernatural aspects of state power were obviously put in their place well before the Incarnation, as seen in Ezekiel. But given that the control & power of the state has only increased since the time of Christ, and with the introduction of non-state actors like transnational corporations that are essentially beyond & above the state, I tend to think they’ve only entrenched themselves deeper into original sin, as you suggest.

Nathan,

Thanks again for keeping the discussion going. I’ll just reply piecemeal to your great comments. You said:

While I’m not entirely familiar with the specific writings you guys have discussed in such detail, on a surface read, I’d have to say that Christ is the meaning of history and that the church, as the body of Christ, bears Him. Not just bears witness to Him, though that frequently seems well beyond our reach here in America, but actually bears him out into the world – reaching out, healing, serving, restoring; all are manifestations of Christ through us, by us, in us. Apart from OT Israel, I don’t think any state could possibly lay claim to that kind of activity.

I think you’re right that “bearing” is more than just witnessing. To bear the meaning of history is to bring the work of Christ to bear upon the poor, the captive, the sick, the oppressed. Bearing “the meaning of history” is sacramental, for as we act on Christ’s behalf, as Christ to the weak, we find that the weak too have become Christ to us. The real presence of Jesus is discovered not merely in the sacraments of eucharist and baptism, but in their original broader significance of transclass and transethnic human solidarity.

At first blush, I would say man created the state. I understand why you point to Nimrod and Babel as the first example of the state (or consolidated government), but even before that, the first city mentioned in the OT is one built by Cain; a person of rebellion if ever there was one. But I’ve been reading through Ezekiel and came to ch 28 yesterday after reading through this conversation. I point specifically to verses 12-19. God begins the chapter by referring to the leader or ruler of Tyre, but then in verse 12, references the “king of Tyre” who is obviously a divine being. Whether this is specifically Satan or not, he is clearly tied to Tyre in some way. I think this might support Michael’s contention that the state was God’s creation due to their linkage with these obviously supernatural entities. But I’m still fairly undecided on the matter.

I appreciate your perspective here, but I’m afraid I must pointedly disagree with this interpretation of Ezekiel 28. I have long opposed this reading, long before I knew it would come up in a conversation like this one (long before I knew conversations like this one were possible). A similar passage in Isaiah 14 has also been construed through post-Nicene church history as a reference to the fall of “Lucifer.” In fact, it is from the Isaiah 14 passage that we get the idea that “Lucifer” was Satan’s name before his fall. (In reality, God is calling the king of Babylon “the morning star” sarcastically, mocking him for thinking of himself more highly than he ought. The word is not actually a proper noun, and was only first translated as such based on the Vulgate. The only other person ever called “the morning star” in scripture is Jesus. If anybody’s name is properly Lucifer, it’s Jesus. ) This “fall of Lucifer” is a myth that finds no basis in the scriptures (OT or NT). Revelation 12 does talk about the day the dragon was thrown out of heaven because he was no longer able to accuse the people of God. This “fall of Satan” was cosmically connected to the crucifixion of Jesus. Prior to that time, obviously Satan had full access to “God’s throne room” as the Officer of Accusations, so to speak.

You suggest that Ezekiel 28 might not be a direct reference to Satan, but to a lesser principality somehow associated specifically with Tyre. Without denying that the existence of spiritual principalities behind governments, I do not think the addressee in vv. 12-19 is “obviously a divine being,” as you claim. I suppose I should avoid using the “obvious” to describe my position, even though I think it is obvious, because obviously it’s not obvious, otherwise it would be obvious to both of us.

Here’s why the addressee in vv. 12-19 is still the same ruler of Tyre addressed in v. 2:

1) Unlike in verse 2, the word used is “king” not simply “ruler,” which is more specifically human than “ruler.” I’ve never seen an instance of a satanic angel being called “king,” although there are plenty of instances in which they referred to as rulers. The fact that the addressee is the same in both vv. 2 and 12 goes against a spiritual reading of vv. 12-19. (More on the reason for the split between vv. 11 and 12 in a moment.)

2) The precious stones listed in v. 13 were the standard garb for wealthy kings in that period in Mesopotamian culture. (See the IVP Bible Background Commentary: OT). They were normal for a human king, but it doesn’t make a lot of sense why an angel would be so adorned.

3) V. 16 refers to the king of Tyre’s “widespread trade,” v. 18 to his “dishonest trade.” These seem pretty clearly to be referring to human acts. If the addressee is a spiritual being Ezekiel is hiding that fact from us rather well.

4) V. 17 says that the Lord “made a spectacle” of the king of Tyre, “before kings.” This doesn’t make sense if we’re talking about an hidden principality, but makes perfect sense if we’re talking about a great military defeat.

5) V. 18 speaks of the destruction (death) of the king of Tyre. If this is referring to an angelic creature, this would be the only instance in all of scripture (prior to the eschatological destruction of Satan and his angels) of the death of such a being.

6) V. 19 refers to “all the nations who knew you.” Again, if we are talking to or about a hidden spiritual power it does not make a lot of sense how it can be said that all the nations knew who he(it?) was. It makes a lot of sense if we’re talking about the historical king of Tyre.

Those are the indications I find in the text that the “king of Tyre” addressed in v. 12 is actually the same “ruler of Tyre” addressed in verse 2, the human, historical figure. However, there seem to be a few indications in the other direction, found in vv. 12, 13, 14, 16, and 17 in particular. The “king of Tyre” was “the model of perfection,” he was “in Eden, the garden of God.” He was “anointed as a guardian cherub.” He was “on the holy mount of God.” But after he became proud he was thrown “to the earth.”

My answer here is simple: we’re dealing with sarcasm and hyperbole, a common device in prophetic literature. Ezekiel is building up the king of Tyre’s glory in order to make his defeat all the more devastating. The king of Tyre wasn’t literally in Eden. Ezekiel is taunting him, calling attention to the greatness of his failure. Ezekiel says that God “anointed” the king of Tyre (kings are anointed, not angels) as a “guardian angel,” in much the same way as Paul says in Romans 13 that the Roman authorities were “ministers of God.” In neither case are either of the prophets being literal. This is actually a way of keeping in check the divinizing pretentions of kings. To have been created by God, put in power by God, and put in power by God for a specific purpose is to have severe limits set upon one’s power. Ezekiel is simply saying (using hyperbole) that God had intended for the king of Tyre to protect Israel, but instead the king of Tyre did his own thing. That God “threw him to the earth” means literally that, to the grave. He was haughty, he thought himself a god but he was not, so God gave him a reality check by taking away everything he had and utterly destroying him. The earth is not to be contrasted with “heaven” as though heaven were some place else where the “guardian angel” resided before his fall. Remember that according to the metaphor he fell from Eden which is still very much the earth. His fall was not from “heaven” to earth, as though it were a geographical statement, but from divine pretentions to death.

Finally, I promised earlier to give an expla

nation of the multiple addresses. If I’m reading you correctly you’ve interpreted the split between vv. 1-10 and vv. 11-19 as change in addressee. Problems with that aside (that the addressee is explicitly the same in both cases), it is curious why the two addresses were necessary. In vv. 1-2 read, “The word of the LORD came to me: “Son of man, say to the ruler of Tyre. . .” V. 12 reads, “Son of man, take up a lament concerning the king of Tyre and say to him. . .”

The question is, why the multiple addresses? Ezekiel isn’t speaking to anybody else in between vv. 1-10 and 11-19. Why break it up with another address? The answer is simple: they were written at different times, or at least they were written from the perspective of two different points in time. The first address is written prior to the fall of the king of Tyre from his throne. In it God details what he is about to do. The second address is written post de facto, as a lament of sorts. This address is written to the king of Tyre posthumously. It is his dirge. Ezekiel is rubbing it in, as it were.

That’s my take on Ezekiel 28. I’ve been convinced about it for some time, and I’ve never read an exegetical argument (or any other kind of argument for that matter) that has convinced me otherwise. Thus, I don’t think Ezekiel 28 gives any support at all to Michael’s position. It doesn’t explicitly support my position vis-à-vis Michael either; I just don’t think the text is really related to our question at all, but it’s important to talk about nonetheless because so many people (influenced by Roman Catholic mythology) do.

I think its a mixture of both. The supernatural aspects of state power were obviously put in their place well before the Incarnation, as seen in Ezekiel. But given that the control & power of the state has only increased since the time of Christ, and with the introduction of non-state actors like transnational corporations that are essentially beyond & above the state, I tend to think they’ve only entrenched themselves deeper into original sin, as you suggest.

Obviously I agree with you that it is a mixture of both. I agree with you that “supernatural aspects of state power were . . . put in their place well before the Incarnation.” Obviously I’m not in full agreement with your reading of Ezekiel 28, so I don’t think that’s an example of God “reigning in” the powers to his will. If anything it’s an example of God punishing the powers for not being reigned in. But as I’ve argued above I think this is an example of God overthrowing a human king for being violent and oppressive instead of peaceable and protective. But we are in full agreement with each other that the state has gone haywire since Christ. That is actually the point in Revelation 12. Before Christ, the Jewish understanding of Satan was that he had an office to fulfill. His office was that of enemy, to be sure. But he fulfilled it only within the limitations set upon him by God, and only with God’s permission (exactly as in Job). But after Satan loses this position (on account of the work of Christ), that is when the real rebellion occurs. The work of Christ just pissed Satan off, and sent him on a rampage. (At least, this is how John explains the persecutions under Domitian). Nevertheless, the point is, we agree here. And I admit I’m somewhat confused by the claim that the powers have been “reigned in” by the work of Christ. I fully understand the claim that Jesus is Lord. And I think that the image of Jesus “reigning from heaven” was not an apolitical statement but a thoroughly political statement, since all nations in their own way believed that true political power was wielded by the gods. But how that means that demonic powers have been “reigned in” and brought under the lordship of Christ in any real political sense is beyond me. If this is true of one power, why is it not true of all of them?

I don’t think the claim is very biblical, and I suspect that it arises from a conflation of diverse uses of the “powers” terminology in different Pauline letters and contexts.

Thanks, Nathan, for taking the time to write. I hope I’ve read you correctly and given satisfactory answers. I’d love to hear more of your thoughts on this.

Thanks for your great reply, Nathan. I’ll just get down to it.

What’s your take on Luke 10:18?

Good question. Let me expand my earlier statement to include the whole work of Christ, from ministry, to death, resurrection and ascension. They are all one work and that one work is responsible for the fall of Satan. The disciples’ power over the demons was a foretaste of the victory over Satan won ultimately at the cross/resurrection.

A brief word-study bears this out; king is used about 2500 times and all but a handful would seem to refer to nothing but a human king or his power. There is an interesting fact that in Amos, the Hebrew word for ‘king’ is also used to describe Moloch, but that really doesn’t prove anything. However, if we take cherub to be a reference to a human being here as you suggest, there is only one other time in the OT where this happens but in that instance it is a proper name (in Ezra 2:59 and the parallel Nehemiah 7:61, both referring to the same person). So either we have the odd occurrence of a king who is not human or a cherub that is not an angel.

Notice that the king of Tyre is not actually called a “cherub” until verse 16. In verse 14 he is anointed “as a cherub.” It’s what we call a simile. The verse 16 instance is just playing off of the simile in verse 14, as a taunt. It would be odd if an angel was called a king. But I don’t think it odd at all for Ezekiel to taunt a pretentious king by calling him a cherub.

Given the way the various images of God have been described in the OT (in Daniel for instance) and the way the OT temple was decorated, it would seem to make perfect sense to me that an angel would be richly adorned.

First, the point is, the commentators say that these stones were what historical human kings wore. I haven’t found a commentator who’s said this fits the garb of an angel, and I don’t recall any instance where an angel is said to be adorned with jewels.

If this divine being is somehow directing the human leadership of Tyre or is responsible in some way for their conduct, then a reference to the human activity that results from this is understandably attributed to the fallen angel.

Granted that this particular reading of this particular verse is possible, but I think it’s a stretch and unnecessary to explain the whole passage, as I’ve attempted to do.

It does make sense as a sound military beat-down, but if you take the possibility that “king” may also refer to the principality or power beyond the human figurehead, then it still makes sense to think vs 12-19 refer to an angelic rather than merely human being.

Right. But I don’t see good reason to take king in this way.

The other hidden principalities can certainly see the defeat of a being like themselves through the temporal, physical defeat of a human counterpart, as can surrounding, human kingdoms.

So now all the kings mentioned in the text are angels? I think we’ve gone a bit astray with this reading.

Actually, verse 18 only says that this being has been “turned to ashes on the earth in the eyes of all who see [him/it]“. Taken alone, yeah, it would seem to refer to the death or destruction of this individual. But going into verse 19, the writer refers to the being in the present and then says “you will cease to be forever.” The entire lament up to this point has been made in the past tense or references past events. A plausible reading is that this being has been brought low, humiliated and rendered powerless until the day of his ultimate destruction with Satan and the rest of the fallen powers.

Sorry, but I don’t think this reading is plausible. Verse 18 says he has been reduced to ashes, consumed with fire. Hardly a metaphor for mere humiliation. And verse 19 is still speaking in the past tense when it says that “you have come to a horrible end.” That’s past tense. The end is the end. To go on to say that he “will be no more” does not mean that his destruction is awaiting a future date, but that his destruction is accomplished.

But, many cultures of the ancient Near East had tribal deities that they believed watched out for their particular patch of ground or ethnic group. It we allow for the possibility (and I will certainly admit the possibility that this may be incorrect) that demons were behind at least some of these false religions, then surrounding human populations would likely have regarded the defeat of Tyre as a corresponding spiritual defeat of Tyre’s (false) deity/ies.

This is true. But in that case I would expect Ezekiel to make reference to the defeat of Tyre’s god, as is frequently a practice of the prophets. The gods are named, not called kings. This reading just seems to me to make overly complex what is really rather simple.

I find your argument compelling, but not entirely convincing, because just as prophetic literature deals in hyperbole, so does it in double-meanings and metaphors.

I am saying that it is dealing in metaphor. The hyperbole is metaphorical. The king was meant to protect Israel and maintain justice and so he is “ordained as a guardian cherub.” That’s a metaphor. I find the “double-meanings” argument far less compelling. Are you referring to Isaiah 7, perhaps? The “double-meaning” of virgin? If so, then we need to have a discussion about rabbinic hermeneutics and why it was legitimate for Matthew to allude to Isaiah 7 in reference to Jesus even though Isaiah meant something else entirely back in context.

If we take the spiritual power behind temporal powers seriously, then it is no wonder that there may be some degree of overlap in discussing the intertwined realities present in the conceit and defeat of an earthly entity.

I’m not denying that there is sometimes overlap. And my reading of Ezekiel 28 is not one that doesn’t take “the spiritual power behind temporal powers seriously.” I’m just trying to get at the author’s intended meaning here, and I think the reading you’re suggesting isn’t it.

Granting your argument for a moment, I am still troubled by the difficult timeline your version presents – when was the king of Tyre (metaphorically) in Eden? When was he sealed in perfection? When was he on the holy mountain?

I don’t see the difficulty that you see. You yourself pointed out that this is a metaphor. Eden is the metaphor for good beginnings, because “God created it and it was good.” The reference to Eden is a way of reminding the king of the beginning of his reign, perhaps when the king’s aspirations were more noble and more nearly just. Like the descent from Eden to the world we now live in, the king of Tyre descended from upright intentions to dishonest trade, imperial expansion, violence and oppression. He began as an ally of Israel. Perhaps he stood on the temple mountain and made promises he never kept. Even if he never set foot in Jerusalem, the metaphor still makes perfect sense. Perhaps the metaphor is a reference to the giving of the Law, and it parallels the king’s early aspirations to be a king of justice and righteousness. He “stood on God’s holy mountain.” Obviously these are speculations but it’s seems to me that they can make good sense of the prophetic in-speak Ezekiel uses, as a code for the just intentions of the young king. As I have been saying, his “fall from Eden,” from “God’s holy mountain,” from “perfection,” was his fall from those noble aspirations to the standard fare.

Does the creation day in verse 15 refer to this particular king’s birth or the start of his lineage? And does it even make sense for God to talk about a non-Hebrew being perfect, holy and blameless, particularly after the Law had been given?

Again, this is hyperbole. But the point is clear. It wouldn’t have been read so literally. It just means w

hat I’ve detailed above. His beginnings were on the right track. Perhaps he was even better than most. Perhaps he was a great man. Maybe his rise to the throne was a popular ascendency. And then power corrupted him. No big mystery there.

And how does a presumed pagan profane a pagan sanctuary?

First, what use would a fallen angel have for a sanctuary? Second, the point Ezekiel is making is that the king of Tyre’s dishonest trade has made a mockery of his own religion/s. He hasn’t even lived up to his own standards.

Thanks, Nathan, for taking the time to keep this going. I think you’ve asked good questions. I hope my answers have been helpful. I look forward to your further comments!

Nathan, I’m sorry you read that line (”It’s what we call a simile”) as condescending. You misread me, however. I wasn’t suggesting that you didn’t know what a simile was. I was saying that it is what we (as in, we English speakers) call a simile. It was a way of qualifying the appropriateness of the term as applied to an originally Hebrew text. I apologize for the confusion, but I had no intention of being unfriendly. I quite enjoy the discussion, and I certainly respect your intelligence.

I’ve got to run for now. I’ll respond to the rest soon.

Thom -

No worries about the misreading – tone never carriers online and I’m sorry I uncharitably took your words to be offensive when I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.

Moving back, momentarily, to the Eden statements in ch’s 28 & 31 – I’ve been mulling this over all afternoon and have come to the conclusion that this may actually support the idea that God created the state or something similar. Since Eden is the beginning of man, Ezekiel’s specific reference to the king of Tyre being in Eden and the comparison of Assyria to something in Eden…there may be something to the argument. Its tenuous, but in ch 31:1-9, if we accept that Ezekiel is comparing like to like – the state or government of Assyria (or the principality/power behind it) to other similar political or spiritual entities – it could indicate the contemporaneous creation of both man and the (eventual) government of man. Just kind of thinking out loud, here.

Maybe you could write a post that specifically deals with your view on this question. I’m curious as to how you view God’s plan for the Hebrew-people/OT-nation-of-Israel at the time of creation. It is clear that God gives Israel a king after the rule of the judges as a begrudging concession to their insolent desire to be like other nations – were they a state before they had a king? judges? a prophetic leader like Moses or Joshua? before all of that? And if God had a plan to raise his Messiah out of a specific group of people, does that foreknowledge indicate “creation” of the state in reference to that group? Or are they just an ethnic group? And finally, why is God creating the state a problem?

Off Topic:

How is the baby doing?
Sleeping through the night yet?

I come into this discussion fairly late, but I think I go along with G.B. Caird, in discussing the beast from the sea in Revelation 13, when he says:

“But it must not be thought that John is writing off all civil government as an invention of the Devil. Whatever Satan may claim, the truth is that ‘the Most High controls the sovereignty of the world and gives it to whom he wills’ (Dan iv. 17). In the war between God and Satan, between good and evil, the state is one of the defences established by God to contain the powers of evil within bounds, part of the order which God the Creator had established in the midst of chaos (cf. Rom xiii. 1-7). But when men worship the state, according to it the absolute loyalty and obedience that are due not to Caesar but to God, then the state goes over to the Enemy. What
Satan calls from the abyss is not government, but that abuse of government, the omnicompetent state. It is thus misleading
to say that the monster is Rome, for it is both more and less: more, because Rome is only its latest embodiment; and less, because Rome is also, even among all the corruptions of idolatry, ‘God’s agent of punishment, for retribution on the
offender’ (Rom. 13. iv).”

I too have been blogging on related topics recently, and wondering how helpful it is to think of the state as an egregore.

This post helps explain your view quite well. We still have areas of disagreement (as well as much more in common), but I understand your views better, now.

I can’t call the Davidic kingship JUST an interruption in God’s plan. It’s clear that God would have preferred to do without it, but many biblical strands show that once it was created, God was committed to working through it for God’s purposes. Solomon’s empire was a complete disaster, but the Davidic line remained important even after the end of the monarchy.

Given its place in the Ancient Near East’s geo-politics, could Israel/Judah have surved as a people if the monarchy had never developed and they remained an amphictony of connected tribes?

Hey, Graham. Thanks for taking the time to read through it, and for your comments. I absolutely agree with you that my treatment of the farmer metaphor is my weakest link. My suggestion that last judgment is kind of hiding beneath the surface there was made possible by an argument N.T. Wright made (I think in JVG) that Luke 10:1-3 (”harvest is plentiful, workers are few”) and par. pass. had an underlying message of last judgment/apocalypse. He said that almost every time Jesus talks about the harvest, the judgment is also implied.

Whether Wright knows what he’s talking about (a real question) and whether that angle would obtain in the farmer metaphor in 2 Tim. are difficult questions to answer with any degree of certainty.

I also think the way I worded my interpretation of the athlete metaphor could be improved a great deal. (That was at about five in the morning.) I took some artistic license, I think. But the word Paul uses specifically refers to a wrestler, not just any athlete, and I think it’s reasonable to suggest that might have some evocations of cosmic struggle, or the bout of Jacob with the Angel of the Lord.

Or, it might all just mean what it looks like it means, namely, that great discipline and endurance is required of Timothy. In that case, my broader argument, situating the metaphors within Paul’s presentation of the counter-imperial gospel of sufferings still obtains. Even if the metaphors don’t tell us anything more than to persevere, the context they’re in tells us something about the kind of thing through which we’re going to have to persevere.

Nevertheless, the simple point that each of the metaphors implies some kind of terminus is one that I can’t shake, and it’s one that is consistently overlooked in the commentaries. A soldier fights a war and wars have victors. The wrestler gets crowned at the end of the match. The farmer is rewarded at harvest time. That basic point is hard for me to ignore. Especially with the language used in the soldier metaphor, “as a good soldier of Jesus Christ,” I don’t see how that can’t but evoke some hope of impending regime change. That’s apocalyptic, and that, I think, is apocalyptic in continuity with Thessalonians and Galatians (after J. Louis Martyn).

I’ve no doubt that my take on the metaphors (as with my take on the whole deal) will continue to be unconvincing to some. My take on the metaphors, however, I don’t think is absolutely essential to the essential argument that there are counter-imperial hidden transcripts in 2 Timothy and in Paul generally.

As for stealing my stuff, here’s my policy. If I’m right, it’s not my stuff–it’s God’s and everybody’s. If I’m wrong, please take it. I don’t want it!

Grace and peace,
Thom

Thanks for your comments, Stephen. My account of the counter-imperial Paul depends a great deal on Wright’s work, as well as on the sources I cited in the paper itself. They deal with primary sources a great deal, and I don’t have a problem, given my time constraints, with the fact that my work depends on theirs. Read up, brother!

BTW: The NPP might turn out to be a wild goose chase if you’re expecting to find confirmation there of the stuff we’re talking about here. The NPP largely deals with different questions.

Moreover, Stephen, I don’t think I redefined “every Pauline word … in relation to Rome.” That’s an exaggeration that has the rhetorical effect of making you look more responsible than me.
First, I did not deal with “every Pauline word.” I dealt with a few that were spread throughout the letter, the few for which I think there is good cause to adopt a subversivist approach.

Second, I would challenge that I am “redefining” Paul. What I’m attempting to “re-” is to retrieve, and I’m attempting to do that by situating Paul’s language within his context within the Roman domination system, and in this particular case, within his context as a prisoner of the Roman Emperor, up against a capital charge. I’d say that constitutes sufficient reason to read 2 Timothy “in relation to Rome.” Wouldn’t you? I would say that the re-definition of Paul is not the subversive reading but the apolitical one, and I would’ve expected you to generally come alongside me on that one. It intrigues me that you haven’t in this case.

Third, although I didn’t deal with many primary sources (I didn’t have the space–the paper was meant to be 10 pages and it turned out to be 24), I did deal with at least one, showing that the term “eternal glory” was used by Romans to describe their Emperors. I could have cited more, but didn’t, because I didn’t feel the need to. I didn’t give primary sources on “gospel” or “appearing” because I’ve read so many accounts that situate such language within the Roman propaganda machine that I felt it was generally common knowledge among students of New Testament history such as yourself. If you’re not convinced, do a simple word study. It won’t take long for you to substantiate my claims for yourself.

Peace to you too.

Hey.

No harshness intended. I thought I was just being familiar. If you were in some way agreeing with my position, that wasn’t clear from either of your comments, but that’s neither here nor there.

I don’t think all the passages I dealt with are exactly hidden transcripts. Some of them are less hidden than others, as is indicated by my comment that Paul’s “proverbial farts” seemed to get louder the closer he got to death.

I think you would benefit a great deal from reading some of this stuff. I highly recommend Hidden Transcripts and the Arts of Resistance: Applying the Work of James C. Scott to Jesus and Paul, edited by Horsley. Also, Wright has an essay on Paul and Empire in Horsley (ed.), Paul and Politics, entitled “Paul’s Gospel and Caesar’s Empire.” That’s well worth the read.

As for your two cents, I always appreciate any money you have to give me, or books.

Thanks for the response, Thom.

I agree that the point stands with or without one of the specific metaphors. I really am very impressed with this piece of work.

You might be interested in these lectures.

Glad your back, brother. I’ve got nothing significant to add; I just wanted to say hello. Okay, I also wanted to let you know that I’m preaching a sermon on “Prince of Peace” in a few weeks. I’d love to have anything you’ve got on it. Prince of…

I thought I was the only one who believed this way. It’s great to find another person who’s like minded.

A small request, if I may. Could you edit these 6 posts (I know, pain in the butt) so they all link to each other? I’d love to point some friends to this series and it might aid in navigating between them.

Miracles, all of it. I tend to think of God as both holding Creation and BEING the very fabric of creation — encompassing all creation, outside it, yet within an through it in relationship, more than acting upon it under normal circumstances.

As you probably realize, part of what is at stake theologically here is the relation of God and the world, the nature of God’s presence and action in the world. A panentheist or free will theist, much less a process theist, are all comfortable with TE because of their views of the way God acts and the nature of natural laws and processes. Those with more traditional views of transcendance or more closed system view of the world (in which miracle must be a violation of natural law, etc.) cannot handle TE because of their view of God’s relation to the world. Different views of divine sovereignty and providence and the role of chance are all involved.
Of course, these are all philosophical/theological perspectives which different persons bring TO the scientific questions.

This section would have been stronger, I think, if you had included some of these alternative creation accounts and shown their violence and domination in opposition to the liberation ethic of Gen. 1.

Some liberals do warn about the supposed “dangers” of believing in a literal resurrection, etc.! Ironic, no? There’s another side to this argument: Sometimes it is not the supposed slippery slope of TE that leads to loss of faith, but, rather the failure to present any other view than YEC as compatible with faith. Many Christians from conservative homes go to university and become involved in science and then lose their faith because they feel compelled to choose between what they learn in lab and field and text and YEC! This problem has increased since the homeschooling phenomenom because they don’t encounter anything else until university–hot house faith does not do well outside the hot house.

You would not believe the number of people who have thanked me and other TEs for saving their faith or that of their children by showing them that they can believe in evolution and in God, the Bible, Jesus, etc. The look of relief on said faces is amazing–and I am just a popularizer. Real theologians who have also been trained as scientists (e.g., Glen Stassen, Nancey Murphy, John Polkinghorne, the late Eric Rust, etc.) report this constantly.

As you know, I love theological autobiographies–no matter the theological position of the author. So, years back, when I was much more conservative than I am now, I read The Living of These Days, which is the memoir of Harry Emerson Fosdick, the huge liberal of the early 20th C. He describes coming home from university for the holidays and announcing to his far more orthodox parents in a pretentious voice: “I have decided that I accept the theory of biological evolution, including the evolution of Man from lower animals.” Dead silence. Then Fosdick’s father looks over his paper and says, “Your mother and I believed that before you were born.” The elder Fosdicks remained conservative Baptists and Harry became a flaming liberal–and a pacifist. But the question of evolution did not determine either course. I love that story for its humor.

Thanks for the critical suggestion. I will be sure to include alternative creation accounts in future accounts. Regarding your first comment: Yes! Using Frost’s “road” as a metaphor for “day” as a metaphor was a bit misleading. Day agers are the one’s who think “day” is metaphorical, not theistic evolutionists, and I think the day ager position is silly, to be frank. I wasn’t explicit enough in stating that the metaphor was not the word “day” but the whole account itself. My wife caught what I was doing, but I can see how many might not. My comment-in-passing about subtext in historical texts is closer to what I was actually trying to say.

When my wife read the essay, she became very excited at the idea that Moses wasn’t literally describing creation but that instead Moses was doing ethics relevant to his contemporaries. The creation account came alive to her for the first time.

In a narrowly related matter, I just read C.S. Cowles’ chapter in Show Them No Mercy: Four Views of God and Canaanite Genocide and I have to say his position was by far the most persuasive. He represented that “Radical Discontinuity” position, and argued that the Moses and Joshua misinterpreted the command to inhabit Canaan as a genocidal mandate. He framed it so that I couldn’t get around his position, and all the rebuttals were pathetic.

Here’s the narrow relation. I’m a bit frustrated with discovering the radical liberation ethic (clearly dependent on Moses in some way) in the creation accounts as well as the radical ethnic-cleansing ethic right next door. I suppose it’s not surprising, that a newly liberated people would so quickly become that from which they were liberated (or worse), but it deeply saddens me to find an example of that in one of the most formative narratives in our Scriptures.

Michael, you frustrate me. Your point here, that YECers are really the ones responsible for losing Christians over to a vacuous liberalism–I had meant for this point to be my big closing point and completely forgot about it because, well, because I wrote the paper three hours before it was due. Damn. I knew I had to rewrite it. Now I really have to rewrite it. Thanks for reminding me!

I have never heard of Show Them No Mercy. Will have to check it out. So, if your wife got excited about the possible liberation ethic of Creation accounts, perhaps she would enjoy reading my popularization in my blog series on this. Not to toot my own horn or anything.

One report I’ve read (though I’m not sure at this point) says that the gunman killed two people at New Life, one a teenage girl.

And by way of correction, I made the assumption that the security guard who killed the gunman is male. She is not, in fact.

Yeah, there are hundreds of possibilities. Here’s one. The 10,000 member congregation could have been ready to gang-rush the gunman with hugs. He might have got several people before he was overpowered by a swarm of huggers, but overpowered he would have been. One gun against 10,000 open arms ain’t no match. Pastor Boyd should have been on the front lines rather than in his office on the second floor, where he watched the whole thing go down. That would have been real preparation.

Thanks, Pistol, for speaking your mind. He didn’t get the letter yesterday. I doubt he’ll get it today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be screened and he won’t get it at all.

Even if he does get it today, saying that the timing is “anything but loving” is a bit of a categorical statement I think. I guess it depends on what you mean by “loving.” My hope was to reach him before he was settled about the thing emotionally, while it was still very fresh. In my experience, time tends to dull our sensitivity to the moral nature of our actions. We quickly become adept at categorizing and filing away our past actions.

Sure, there’s a flip-side to that coin, but the point is, my intent was to reach him before things had settled. From my perspective, that is loving. If you want to write him again in a week or a month or a year, I’ll sign your letter too.

The truth is, I don’t think there’s a formula for the right way to do things here. Everything is so messy anyway, and so many different factors can affect such a letter’s reception. The most we can do is pray for the Holy Spirit to have his way and for the gospel of Jesus Christ to be revealed here. I hope you’ll pray with me.

I couldn’t help but think of the contrast between New Life’s response–armed guard/hired gun shoots back (”eye for an eye”–forbidden by Jesus)–and the response of the Amish community whose school was shot up last year–reaching out to the families of the gunmen even in the midst of their own grief. It was easy to see which church followed Jesus.

excellent. thanks for posting this.

Hey, Daniel. Great to hear from you!

That’s an interesting point. I’d like to get Michael Westmoreland-White’s perspective on this question.

Michael, thanks for your response. Just quickly, what does the existence of carnivores say to a nonviolent account of creation?

Some interesting thoughts.

In response to Dan…

You made a comment that this situation is completely different than that of if someone was assaulting your wife and children… how did the security guard know the difference? We only know now after the fact the reason the man was shooting.

I’m sure the security guard didn’t have time to research the shooter… check out his web postings… interview him…

He was released from the YWAM base, obviously upset from his dismissal… so really who are we to judge if he was shooting to persecute Christians because they are Christians or shooting Christians because he was angry that he was kicked out of a Christian program…?

And for the record, the security guard’s bullet did not kill the shooter. His own bullet did. Which, obviously, does not change your argument concerning the use of violence by Christian’s… but it does lighten the load a bit.

As for the bullet that killed the shooter, the coroner’s findings are that his own bullet killed him. I was not speaking figuratively… check out the news on CNN.com:
http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/12/11/colorado.shootings/?iref=mpstoryview

I completely disagree with you on your counter-argument to my comment concerning Dan’s comment. It’s not a moot point as far as I’m concerned…

Dan’s words were “persecuting Christians” — And you, simply quoting Jesus when He was speaking to Jews concerning loving their enemy, is taking Him out of Gospel context. Everything Jesus preached was on the basis of Kingdom. He was not just randomly holding lectures on different ways to be good. Not “pick and choose and be a good person…” He was teaching the ways of the Kingdom. Not just a one-time, all-inclusive lesson to the Jews who should then turn their cheek because Jesus said so…

Taking Dan’s comment in context, it seemed as though he was saying that the shooter was persecuting believers because of their believing in Jesus, thus then the security guard’s actions were evil (for that very reason)… and then he spoke of how if it were someone attacking his wife or kids, then that would be a completely different situation. From your point-of-view, I don’t see the difference.

That’s why I said the security guard didn’t have time to analyze the shooter to whether he was shooting because of persecuting christians or if it was because he was mad and target the people who were associated with the people he was mad at.

Thom, you know that I disagree with your perspective on this, but I do respect your consistency. Let me make just a few comments “off the cuff.”

1. Thom, you are intelligent enough to realize that Pacifism is a minority opinion and always has been. I’m not saying that the arguments aren’t intelligent. Neither am I saying that there is no scriptural support (However, I would agree with the way that you might see certain texts). I am simply pointing out that there are a lot of intelligent, well-read, Jesus-loving Christians who have a different perspective than you do on this issue. Certainly that should give you enough humility to stop seeing this as such an either/or, black/white, good-Christian/bad-Christian issue. Frankly I find your certainty absolutely surprising.

2. The Amish comparison is illegitimate for no other reason than they were responding to the shooting after it had occured. Am I to believe that the Amish would have gladly offered their little girls as sacrificial lambs to a homicidal maniac without doing anything to stop him?

3. You are making some bold (and biased) assumptions about this security guard and the church. Do you think that they are not heart broken about the death of this man?

4. Your pastoral instincts leave something to be desired. Thom, I say this as someone who loves you (you know that, but not everyone on this site does) – no one dealing with a horror such as this really cares what you think. It just sounds so cold and indifferent to the real world suffering of these people. Until you have suffered for your pacifism, you have not earned the right to be prophetic to these people.

5. You concert of hugs is more than a little naive. What if someone hugged him a little too hard – wouldn’t that in fact be violence? Assuming that you hug this maniac into submission, who do you call? The cops? Would they have guns? Would this man face any punitive punishment for his crime in your system? Would it matter if the security guard was not a Christian? Do we simply allow the “Gentiles” in law inforcement to take care of our dirty work for us as we very piously and passively wash our hands?

Chad,

I’m not going to respond to you. I’m going to ask DeFazio to respond to you instead.

I will just say that I’m a little frustrated with your continual refusal to seriously engage these issues.

Thom-

Thank you for bringing words to this issue. I was writing about it earlier on my site, and could find nothing constructive to say. So thank you, again.

Pastor Bob,

Thanks for your comment.

Yes, the details were muddied at first. The security guard (a volunteer, not a paid employee as I said in my letter) DID shoot him, but the bullet that killed him was his own. He probably would have died anyway from her shots if he hadn’t shot himself.

That is the way it went down, and I thank you for the corrective.

That doesn’t change a thing, however, because the real issue here is that a church is asking its members to carry weapons to defend Christians from attacks.

It certainly is troubling that there are so many shootings at schools and churches and malls in the U.S. What is more troubling, I argue, is that the church thinks it’s all right to combat that societal illness with bullets.

“While people are saying, ‘Peace and safety,’ destruction will come on them suddenly, as labor pains on a pregnant woman, and they will not escape.” 1 Thess 5:3

Who am I kidding? I love a good debate – even an unwinnable, fruitless one. Why else would I come to this blog? Although it seems like everyone that comes here agrees with you Thom. You need someone to stir things up.

I have been wondering a few things from people who do not approach violence and persecution from a pacifistic perspective, perhaps Rags will be able to help me out on this one….it really is an honest question. What I would like to understand is if people think a response to injustice/persecution that permits for or is dependent upon violence is ever commanded or allowed for in the New Testament? Richard Hays in the Moral Vision of The New Testament shows rather compellingly that “Tis no foundation whatever in Matthew (and we could easily add the other gospels, Hebrews and Revelation) for the notion that violence in defense of a third party is justifiable.” Furthermore, as he notes later in his chapter, “There is not a syllable in the Pauline letters that can be cited in support of Christians employing violence.” (324 and 331, respectively). What do you do with these remarks? The most common response I get when I discuss these issues is, “but it just doesn’t make sense, it sounds so foolish and radical” which I think only bolsters the legitimacy of the opinion because it makes it coherent with the rest of Jesus’ message. But what I don’t get is an explanation of a New Testament text that shows me Jesus of Paul thought violence was alright. And what I do see is about 20 that specifically tell me otherwise…in addition to the narrative of the gospel itself, which I will allow Hays to summarize sense he does a better job than I could. “How does God treat enemies? Rather than killing them he gives his son to die for them. This has profound implications for the subsequent behavior of those who are reconciled to God through Jesus’ death: to be “saved by his life” means to enter into a life that recapitulates the pattern of Christ’s self-giving. The imitation of Christ in his self-emptying service for the sake of others is a central motif in Paul. It is evident, then, that those whose lives are reshaped in Christ must deal with enemies in the same way that God dealt with his.”
To conclude, what I am asking for is for someone, probably rags, to help me see from the New Testament and the life of Jesus why violence is acceptable. Because it appears to me that most people I have heard from on the pro-violence side don’t use the New Testament. That is not a cut, just and observation. Help me see how Hays is wrong, because as of now, I am convinced by his arguments.

For clarity, a discussion on this issue is not fruitless. That is what I said, but not what I meant. This is of course a very important issue that I don’t intend to flippantly cast aside. In fact, I have more sympathies with certain strains of pacifism than Thom may believe.

What I was regarding as “unwinnable” and fruitless about this debate was the incessant (and often harsh – there is something blatantly anti-peaceful in the way that this issue is often discussed) argumentation and the shocking level of black and white certainty that exists on this issue. I never claimed to have such black/white certainty on this issue – and I’m humble enough (I hope, although it doesn’t always come through in my posting) to be taught by others on this issue. But Thom, in our conversations you just seem unwilling to listen on this issue or to even concede that there may be points where you lack absolute clarity.

Thom is right (in a rather passionate email received this morning) – I have been negligent on reading seriously on this issue. If this is a reading competition – I lose.

I am thinking a little bit more clearly today. Let me say first of all a few things that I know…(I haven’t thought about this extensively, so there may be elements, I’m leaving out)

1. God achieved victory (and peace) through the non-violence submission of Christ to the cross. It was not through force of arms.
2. Our discipleship must model the cross (1 Peter 2:13ff among others). This includes not only our actions, but also our speech and our thoughts.
3. The ethic of the kingdom of heaven is radically opposed to the ethic of the kingdom of this world. This is evidenced in numerous NT texts, but stated with most clarity in the SOM (turn the other cheek, love your enemies, etc.)
4. Peace is a kingdom ethic. Hebrews says to pursue peace (12:14) as does Paul (Rom 14:19). Christians must have a natural orientation towards love which naturally results in peace-making.
5. God’s peace is holistic. It includes holiness and justice. Peace is more than simply the absence of terrestrial violence.
6. The first Gentile convert was a part of the Roman military machine (assumedly with more than a desk job), but yet was not instructed to quit his position. Some of John’s “converts” were soldiers and they were not instructed to lay down their arms. Jesus marveled at the faith of a centurion and healed his servant, but did not instruct him to leave his position. A law enforcement officer was converted in Philippi, but apparently did not give up his profession.
7. Both Jesus and Paul had a measure of respect for the state and encouraged us as disciples to have the same respect. We do in fact live under the umbrella of the state which lives under the umbrella of God’s authority (Rom. 13). We are to pay taxes, give respect, and offer honor to the sword-bearing, governing power.
8. Some early Christians were involved in the administration of the state (Ethiopian eunuch, Erastus, Theophilus) as well as others who were very wealthy and (assumedly) influential in the state.
9. There are smart, God-fearing, Spirit-filled Christians on both sides of this issue. I should be humble and open-minded.
10. There are smart, God-fearing, Spirit-filled Christians in the military, police, and politics. I should be humble and open-minded.

Here are a few things I’m not so certain about…

1. I have read arguments on both sides regarding the early church fathers. It appears to me that pacifists may at times be guilty of stacking the deck in their favor. Early church history is ambiguous on the issue. We know from early church history that Christians did serve in the military. This was in fact condemned by some. Tertullian was one such person, but his main concern seems to be idolatry not violence because he also said that Christians shouldn’t be teachers or students. We also know that non-violence does not appear in any of the early creedal statements of the church – whether in the early creeds we find in the pages of the NT or the pre-Constantinian creeds. This ought to at least give us pause at rushing to condemn those Christians who conscientiously object to pacifism.
2. How do you interpret “turn the other cheek?” This is a sincere question. Do I have the right to turn someone else’s cheek? Do I have the right to turn a blind eye to someone else’s suffering? Should I recast the SOM legalistically in my interpretative approach? Doesn’t that in fact miss the point? Further, do we stretch the application of this text too far when we apply it to the geo-political realm?
3. Thom tried to answer this in my email, but I’m still unsure what constitutes non-violence. Are tasers OK, is a punch to the face OK as long as it’s non-lethal? (Thom, I’m really not being sarcastic – these are real questions.) The most damning organ of the body is the tongue, but we seem to think that pacifism is mostly about our fists.
4. God values order and justice—in the church and in civil society (actually I’m certain of that). Why should Christians leave the order and justice to the non-Christian? Honestly, I do struggle with the hypocrisy of that. I wasn’t just trying to get a zinger in. Even the Amish live under the shelter of a free and ordered society. How do you reconcile paying taxes (which seems clear from NT) that support the military? So, I’m willing to pay taxes to send other (non-Christian) people to die to defend my freedom. There is no doubt that people like MLK Jr. have altered human history and national policy through non-violence. But there are also thousands of others through the centuries who have been able to change the system from the inside out. These people are rarely celebrated, but they have been powerful kingdom agents nevertheless.
5. Are just war and pacifism really polar opposites? Are these even biblical categories? In a recent Christianity Today, Sider (who is a pacifist) makes the point that part of the problem is that contemporary pacifists are much more comfortable talking a big game than they are suffering for their position. Another big part of the problem is that so-called “just war” advocates are not consistent enough in their position to “exhaust every means possible in avoiding conflict.”

OK, that’s all. I’m tired and have work to do. Thom, I’m sorry (again) if I offended you. It seems an operational hazard of my posting on your site, which is why I offered not to post anymore – not because I’m running away and hiding. I just don’t want to get caught up in all the (sometimes) negative rhetoric.

My mistake. It was not an email. It was a post that for some reason doesn’t appear here. I didn’t respond because it wasn’t particularly constructive.

In the above statement, I was not making “counterpoints.” I was simply trying to mention some things that I knew and some things that I still am not certain about.

I don’t find your responses satisfactory.

- I don’t really have a response to number two since you pulled the book card on me. Although the material I read contradicts your claim.
- Appeals to church tradition have their place, but it is hard to build such a universally binding NT ethic from using sources exclusively outside of the NT.
- Your absolute language in your fifth point is surprising “flatly condemned by all ecclesial authorities,” “…shown me unequivocally that it is just-war theorists that stack the deck…” I’m not saying that you are wrong. There were pacifists certainly in the early church who were people of prominence and importance. I’m just not sure that it is as black and white as you’re making it.
- My fourth point is a bit muddled because I haven’t got it figured out yet. There is just an inconsistency between the command to pay taxes (which supports military) and the supposed command to never bear arms. Is this not akin to letting the godless Gentiles do our dirty work for us? Would you have us not pay taxes?
- You have not said it, but it has certainly been said.

I love you, Thom.

Ah. I see the problem with my statement. I said, “All of the early church’s objections to soldiering are based on nonviolent discipleship.”

My apologies. I should have said, “The principal objection of the early church to soldiering is based on nonviolent discipleship.”

You stile haven’t called me.

I don’t think Jesus cares that I called your argument bullshit. I think he cares more that his followers not hold bullshit positions for bullshit reasons, but that’s a general sentiment, not an accusation against you.

Thanks for the source.

There are plenty of smart people who disagree with me. But I bet you I can pinpoint where they are not being as smart as they should be, on a case by case basis. For instance, you’re a smart guy, but your post-constantinian reading of Romans 13 is not reflective of early Christian hermeneutics, and certainly not of Jewish prophetic thought about pagan governments, into which tradition Paul’s Romans 13 fits squarely. The issue is not raw intelligence, but how that intelligence is put to work and what kinds of ideologies are influencing that intelligence. I might not be absolutely right in every aspect of my argument, but I would need you to show me where I’m wrong rather than try to get me to admit that I might be as a strategy for turning this issue into an ambiguous one that leaves room for multiple interpretations. The existence of multiple interpretations does not always mean that there is genuine room for them. In this case, there isn’t.

The only reason I’m going through all of this with you is because I love you, because I know, because I care about you, and because I care about the gospel. I’ve been through all of this before, many a time, and I’ve convinced many a stanch just-war theorist that there is no precedent for that position in the Bible or in the pre-constantinian church.

Paul was writing Romans during the early part of Nero’s reign, back when Nero was famous for his claim that he ruled so well that his armor and his sword were all for show, that he would never have to unsheath his sword because he had so much respect throughout the empire. Well, clearly that just wasn’t the case. He didn’t have the respect he claimed he had, and he wasn’t as peaceable as all that. Paul knew better, and that’s why, contrary to the imperial propaganda, Paul warns tax resisters about Nero’s sword. There are multiple layers in Romans 13, and among those layers are plenty of hints that Paul isn’t as pro-Roman as he sounds. Nevertheless, because of gospel nonviolence and agape, he instructs an ethic of subordination, until (vv.11-12) the people of God are delivered from their plight under Roman oppression.

The faithful centurion in Mark never became a Christian. Jesus used his example in order to shame Israelites for their lack of faith. Jesus never said that the centurion was blameless. He used one aspect of the centurion to shame his own people. “A pagan is better than you!” There’s no expectation that the Centurion was to obey kingdom ethics. Jesus’ limited mission was to the lost sheep of Israel.

Read my paper on those NT proof-texts against pacifism: here.

My position is that Christians who were not pacifists were Christian in name only. What is remarkable is that, despite all the disagreement about the nature of Christ, etc. etc., there really is no documented disagreement about this issue, and it was an issue about which theologians spoke not infrequently. As infant-baptism came into play, more and more Christians were nominal. There were some Christians who were soldiers. The faithful Christians looked for “deskjobs” or resigned. The nominal Christians were, as a rule, denied communion. If any Christian killed but wanted to repent, there was a mandatory three year process before he was allowed to take communion again. That’s how seriously they took Jesus’ example and his commands. That’s one of the big reasons why I unabashedly take this seriously.

Thom
I am glad to review these comments and your blog. It is so good to see a witness to peace among the sea of violence I see among many Christians in my view.

Yes the call to be a Christian can be sacrificial of our own selves, but that IS the call. Laying down our own lives.

Have you ever heard of Pax Christi?

Dan didn’t say that Romans 13 and the Centurion were off the table. Dan said that they were not the legetimations of Christian violence that you suggested they might be.

Parental violence: God allows us to suffer so that we might be conformed to his character. Not the kind of violence at issue here, if this is even a kind of violence at all.

Church commmunity violence: You are stretching the grammar of violence beyond the ambit of intelligibility, Chad. And you know it. It’s not driving me crazy, it’s just not getting you anywhere.

Divine retributive violence: Allowing the natural consequences of our sins to take hold of us. Hence, Jesus preached divine judgment against the temple regime, and that “judgment” came in the form of the Jews getting squashed after picking a fight with Rome.

If you’re talking about the book of Revelation, the victory of God over his enemies in the eschaton is thoroughly nonviolent, rooted in the suffering of the Lamb and the Word of Truth. Even if there is some kind of literal divine violence in the end, the pervasive message of Revelation is that Christians are to conquer by their own suffering, and to leave that “violence” (literal or not) to God.

Civil punitive violence: Romans 13 doesn’t exist. Romans 12-13-14 does.

Moreover, I cannot believe you cited 1 Peter 4 in support of civil punitive violence. First of all, Peter never comes close to saying that a murderer or a thief or a criminal or a meddler should be punished violently. His remark isn’t even about that. All Peter’s comment about criminals needs to say is that, as a matter of fact, they do suffer for their crimes. Does that mean Peter supports capital punishment? That’s one helluva proof-text! Especially given that Peter’s master was a victim of capital punishment. As you know, the real point of Peter’s statement underwrites the opposite position from the one you’re representing. Christians are to suffer willingly and without regret. Why? Because they are Christians. What is suffering that is not Christian suffering. Suffering that is the result of crime or misdeeds. What is Christian suffering? It is undeserved violence. A Christian is to embrace it as his or her judgment. To endure through suffering is to come out of God’s judgment as righteous. Peter’s conclusion is that those who are suffering for doing good should continue to do the very things that has resulted in their suffering.

Financial violence: most taxation systems are illegitimate. Jesus and Paul both knew that. But you know what else was illegitimate? Jesus’ execution, and Paul’s execution.

Zealous violence: Read the essay I linked to in my last comment.

The Philippian Jailor: In the Roman empire, the punishment for losing a prisoner was taking on that prisoner’s punishment. If there prisoner was sentenced to death, and the prisoner escaped, the jailor would be put to death. If the prisoner was sentenced to two years, then the jailor would be sentenced to two years, then fired from his post. The Philippian jailor was clearly, then, expecting to either serve time as a prisoner and cease to be a jailor, or to live as a fugitive from “justice.”

Examples of NT Christians working in government: Who said Christians can’t be in government? The problem is Christians being responsible for violence done to another human being or group of human beings. The Christians in the NT who were part of the government were like treasurers and stuff, and just because the text doesn’t say they resigned doesn’t mean they didn’t. It might have been assumed, given the counter-imperial message of the “Gospel of Peace through Jesus Christ,” the “Savior of the World,” and all that Roman rhetoric turned upside-down.

Violence is both a defeat, and a reality. You’re right about that. The question is: whose reality? The world’s? Indeed. The eschatological community of the Crucified and Resurrected Lord? Not so much, except for the violence done to us.

Thanks, Dan. I can answer your question very easily – I would of course chose non-violence. And I think that the NT would as well. That is not a hard decision for me. Again, I am no just war apologist. Let me just close my comments with a few thoughts…

1. I am not against pacifism. I have much more agreement with many of you on this issue than you may realize. I am against the kind of all or nothing thinking that fails to acknowledge the messiness of reality.
2. I also think that we have to be willing to listen to each other on this issue – and really in any theological discussion. Is this a serious issue? Yes. Does that mean that because it is so serious we no longer need to be teachable or flexible? No. What turns most non-pacifists against pacifism is not the intellectual points – it is the disposition of those arguing for pacifism. They come off often times as intellectual elitists, arrogant and not terribly charitable. If you can’t explain it without yelling or without telling someone that they just are ignorant because they haven’t read a book written by a French pacifist (redundant) then your argument is not strong enough.
3. I agree with what Sider said in his CT article. Just War thinkers are not patient enough or consistent enough. Also, pacifists talk too much without showing us the reality of their pacifism in their lives. That is why so many accuse pacifists of being passivists. I think it is ridiculous to even have a discussion about Just War vs. Pacifism until we have learned to apply Jesus’ words to turn the other cheek to our lives personally.
4. This is a hermeneutical issue. How much should we read into the biblical text (in issues like the jailor for instance)? Did Jesus even speak to some of these issues that we have brought up (It would have been much more helpful to see what the Samaritan would have done had he stumbled across the robbers in the act.)? How much credence should we give church tradition? Which tradition rightfully speaks a word of authority for us? Which interpretation of church tradition is authoritative?

With that, I’m done.

Peace

Rags,
If you are still readying, I agree with everything you just said. Your concerns about the lack of consistency in most pacifists’ lives/intellectual bravado and their theology is far too true and far too troubling.Furthermore, it is a sticky issue. That is not to say we should take a firm stance, but it is to say that love and grace ought to be as easily discerned in our words as truth.

Chad, I appreciate your comments. It does take fortitude to continue in a forum where you are so grossly outnumbered (kind of like I sometimes feel in an Ozark classroom). And you know I love you. However, even though you are “done,” I would like to offer a few comments upon your closing comments, though you may be done with this discussion.

First of all, I understand what you are saying about messiness. However, we have all tried to show you how “unmessy” we see this issue. Just because there are those who don’t agree doesn’t make an issue messy in terms of truth. Take an issue like the Rapture as an example. Just because there are plenty that believe in it doesn’t change the fact that there is no biblical or traditional or any other kind of evidence for such a phenomenon. People not agreeing does not make an issue messy in terms of reality. And I think several really strong points have been made to show that this issue is one of those not as messy as you claim it to be.

Secondly, nobody has simply told you to go read a book. There have been points made and then books which reinforced those points, but as I read the comments, I haven’t seen anyone say, “I’m not going to explain it to you, just go read this book.” Rather, it has been explained to you, and your points have been answered, and then you have been referred to a book. So I don’t think your statement that we rely on book referrals and therefore our arguments are not strong enough holds. We don’t rely on book referrals. We make our points. Then we’re told to back up our points. We refer to a book, and then we’re told we rely on referrals. That doesn’t make sense.

Thirdly, you are right: Violence is hard to define. And you are also right: many pacifist are not very pacifistic in their speech. I agree with you on that point (although sometimes I think it is overstated and overused). However, I think you need to see that that is NOT a critique upon pacifism any more than the Crusades is a critique on the love of God or the validity and mission of the Church. Just because some pacifist are jerks when they argue doesn’t mean that pacifism is at fault. This is not a valid critique, although it is certainly a wise admonishment.

Finally, to your fourth point, I think your repeating some questions that we have already provided answers to. We have made our arguments, we have responded to your points, and we are still awaiting arguments from the other side. I agree with you in part; I think that hermeneutics have much to do with this issue. However, must of us did not start out as pacifists. I for one struggled with the position, and truthfully did not want to become one. I have heard others express similar sentiments. But the burden of proof remained, and we changed our views because we were convinced by Scripture, the outworking of the gospel, by the picture of God’s love in Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. There was a point where we were listening, and it changed us. You give the admonishment that we need to be willing to listen to each other. I think you should consider your words very carefully. I respect you a lot. You know that. However, this issue is not peripheral (how could it be?); are you listening to the people who have made such good arguments on this post?

I don’t think you should be “done,” Chad. I am glad that you have brought such a pastoral admonishment to us, and we need to take heed. But if we submit to our passion, it is only because we feel this to be a terribly important issue, and it must be reckoned with. Violence is a cancer, a disease. We all agree on that. But we believe that Jesus has showed us how to break the cycle of violence. I can’t see how your view does not undermine this. I can’t see how violence is ever warranted. And to bring this back to the beginning issue, I can’t see how the violence perpetrated at New Life Church by a fellow Christian, saying things like, “It was just me, my gun, and God,” could be construed as anything but apalling and destructive to the witness of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the great Prince of Peace. Thom said it quite plainly, “The life of an unbeliever was traded for the life of believers.” If we really believe in the resurrection, how can this NOT be a tragedy.

I love you dearly, Chad, my brother, and you have taught me many things. I pray in Christ you see this not as an affront, but a plea from a brother admittedly less wise than you. For if we are unable to dialogue, then we will never get anywhere.

AAAAAAHHHHH! You keep on pulling me in!!

Defazio. Thanks for your reply. It was very generous and well-said. I can understand why Thom wanted you to respond.

A quick reply to Alex.

First, you are right. I need to listen – and I have. I have been blessed by some very intelligent students like you and Thom and Dan who have challenged me on this issue (whereas before I came to OCC, I really didn’t even think about it). I am thankful for that challenge. I apologize if at any point it appeared that I was unwilling to “take my own medicine.” By the way, the book comment was basically just a sarcastic aside. I just found it a bit amusing that my question concerning the Third Reich was answered by of all things a French pacifist author. If there is anything the French should be lecturing us on it is on the need to lay down our arms .

Secondly, the reason I began this thread was not really over the issue of pacifism as much as pastoral restraint. By all means, be passionate for your position. It just strikes me that there is a time and place for being prophetic and you also (at least in my opinion) have to earn the right to be prophetic to people through relationships and common suffering.

Third, I use the word messiness to refer to the messiness of life. Pastoral experience and life experience defies an easy answer to this issue. Easy answers only live in the realm of academia and fourth grade Sunday school. I wonder if we are constructing a new system of legalistic do’s and don’t’s around this issue…

Who makes the rule on what level of violence is unacceptable?
At what point do I violently intervene? If a man is being beaten? If a woman is being beaten? If a child is being beaten? Do I have to make sure that the person is an unbeliever before I intervene?
If one non-Christian is gunning down 10 non-Christians is it acceptable to intervene with violent force?
Are rubber bullets OK?
What if non-lethal force inadvertantly becomes lethal?
Is it acceptable for me to rely on the national guard to support my non-violence?
Should I pay taxes that go to the mechanisms of war?
Should I accept free-health care from a government that engages in war?
Should I keep my money in a bank that is guarded by a man with a gun?
Should I eat with tax collectors, sinners, and police officers?

I know these questions are silly, but all legalism is silly. That is what I’m talking about with messiness. I just refuse to give an easy answer for this issue. Easy answers are the currency of legalists.

Now leave me alone.

I thank Chad for his willingness to speak out based on his own convictions and pastoral instincts. I thank DeFazio, Dan and Alex for their patient responses. They are my examples, and I pay too little attention to them. I look forward to DeFazio’s next post with the stories that represent the disarming power of nonviolence. That will be very helpful to this discussion. I am grateful to DeFazio, Alex and Dan especially for their careful answers to some of Chad’s questions or objections. They have covered a lot of ground much better than I myself could. My next comment will be a piecemeal response to those questions and comments of Chad’s that I think need more response.

Oh, Chad. I’ll respond to this comment too.

Here are some stories, each of which show that choosing not to respond violently to violent attack sometimes does “work” in the immediate pragmatic sense of mitigating violence and perhaps changing the hearts of the perpetrators.

This one is from one of my Fuller profs, Thom Brennemann (now the president of Goshen College). In his own words: ‘Terri (my wife) and I were held up, at knife point (knife to my neck) in our car. One assailant had one of my arms twisted outside the car window pulling my wedding ring off my finger. The other assailant reached across me with the knife and toward my wife to take her lapiz necklace from her neck and her wallet. As his ear passed my mouth, I simply whispered the word “feathers,” which in my frantic mind related to that portion of Psalms 91: 4, “He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you may seek refuge.” Not only did I wish to illustrate how God’s word is powerful as a weapon unto itself, I also used it as an illustration that I knew in my mind that I was reciting the whole Psalm in abbreviated form, a Psalm full of language about God rescuing us in times of distress. In a similar way, I believe when Jesus said on the cross “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” he was clearly aware of the rest of the Psalm (22) which was also a cry, a lament, in this case, with the hope that God would come rescue him. Of course, I don’t understand why God rescued me and my wife in my story (and why God did not initially rescue Jesus in his recitation of the Psalm, nor does God always rescue us from such circumstances). Still, I am thankful that God did “save us” this time around in a very tangible way. I am also glad that I didn’t try to do something foolish and grab the guy’s arm, etc. — a natural defensive response, which I did thing about momentarily — but only envisioned having done so would have resulted in a very bloody outcome (visions of my neck being sliced open and my wife killed, etc.). The car was stolen out from under us, but we were, at least, alive and unhurt. So, here’s to “feathers” as a defensive weapon.’

This story was reported by Yoder in What Would You Do? about a prominent gang member back in the day: Tom Skinner was the leader of an extremely violent and volatile gang called the Harlem Lords back in the 60s and 70s, who decided to become a follower of Jesus. The next night he faced his entire gang – as he described it, “129 guys with knives and pistols and no reservations about using them.” He told them about his conversion and that since he was now a Christian he could no longer lead the gang. As he spoke he kept thinking to himself, “You’re an idiot. You’re a dead man. There’s no way you’re getting out of here alive.” He knew that the #2 man – nicknamed “the Mop” because he was never satisfied with a fight until he drew blood and then put his foot in it – always wanted his position, and that he would use this as a chance to call him weak and de-throne him. But nobody moved. Tom told his story, and he walked out. Two days later the Mop cornered him and said, “Tom, when you was telling your crazy story the other night, I was going to put my blade in your back, but I couldn’t move. It was like someone glued me to the floor.” And he said that the others told him the same thing. At that moment Tom knew that the Christ he had committed himself to was real, so he asked the Mop if he wanted to know about the man who glued him to the floor, the Mop said yes, and right there on the street corner, the number 2 man bowed his head and committed his life to Jesus.

This one was widely reported in the news. It is the story of Ashley Smith. She’s the woman abducted by Brian Nichols in the Atlanta Courthouse Shooting back in March of ’05. After having been held hostage in her own apartment for 13 hours, she decided to get creative. “I got a book,” she says. “The Purpose-Driven Life. I turned it to the chapter I was on that day, chapter 33, and I started to read the first paragraph. After I read it, he said, ‘Stop. Will you read it again?’ I said, ‘Yeah, I’ll read it again.” They then talked for hours about their families, about God, about the people he had killed. She told him she had just lost her husband and if he killed her then her little girl would be all alone. She later said, “I wanted to see my little girl the next morning and I didn’t want him to hurt anybody else, and I knew that if I talked to him in the right way that he wouldn’t.” “I knew if I made him feel comfortable then I could get things the way I wanted them and not the way he wanted them.” She made him pancakes and together they watched the news of what he had done. Eventually he let her go, she called 911, and he surrendered willingly. After the situation was resolved, Police Chief Charles Walters said, “It was her calmness and resourcefulness that led this to a successful conclusion.” (A calmness and resourcefulness we rule out when we immediately fight fire with fire.)

This last story happened this past summer. You can read about it here on my blog or here on Thom’s.

These are by no means unique, though they may in fact be strange. (One would expect as much from people who base their lives on the conviction that God raised a Jewish guy from the dead.) I leave them to speak as they will.
…

Chad said: Thom, you are intelligent enough to realize that Pacifism is a minority opinion and always has been.

Thom says: Pacifism is a minority position, and always has been, but as I’ve argued it hasn’t always been the minority position in the church. It used to be the majority position, back before it was a “position.” As DeFazio said, the fact that it is currently a minority position in the church is not a sufficient reason for me to treat it like it’s one opinion among others. The fact that I’m in the minority does not give me pause about my position, but encouragement, not hesitancy, but boldness.

Chad said: I’m not saying that the arguments aren’t intelligent.

Then Chad said: No one seems to be able to give me a credible, intelligent answer regarding the question of the Old Testament or the question of gross institutionalized evil such as the Third Reich.

Thom says: If we have different criteria for what constitutes credibility, which I think we might, then there’s no solution to this other than what Hays calls, “the conversion of the imagination.” However, I think DeFazio rightly pointed out enough common ground between us that we shouldn’t have too much trouble coming to agreement on what, from a Christian standpoint, constitutes credibility.

Chad said: However, I would [dis]agree with the way that you might see certain texts.

Thom says: Well, I would have to know which texts those are and the nature of your disagreement.

Chad said: I am simply pointing out that there are a lot of intelligent, well-read, Jesus-loving Christians who have a different perspective than you do on this issue. Certainly that should give you enough humility to stop seeing this as such an either/or, black/white, good-Christian/bad-Christian issue. Frankly I find your certainty absolutely surprising.

Thom says: First of all, as I’ve said, intelligence has little to do with this problem. Ideology is usually what underwrites a particular hermeneutic, good or bad. Ideology is usually hegemonic, and thus many very intelligent people are unaware of the myriad ways a certain ideology controls their interpretive options. One test of a good reading is whether or not it supports our political habits. According to N.T. Wright, he doesn’t like what he discovered in Jesus’ politics. It cut against his common sense sensibilities. That’s also true of me, Alex, Dan, Tyler, Mark Moore, and just about every pacifist I know well enough.

Second, humility is not the issue. I need humility, as DeFazio rightly pointed out. I need a bigger dose than most people. But humility as I see it is the willingness to put others before myself, predominantly in a physical sense, not just in my attitudes. Now, I may be stark in my presentation of the gospel message, blunt in my approach (I don’t think I always am, and I don’t think I was in my letter), I may be unaffected by the disagreement of the majority, but that, from my understanding of humility, does not make me less humble. If I would have said something like, “Boyd, you have no business being pastor. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!” the case, in my mind, would be different. But I didn’t say that, because I don’t believe, and I honestly do not believe I am superior to Pastor Boyd. I’ve no doubt that in a number of respects, Boyd far surpasses me. But just because of that I am not going to pretend that his understanding of the gospel is not deficient, or that his understanding of the gospel is a legitimate interpretive option. It is a false gospel, and in this particular case, that is not just a reference to his approval of violence. If you look at their beliefs, New Life Church is a Health and Wealth church. Part of their problem with violence is rooted in that very fact. They believe suffering is in some sense the result of sin or lack of faith. In this case, they didn’t take that route. They were able to blame it on the “maniac,” as you called him.

As far as “good-Christian/bad-Christian”: the early church saw Christians who used violence, or favored the use of violence, as bad Christians. That means they saw them as deficient followers of Jesus. I’m a bad Christian in many ways, and I’m attempting to overcome my deficiencies in those areas. The problem here is that violence is not seen as a deficiency, but is praised as heroic. Early Christians had mercy on those who used violence but were ready to renounce it in repentance. That is not the case here, and I think I’ve been more gracious than many early Christian leaders would have been. That does not necessarily make me better, or worse. I don’t know the answer to that question.

I wonder if you still find my “certainty” surprising, or whether now you realize that it is required by the nature of my convictions.

Chad said: The Amish comparison is illegitimate for no other reason than they were responding to the shooting after it had occurred. Am I to believe that the Amish would have gladly offered their little girls as sacrificial lambs to a homicidal maniac without doing anything to stop him?

Thom says: In fact, the eldest of the murdered girls did offer herself as just such a sacrificial lamb. The Amish would not have had control over who was killed, because as a part of their Christianity such control is not theirs to have. The children and the women understand this and believe this just as strongly as the men. In Amish life, morality is not chauvinistic. Women and children have the right to be moral agents too, with convictions worth dying for. I’m sure the men and the elders, had they the opportunity, would have stood between the gun and the children and women. I’m sure they would have tried to reason, or to pray aloud, or to utilize all sorts of strategies for nonviolent disarmament (strategies which don’t approach your pedantic questions about the line between violence and nonviolence). But when it came down to it, there is no question that the men would have died with nothing more than hope that their sacrifice would be enough to satisfy their killer. That is their way, and it’s mine and my wife’s too. The Amish comparison (which I never made myself) is perfectly legitimate.

Chad said: You are making some bold (and biased) assumptions about this security guard and the church. Do you think that they are not heart broken about the death of this man?

Thom says: DeFazio already answered this quite well. The issue not what’s in their heart (which, by the way, at least on the part of the female security guard, seems to be pride, based on her statements to the press), but what’s in their witness. Both Boyd and the security guard expressed pride in the way they handled the situation, and no remorse for the way they handled it. Either they’re lying to the press and feel some kind of remorse they’re hiding, or they don’t feel remorse and they’re telling the truth. Regardless of how they feel, as Christians they have a responsibility to witness before a watching world to God’s love for his enemies. As I said in my letter, their actions barred them from the possibility of such a witness, without public repentance.

Chad said: Your pastoral instincts leave something to be desired. Thom, I say this as someone who loves you (you know that, but not everyone on this site does) – no one dealing with a horror such as this really cares what you think. It just sounds so cold and indifferent to the real world suffering of these people. Until you have suffered for your pacifism, you have not earned the right to be prophetic to these people.

Thom says: My good friend Andy Rodriguez wrote me and said that he agreed predominantly with my letter but that he also agreed with this point of yours. I wrote him back, saying something like this: I think the idea that I’m disqualified as a prophet because I haven’t bled as a pacifist is utter nonsense and is a completely disingenuous evasion of the real issue. That’s like saying that Jesus’ prophetic critique of Israel’s violence was inval

id up until they killed him for it. The truth is the truth, and my blood doesn’t make it any more or less true. There’s a reason certain people shut their ears to Jesus’ message, and it wasn’t because Jesus didn’t have the credentials. That was their excuse, but it wasn’t their reason. Now, I may not have “earned the right” to speak to this particular audience, at least in the eyes of that audience, but that is a non-issue as far as I’m concerned. Most of the prophets of Israel weren’t recognized as prophets until well after their death. I’m not putting myself up on their level, by any means. What I’m saying is that your point is invalid. God gives his prophets the right to speak, and it is based on truth, more than anything else. As far as my “bleeding for pacifism,” I hope to some day be counted worthy, but I’m not going to go out and make that happen just so I’m allowed in your book to preach the gospel.

As far as my deficient pastoral sensibilities, I question your understanding of what it means to be pastoral. Now, I’m not saying you don’t know anything about what it means. In many respects, you know a lot more than I do. I’m just saying you’re wrong on this one point. DeFazio said something of my reasons for doing what I did the way I did, and those to me are pastoral reasons. That said, I don’t see myself as a pastor, but as a prophet. I’m not saying there’s no overlap, but they’re not identical either, and it isn’t legitimate to fault me for being insufficiently pastoral when being pastoral is consciously not my primary concern.

To sum up, your absolutist statement that I do not have the right to speak to these people is absolutely mistaken.

Chad said: Would it matter if the security guard was not a Christian? Do we simply allow the “Gentiles” in law enforcement to take care of our dirty work for us as we very piously and passively wash our hands?

Thom says: DeFazio dealt perfectly well with your objection to my “concert of hugs” as naive. I will say that as I said, it was one of hundreds of options other than violent options. Discovering alternatives to violence takes a creative imagination that is not constituted by worldly priorities. In turn, our designation of those alternatives as either credible or incredible is also a reflection of the nature of our priorities.

Now, as DeFazio already pointed out, your caricature of our position here, where the alternative is either kill or allow the police to do our “dirty work for us as we very piously and passively wash our hands,” is irresponsible to the discussion. Those are not the alternatives; Christian pacifists do not accept either of them as viable alternatives. Christians should not prosecute. The state has its own laws, and they can certainly prosecute and imprison a murderer without our compliance. As Christians, we would implore the shooter to turn himself in since he has violated the laws of the government under which he lives, but as far as the laws of God are concerned, we have the authority to forgive his transgressions. For the record, it has happened before. There was a serial killer who was holding a Christian woman hostage with the intent to kill her. She witnessed to him until he gave himself up to the police. With God, anything is possible. That ought to be the church’s attitude, and the basis of the church’s response to evil. It is a testimony to the fact that it is God and not the state that is really in control of things. Bearing that testimony is mandated of Christians.

Chad said: What I was regarding as “unwinnable” and fruitless about this debate was the incessant (and often harsh – there is something blatantly anti-peaceful in the way that this issue is often discussed) argumentation and the shocking level of black and white certainty that exists on this issue.

Thom says: I see this as a general problem in people’s understanding of pacifism. There’s nothing that raises my ire more than Christians defending violence, and that kind of anger is justifiable and even has dominical precedent. Being a pacifist is not about being nice, nor is it necessarily about following a certain code of conduct in intellectual debate. I am convinced that a majority of Christians in the United States have inherited a “Christian” tradition that is not Christian, and that is broadly and uniquely complicit with systematic injustice and violence. That makes me angry, and I will be angry at any Christian who (unwittingly or not) plays a role in the defense of that system. That does not mean I do not love those Christians. That does not mean I see them as enemies, or that I see myself as in some way superior to them. I do not. I used to think like them. I used to defend the same injustices they do (unwittingly). The only reason I think the way I do now is because somebody got in my face and called me on the carpet for my complicity. I call that a gift of grace. I am now committed to being an instrument of that same grace. Sometimes it’s appropriate to have an intellectual discussion that follows the normal rules of debate etiquette. Sometimes it is not. Jesus had quiet discussions, and he had very loud ones. He spoke in nuances, and he spoke in stark, black/white, either/or terms. The case of a church that purports to be following Jesus Christ pointing a gun at and shooting a man and being proud of themselves for it is a case in which the latter strategy applies, because it is a gross miscarriage of Christian witness. Nevertheless, I said in my letter and I continue to say today that I stand in solidarity with Boyd, and the gunwoman, as well as with the gunman, in their grief and in their guilt. I am not pointing the finger at them to highlight my sinlessness. I am standing with them and pointing the finger at us, because I believe the church is one, whether it acts like it or not. I really do, ontologically, share in their guilt for this sin, and I am sick about it.

Your critique that many pacifists are anti-peaceful in their speech is, in my estimation, based on a misunderstanding of peace. Pacifists should be angered by injustice, and by violence, and especially by the violence of those with whom they share basic convictions and commitments. Pacifists do not have to pretend they are not angry in order to be consistent pacifists, and they do not have to treat this issue with a dose of ambiguity in order to promote peace. From our perspective, the ideology that says pacifism is one interpretive option among others for Christians is an ideology that underwrites and supports violence and injustice. This is not a matter of personal conscience. This is a question of what the gospel is we all claim to be products of and to proclaim. I hope that my “black and white certainty” shocks you. I hope it shocks a lot of Christians into realizing that pacifism isn’t a way out of political and/or moral responsibility but is in fact the way of Christ and of his followers.

Chad said: I never claimed to have such black/white certainty on this issue – and I’m humble enough (I hope, although it doesn’t always come through in my posting) to be taught by others on this issue. But Thom, in our conversations you just seem unwilling to listen on this issue or to even concede that there may be points where you lack absolute clarity.

Thom says: Not to boast at all, but I’ve no doubt spent a lot more time and energy than you have seeking to understand the just-war position. I have listened very carefully to Christian objections to pacifism. If you think I’m not teachable, I’m sure I play a part in giving you that impression. I’m sorry for my part in that, but you also have to recognize that until this conversation you haven’t understood the nature of my convictions about nonviolence. You have been baffled as to why it’s such a “black and white” issue for me, and that has no doubt contributed to your perception of me as unteachable. That said, my understanding has grown and developed because I listen to people. The reason I’m a pacifist is because I listen to people and am willing to be taught
by those who think differently than myself. If I haven’t learned anything from you on this issue, maybe that’s because you haven’t said anything that has challenged my understanding. I think you assume that I haven’t wrestled with some or all of your questions before. Well, frankly, I have, and I’m doing my best to give you an nswer to them. If I have called some of your questions confused, or evasions, that’s because after wrestling with them myself I have come to see them as confused or as evasive. I will have more to say on this later in answer to one of your later comments.

Chad said: I have been negligent on reading seriously on this issue. If this is a reading competition – I lose.

Thom says: This is not a reading competition. Alex did a good job of addressing the particular, reiterated complaint of yours. My point is that your refusal (to date) to engage the stuff we’ve been influenced by, especially after you’ve said you ought to engage that stuff, partially discredits you as a critic of our positions. You haven’t put the work into understanding us. As stated above, I’ve certainly but a great deal of effort into understanding just-war theory, and common Christian objections to gospel nonviolence. Not only have I read extensively in the literature of those with whom I disagree, I’ve also written rather extensively in engagement with their positions. You also have to understand that my strategy in dialogue with you is not going to be the same as my strategy in dialoguing with an average church member. I was under the impression that you were a college professor and that, therefore, you would have little trouble engaging the issue on a scholarly level.

Chad said: There are smart, God-fearing, Spirit-filled Christians on both sides of this issue. I should be humble and open-minded. There are smart, God-fearing, Spirit-filled Christians in the military, police, and politics. I should be humble and open-minded.

Thom says: Here again, you equate humility with a refusal to be certain about the nature of the gospel. That may or may not reflect an indebtedness to Cartesian anxiety, but regardless of the philosophical problems with that equation, it just isn’t very Christian. You also implicitly equate our certainty with close-mindedness. That claim frankly begs a question you haven’t thought to ask. Moreover, anyone in the military, the police, and in worldly politics is going to have a commitment to an ideology that is going to control their thinking on these matters. As I’ve said repeatedly, being intelligent isn’t the issue here, because our intelligences are subject to a whole range of things besides “rationality.” Moreover, the designations “God-fearing” and “Spirit-filled” beg the question. If it’s true that God wants his church (and all those that constitute it) to be absolutely nonviolent as a part of its witness to his reign, then anyone who defends the Christian use of violence is neither God-fearing nor Spirit-filled, at least as far as their intellect and actions are concerned. Now, I do not deny that a person can mean well and be wrong, and I believe strongly that God judges everyone according to the knowledge and experience they have. I have no problem with God being merciful to people who were unfaithful to the gospel. I have a problem with the long-standing practice of Christians defending unfaithfulness to the gospel.

Chad said: There is no doubt that people like MLK Jr. have altered human history and national policy through non-violence. But there are also thousands of others through the centuries who have been able to change the system from the inside out. These people are rarely celebrated, but they have been powerful kingdom agents nevertheless.

Thom says: First of all, in many respects MLK DID change the system from the inside out. He appealed to the constitution of the United States and argued that systematic racism was inconsistent with the American system. He did not appeal to a foreign system and advocate it. Second, I want you to give some examples of that kind of people you’re thinking about when talk of “powerful kingdom agents” who have changed the system from the inside out. On a case by case basis, we can talk about them intelligently.

Chad said: Thom, I’m sorry (again) if I offended you. It seems an operational hazard of my posting on your site, which is why I offered not to post anymore.

Thom says: You have not once offended me. I guess you’ve yet to learn that the way I speak has little to do with personal relations, and everything to do with the nature of my convictions. That may be a fault of mine, it may not be. But it is not an indication that I am especially “sensitive” or “touchy.” Ask people that know me. I am largely unaffected by what people think of me, except when I think I might be in error. Then I seek the wisdom of a multitude of counselors to see if I am in the wrong or right or somewhere in between.

Chad said: Non-violence is not an end. It is a means to an end.

Thom says: I disagree. It is my biblical conviction that nonviolence is at the center of God’s character, and thus it is an end in and of itself insomuch as it is our end to conform to the character of God, created as we are in his likeness.

Chad said: I am against the kind of all or nothing thinking that fails to acknowledge the messiness of reality.

Thom says: I think Alex already did a good job of responding to this claim. It is a claim. It is a claim that says absolute pacifism is unrealistic. That is a claim we deny. For us the issue is: whose realism? From our perspective, resurrection power is really real realism, over against the realism championed by systems that depend for their stability on violence. From our perspective, just-war theory is much more idealistic than pacifism, as is the Rambo mentality held by most alleged proponents of just-war theory. Basic to just-war theory is the idea that it is only just to act if and when we have a reasonable measure of control over the outcome of our calculated violence. Basic to Christian pacifism is that no such control exists, neither for those who renounce such control nor for those who pursue it. Christian pacifism does a much better job of acknowledging the messiness of reality, because it does not base its responses to evil upon utilitarian calculations. Christian pacifism is prepared to let evil do its worse, while hoping for the same power that raised Jesus from the dead to do its work. It is a realism based on faith, but so is the realism of just-war theory. It’s just that the faith is put in different locations.

Chad said: What turns most non-pacifists against pacifism is not the intellectual points – it is the disposition of those arguing for pacifism.

Thom says: No. In my experience it’s usually the “intellectual points,” as you call them. I’ve seen perfectly humble, innocuous Christians present pacifism to a barrage of boos and hisses, in an OCC classroom setting. The message is upsetting to people with American sensibilities (even to liberal American sensibilities). Your statement above may be true for you, but it has not been my experience. That is not to say that I or other pacifists have NEVER turned off a non-pacifist by the tone of our argument. That is to say, rather, that in general it is the position itself that is offensive to so many Christians in the United States and elsewhere. It is also my experience that that general attitude of antipathy for pacifism contributes to the increasingly stark tone of many pacifists, including myself. When I argue with South Americans, for instance, I do not get near as boisterous because they typically do not have the ideological blinders that so frustrates me in North American Christians. Moreover, you have to look at the sociological factor that many pacifists in the U.S. and other Western imperialist countries feel the need to be loud and absolute precisely because they are not taken seriously as a minority. Despite my great amount of respect for c

ertain pacifist friends of mine who are more passivistic in their pacifism, I continue to see that passivism as a problem for their pacifism, not as an outgrowth of it. I see it as symptomatic of their intellectual indebtedness to the framework of an imperialist ideology.

Chad said: They come off often times as intellectual elitists, arrogant and not terribly charitable. If you can’t explain it without yelling or without telling someone that they just are ignorant because they haven’t read a book written by a French pacifist (redundant) then your argument is not strong enough.

Thom says: You are the only one here, Chad, who has framed this debate as an “intellectual” one, and you have made that mistake consistently, despite our protestations. Moreover, this statement of yourself is itself uncharitable because it attributes to me an attitude I’ve never adopted toward you. I never called you ignorant, I’ve never yelled at you. If Alex yelled at you, it’s because Alex yells, not because he’s a pacifist. He’d yell about which kind of pizza is better. More-moreover, I commended a book to you by Trocme in answer to a question you asked. Earlier you had said that I have no credibility as a pacifist prophet because I haven’t bled, so on that note I commended to you the life of someone who has bled, and who bled as a pacifist in the face of the Nazi regime. Your mischaracterization of my commendation of his book to you as an evasion of my responsibility to give you an answer seems to me to be an evasion itself. More-more-moreover, “French pacifist” is not redundant; not now and not in WWII. Trocme was a pacifist because he was a Christian, not because he was a Frenchman. And your comment here seems to me to betray your commitment to a U.S. ideology that is remarkably unchristian. If it was just a joke, then ha ha. Pass the Freedom Fries.

Chad said: I think it is ridiculous to even have a discussion about Just War vs. Pacifism until we have learned to apply Jesus’ words to turn the other cheek to our lives personally.

Thom says: I agree. But I do not think I agree with your understanding of Jesus’ command to turn the other cheek. Jesus was teaching an oppressed people how to resist their oppressors with dignity and without violence. I do not think that as residents of the U.S. we must become oppressed before we can be advocates of Christian nonviolence. If you mean that we must learn to tone down the absolutist nature of our claims before we can make claims, I don’t believe that’s at all what Jesus meant, and I don’t think that’s at all what Jesus exampled.

Chad said: How much credence should we give church tradition? Which tradition rightfully speaks a word of authority for us? Which interpretation of church tradition is authoritative?

Thom says: The open-ended nature of these questions, like there’s little to no possibility of an answer, or that they so complicate the issue that it’s impossible to land at an honest position, may serve to make your argument sound more responsible than ours, but it doesn’t actually make it so. The fact is, before Constantine, there was only one church tradition on the question of Christian use of violence, and any deviation from that tradition was seen as unfaithful. So your last question is irrelevant in this case. Your first question sounds frightening to those with a “Bible-only” mentality, but reality, history, and theology are a little more complicated and messy than that, to use your language. It seems to me, however, that those who object to appeals to the early church fathers in matters of biblical interpretation usually have no trouble at all with appeals to Luther or Campbell, or whomever. For my part, I’d pick the ones closer to the apostles, not the ones further removed. Incidentally, Campbell himself (both of them actually, but I speak of the younger) was a stanch pacifist, believing the NT was as clear as day on the question, and he had no trouble (surprisingly) appealing to the agreement of the early church fathers with the plain pacifistic sense of the NT message. Not only Campbell, but a majority of early Restoration leaders thought and argued this way. I think OCC’s “no book but the Bible” is more simplistic and less nuanced at times than Campbell’s.

Chad said: I use the word messiness to refer to the messiness of life. Pastoral experience and life experience defies an easy answer to this issue. Easy answers only live in the realm of academia and fourth grade Sunday school.

Thom says: In what sense do you take our answers to be easy? Easy to come up with? Or easy to live out? Or both? My perspective is that in a very real sense the answer to the question of the Christian use of violence SHOULD be easy to come up with, but challenging to live out. Retaliation is an easy answer. It’s the most natural answer, and the easiest thing to do. In another sense, there is not very much that is easy about our answers, because in practical situation they require a moral imagination that of the kind that is very difficult to forge in the midst of a society and a culture so constituted by violence. I will grant you that it is easier to say that I’m willing to die than it is to actually give my life to an enemy. That said, sitting now in uncertainty is not going to prepare me in any way to go against the grain. Part of the reason we are so certain in our talk now is because that is necessary to shape our moral choices when the shit hits the fan. Being a pacifist is not just responding nonviolently to violence; it is living the kind of life that makes nonviolence in the face of violence a real possibility. And part of that preparation is our willingness now to throw our lot in to a definitive stance. As a pacifist, I know I am a violent person. I am more aware of my violence than most nonpacifists are of their own violence. For violent people like me and Alex and Dan and Tyler, we need the line drawn in the sand, otherwise we’ll end up on the wrong side when it comes down to it. But then again, for peaceable people like the Amish, who wouldn’t think of doing harm to an enemy, the line in the sand is a matter of course. Somebody drew it a long time ago, and many, many people died in order to draw the line, but now they could almost do without it. It wouldn’t make any practical difference. If you’re like them, and don’t need the line in order to live on the right side of it, then you’re blessed and far superior to me. But the majority of Christians in the U.S. land definitively on the other side of the line, and that’s why we’re working so hard to rightly characterize the nature of the line.

Chad said: At what point do I violently intervene? If a man is being beaten? If a woman is being beaten? If a child is being beaten? Do I have to make sure that the person is an unbeliever before I intervene? If one non-Christian is gunning down 10 non-Christians is it acceptable to intervene with violent force? Are rubber bullets OK? What if non-lethal force inadvertently becomes lethal? Is it acceptable for me to rely on the national guard to support my non-violence? Should I pay taxes that go to the mechanisms of war? Should I accept free-health care from a government that engages in war? Should I keep my money in a bank that is guarded by a man with a gun? Should I eat with tax collectors, sinners, and police officers? I know these questions are silly, but all legalism is silly. That is what I’m talking about with messiness. I just refuse to give an easy answer for this issue. Easy answers are the currency of legalists.

Thom says: These questions do not betray a legalism in our position but rather betray your inability to conceive of our position on our own terms. We can go into a whole discussion of various different approaches to ethics: whether it be the ethics of divine mandate, contractural ethics, virtue/character ethics, or whatever. But that would take up too much of your time, and I’d only end up supporting myself with more of those book things. Your claim that I have refused to deal with t

hese kinds of questions is just mistaken. In the past, I have been guilty of asking some of these confused questions myself. I have also answered them in various places already. The reality is that it is your conception of the relationship of the church and worldly governments that makes these questions intelligible, not our own, although there are some exceptions.

Like the war-tax question. There are some considerations that go beyond, “Well, Jesus said ‘Render unto Caesar.’” I respect many of the arguments of Christian war-tax resisters, although I do not share their ultimate conclusion. (I am not, however, principally opposed to tax-resistance.) My own position is that we should look for any opportunity to get rid of money, because it’s not a good thing in the first place. Moreover, U.S. money is toy money, and is really only worth as much as the strength of the U.S. military. When the U.S. ceases to be the predominant world power, the U.S. currency will crash. From my perspective, paying taxes (which I don’t make enough money to have to do anyway, income tax anyway) is like giving Monopoly money to the little bratty kid who thinks it’s real. The true U.S. currency is its military power, and as a Christian, and especially a Christian pacifist, I know that is no currency at all in God’s economy. If I don’t give my tax dollars to the military machine, then the Pentagon will just go to the Federal Reserve Bank (which in fact is no more “federal” than Federal Express) and have them print more money for which there is no actual financial backing. Then my income tax dollars will go toward paying the interest that the Federal Reserve Bank charges the U.S. government for the loan. In fact, the majority of the annual national income tax is put to just that use. Despite the fact that I’m convinced by constitutional and legislative research that the U.S. income tax system is both unconstitutional and illegal, if I ever make enough to have to pay an income tax in the U.S., I’ll pay it for the same reason Paul told the Roman Christians to pay their illegitimate taxes: to keep the sword from being unsheathed.

In a piecemeal fashion:

Rubber bullets aren’t the same as lead ones, but they still aren’t exactly representative of the gospel of sufferings. They still represent an ideology that prioritizes our safety over our witness. Would Jesus have used rubber bullets to avoid being arrested? What if Peter had pulled a wooden sword? Would Jesus have allowed that? What if Oscar Romero wore a bullet proof vest? I hope you can see how these kinds of questions betray a misunderstanding of the real issue, which is not one of legalism but of character.

Government’s should give free health care. They should not engage in war. I am not made impure because I accept what a government should be doing while denouncing what it shouldn’t be doing. That doesn’t compute. That seems to me a really very simplistic approach to morality, one that I don’t think you take. So why do you think we’d take it? That kind of thinking isn’t required by the logic of Christian pacifism. But it appears often in rhetoric against Christian pacifism. I do know some pacifists who think that way, but they are anarchists, and not the good, nuanced Chomskyan kind of anarchists.

Money in the bank with an armed guard. I don’t put my money in the bank to protect it from robbers. I put it in the bank to protect it from myself. And everybody knows that bank-robbers aren’t stealing from bank customers, they’re stealing from insurance companies. But regardless of the question of the armed guard, it would be better for me to learn to live without a bank. If I could be more disciplined, that’s probably the route I’d go anyway.

Yes, you should eat with tax collectors, sinners, and police officers. Although, the question is really different in our environment. We live in the imperial hub as some of its chief beneficiaries. Tax collectors were hated because they were turned on their own people (already oppressed) to obtain wealth and relative political security in the empire. That was the scandal–that Jesus forgave their very real sins against justice. Most police officers aren’t corrupt, and many would never find themselves in a position where they’d have to use force. But many police officers, particularly in big cities, are possessed by the spirit of violence, and elitism.

I frankly don’t know how you come off characterizing our position as legalism. After all this back-and-forth, without any warning or argument whatsoever, you brand us legalists and call it a day. I don’t know what kind of peaceable rhetorical strategy that is, but it’s an interesting one.

Chad said: Your inability to acknowledge silly questions like this shows me that you haven’t really engaged this issue from the layperson’s perspective.

Thom says: I have engaged this issue from a layperson’s perspective, because I’ve been in frequent dialogue with laypersons and have converted many a layperson to gospel nonviolence. I think I’d have good reason to say that I actually know more about you do than the layperson’s perspective on these issues, because you’re not the one goading them into dialogue about it all. I am, and have been for years. If I’m ignoring those questions in this particular dialogue, it’s because you’re not a layperson, and I’m interested in you for your sake, not in debating as an exercise.

Chad said: Doesn’t a legalist in fact say that a good Christian does this and doesn’t do this? Is that not what you are also saying – Good Christians are non-violent pacifists. If you are going to make a statement like that you should be prepared for all sorts of legalistic loopholes.

Thom says: I find this point redundant and ridiculous. Are you a legalist because oppose homosexuality? “Good Christian men don’t ‘do’ other good Christian men.” Are you a legalist because you oppose murder? “Good Christians don’t murder.” Are you a legalist because you oppose theft? “Good Christians don’t steal Audis.” The nature of our convictions says that nonviolence, like marital fidelity and other things, is an integral part of the grammar being a “good Christian.” People will always look for loopholes. That doesn’t make the position legalistic. That makes the people looking for loopholes legalistic.

Chad said: I don’t intend to fight you, but if you are committed to continuing study, you had better be prepared to engage idiots like myself who disagree with you unless you intend on always surrounding yourself with like-minded people.

Thom says: I never called you an idiot, nor did I think it. Moreover, the suggestion that I prefer to surround myself with like-minded people is just ridiculous. If that were the case, I would never engage unlike-minded people in discussion, which I am infamous for, and this letter to Boyd is a case in point. Several of the guys at Ozark that are “like-minded” were not at first. They used to think different, and I engaged them in conversation. Now they think in similar ways to me, and I think in similar ways to them. That comes from open conversation, not from ideological insulation, which you’re accusing me of. I’ve taught classes for Mark and have presented these views to people in terms understandable by them. I’ve been a guest debater in philosophy classes. I’ve preached this from a pulpit in a church of six, all over sixty. You have little esteem for me indeed you think I’ve never changed my approach in all of these different situations. Even in this case, I made a point to speak in the language of charismatic Christianity. That doesn’t mean my message wasn’t still foreign, but that can’t be helped. That’s the nature of the gospel. But the idea that I’m not prepared to engage people that think differently than me is just absurd, and the idea that I prefer to insulate myself so that I’m not challenged by other kinds of thought would be offensive, if I were the type to get offended. But I’m not.

Peace.

Thanks for your reply, Thom. One of your greatest virtues is that you do take questions and objections seriously enough to respond to them in great detail. Let me briefly offer some responses in return.

1. Certain facts and statements have come out since the shooting at Colorado that definitely make me cringe and don’t sound very Jesus-like. I am in complete agreement with you on that point. It would be a much better and more accurate representation of Jesus to weep over all loss of life in this situation. But in my understanding, the response to the shooting is not your primary concern – it was the resorting to violence in the first place. On this issue, I must concede that you also make a strong point, but I am not completely won over.
2. As to your disposition. A revision of my previous statements may be in order. Some of my very favorite students at OCC fall into the pacifist camp – Dan, Tyler, yourself, A-Rod, Alex, and others – most of them I haven’t had in class, but have built a relationship with them outside of the classroom. They have always been very respectful and courteous in their responses which are always very well-reasoned and well-presented. Even the responses on this blog have been mostly charitable and respectful. Defazio’s response in particular was very helpful. I guess what gets me going is the absolute certainty of youthful wisdom. Please do not twist my words. I am not critiquing your passion or knowledge or the seriousness of this issue. What I don’t understand is how you can have all your questions on this issue answered at such a young age. You can understand why this absolute certainty combined with very vociferous argumentation could be interpreted as closed-minded arrogance.
3. I respect your prophetic call. And there is some difference between the pastoral and prophetic. You responded as a prophet. As a prophet the practical response or even feelings of an audience don’t necessarily matter. But how would a pastor respond to this horrible act? I just want to encourage you – being a prophet is hard, but it is also easy. You get to stand on the side-lines hurling truth as a weapon and when you are rejected you write it off as prophetic persecution. Thom, I want to challenge you to stretch yourself in ministry. Being a pastor is hard. Investing in flawed people is hard. Loving people despite their failures, ignorance, and inconsistencies is hard. Preaching sermons that soothe rather than condemn is hard. I am not implying that you don’t do any of these things. I just think that you are selling yourself short by saying, “I have a prophetic call” without at least acknowledging that God may also want you to pastor. God wants us to love people more than ideas. He wants us to love his flock more than books.
4. Which reminds me of another point – I’m sorry for playing the “book card” with you. I know that this is more than a book argument or even an intellectual argument. I am tempted to say more, but I will end there.
5. I also must amend my previous “like-minded” comment. In hindsight I was reflecting mostly on my experience on your blog – being surrounded by nothing but like-minded people. One of the things I respect about you and all your friends is your willingness to engage people at OCC in what is sometimes a hostile environment for some of your views. Although, you might be surprised at how sympathetic certain members of the faculty actually are.
6. You also make a good point regarding my “legalistic” argument. While you may think that such questions miss the point (which they may or may not), you have to at least recognize that questions such as these are inevitable with such a global and comprehensive ethic as non-violent pacifism.
7. Defazio’s post was very helpful in presenting successful stories of non-violence, but that isn’t really a point that I would ever dispute. Of course non-violence is and has been “successful.” As I’ve said before, non-violence should in fact be a Christian’s knee jerk response to evil. Besides, I’m not sure that worldly success is an appropriate measure for a Christian ethic anyway. Lord knows the world is full of way too many overly-pragmatic theologies. That being said, we will have to agree to disagree on my “means to an end” view of non-violence. Non-violence in and of itself becomes passive indifference if it is not at least desirous of resulting in shalom and justice. Wasn’t the MLK and Gandhi’s approach or was MLK just satisfied with a campaign of powerless non-violence? Look at the stories that Defazio shared – non-violence led to peace and redemption. You may bring up the scenario, “What about a Christian who suffers non-violently in anonymity for his beliefs, dies as a result, and no one ever knows about it?” It’s a good question if not totally realistic. Isn’t there still a testimonial force to what this Christian has done (1 Peter 2:12)? If not a testimonial to his persecutor, isn’t he also testifying to his God and in his suffering crying out for vengeance (Rev. 6:10)? Wasn’t Jesus’ own non-violence a means to an end? That is, unless we adopt some sort of moral influence theory of the atonement, but even then, his non-violence serves a greater purpose.
8. You wanted a list of names of those who are working as kingdom agents within the system. I could give you a list of a dozen people in my church – state troopers, undercover narcotic agents, sheriffs deputies, members of the national guard, local politicians who are agents of change from the inside out. I’m sure Defazio could give you a similar list from his church. These are people who save children from a life of Meth abuse and other kinds of horror. These are people who hold the system in check from descending into anarchy and tyranny. These are people who treat criminals with respect and dignity. These are people who work as Christians to keep our society ordered and safe. Are order, safety, respect, and justice non-Christian virtues? I have not heard a solid argument that says civil order is wrong (this was in fact one of God’s own virtues in the OT). If it is not necessarily wrong, why should Christians not work from within that system to offer reform and accountability when necessary? You mentioned that a government should provide universal health-care. You cannot have it both ways. Universal health-care can only be provided in a safe, ordered, and just society. How is such a society maintained? You also said (I think) that positions in the government (presumably desk jobs) are not necessarily off-limits. I don’t see a difference. Is this not a legalistic and artificial line in the sand? The Eichmans of WWII were just as culpable in the horrors of Nazi Germany as the war generals – if not more so.
9. On some points, we will have to agree to disagree. I am not a “Bible-Only” Fundamentalist, as you know. But I try to be Bible first. Church tradition and history has an important place, but our discussion should work from the biblical evidence, not to it. We all must allow our interpretation of church history (and our favorite theologians and ethicists) to be critiqued by scripture. That said, I remain unconvinced by your reading of church history. It seems selective and reductionistic. I agree that the closer we get to the apostles, the better, but we also have fantastic heresy and fabricated mythology in those first Christian centuries. The Fathers were not infallible. Our friend Tertullian for instance regarded marital infidelity as the unpardonable sin from the book of Hebrews. Maybe I am misreading you, but you seem to be casting aside virtually all opinions on this issue after Augustine and Constantine as if God’s providence in the Church’s history and beliefs stopped with the Edict of Milan. Church history is more complicated and diverse than what you are making it. You can appeal to church history to baptize virtually any belief. Isn’t that what the n

eo-Gnostics are doing?
10. As to certain scriptures that we disagree on. I’m still unsure where exactly you’re coming from on Romans 13. Maybe you need to re-explain it to me. Anyway, we also clearly don’t agree on Acts 10. In Acts 15 when the Jewish leaders of the church wrote a letter to the Gentile converts (to Antioch admittedly, not Caesarea) they only gave a few ethical instructions – abstain from food sacrificed to idols, from blood, from the meat of strangled animal and from sexual immorality. Evidently these ethical commands were more important than “lay down your arms.” You could say that non-violence is so woven into the fabric of the gospel that it didn’t need to be said – but that is certainly begging the question. You could also say that idolatry was tied to the system of military service, but that also is to read into this letter. Many occupations required an idolatrous sacrifice in the NT period – not just military service. It is illegitimate in my estimation for you to consistently tie idolatry to non-violence as you seem to be doing. This seems like a “funhouse mirror” theology where one theological or ethical point is exaggerated to the point that it is regarded as being able to accurately tell the whole story of Christianity. It’s not that it isn’t true. I just wonder if it tells us the whole story. Pacifism, at least it seems to me, has become more important in the minds of some people (this isn’t necessarily directed at anyone in this particular conversation) than knowing and confessing Christ. Now I know what you might say – to know Christ is to be a pacifist. But I wonder, who is more your brother – a non-violent Hindu or a Just War Christian? (I use “your” in the global sense not necessarily in the specific sense.)
11. Lastly, you have acknowledged that there are different types of pacifists in the world – even on our campus. There are moderate pacifists. There are anarchist pacifists. There are anti-government and pro-government pacifists. There are liberationist pacifists and ascetic pacifists. There is not universal agreement even within the pacifist camp on some of these issues. You have even nuanced your position through the years, and of course there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. But I think it speaks to the “unclosed” nature of this discussion. You see, I would like to call myself a moderated pacifist (you probably could tell me a more accurate title). As I’ve said before, selfless non-violence should be our knee jerk ethic as followers of the crucified one. However, I leave open the possibility of rare, tragic, and restrained national and interpersonal violence as a means by which God accomplishes his will upon earth. I leave open the possibility that there may be rare times where violence must be met with appropriate levels of violence in order to secure peace. I leave open the possibility that order and justice in a civil society are things that God values which may require the state to bear the sword as an under-agent of God. I believe Christians should be contagious in all parts of culture and society including the military, police, and politics. I believe that there is a time for everything – a time to kill and a time to heal; a time to tear down and a time to build; a time for war and a time for peace. If this doesn’t qualify me to be a pacifist, I can live with that, but this is where I stand (today at least).

Thanks, for the discussion Thom.

Thom.

From Pax Christi’s website:
(http://www.paxchristiusa.org)

“Pax Christi USA strives to create a world that reflects the Peace of Christ by exploring, articulating, and witnessing to the call of Christian nonviolence. This work begins in personal life and extends to communities of reflection and action to transform structures of society. Pax Christi USA rejects war, preparations for war, and every form of violence and domination. It advocates primacy of conscience, economic and social justice, and respect for creation.”

I, however am Anglican, and our Peace site is: http://www.epfnational.org

Thom,

Brilliantly written. I had the thought to write a letter also, but thought otherwise, I tend to come across to judging.

Thanks for your thoughts.

Oh, and the best arguments for gospel nonviolence are similar to the bset ones.

Thanks for your comment, Lou. I certainly understand the nature of your problem with our claims. Let me just ask you a preliminary question: Are you a Christian? If not, how would you define yourself in terms of adherence to a religion?

Yes, that’s correct. Thanks for speaking up. My point stands, however. The jailer faced Paul’s punishment, whatever that would have been determined to be, if anything, and he certainly would have lost his job.

First of all, is this Spike, or some Damien I don’t know?

Much better this way. My father, Dieter, would be proud. Spike was his nickname. Back on task, please help me with this question.

Spike,

I would also recommend to you a book by Miguel de la Torre, a Cuban-American liberation theologian who teaches at Iliff School of Theology in Denver (a school to which I’m looking to go for grad. studies). The book is called Doing Christian Ethics from the Margins. It is very readable, written for the average evangelical Christian, and although it is a book on Christian ethics, it actually has a lot to say about the way governments actually work in our day and age over against what we hear in their propaganda. I’ll lay out the chapters here so you can see what’s in store if you decide to pick it up. If you want, I’ll loan you my copy. I’ve just finished it. Here it is:

Part I: Ethical Theory

1. Doing Christian Ethics
Why Christian?
Why Ethics?
Why from the Margins?

2. The De-Liberation of Ethics
The Dilemma
De-Liberating Liberation
The Social Power of Ethics
Incarnation: Experiencing in the Flesh
Christian Ethics from the Center

3. The Liberation of Ethics
The Hermeneutical Circle for Ethics

Part II: Case Studies of Global Relationships

4. Introducing Global Relationships
The Economic Might of the United States
The Rise of Neoliberalism
The Structures of Neoliberalism
Using Case Studies in Ethics from the Margins

5. Global Poverty
Observing
Reflecting
Praying
Case Studies

6. War
Observing
Reflecting
Praying
Case Studies

7. Environment
Observing
Reflecting
Praying
Case Studies

Part III: Case Studies of National Relationships

8. Introduction to National Relationships
Guns vs. Butter
The Cost of Empire

9. National Poverty
Observing
Reflecting
Praying
Case Studies

10. Political Campaigns
Observing
Reflecting
Praying
Case Studies

11. Life and Death
Observing
Reflecting
Praying
Case Studies

Part IV: Case Studies of Business Relationships

12. Introduction to Business Relationships

13. Corporate Accountability
Observing
Reflecting
Praying
Case Studies

14. Affirmative Action
Observing
Reflecting
Praying
Case Studies

15. Private Property
Observing
Reflecting
Praying
Case Studies

Although I have generally avoided commenting on this blog, I am thankful to those who have. I have gained valuable insights. While I do believe the case for early Christian pacifism is strong, the evidence from the AnteNicene era does not support claims of a complete consensus.

I do regret some of the strident and combative language in the exchange. Coarse or disdainful language seems oxymoronic in a discussion on peacemaking.

I believe the amount of attention I focus on situations outside my sitz im leben is only somewhat helpful. For example, I have, thank God, never seen a weapon drawn against another human being (except in the media). But, I have felt and voiced anger toward brethren. While the former is more intriguing to debate, the latter seems more where the teachings of Jesus would have us focus. I think it is in the “these you ought to have practiced without neglecting the others” category.

To be honest, it is disturbing to hear, with some regularity, frustrations about combative and contemptuous language used in defense of pacifism. Perhaps, as I can see in my own life, we can be drawn most passionately to ideals that are particularly challenging for us.

I recall a public debate between two Christian professors on these issues. As the debate unfolded, the pacifist grew increasingly strident, eventually giving way to ad hominem jibes at his opponent (at one point scornfully accusing him of burying his head in a fantasy land). The just-war supporter, already known for an exceptionally gentle demeanor, never grew angry or spoke despairingly of the other. And it was he who went over to shake hands with the other at the end of the debate. It goes without saying which view seemed to resonate with most of the listeners.

There seems little question that the primary call we have been given to peacemaking is with our parents, our oikos, and the brothers and sisters we interact with on a day to day basis.. So, as someone still processing the issues, I would make a plea for a kinder, gentler pacifism.

I am preparing a new thread on the early Christians’ statements against war and in favor of nonviolence. I hope to have it up sometime today or tomorrow. I would ask that all discussion on the question of ante-Nicene Christians and violence/nonviolence be reserved for that thread.

Oh my goodness – a correction:
Last paragraph of my previous post should have read “…when these options were NOT clear…” I am a lousy proof reader!

Thanks a lot, Lancelot! Boyd’s response is characteristically good, faithful, and pastoral. I really appreciate having read it, and I commend it to all the readers here.

My only objection is to his use of Jesus’ commendation of the Roman Centurion as his precedent for not passing judgment on the security guard. According to Luke’s account, Jesus and the Centurion never actually met, but communicated through messengers. The narrative is all about faith, and Jesus uses the pagan Centurion (clearly a sinner by any standard) to shame his own people for their lack of faith. If Jesus didn’t pass judgment on the Centurion, it’s because 1) Jesus wasn’t face-to-face with him, 2) Jesus was concerned about his own people at the time. This security guard happens to be a Christian already, not a pagan police officer, and thus I find Boyd’s analogy on this one point to be somewhat evasive.

That said, that doesn’t mean I think we should be insensitive to the gravity of the situation she found herself in.

Yet the real problem is, she intentionally put herself in that situation with a predetermined mind to do just what she did. That’s why she was carrying a gun, loaded, in preparation for the eventuality of her having to use it on someone.

Boyd has a way of teaching a radical gospel in a very unassuming, almost innocuous manner. But I wonder whether in this case Boyd ought to have been just a little bit more prophetic. Nobody has to be hateful, but when we’re dealing with the unfaithfulness of fellow Christians to the gospel, what right do we have not to judge?

Well, I’ve been commissioned to write a response to you Chad. Sorry it has taken me so long to get this written, but I thought before responding I ought to read what everyone else has already said. It has been quite the discussion. I would like to make some initial statements (in the way of putting in my two cents) before I respond to your specific objections, questions, observations, and whatever else we might call them.

First, let me say I think this is a very important issue for us all to think through, and I think it is important for us to think through it now. Because of the reality of the situation at New Life, this is clearly not an “Ivory Tower” issue, but a question about faithfulness to the Gospel and about our identity as followers of Jesus. Also, it is crisis that we are most likely to see ourselves for who we really are. As the peaceful priest Daniel Berrigan put it, “A society [or in this case a Church] discovers itself mercilessly in the mirror of its crisis. There is no point in searching for identity in times of normalcy: We cannot really see ourselves in that clouded mirror of unexamined affluence and selfishness we commonly call peace” (No Bars to Manhood, 30). So, this is important right now.

Second, it has been emphasized throughout this discussion that pacifists are not always the most “humble” or “kind” people. There is definitely something to what you’re saying. It is more than the fact that they are imperfect people. Sometimes they are downright ornery especially when it comes to arguing about non-violence. This also goes back to the struggle to define violence. As my good friend Mike Ackerman once said, “It is hard for me to be really pro a ‘non-thing’” i.e. non-violence. It sounds silly to say, “I’m really for not being a certain way.” On the other hand, a lot of the definition of holiness is defined by not being a certain way, so we can’t through it out. But, for the sake of the conversation, it might be helpful to frame things up by defining peace and making that our pursuit rather than ‘non-violence.’ Besides we’re all for “peace” right? So, is it peacemaking for Thom to write this letter to pastor Boyd? Is it peacemaking for Alex to yell about pizza (because Lord knows he does)? Is it peacemaking for Chad to question Thom’s pastoral voice? I think so (with the possible exception of Alex’s pizza yelling). I think peace, as Jesus would have us define it, is living in right relationship to God and his people. Now, the next obvious question is “What does right relationship mean?” Well, I think we call agree that it is defined by the Son of Man himself. So, a peaceful person looks like Jesus. Does that mean we can be peaceful and still call people “snake babies” and “white-washed tombs”? Or that like Paul we can say, “Hand him over to Satan!”? Well, as God’s prophetic (and pastoral voice) I think the answer is “yes,” qualified by motive. Jesus can say some things that we might not be justified in saying because we’re not like the son of God. But, if we’re peacemakers then we are sons of God, and God’s presence in the world. We must tell the truth, even if people don’t want to hear it. However, our motive must always be restoration. We have to tell the truth in such a way to restore people to right relationship with God. So, not only is this an important discussion, but it is also “peaceful” even if we disagree and argue.

Okay on to the outright “response.” I’ll just respond to you, Chad, by posting your question/comment then giving a response. The good part for me is that I get to choose what to respond to, but if I don’t answer something you want answered then just post another comment and I’ll do my best. Here goes,

(1) On the Fence. “In my understanding, the response to the shooting is not your primary concern – it was the resorting to violence in the first place. On this issue, I must concede that you also make a strong point, but I am not completely won over.”

Cool, what do you think might be a better option since the “concert of hugs” idea was “naïve”? I think we’re all in agreement some sin was committed in how all this thing went down. Thus, it seems something ought to be said to Pastor Boyd, though we might disagree on what. Chad what do you think a pastoral and prophetic response to pastor Boyd might be?

(2) Folly of Youth “I guess what gets me going is the absolute certainty of youthful wisdom. . . What I don’t understand is how you can have all your questions on this issue answered at such a young age. You can understand why this absolute certainty combined with very vociferous argumentation could be interpreted as closed-minded arrogance.”

Agreed, vociferous argumentation combined with absolute certainty could be interpreted as closed-minded arrogance. But, I don’t know exactly who is claiming “absolute certainty.” You might think this semantics, but it is a pretty important distinction between “absolute certainty” and belief. Yes, we pacifists believe that the violence committed by some Christians at New Life was sin. That does not mean we’re all absolutely certain about all of the nuances of what it means to be a Christian. We don’t have all of our questions answered, I have new ones all the time, but I also know that I can’t be crippled in faith by ambiguity. You’re objections to peacemaking combined with your lack of an argument could also be interpreted as closed-minded arrogance. So, rather than calling each other arrogant lets get at the truth. Is peacemaking central to the gospel or not? I haven’t really heard an argument from the NT or Church history that says it isn’t. You’re welcome to present the case for violence. We won’t call you arrogant, but we may call you wrong. Please don’t call us arrogant, but you’re welcome to call us wrong. Just tell us why. I think most everyone here is open-minded enough to change ideas. I know that Dan, Michael, myself, and Thom are all willing to change beliefs. I know this because we all have done so by becoming pacifists. I have even done some flip-flopping. I started out as a pacifist came to Ozark and became a just war theorist then befriended Thom and became a pacifist again. I would sure like to be able to hurt or kill anyone who might touch my wife. I just don’t think I can as a follower of Jesus. But, if you convince me from the scriptures I’ll be more than happy to be a violent person, it’s easier for me than this whole peacemaker thing.

(3) Pastor vs. Prophet. “You [Thom] get to stand on the side-lines hurling truth as a weapon and when you are rejected you write it off as prophetic persecution. Thom, I want to challenge you to stretch yourself in ministry. Being a pastor is hard. Investing in flawed people is hard.”

Very true, and Chad you do have the most pastoral experience. We need to hear this. Assuming that Thom is correct that peacemaking is central to the Gospel, how might he communicate this truth with a more pastoral voice? One of the ways I’ve tried to do it is by simply teaching through the Bible. Not shying away from difficult texts, but honestly reading the scriptures with my church at Dederick. I know people have changed views because of it. But, in the midst of a crisis what ought we to do? What ought we to do from a distance? Chad, as our elder teach us how to be pastoral and prophetic, but don’t tell us not be prophetic (I know that’s not what you’re saying). Also, I don’t think it is fair to say Thom is standing on the side-lines. I don’t know anyone who puts more on the line for peace than Thom, do you? He is ridiculed by faculty for being arrogant when he’s just trying to be honest. He devotes time and energy to projects for peace. He has an open door and accepts anyone. He changes the way he eats, shops and lives because of his beliefs. You can call Thom a lot of things but don’t call him a side-liner. He takes more crap for being a pacifist
than anyone I know. Chad, I could just as easily call you someone who stands on the sidelines because you teach at a college and don’t pastor a church. But, I won’t do that because it isn’t true. You are here at Ozark because you care about the Gospel and about the church. Thanks for being here and not on the sidelines. And thank you Thom for being willing to fight for the truth even in the face of opposition. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be as faithful. Thanks for not standing on the sidelines.

(4) Nothing to say here.

(5) “One of the things I respect about you and all your friends is your willingness to engage people at OCC in what is sometimes a hostile environment for some of your views. Although, you might be surprised at how sympathetic certain members of the faculty actually are.”

This is good to hear. I know that we all try to open to God’s word and how it ought to affect our lives. Though, I might caution that “sympathy” can be interpreted as paternalistic superiority. Sometimes what I hear in the form of “sympathy” is, “Ah, those pacifists have some nice ideas, too bad they don’t have the real ministry experience to understand they’re idealism won’t work in the real world.” Sorry, but I do live in the real world. I live in a world where people die and get raped and violence happens. There has been an attempted rape on someone very close to me. Do you think that I don’t think about that? That we all don’t think about that?

(6) Legalistic Loopholes or Necessary Questions. “Questions such as these [i.e. questions Thom refers to with expletives] are inevitable with such a global and comprehensive ethic as non-violent pacifism

There are some bad questions, but Chad, I don’t think all of yours are bad. There are some questions we ought to answer, but Chad are there not also some questions that are okay to ignore? Or simply call bad questions? I’m a little confused about what you mean by “a global and comprehensive ethic as non-violent pacifism.” Thus, I’m having a hard time seeing the ‘inevitability’ of some of the questions. Many times the questions are more of an illustration of the asker “straw manning” or refusing to take the pacifist position seriously than they are honest inquiry.

(7) Peace making as a “Knee Jerk Response” or a Comprehensive Christian Ethic? “Non-violence should in fact be a Christian’s knee jerk response to evil. . . Non-violence in and of itself becomes passive indifference if it is not at least desirous of resulting in shalom and justice. . . Wasn’t Jesus’ own non-violence a means to an end?”

I don’t understand how peacemaking can be a Christian’s “knee jerk response” and not be his comprehensive ethic. Is evil not evil even when it wears a uniform? How much less evil is it for a marine to kill someone in the name of “America” or “Freedom” than it is for a thief to kill someone in the name of “prosperity”? How much less evil is a bomb from a B-52 than a bullet from a gangster? Why is peacemaking “a knee jerk response” up until we have to actually put it into practice? What does it mean to say that peacemaking ought to be “a knee jerk response” but not a comprehensive ethic? No one here is advocating passive indifference. In fact, the kind of shalom and justice that we are advocating is one that is more costly for us. Jesus’ own peacemaking was more than a means. Jesus’ peacemaking was the means. Jesus provided for us a model in which to live that is non-violent. Pacifism is not just one way among many, it is Jesus’ way. Excuse us for not being ethical pluralists, but we’re trying to have a Christian worldview (being Ozark Students and all ).

(8) Participation in government. “You wanted a list of names of those who are working as kingdom agents within the system. I could give you a list of a dozen people in my church – state troopers, undercover narcotic agents, sheriffs deputies, members of the national guard, local politicians who are agents of change from the inside out. . . These are people who save children from a life of Meth abuse and other kinds of horror. These are people who hold the system in check from descending into anarchy and tyranny. . . These are people who work as Christians to keep our society ordered and safe. Are order, safety, respect, and justice non-Christian virtues? . . . Positions in the government (presumably desk jobs) are not necessarily off-limits. I don’t see a difference.” (emphasis added)

Chad you bring up a good point here. There must be some level of participation in government especially in a democracy (it sure would be nice if the US was really a democracy). Michael gave a list of examples of people making peace. Thom asked you to give a list of examples of people who used violence to make peace. You have not done so. I’m guessing you’ll be hard pressed to find one because I don’t think they exist. I’m sure that these people all mean well, that doesn’t mean they’re Christian in doing it. Give an actual example of someone really changing things from the inside out for this to be helpful. These people do save just not the way Jesus would have them do it. They save the way Americans or Chinese or Romans save, not the way Christians do. The problem is not with the desire for peace or working for peace. The problem is the way people work for peace. Safety might be a different issue. We think peace and safety belong together, but Jesus didn’t. I sure would like to be safe, but God thinks peace making is more important. At the end of the day, ordering society is not the job of Christians. Can we work with the government for good? Yes, I think so, but there has to be a point where we say, “We cannot participate. What you are doing is wrong.” So, order, safety and respect are not Christian virtues. Justice, however, is a Christian virtue. The problem is that Christian justice is different than American or Chinese or German justice. Also, I find it hard to believe that you don’t see a difference between a Marine and a judge. Are there some positions that are okay for Christians? Yes and I don’t see how it is legalistic to say so, but I’m willing to listen. Is there a sense in which military desk jobs are “off limits”? Yes. I don’t think the President can faithfully live as a Christian. The job requires him to act in ways that are unchristian. Similarly, I don’t think a prostitute can faithfully live as a Christian.

(9) Scriptural Authority “Church tradition and history has an important place, but our discussion should work from the biblical evidence, not to it. We all must allow our interpretation of church history (and our favorite theologians and ethicists) to be critiqued by scripture.”

I couldn’t agree more. Scripture must be authoritative. The problem is that scripture says we should make peace and not use violence. I’m for using scripture so use it. Prove to me from the scriptures how violence is Christian? Alex keeps saying that the burden of proof is on the person arguing for violence. I disagree; the burden of proof is on whoever is trying to say something. So, peacemakers have made a lot of good arguments on this blog. They have given “proof.” Now, why don’t the just-war theorists or the redemptive-violence adherents speak up? Instead of critiquing the pacifist position using everything but the scriptures, use the scriptures! What scriptural authority is there for using violence to accomplish the purposes of God?

(10) Texts in Question. “I’m still unsure where exactly you’re coming from on Romans 13. . . We also clearly don’t agree on Acts 10. In Acts 15 when the Jewish leaders of the church wrote a letter to the Gentile converts (to Antioch admittedly, not Caesarea) they only gave a few ethical instructions – abstain from food sacrificed to idols, from blood, from the meat of strangled animal and from sexual immorality. Evidently these ethical commands were more important than ‘lay down
your arms.’”

Honestly, Chad this argument surprises me. Acts 15 for violence huh? I can see Romans 13 is a difficult text. Thom sees Romans 13 as a hidden transcript against the government. I think his position has a lot of strengths, but I’ll let him explain it. Simple fact is Romans 13 clearly differentiates between the Christians who are supposed to overcome evil with God, love everyone and the government which bears the sword. How can you love someone and kill them? How does Acts 10 advocate the use of violence? I understand the issues with the pacifist position, what are the strengths of the violence advocates? The commands to the Gentiles in Acts 15 were specifically given as identity markers for gentile Christians. I think the Christians did need to hear “lay down your arms” that’s why Paul wrote Romans 12–13. To say that peacemaking is less important than eating meat of strangled animals from Acts 15 is, in my opinion, absurd. Maybe I’m dense, but I don’t see the connection between Acts 15 and peacemaking? I think what you mean is that the gentile Christians needed to hear what was vital. The problem with your argument is that the purpose of the Acts 15 letter was not to say EVERYTHING that was vital for the faith, but to say what was vital to maintain unity between Gentile Christians and Jewish Christians. Peacemaking what not an issue of unity.

(11) Pacifisms and Chad. “There is not universal agreement even within the pacifist camp on some of these issues. . . I think it speaks to the “unclosed” nature of this discussion. . . Selfless non-violence should be our knee jerk ethic as followers of the crucified one. However, I leave open the possibility of rare, tragic, and restrained national and interpersonal violence as a means by which God accomplishes his will upon earth. I leave open the possibility that there may be rare times where violence must be met with appropriate levels of violence in order to secure peace. I leave open the possibility that order and justice in a civil society are things that God values which may require the state to bear the sword as an under-agent of God.” (emphasis added)

Chad you’re very open. But, I don’t understand how universal agreement is relevant to truth. People don’t universally agree about much of anything that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a true position. The issue may be “unclosed” for you, but that doesn’t mean it is. It seemed pretty closed for Jesus. You’re saying that in order for us to be better Christians we need to be open to Christians killing or committing other acts of violence. We’re saying that in order for you to be a better Christian you need to be open to peacemaking as a comprehensive Christian ethic. Can and does God use violence to accomplish his will on earth? Yes, of course, God also uses the Devil to accomplish his will. God can use Assyria to punish Israel then use Babylon to punish Assyria for punishing Israel. Just because God uses something doesn’t mean he prescribes it or that he approves of it for us. Just for clarity, what is “an appropriate level of violence in order to secure peace”? I still don’t understand how this works. Violence to make peace?

In closing, I think we agree on most things. What I don’t understand is why you’re so against pacifism? What is it about pacifism that you don’t like? Not what is it about Thom that you don’t like  but what about pacifism? At the end of the day I cannot reconcile the love of Jesus with violence. I don’t see how Jesus would shoot anyone. I don’t see how Jesus would drop a bomb on anyone. Maybe, this is too simplistic but I just don’t think I can be like Jesus and be violent. Chad, you’re a good sport for putting up with all this. Even more than that I think you’ll be a better Christian. I hope that I am after thinking through these things. That we all might be more faithful to the King.

T-stew

dear anonymous,

don’t be such a coward or gnostic.

“publicly” rebuking? please.

dear thom,

talk about coming in late, but, i’ve enjoyed reading the posts here. for what it’s worth (and probably not much after 80 plus posts) , what i’ve been learning and practicing is to have a genuine hope in my enemies’ Resurrection instead of their demise.

perhaps no one more than my dad’s. we never had a good relationship, and once he committed suicide in prison and wrote me off in his suicide letter, it was clear i made him my biggest enemy.

i am extremely surprised, but glad to say that today i no longer hope in his eternal torment but in his Resurrection. while some of this has been fostered by good conversations and reflections in the office and library and coffee shop, most of my growth has come during communion and baptisms.

i am trying my damndest to have this hope for all of my enemies, but it is difficult for me. again i find strength in communing with the crucified but Resurrected Jesus in communion and baptisms, but, i am very stubborn.

sometimes i wish i were one of those, “jesus said it so i am on board immediately” people, but, that’s not usually been the case.

anyway, i’m babbling at this point.

just wanted to share my current perspective on this important conversation.

JPB – good to hear from you.

Tyler, outstanding response. Thanks a lot. Thom is particularly shrewd for bringing voices like your own and Defazio’s into the discussion. If I’m honest, Thom brings out my feistiness which can tend to cloud the real issues. For my part, if I have engaged in any straw man, ad hominem, or red herring arguments I apologize.

Damien is going to make fun of me because I continue to post after swearing that I am done posting on this issue. But since you took the time to respond to me, I’ll respond to just a couple of points – more for clarity of my position than advancing the argument.

1. To clarify why I brought up Acts 15…At least by my understanding pacifism is being assumed as an essential part of the earliest Christian kerygma. If that is the case, you would assume to see it in this letter to the Gentile converts. There are, after all, ethical instructions in the letter but nothing about leaving military positions or the like. You would also expect to see pacifism as a part of Paul’s preaching all through Acts, but you do not. He does indeed talk of suffering for the gospel but nothing along the lines of the comprehensive pacifism that is being promoted here. I just find this curious, that is all. Further, I find it remarkable that such a radical shift in the thinking of the Church happened at the time of Constantine without any reference (at least to my limited knowledge) to a universal church council addressing this issue. How did such a radical change happen without major conflict and discussion? Was Constantine that powerful that they had to have two meetings that hashed out the canon, but not a single meeting saying, “OK, pacifism is so “second-century.” From now on it’s nothing but militarism and forced conversions. Ye-haw!”
2. Your point about ethical pluralism and epistemic certainty is a good one (although Alex might have something to say here about situational ethics). Of course you don’t have to have absolute certainty in a position to argue for its truth. Part of the problem that we have in talking about this particular issue may be that I (and many others) have placed it into that nebulous category of opinion or personal conscience. To me, pacifism is an area where good Christians will disagree. You can be a good Christian who is not a pacifist. You can also be unsaved and be a really good pacifist. For many of you pacifism it seems has been placed in the category of essential – you cannot really call yourself a good Christian (or a Christian at all?) if you are not a pacifist. Am I mistaken in this observation? Please correct me if I am, but that is the feeling I have been getting. A person like me will accuse you of being arrogant (for which I apologize if that offended) or legalistic (for which I don’t really apologize). You will accuse me of missing the whole point of the gospel and maybe being a little closed-minded myself. I’m certainly not saying that we shouldn’t debate and even argue about non-essentials. I just think a lot of times we are not connecting in our discussion because we aren’t seeing this issue on quite the same level. I don’t really know how to solve this problem except that we need to tolerate each other with patience and allow ourselves to continue to be taught by each other.
3. Was Jesus non-violent in his salvific agenda? Yes. Was eschatological peace accomplished through non-violent submission? Absolutely. Did Jesus teach certain pacifistic principles? Yes, I believe so. Was Jesus a “pacifist?” I’m not sure. The problem is that when you assign a title like “pacifist” to Jesus, you are also assigning to him all of the baggage that comes with contemporary or not-so-contemporary expressions of pacifism. With which type of modern-day pacifist would Jesus most identify? The fact is that we don’t exactly know Jesus’ mind on so many specific contemporary questions (pacifism aside). And so we run the risk of whittling down some very complicated and complex issues to a simple WWJD statement. After all, you could read the NT and assign Jesus any number of titles depending on the theological presupposition of the day (which the third-questers have been so apt to do) – Jesus as cynic philosopher, social prophet, eschatological prophet, spiritual guru, ethical pacifist, etc. Am I making any sense?
4. You still want specific examples of those who work from within the system? I’m afraid you’ve rejected all of my examples a priori. You simply have the assumption that peace cannot be accomplished by someone who carries a gun.
5. I don’t feel that my questions concerning the government have been satisfactorily answered. This isn’t an accusation. It is simply a frustration that none of us (myself included) seem to have a ready answer. Adding to the frustration is that Jesus when asked about this issue just kind of blows it off. There’s no doubt that pacifism is firstly a personal ethic (turn the other cheek), but in a comprehensive ethical system, questions of institutional violence become inevitable (although I’ve noticed that our personal pacifism is rarely the first concern upon our lips). So, at the risk of repeating myself, is justice and civil order a godly ethic? If civil justice is a godly ethic, might Christians actually participate in the system that works for such justice always reserving the right to withdraw from the system (even under penalty of death) if it clashes with their primary loyalty? Didn’t so many in the military actually take this approach in early Christian centuries? You say ordering society is not the job for Christians. Why? If you mean that Christians have a higher calling, I would agree. But in my opinion that higher calling does not necessarily mean that I cannot function as a kingdom agent in that position. In fact, we may exercise that higher calling from the inside out. Now, given your argument that creating order and safety is not the Christian’s job, at what point do we become complicit in the system? When we pay taxes (which seems to be a Christian ethic)? When we vote? When we accept government benefits or handouts? Is there really a huge difference as you say between the judge and the marine? They are of course at different ends of an oftentimes violent system, but they are still a part of that same system. In summary I ask, what is the Christian’s role in government? Should we withdraw, should we revolt, should we ignore, should we reform from within? Christians have taken all of these perspectives and more. Further clouding the issue for me is that not all governments are the same. Rome is not the same as America. Cuba is not the same as Saudi Arabia. China is not the same as England. You get the point. Do the rules and restrictions change depending on the government? Thom has addressed this last point elsewhere, so I won’t continue down that path.
6. You ask how I would respond to this issue pastorally, and that gets exactly to my point in the first place. I did not begin this discussion to critique pacifism (and neither did Thom begin it as a defense for pacifism – sorry for leading us off topic). I’m not sure that it really matters what I would do if I were in Boyd’s shoes. I’m not him and I have never been in a situation remotely close to his, but if I were forced to answer, I’m not sure I would do very much differently. I might insist on non-lethal force being used. But here is the thing; if I were in any way responsible for the well-being of thousands of people – many of whom are non-Christians and innocent children – it would be foolhardy for me not to take steps to ensure their safety. This would be especially true if there were an eminent threat. OCC has a hired security guard (who is not armed to my knowledge) and a relationship with the JPD – are these safety measures un-Christian or is it wise to protect students on campus? I don’t see safety as a concession to the world. I see it
as wisdom. Now, how would I respond if there was a tragedy? Probably with as little words as possible. We usually get into the most problems when we open our mouths (see Job). I would weep and pray for all the lost life especially the mad-man who initiated such evil and attempt to find moments of redemption and reconciliation and euangellion in the tragedy. What I would not appreciate is the peanut gallery thousands of miles away telling me (and all those who read his web-site) that the way I handled the situation was wrong and un-Christian (even if I did not in fact handle it in the best way possible). There is a time for assessment and rebuke – that time is usually not in the immediate wake of tragedy. Thom, I am not trying to attack you or your position. I’m simply saying how I would feel as that pastor. I might ask you all some more immediately relevant pastoral questions in return. If a non-Christian becomes a Christian at your church and he is also a gun carrying police officer who loves his job and does it well, will you instruct him that he must eventually give up his position? How hard will you insist? If a godly woman in your church has a son who is also a Christian, and this son is sent to Iraq (a situation I’ve dealt with), will you send the family a letter of “prophetic rebuke” in response? If one of your elders is an officer in the Army (as was the case for me in Illinois – he is a godly man and one of my dear friends who has been a contagious disciple of Christ as a leader in the military), will you ask him to step down as an elder? On what scriptural grounds? If a woman in your church was raped, will you instruct her not to prosecute? If you discover a child in your church is being physically beaten, will you not intervene – legally and maybe even violently if necessary – to save that child? Will you withdraw financial support from a children’s home in the Philippines that employs armed guards at the gate to protect the home and the children (my own sister was adopted from such a home)? Here I go bringing up absurd questions again, but I don’t think they are all that absurd. The reason why I have adopted a certain amount of resistance to many of these ideas is because I always have questions like these circulating in my mind. Which leads me to my last point…
7. If I am forced to pick between the Teacher of Ecclesiastes and Jesus, I will of course choose Jesus. But I don’t see anything necessarily contradictory in the message of Ecclesiastes (I noticed that this particular text wasn’t addressed in your reply) when he says that there is a time for everything under the sun. In my admittedly post-Constantinian, pre-Yoderian reading of Ecclesiastes, I observe that wisdom leaves the door open for the complexities of life. I understand that this wisdom is not prescriptive, it is merely descriptive. I also understand that we could push this text to the level of absurdity (is there ever a time for drop-kicking puppies or racial genocide?) However, be that as it may, the description still stands. There is not a standard answer for every different question. We must have wise discernment in this messy (if I can use that word again) world. In conclusion, I have nothing against pacifism. Who would have anything bad to say about non-violence or peace? It’s like speaking badly against Mr. Rogers. Who in the world would do that? In fact, I am declaring today that I am a pacifist! I’m just a moderate or nuanced pacifist. Since I have already spelled out (in a very rudimentary way I admit) my nuanced pacifism in a previous post, I will not rehash it here. But this is not a flippant issue for me. It is a very serious issue – and that is part of the reason I have taken a more nuanced position.

Sorry for the length. It would appear that Thom is beginning to rub off on me.

Dan said…

Rags:
I am so glad to hear that you are finally a pacifist! I will be telling every one I talk to over the next few weeks. And I’ll be sure not to include the fact that you are a “nuanced” pacifist.

Whoever the anonymous poster is from a few entries up:
(1) In turn, I would like to publicly rebuke you for such ridiculous comments.
Additionally, I would like to ask you to:
(2) Re-read the Sermon on the Mount and realize what casting your pearls before swine really meant. (If you do, I suspect you will find that it has something to do with how we respond to injustice and who we place our hope and trust in).
(3) Recognize that we all understand there are forces of evil in the world. In fact, this post would make little sense if that were not the case, we just happen to believe that as Christians, we should act in accordance with the teachings and life of Jesus in our response to that evil.
(4) Re-read Thom’s letter to realize that his entire argument is not based on the shooter being a non-Christian. It was certainly mentioned, but to claim that it was the main argument indicates that you need to re-read and re-think what was being said.
(5)Ask yourself, “when Paul rebuked the sinful practices of the Corinthian church, was he being unloving?” In accordance with your reasoning, you would probably have to answer yes, in which case you might as well throw in a public rebuke of the inspired apostle while you are at it.
(6) Quite writing in anonymity, in the Christian community it makes sense to stand behind what you believe and speak truth to people who actually have a way of knowing who you are.
(7) Forgive me if this sounded unkind. Your post clearly indicated that you have not read this entire thread, haven’t thought through these issues, haven’t read Matthew 7 and 21 in their literary and historical contexts, and haven’t taken Jesus’ words and example seriously. And not only is that frustrating, it is wrong.

If there isn’t, we can get one for you. Since your doing it, I’m sure Damien will want to jump on board, too, so I’ll be sure to get a couple.

Okay, this is an aside, a very far aside. I have noticed that some of you all have been using “post” to refer to comments, and I am just wondering if my understanding of the blog lingo is deficient or what. Here’s my understanding:

Post: e.g. “Death at New Life”
Comment: e.g. What I’m writing now.
Thread: a post + all its comments.

Am I using these wrong, or what?

Here’s something interesting I came across in my re-reading of Bainton. It pertains to the discussion of the prohibitions in Acts 15. I’ll quote Bainton at length:

RE: ACTS 15

“Concretely, the early Church saw an incompatibility between love and killing. In later time the attitude and the act were harmonized on the ground that the destruction of the body does not entail the annihilation of the soul [Greek, not biblical, thinking]. The early
Church had an aversion to bloodshed, however. To some extent this was due to the Western text of the Apostolic Decrees, recorded in Acts 15. The Eastern text, which came to prevail enacted abstention from ‘things sacrificed to idols and from blood and from things strangled and from fornication.’ In this context, blood was taken to mean the eating of blood. The Western text, as knows to a long series of Latin authors from Tertullian to Augustine, read: ‘To abstain from things sacrificed to idols, from fornication, and from blood,’ plus the Golden Rule. In that context blood was taken to mean bloodshed. Whichever text is historically correct, and many scholars regard the Western as the more defensible, the form containing bloodshed was early and widely received. It was applied alike to murder, capital punishment, and killing in war. On the basis of this verse Tertullian formulated the three irremissible sins as idolatry, adultery, and homicide [which included any form of killing, including the ordinarily legal varieties]. Augustine testified that many regarded these three as crimina mortifera. This is not to say of course that the aversion to effusio sanguinis [bloodshed] rested solely upon the Western form of this text. The Easterners equally shrank from bloodshed.” (Roland H. Bainton, Christian Attitudes to War and Peace: A Historical Survery and Critical Re-evaluation, 77-8)

I don’t cite this because I think it gives a definitive answer to the Acts 15 question. I just thought it was interesting that there was a textual variant here [the Nestle-Aland has the Eastern text] and that the whole Western tradition did in fact take Acts 15 to be a prohibition against human bloodshed.

I don’t particularly care which of the two variants is the original. My New Testament pacifism has never been based on Acts 15, and there’s no need for it to start now. Moreover, as Bainton pointed out, the Western tradition’s pacifism was not based on Acts 15 either; it was just one text among many which informed their pacifism.

I just thought it was interesting, and I also brought it up in response to Chad’s earlier derision of Tertullian for his view of adultery as the unforgivable sin. This serves as a corrective. Tertullian’s view of the unforgivable sin was that there were three unforgivable sins: idolatry, adultery, and the killing of another human. His selection of these three sins was not random but was based on the Western text of Acts 15, and according to Augustine, Tertullian was not alone but was “among many” in regarding these three sins as “mortal sins.” Moreover, I hardly need to point out that these sins were not unforgivable for unbelievers converting to Christ; they were unforgivable when they were committed post-baptism. That is not to defend their status as “unforgivable,” but merely to qualify it.

ps – i thought thom’s initial letter was a good example of volv’s “exlusion” and calling evil what it is (at least this much).

JPB -

You’re a part of any conversation I’m a part of.

You’ve put all these up very quickly & at a time when most people are doing other things than reading blogs. So, few have had any chance to read closely, much less to interact. I am very familiar with this history, but if you want it to be persuasive to those who aren’t, you should space it out and give much time for interaction between chapters. Don’t you think?

Merry Christmas.

The peacemaking emphases in Isaiah are so obvious–and so much in the background of the Gospels as both Willard Swartley and Glen Stassen have recently emphasized–that people sometimes miss the peace emphases of other OT prophets, like Jeremiah.

http://levellers.wordpress.com/2007/08/12/jeremiah-as-war-resister/

Athenagoras is also quoting or paraphrasing Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. Thus, he shows how widely the early Christians memorized the Sermon and, far from reserving it for a future “Kingdom age” (which they knew to already be here), they applied to their own lives. Until after Constantine, the Sermon on the Mount was the most widely quoted part of the NT.

Although Tertullian was a pacifist throughout his Christian life, I would want to make some attempt to date his comments–so one could see a difference in style/tone/emphasis between his pacifism as an orthodox Christian and his pacifism as a Montanist.

According to Bainton and some others, all of Tertullian’s major pacifist works are squarely dated before his move to the Montanists. I pointed this out in ECNV29: Refutations.

Thom–great series. Note however, that you’ve spelled ‘immiment’ as ‘immanent’ a couple of times…
Peace.
-Daniel-

I just re-read your comment, Michael, and realized that my reply wasn’t actually a reply. So I did some further digging around. Below are the Tertullian quotations again, this time organized Pre-Montanist and Montanist. Afterward is an interesting analysis of Montanism I found online.

PRE-MONTANIST WORKS:

Apology:

If, then, we are commanded to love our enemies (as I have remarked above), whom have we to hate? If injured, we are forbidden to retaliate, lest we become just as bad ourselves. Who can suffer injury at our hands?

How often you inflict gross cruelties on Christians. You do this, partly because it is your own inclination, and partly in obedience to the laws…. Yet, banded together as we are, ever so ready to sacrifice our lives, what single case of revenge for injury are you able to point to?

We willingly yield ourselves to the sword. So what wars would we not be both fit and eager to participate in (even against unequal forces), if in our religion it were not counted better to be slain than to slay?

The Christian does no harm even to his enemy.

Having been led thus naturally to speak of the Romans, I shall not avoid the controversy which is invited by the groundless assertion of those who maintain, as a reward of their singular homage to religion, the Romans have been raised to such heights of power as to have become masters of the world; and that so certainly divine are the beings they worship, that those prosper beyond all others, who beyond all others honour them. This, forsooth, is the wages the gods have paid the Romans for their devotion…. But how utterly foolish it is to attribute the greatness of the Roman name to religious merits, since it was after Rome became an empire, or call it still a kingdom, that the religion she professes made its chief progress! Is it the case now? Has its religion been the source of the prosperity of Rome? … Indeed, how could religion make a people great who have owed their greatness to their irreligion? For, if I am not mistaken, kingdoms and empires are acquired by wars, and are extended by victories. More than that, you cannot have wars and victories without the taking, and often the destruction, of cities. That is a thing in which the gods have their share of calamity. Houses and temples suffer alike; there is indiscriminate slaughter of priests and citizens; and on common treasure…. You certainly can never believe that devotion to religion has evidently advanced to greatness a people who, as we have put it, have either grown by injuring religion, or have injured religion by their growth. Those, too, whose kingdoms have become part of the one great whole of the Roman empire, were not without religion when their kingdoms were taken from them.

Unless I mistake the matter, the prevention of such associations [of illicit societies] is based on a prudential regard to public order, that the state may not be divided into parties, which would naturally lead to disturbance in the electoral assemblies, the councils, the curiae, the special conventions, even in the public shows by the hostile collisions of rival parties; especially when now, in pursuit of gain, men have begun to consider their violence an article to be bought and sold. But as those in whom all ardour in the pursuit of glory and honour is dead, we have no pressing inducement to take part in your public meetings; nor is there aught more entirely foreign to us than affairs of state. We acknowledge one all-embracing commonwealth–the world.

Of Patience:

If someone attempts to provoke you by physical violence, the admonition of the Lord is at hand. He says, “To him who strikes you on the face, turn the other cheek also.” Let outrageousness be worn out by your patience. Whatever that blow may be, joined with pain and scorn, it will receive a heavier one from the Lord.

For what difference is there between provoker and provoked? The only difference is that the former was the first to do evil, but the latter did evil afterwards. Each one stands condemned in the eyes of the Lord for hurting a man. For God both prohibits and condemns every wickedness. In evil doing, there is no account taken of the order…. The commandment is absolute: evil is not to be repaid with evil.

Christ plainly teaches a new kind of long-suffering, when he actually prohibits the reprisals that the Creator permitted in requiring “an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.”

God puts his prohibition on every sort of man-killing by that one inclusive commandment: “You shall not kill.”

“Nation will not take up sword against nation, and they will no more learn to fight.” Who else, therefore, does this prophecy apply to, other than us? For we are fully taught by the new law, and therefore observe these practices…. The teaching of the new law points to clemency. It changes the primitive ferocity of swords and lances to tranquility. It remodels the primitive execution of war upon the rivals and enemies of the Law into the peaceful actions of plowing and cultivating the land.

For men were of old wont to require “eye for eye, and tooth for tooth” and to repay with usury “evil with evil;” for, as yet, patience was not on earth, because faith was not either. Of course, meantime, impatience used to enjoy the opportunities which the law gave. That was easy, while the Lord and Master of patience was absent. But after he has supervened, and has united the grace of faith with patience, now it is no longer lawful to assail even with word, nor to say “fool” even, without “danger of the judgment.” Anger has been prohibited, our spirits retained, the petulance of the hand checked, the poison of the tongue extracted. The law has found more than it has lost, while Christ says, “Love your enemies, and bless your cursers, and pray for your persecutors, that ye may be sons of your heavenly Father.” Do you see whom patience gains for us as a Father? In this principal precept the universal discipline of patience is succinctly comprised, since evil-doing is not conceded even when it is deserved.

MONTANIST WORKS:

De Corona:

And shall he keep guard before the temples which he has renounced? … And shall he diligently protect by night those whom in the day-time he has put to flight by his exorcisms, leaning and resting on the spear the while with which Christ’s side was pierced? Shall he carry a flag, too, hostile to Christ? And shall he ask a watchword from the emperor who has already received one from God? (De Corona XI)

Is the [military] laurel of triumph made of leaves, or of corpses? Is it adorned with ribbons, or with tombs? Is it wet with ointments, or with the tears of wives and mothers? It may be made of some [dead] Christians too. For Christ is also believed among the barbarians. ( 3.101)

I think we must first inquire whether warfare is proper at all for Christians. What point is there in discussing the merely incidental, when that on which it rests is to be condemned? Do we believe it is lawful for a human oath to be added to one that is divine? Is it lawful for a man to come to be pledged to another master after Christ has become his Master? Is it lawful to renounce father, mother, and all nearest kinsfolk, whom even the Law has commanded us to honor and love next to God himself? … Is it lawful to make an occupation of the sword, when the Lord proclaims that he who uses the sword will perish by the sword? Will the son of peace take part in the battle when it does not become him even to sue at law? Will he who is not the avenger even of his own wrongs, apply the chain, the prison, the torture, and the punishment?

To Scapula:

Our religion commands us to love even our enemies, and to pray for those who persecute us. (3.105)

Against Marcion:

The Lord will save them in that day—even his people—like sheep…. No one gives the name of “sheep” to those who fall in battle with arms in hand, or those who are

killed when repelling force with force. Rather, it is given only to those who are slain, yielding themselves up in their own place of duty and with patience—rather than fighting in self-defense.

“And they will beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears intro pruning hooks.” In other words, they will change the dispositions of injurious minds, hostile tongues, blasphemy, and all kinds of evil into pursuits of moderation and peace. “Nation will not lift up sword against nation.” That is, they will not stir up conflict. “Neither will they learn war any more”–that is, the provocation of hostilities. So you should learn from this that Christ was not promised to be powerful in war. Rather, he was promised to pursue peace. Now, you must deny either that these things were foretold (although they are plainly seen) or that they have been fulfilled (although you read of them).

[Bishop Bull said: "A clear distinction must be made between those works which Tertullian, when already a Montanist, wrote specifically in defence of Montanism against the church, and those which he composed, as a Montanist indeed, yet not in defence of Montanism against the church, but rather, in defence of the common doctrines of the church—and of Montanus, in opposition to other heretics."]

On Idolatry:

Now inquiry is made about the point of whether a believer may enter into military service. The question is also asked whether those in the military may be admitted into the faith–even the rank and file (or any inferior grade), who are not required to take part in sacrifices or capital punishments…. A man cannot give his allegiance to two masters–God and Caesar…. How will a Christian man participate in war? In fact, how will he serve even in peacetime without a sword? For the Lord has taken the sword away. It is also true that soldiers came to John [the Baptist] and received the instructions for their conduct. It is true also that a centurion believed. Nevertheless, the Lord afterward, in disarming Peter, disarmed every soldier.

Here is the interesting analysis I found on Montanism, which is available here.

The Montanist Oracles, Karlfried Froelich

Literature on the Montanist movement is relatively limited. Adequate collections of sources are found in works by Labriolle (1913), Bonwetsch (1881; Kleine Texte 1914), and Faggiotto (1924). In English, the only monograph is by De Soyres (1877, condensed reprint 1965); helpful studies are contained in the works of W. Ramsey (1893ff.) and W.M.Calder, as well as a chapter by Ronald Knox (Enthusiasm, 1950). The most productive studies are in German: A. Schwegler (1841), of the Tubingen school, argued for the Jewish Christian origin of the movement; A. Ritschl (l850), saw Montanism as a gentile Christian reaction to the growing institutionalism of the faith; Bonwetsch’s history of Montanism (1881) has already been mentioned; W. Scheperlern (1929) dealt with Montanism and the Phrygian cults; and most recently Kurt Aland has written a long article in Kirchengeschichtliche Entwurfe (1960) as well as an article in ZNW (1955).

Summary of Aland.

Aland has found very few “new” sources not contained in the older collections other than a couple of “new” inscriptions. The most important sources are the oracles themselves. Like most contemporary scholars, Aland prefers the date given by Eusebius for the beginning of the Montanist movement (172 C.E.), rather than that given by Epiphanius (156/157). Since the last prophetess died by 179, this means that the early period of the movement was rather brief. Aland finds a definite break in the movement following the death of Maximilla with later “prophecy” taking a much different and milder form. Thus Tertullian reflects a later stage of Montanism, even in his eschatology. It may be that Tertullian had little knowledge of the original Montanist prophecies. Aland cautions against thinking of Montanism in its totality as an eschatological movement, except perhaps at the very first; its eschatological outlook was not so very dissimilar from that found in the NT writings. In fact, Aland finds some special coincidences with Johannine material (including Revelation) and sees Montanism as basically an inner-Christian phenomenon, nourished from Christian sources but lacking much of early Christian eschatology. It was largely Asiatic, with little strength in the west.

Further Observations.

The roots of Montanism seem to be genuinely Christian. Perhaps it began as a sort of “hold-on” revival while “catholic Christianity” was being formed, rather than as a revival of Phrygian paganism. Recent studies have also revived the idea that Montanism might be a Jewish Christian heresy; e.g. an article in Byzant. Zeitschrift by Scharf (1966) notes that in 721/722, “Hebrews and Montanists” were forced to be baptized by Leo III, which suggests that by the 8th century, Montanism may have become a form of Jewish messianism, or of nationalist dissent within Byzantine Jewry.

Source Materials and Analysis.

A collection of citations from Montanist oracles (reproduced from Bonwetsch, 1881) was sent out with the notice of this seminar meeting. (Requests for additional copies should be addressed to Dr. Froehlich; a similar convenient collection, but in slightly different sequence, is included in Hilgenfeld’s Ketzergeschichte 591ff.–it is noted below by the symbol ‘H’ where its enumeration differs.) It should be noted that Aland considers 15 of these as original, plus another saying (identified subsequent to Bonwetsch’s collection) similar to Bonwetsch #5 (=H #1). “Doubtful” quotations are }## 6, 19, and 21 (=H ##6, 15, post-21), while #17 (=H #20) is a ‘report’ only; ## 14 and 20 (=H ## 14,16) are not included in Aland’s list.

Conclusions.

A study of these texts leads us to conclude that the Johannine parallels claimed by Aland are not nearly as significant as they first seem, since better parallels exist for almost all the quotations in other literature. Even #12 (from Eusebius, EH 5.16-17), which mentions the wolf and the sheep, as well as a trinity of word, spirit, and power, does not actually parallel the gospel of John. The “I am” quotations, likewise, are not strictly Johannine, but have been shown by H. Becker (1956) to be a classic form for gnostic revelatory speech. Indeed, there appear to be a number of gnostic elements in the oracles, both in their general outlook and in their form of speech: the awakening of the revealer (# 1, =H , #2) the two classes in the kingdom (#2, =H #3); the characteristic dream story (# 9); etc. This does not mean that the texts are “gnostic,” but that they make use of “gnostic” terminology and imagery, often obscured for us because of the seemingly non-gnostic Montanist chiliasm. However, Epiphanius, in describing the ‘Alogoi’ (Her. 51), raises the possibility of a chiliastic gnosis, or proto-gnosis, which links the Johannine literature and gnosis by the forms of speech found in the world of Cerinthus. This could be a clue to the heritage of Montanism.

* * *

During the discussion that followed the presentation, various alternate possibilities for the background and origins of Montanism were considered:

(1) There appears to be little possibility that Montanist ideas were derived from the NT, at least as far as the oracles themselves are concerned. Much biblical language is attributed to the Montanists, but this appears only during the later stages ( e.g. Tertullian), when Montanists may have been trying to justify their position from the scriptures. The oracles do seem to have a few verbal analogies to Matthew.

(2) The “gnostic” elements cited in the presentation seem to be explained just as satisfactorily by reference to Jewish apocalyptic ideas (see, e.g. the treatment in Bauer, Rechglaubigkeit, and the thesis of R.M.Grant that Gnosticism is an outworking of frustrated Jewish ap

ocalypticism). Eusebius’ anti-Montanist sources may hint at a link between Montanism and Judaism where they claim that Montanists were not being persecuted by Judaism. The possible 8th century link with Judaism has already been noted — if it really has any relevance for 2nd century Montanism!

(3) These allegedly “gnostic” parallels also show great affinity to common Hellenistic ideas and phenomena, especially ecstatic utterances as described by such authors as Plutarch, Porphyry, or Lucian (e.g.. his Alexander).

(4) The whole Montanist movement fits into the anti-cultural phenomenon of the 2nd century empire, where the anti-Roman and anti-imperial feelings of the Christian rural population were expressed by adherence to Gnosticism or Montanism, with their ecstasies, asceticism, and strong eschatology (see, e.g. the presentation by R.M.Grant in the PSCO minutes 4.2, from 8 November 1966). The strictness of the anti-Montanist laws of Justinian would seem to be for political rather than for purely religious reasons. From this viewpoint, Montanism would be basically Christian — conservative rural faith set over against sophisticated urban Christianity.

Just a few quick notes on Polycarp. The writing known as Martyrdom of Polycarp is an excellent resource when examined. The focus of the text was to display an example of true martyrdom; Polycarp’s was the perfect example “since it was in accord with the pattern of the gospel of Christ” (Mart. of Poly., xix.1). So Polycarp’s actions were showcased with no less the attitude “This is how it should be.”

Some significant and relevant points:

From the letter itself, the author made the point “the mounted police and horsemen set out, armed with their usual weapons as though chasing after an armed rebel (ληστην τρεχοντες)” (vii.1, emphasis mine). This has two connections. First, the obvious contrast: Polycarp was in no way an armed rebel. He was no physical threat. Second, the obvious connection the writer made with Mt. xvi.55: “Then Jesus said to the crowd, ‘Am I some dangerous revolutionary (ληστην), that you come with swords and clubs to arrest me?’” (NLT) Again, in order to serve as an example for Christians under persecution the author wanted to emphasize any instances patterned after Christ.

“So when [Polycarp] heard that [the police force, persecutors] had arrived, he went down and talked with them . . . Then he immediately ordered that a table be set for them to eat and drink . . . and he asked them to grant him an hour so that he might pray undisturbed” (vii.2).

“Thus failing to persuade him, they began to utter threats and made him dismount in such a hurry that he bruised his shin as he got down from the carriage. And without even turning around, he went on his way eagerly and quickly as if nothing had happened to him” (viii.3). Exemplary again of the nonresistant attitude underlying Polycarp’s actions.

per chad and thom’s latest exchange, i was reminded of something wink said in an interview:

“I guess I always had this one little qualification that if all else fails, you can use violence then. Be non-violent until the last minute. A friend of mine characterizes this as not non-violence, it is not yet violent.”

wink said a trip to africa was a catalyst for him to repent of his “not yet violent” position.

for me, it’s probably a major issue of eschatology. if it’s possible, i’d like to know how, but, i for one can not truly hope for a person or group to be included in the Resurrection and simultaneously give the green light to their destruction.

ps – thom, thanks for the (too) kind words about my essay.

Wow, that last comment took longer to read than most term papers take to write.
Thom, you certainly dealt with Chad’s comments in a thorough manner. It looks to me as though the online discussion isn’t going much further, but I am still glad you took the time to address his thoughts/arguments.
I’ve been reflecting over this for a while and have a two thoughts:
(1) As we saw in Chad’s arguments, one difficulty with a non-violent stance towards faithful discipleship is that it requires much of those in the Church. Certain people will have to leave their professions, others might have their commitment to forsake their commitment to the way of life handed down to them by their family, others might have to forsake their commitment to a pagan nation and all would have to forsake their commitment to an action/way of life that Jesus forbade. This is a huge claim to make on people, and because it is such a claim, many are unwilling to make it or even give those who call for such a commitment much of a hearing. I know at least one rather prominent leader in the Restoration Movement who is a pacifist, but he does not claim to be so publicly because of the ramifications. This seems strange to me given the fact that Jesus was also a rather prominent leader who had many following him and he didn’t mind making claims that would upset people because it required them to leave their (a) professions (b) families (c) a pagan nation/religion (d) actions that were inconsistent with the character of God. If our ministries are to look more like Jesus’ we may have to incorporate into our ministries a message that contains the thrust of Matthew 10:34-39 as much as we have incorporated a message that contains the thrust of Matthew 11:27-30.
(2) As I mentioned much earlier in this post, one of the issues that has re-surfaced in my thinking pertains to the means through which we come to our ethical and ecclesiological conclusions. I know several “Christian” couples, including ones who are close to me, who are getting divorces. They are claiming to be Christians yet doing something explicitly forbidden by Jesus (in each of these cases, there has been no affair). Regardless of what Jesus said or what the New Testament witnesses to, they are going through with their divorces, and they have rationalized their actions through other means. My point is this: many people I talk to don’t seem to prioritize the example of Jesus and the council of the New Testament when coming to conclusions on this matter of non-violence. In the same way Jesus’ teachings on divorce are ignored, swept under the rug, or re-prioritized for people who really want a divorce, many Christians I know seem to have done the same thing with the issue of non-violence. Chad himself has said that his reading of the New Testament would cause him to be a pacifist. I assume his reading of the life of Jesus’ life would cause him to be a pacifist as well. So what is the disconnect? It comes from the other elements in our decision making that we give the highest priority to. Do we allow our reading of the New Testament and our understanding of the life of Jesus to have the trump card over ethical matters or do we allow our commitment to safety, practical wisdom, our nationalistic way of life, or our supposed need and inherent right of self-protection to trump our reading of the New Testament and deputize us to make hermeneutical stretches that allow the commitments which we had before we approached the text/Jesus (and thus, our way of life) to stay the same.

I have read too much literature in this field (still, admittedly, far less then Thom) and I have yet to find anyone who makes a valid or even half-way sustainable position for violence from the New Testament and life of Jesus.
To be honest, I’d like to read one because I’d rather be able to use force to protect myself and my loved ones than intangible weapons like love and prayer. The problem for me is that Jesus has armed us with no other weapons. Granted, this doesn’t make the most sense. But I just don’t know that a Christian’s life and decisions are supposed to make a ton of sense. Maybe they’re actually suppose to place us on a trajectory that could lead towards doing crazy, ridiculous, even stupid things like selling our processions and laying down our lives, which, while being unfathomable for many Christians, was not so far removed from Jesus’ original message…at least not as I recall it. I have most certainly digressed. But the point is simple, what will be the primary determining factor for our decisions? Will it be the narrative of the life and the cross/resurrection of Jesus found in the gospel and witnessed to throughout the rest of the NT or will these be sidelined for more practical and pragmatic arguments.

Here is my conclusion, the battle that has to be waged by pacifists is not exegetical. Honestly, it isn’t hard to see what the NT says. The battle is epistemological in nature because it is hard to see what the NT says if you don’t want to and if other commitments prevent you from doing so. The question that has to be asked is: how is it that we can elevate Jesus and the NT to the place of highest prominence in the decision making process of Christians? This is the question that must be answered. But perhaps the hardest part of this battle will be helping people to see that it is not currently the NT and Jesus that is at the top of their epistemological pyramid. Nobody likes to admit this, and it will most certainly take a lengthy time for the light to come on and for lives to change (after all, most people have held to their convictions for their entire adult lives, they were educated under this system of thinking and they have counseled others along the same lines. This is not the type of shift that is going to take place over night.). That does not mean it is a discussion not worth having, but it does mean that it is going to be a long discussion and that it will probably require the likes of Thom to have it, regardless of whether people like him or not.

On a second note, I have been surprised to hear how wide this post has been read from people in the Joplin community. I wonder what it is about this issue that draws in so many people, rustling feathers from both sides and either intriguing or upsetting almost everyone. Maybe 20 or 30 years ago people would be posting about baptism for salvation and the gifts of the Spirit…what is it about his generation and our cultural/ecclesiological experience that has caused this issue to surface at this time?

For the record, I will be responding to “TommyJoe”’s good questions in a new thread, sometime very soon.

This is my response to what happened at New Life and to the discussion on Thom’s blog. I read Dan say that some people he knew and respected were upset at him for taking such a “radical” view of the thing (the stance that Christians should not have killed the gunman). I also heard that some people read Thom’s post and concluded that it was written in an unchristian or unloving manner.

I’m not one who normally comments on these posts but my mind is ill at ease. I don’t think there’s anything I can say that hasn’t already been said somewhere in this long thread of comments. I’ll just contribute this. I know, better than any one of you out there that Thom knows how to confront and he knows how to be harsh if necessary, and sometimes even when it’s not necessary. But I was one of the first to read Thom’s letter and I saw immediately that it was not coming out of his harsh side. He wrote it with empathy and compassion. That very compassion is what compelled him to confront.

I guess I’m just having a hard time understanding the Christian opposition to calling the Church to right action.

Wow. I just discovered this through Halden. I’ll be reading and commenting with relish. I also put a link to the series from my blog where I frequently blog on nonviolence.

Interestingly your chronological preference (which I share) is an essential underpinning of humanism which is much criticized nowadays. I wonder if we would think the same were it not for Erasmus and company.

Hey, Aric.

I follow Wink and Stassen in my reading of the Sermon, and they both really provide complimentary exegesis that far outstretches the conservative “exegesis” that spiritualizes and internalizes the ethic of the Sermon, or reduces it to interpersonal relations. You can download Wink’s essay here, and Stassen’s here.

Wink argues persuasively that “turn the other cheek,” “give your tunic also” and “go the second mile” are radical strategies for nonviolent resistance that take the initiative away from the oppressor and puts it in the hands of the oppressed.

Turn the other cheek: Briefly, if you are struck on the right cheek, you are struck with the back of your “superior’s” right hand. Turning the other cheek forces him to use his left-hand (a no-no) or to hit you open handed (which is how peers hit peers, not how superiors hit inferiors). In short, turning the other cheek is the refusal to allow the superior to remain superior. In taking the initiative and giving oneself over to indignity, one’s dignity is won.

The giving of the inner-garment: Wink shows that the setting is not in private but in court, where a money-lender/superior is suing his debtor/inferior for his outer garment as surety for the money owed. This was standard practice in Jesus’ day, and was a way of utterly humiliating and shaming the poor. Jesus says to let him take your coat, and to give him your underwear too! Yes, Jesus suggests the debtor strip naked in court. The idea is to put on display the depravity of the opressor, who has literally taken everything from the oppressed. Moreover, in Jesus’ society, it wasn’t the one naked who was shamed, but the one who witnessed the nakedness. Therefore, this was a strategy for speaking truth to power and shaming the powerful, exposing them for what they really were. It is nonviolent protest, not doormat nonresistance.

Going the second mile: This refers to the practice of the Roman occupying army of forcing the conquered to carry their very heavy packs for them. According to Roman military law, a soldier could not force a person to carry his pack for more than one mile. To do so would be (at least according to the law books) to incur strict punishment. Of course, forcing the conquered to carry the packs of the soldiers was a huge symbol of Roman domination. In this context, Jesus says, “If someone forces you to carry his pack one mile, go with him two.” During the first mile, everything is status quo. The oppressed is oppressed, and the oppressor has full command of the situation. Come the end of the first mile, the oppressed insists he will continue, and the situation is radically subverted. He is now carrying the pack willingly, voluntarily. The soldier is thinking, “Why is he doing me this kindness? Is he trying to get me in trouble? What?” All of a sudden the initiative is taken from the oppressor and put in the hands of the oppressed. In fact, for the length of the second mile, the oppressed is no longer oppressed. This strategy has numerous possible ramifications: (1) conflict transformation. The Jew/Christian or whoever might be able to befriend the soldier. (2) the dissolution of the practice. If the practice of going the second mile became widespread enough, soldiers would be liable to quit their practice of forcing people to carry their packs, for fear of the legal repercussions of that illicit second mile.

These show that Jesus is not advocating nonresistance/passivity, but nonviolent resistance/active peacemaking. Some of Jesus’ strategies are designed to expose and shame oppressors, some are designed to transform them, all are designed to put the initiative in the hands of the oppressed, to empower the disempowered. It is not doormat nonresistance that Jesus is advocating, but protest strategies designed to transform unjust structures into just ones. These are, in the words of James C. Scott, the “weapons of the weak.” These are strategies for political engagement, not disengagement, and they seek justice through nonviolent means. Of course, as particularly in the case of the debtor’s court, the strategies Jesus encourages might not be characterized as “peaceful” (parading one’s naked body in the face of the oppressor is not meant to make the oppressor happy), but they are all nonviolent.

Two further things: First, these strategies only make sense as an ethic for marginalized, disempowered people. And thus, they are not “individualistic” ethics, for “interpersonal relations.” Rather, they are political strategies that will only work if an entire people puts them into practice. While they certainly are commendable to the individual, the emphasis is not on the personal purity of the ethical actor but on the conflict transformation made possible by the act. In order for the transformation to really take place, this kind of activity needs to be widespread. Jesus is not speaking to the “individual,” but to the kahal, the people of God, the holy nation.

Second, these are not legalistic principles, nor are they a comprehensive list. They are merely representative of the kind of strategies God’s people are to take up in their struggle against injustice, whatever the context. In order to truly “turn the other cheek” and “go the second mile,” followers of Jesus are required to have creative, ingenious moral/ethical imaginations. That is something we must develop through a long process of conversion and experience in solidarity with the sufferers of the world. This kind of creative political activism is not something we’re just born with, and it consistently defies the “common sense” of political communities that are constituted and sustained by violence.

Stassen’s brilliant essay argues against the standard “antithetical” interpretation of the ethical precepts of the Sermon (you have heard it said/but I say to you). Most interpreters put the emphasis on Jesus’ antithesis and leave it at that. Stassen argues that the structure is not antithetical but “triadic,” and the emphasis falls not on the “but I say to you,” but on the “therefore” prescription which follows. For example, the saying on murder cites the OT prohibition of murder, but then locates the problem in the “but I say to you” in the heart, and the attitude we adopt toward one another. The emphasis falls on the “therefore”: “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift.”

This third part of the triad, Stassen calls the “transforming initiative” that provides the way out of the vicious cycle of violence.

When Stassen comes to the “eye for eye” and “hate your enemy” section, the emphasis falls on the “transforming initiatives”: turn the other cheek, give the tunic also, go the second mile, pray for the persecutors.

Moreover, Stassen argues very persuasively that verse 39a is consistently mistranslated as either, “Do not resist evil,” or “Do not resist the evil one/person.” Stassen does some solid exegesis here that displaying that a proper translation should read: “Do not resist by evil means.” The most common use of the word “resist” refers to armed, militant resistance, and fits right in with Jesus’ historical-political context. Further, he argues persuasively that “evil” is not objective in the clause but agentive. Thus, “Do not resist by evil means.”

So, that is what I meant when I said that Jesus did not commend nonresistance. Rather, Jesus gave ingenious tactics for nonviolent resistance and conflict transformation.

Right. That is an appropriate qualification. I have dealt with Cornelius’ conversion way back in an earlier series on biblical proof-texts against pacifism. While Luke doesn’t just out and say that Cornelius resigned, he does say in exactly these terms that Peter preached to him the “gospel of peace through Jesus Christ,” which Cornelius could not have interpreted any other way than as a challenge to the “gospel of peace of Caesar” to which his life had been to that point devoted. In other words, I think that at the time, the text was more explicit about the nature of Cornelius’ conversion than it appears to us now, because of our “spiritualization” and “internalization” of the gospel of peace.

Then, extra-biblically, according to both Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox tradition, Cornelius resigned his post and became an evangelist/martyr.

Thom,

Well said. This is a crackin’ good read. It gives me a good way to discuss Christian pacifism with some Just War Christian friends of mine.

Looks like it could make a good “Nonresistant” article, as well.

Lee

Krystal,

It’s great to hear from you! Thanks for the encouragement, and I’m glad you’re still too street-wise to pay for a movie.

Peace.

Wonderful work Thom,

Growing up in the “Bible Belt,” people are content with their nationalism and ideas of vindictive justice. I recently gave a small sermon on missional living in a postmodern world. They enjoyed it. Yet I wonder how quickly I would have lasted had I emphasized the peaceful side and letting go of politics. My own mother sometimes asks me if I’m Anti-American HAHA!!!! Wonderful job!!!!

Thom,

Penny for your thoughts here: what do you make of Jesus’ words to the disciples in Luke 22: 35-38, wherein Jesus tells them to take purses and swords?

This passage came up in one of my classes and I could not come up with a good counter to what my students were saying, other than it needed to read in light of everything Jesus taught… which seems true, but insufficient to really understand what Jesus is saying here.

- Christian

Hey there.

I’ve never read that anywhere. Do you remember what sources were saying Clement was the father of just war theory? I mean, clearly it isn’t true, as these quotations above indicate: the idea of a Christian killing for any reason was abhorrent to Clement. Nonetheless, I’m sure some just war theorist somewhere found some way to stretch just war theory out of Clement. Similar claims have been made for Origen, also false.

I’ve read a great deal of primary and secondary literature, and the consensus (even among most just war theorists) is that Ambrose, followed by Augustine, were the Christian innovators of just war theory. Before that, it was Cicero, the pre-Christ Roman politician.

I really would be interested in looking at the source you have for the claim about Clement.

Sorry I can’t be of any further help. The claim is new to me.

Here are the statements of Clement of Alexandria I’ve found that are used by just war theorists to support the idea that Clement was an early Christian proponent of just-war theory:

Clement of Alexandria, Protrepticus, X/100:

Were you a soldier on campaign when the knowledge of God laid hold on you? Then listen to the commander, who commands righteousness.

Just war theorists take this out of context and use it to say that Clement commands Christians to obey their military commanders. In context:

Practice husbandry, we say, if you are a husbandman; but while you till your fields, know God. Sail the sea, you who are devoted to navigation, yet call the whilst on the Heavenly Pilot. Has knowledge taken hold of you while engaged in military service? Listen to the Commander [i.e. God] who orders what is right.

Clement of Alexandria, Pedagogue Book 3, chap. 12, 91:

Also to the soldiers, by John, He commands, “to be content with their wages only.”

Just war theorists take this to mean that Clement approved of Christians engaged in warfare. In context:

Further, in respect to forbearance. “If thy brother,” it is said, “sin against thee, rebuke him; and if he repent, forgive him. If he sin against thee seven times in a day, and turn to thee the seventh time, and say, I repent, forgive him.” Also to the soldiers, by John, He commands, “to be content with their wages only;” and to the publicans, “to exact no more than is appointed.” To the judges He says, “Thou shalt not show partiality in judgment. For girls blind the eyes of those who see, and corrupt just words.

This is perfectly consistent with Clement’s and early Christianity’s proscription against killing for Christians in the military.

Clement of Alexandria, Pedagogue, Book 3, chap. 11:

For, as in the case of the soldier, the sailor, and the ruler, so also the proper dress of the temperate man is what is plain, becoming, and clean.

Some have taken twisted this to have Clement say that soldiers are “temperate men.” In context:

The Instructor permits us, then, to use simple clothing, and of a white colour, as we said before. So that, accommodating ourselves not to variegated art, but to nature as it is produced, and pushing away whatever is deceptive and belies the truth, we may embrace the uniformity and simplicity of the truth.

For, as in the case of the soldier, the sailor, and the ruler, so also the proper dress of the temperate man is what is plain, becoming, and clean.

Clement of Alexandria, The Stromata, or Miscellanies, Book 1, chap. 24 (entire chapter):

Our Moses then is a prophet, a legislator, skilled in military tactics and strategy, a politician, a philosopher. And in what sense he was a prophet, shall be by and by told, when we come to treat of prophecy. Tactics belong to military command, and the ability to command an army is among the attributes of kingly rule. Legislation, again, is also one of the functions of the kingly office, as also judicial authority.

Apollo, interpreted mystically by “privation of many,” means the one God. Well, then, that fire like a pillar, and the fire in the desert, is the symbol of the holy light which passed through from earth and returned again to heaven, by the wood [of the cross], by which also the gift of intellectual vision was bestowed on us.

Just war theorists use this to show that Clement approved of military generals. In reality, this is a part of Clement’s argument that Moses (though inferior to Christ, who Clement believed commanded the dissolution of war for Christians) was superior in every way to the Greeks. He is showing that the Greek legends about their generals’ military campaigns copies the biblical narrative of the Exodus and Conquest.

While I worked as a youth pastor, the senior pastor had to “do” a couple of funerals. When asked a couple of days later in a staff meeting how the funeral went, the only thing out of his mouth was “I got to share the gospel.” He viewed this as a golden opportunity to evangelize. I don’t know what he was thinking, but if he viewed the pain of this person’s death as first and foremost an opportunity to preach, then yeah, that’s pretty crass and dehumanizing of the deceased and his/her family. But at the same time, it is a good chance to introduce thoughts of eternity when so many people refuse to face their own mortality. I agree the pastor you describe did a very poor job of both pastoring and preaching – what would you have done differently?

Sonja -

You’ll hear no disagreement from me on the evangelism game – I think you’re right on. However, in speaking to what may be a reasonably crowded hall, how does a pastor “get to know” very many people in order to invite them back? Assuming he goes to the reception as well, he might be able to reach 5, maybe 10 people at best. I think Thom’s criticisms, and yours, are entirely valid but part of sharing the Good New of Christ is just plainly telling them about Christ. Yes, that has to be backed up with action and love, but that does not negate the telling. And as I said, and have ample experience with working in the healthcare field – very few people in our culture are willing or able to face their own mortality. Is it always wrong to use a traumatic experience to get them to ask some hard questions? Or is it possible to share a subtle Gospel in this scenario without disrespecting the deceased or alienating their family?

Sonja -

Yeah, there can be a lot false urgency in sharing the Gospel. The yahoo on the corner screaming fire and brimstone at the top of his lungs is clearly letting his urgency and zeal eclipse even the message he is trying to share. But I don’t assume that the pastor is the only one who can share the Gospel, only that he is the person best situated to reach the widest possible audience while at the same time being pastoral. Even though not everyone in attendance is a member of his flock, he still has an obligation to shepherd.

“Even in the upside-down Kingdom, God is mourning … He did not create this world so that His children could/would die and die young. It’s a tragedy all around. Death, loss, separation, and grief all cause pain and denying that pain even in small measure does nothing to reconcile us to one another or to God.”

Absolutely! Which is, I think, precisely where to begin. I’ve been mulling over an answer to my own question since asking it and I think a simple and ineloquent “this frickin’ sucks and God thinks so too” might be a subtle Gospel. Saying God hates death so much that he came to kill it might be as well. We should definitely avoid adding to anyone’s pain but at the same time, we don’t want to offer false or misleading comfort. That doesn’t help either. It doesn’t help the grieving find any degree of meaning or significance in their loss, it doesn’t help them reflect on their own lives and relationships and certainly does nothing to introduce them to the Christ we know and love. But you offer a good and well-taken reminder to not forget relationships in all of this. I sometimes forget the power of mere presence.

Ah, I see my comment was overly vague. What I meant to say that we see the preference for earlier texts over later ones in terms of their reliability coming to the fore in humanism. It’s not that humanism is committed to the opposite of progress, but just that this one principal – that things are more reliable the closer to the hypothetical source – is a tenet of humanism.

Superb stuff Thom. Glad you got to putting up the concluding thoughts.

It’s especially nice to have these points summarized like this. I frequently run into folks who will admit that the early church was nonviolent, but then want to argue that they were unbiblical, or insufficiently christocentric, or that it was common, but not normative or some other idiocy.

I might copy your post and use it in training pastors in how not to conduct a funeral service. The pastor, as you describe him, was in fact anti-pastoral. And yet it is not inappropriate to talk about eternity in the face of death.

I will pray for your friend Tarrel and those who loved Kevyn. May the God of Peace comfort them in ways that flawed and struggling saints can’t. And may the flawed and struggling saints around Tarrel, find grace and wisdom to love him with more than the fruit of their lips.

I stumbled upon your blog from another one. I would like to hear your thoughts on Ozark Christian College. I was considering going there, but decided on Oral Roberts University instead and developed a much different world view from the Roberts’. Good post.

I am glad to see that there are a people that still have a HOLY DISCONTENT with the way Pastors and churches handle the ‘non-follower’ and even the new follower. Maybe if we all called out some of these Pastor and leaders that preached this way a little more often instead of being led around like cattle we could actually make a difference. Of course I am not saying to go cuss out your pastor. Prayer is an absolute.. and especially if the spirit is prompting.

I really appreciate your thoughts Thom and look forward to reading more.

Being the probable age of the pastor who presided over the funeral, when I read the account I was shamed and somehow felt accountable also for those my age whose Religion so often hurts the hearts of those who they come in contact.

I’m somehow compelled to say, ‘I’m so sorry for his behavior.” It was not too long ago that Father broke through my superior religion and allowed me to see how many I had hurt.

Please keep speaking up. Please keep confronting. All the while please keep loving, even the religious, knowing that they can change when somehow God shows up and shows them they are wrong.

I saw a similar funeral, also conducted by a Pentacostal pastor, when I was in college. It took years for me to stop judging all Pentecostals by this bullsh**t! In the case I was unfortunate enough to witness, the family were not Christians, but the deceased daughter was. After that, the family vowed never to have anything to do with Christians–and I didn’t blame them.

Thom,

great conclusion. thanks for posting it.

I love you.

Hey, Josh.

Yes, I noticed a hit or two from your blog a few weeks back. Thanks for the link!

I fully expect most people to disagree with “my analysis” of the situation. But my primary concern is taking this issue up with church leaders.

I once was asked to sing a few songs at the funeral of a man I did not know. Apparently, he was not a believer. The pastor of the little church got up and preached for twenty minutes about how this man was in hell and probably screaming as the fire tortured him. I will never forget the agony of that funeral. There was no hope given. Several people walked out. Those who remained were groaning and crying uncontrollably. I was asked to play soft music on the piano as the preacher, a manipulative jerk, tried to get the family to come to the alter and get saved. I felt terrible, having played a part in this tragedy. That day was one of the pivotal points in my journey out of classic Pentecostalism.

I am Kevyn’s Mother. I don’t have an arguement with anything you have written here, But your handling of calling the preacher and thrashing him the way you did was wrong also. You should let God take care of it not make yourself the giver of his punishment. I know him personally and I know he had only the best of intentions. If he mis spoke or lied as you say God will deal with him in his way I don’t think it was for you to judge. I believe if anyone had the right to say anything that person wasn’t you. I pray for you both and I am sorry the 2 of you had to use my son’s death to have your battle. I know God is taking care of my son. My family was brought up in church and they know we are not to follow man but to seek God out for ourselves. I believe your tongue is a two edged sword that is to be used against satan not to hurt your fellow brother in christ. Even though you dis agree with him there are more constructive ways to deal with it. I hope you can come to peace in your own spirit so you don’t lash out at anyone else. Please leave my son’s death to me my family and GOD. Thank you! Sandra

I know that in sixty years I have not encountered a more misguided, backward thinking, egoistic fool than you, Mr. Thom Stark. My God— you even lacked the magnanimity not to exalt yourself as a seriously concerned authority who will continue to pray that the mother of the deceased comes to see her concerns from your superior point of view. . .

Man’s conceit often outruns his reason and eludes his logic; but you’re so far from the truth of things of a spiritual nature that you may well be an unwitting secularist.

If you do in fact survive this life in the flesh through a sincere acceptance of the gracious gift of our heavenly Father, namely eternal life— I intend to look you up on the next world to see and hear from your new mouth how much you’ve learned through your own death and resurrection. It should be a moment worth remembering, in the face of one who will have so many to forget. That is, if you do in fact, survive.

I’d be interested to read more on what you think concerning vegetarianism. Do you have a blog already with this I can read?

So far I’ve read many arguments for biblical vegetarianism, and they are all a huge stretch.

Perhaps vegetarians should just stop trying to use the Bible to push their agenda.

A wonderful blog post but …

It does not fulfil its purpose of explaining how 2Cor 4:5 informs your personal philosophy of ministry (PPOM).

From what you wrote I might be able to infer what your PPOM is but that is not the point. It is your task to do that.

In short what the essay is missing is how your exegesis of the text affects *your* praxis — not how it might affect Christian praxis in general.

If I were marking it you’d pass, but I think Anonymous’s critique is valid.

Do you inhabit, or do you expect to inhabit, a space in which rich Texas landowners sit down to eat with illegal immigrants from Mexico? If so, it wouldn’t hurt to say so.

Do you minister in, or expect to minister in, a megachurch? If so, how would you apply your philosophy of ministry to that situation? And how would you (rather than someone else) be tempted not to apply it?

Semantic garbage. We don’t condone “torture” because we conveniently define everything we do just outside of the category. Water torture is torture. Stress positions are torture. Sleep deprivation is torture.

More info.

Thanks, Richard. Of course you’re under no obligation. I’d be honored if you read even a quarter of it.

I wonder how Nanos sees it in the light of Ephesians 6:10-12?

This is fascinating Thom, thanks. As someone who is engaged in urban regeneration from a faith perspective, and one who is an OT person, I have found significant and inspiring imperative in the prophets for the renewal of communities. Critical to it has an eschatology that understands our responsibility to the city as being to live as Christians, as if the new Jerusalem has come to earth. But I have not worked as hard in the NT in these matters. You’ve given me new inspiration.

check out http://www.skainos.org for the website of my project and http://www.ebm.org.uk for my organisation

I said exactly that. In fact Obama is more attractive to me now more than ever precisely because he had such a prophetic voice in his ear.

Damn, this is interesting. And kind of what I always thought. Thanks for sharing this!

See, people? Paul’s not such a bastard after all.

I think there is a solid biblical demand for identifying with “black.” When Christ said to invite the poor and oppressed to our banquets instead of the rich, this principle is put in place. I say this is more than just an invitation to a meal because in the culture of that day sharing a meal was an invitation to a deeper relationship, and an identification with this person as an equal.

Good idea.

Taken at face value, I would say that it is just as pernicious racism as white theology. Two wrongs don’t make a right. I’ve never read James Cone, but I don’t believe in any theology that promotes one race over another. There is no Jew or Greek … we are all one. Far easier said than done, yes, but still part of our heritage and part of the dream set forth for Peter.

The Crusades, the Inquisition, slavery in the Western hemisphere, racism, patriarchalism (among many others) are all ugly blots on the history of Christendom that must be atoned for and accounted for. Replacing one form of violence for another does not help anyone. It does no good for the oppressed or the oppressors, it merely continues the evil.

Without having read Cone I have a hard time offering a full evaluation of anything he’s said, but I’ll throw a few thoughts out there anyway. I think this kind of attitude is a mistake. I think that Jesus’ call to love one’s enemies (etc) demands a more nuanced and deeper response to oppression and violence. I agree in principle to some degree of corporate culpability, but while that should change our posture toward the descendants of those whom our ancestors oppressed, it doesn’t change the truth of Christian theology.

I don’t really like the way I ended that statement, so let me come from another angle. If all he meant by exchanging white theology for black theology was exchanging theology from the seats of cultural power to theology from the seats of cultural marginalization, then I’d be fine with that. It would be a colorful way of calling for a rejection of Christendom or Constantianism. But I’m not sure that’s all he means. I cannot accept as “Christian” (leaving aside for the moment what all that descriptor might entail, which I recognize is in some way the the real crux of this whole debate) the idea that we must deny “whiteness as an acceptable form of human existence and [affirm] blackness as God’s intention for humanity.” Then again, if he means by “whiteness” and “blackness” something more like Constantinian and non-Constantinian (or whatever tags you want to use that carry this idea) then perhaps I would be more okay with it.

So it boils down to your question about whether he’s speaking hyperbolically or literally, as well as in what precise (or imprecise) ways he’s employing the metaphors of blackness and whiteness. Because I don’t know the answers to these question, I don’t know what to say by way of evaluation. I do think, from this perspective of not-knowing, that his statement, when taken out of context, has the potential to do more harm than good, because it sounds more like seeking to eliminate one’s enemies than actually loving them. And that is antithetical to the way of life and theology called forth by the gospel of Jesus.

As for the comments by Julie, I have mixed feelings. Part of me feels like Chad, wanting to ask if she’s serious (or just a little pissed off and speaking hyperbolically). At the very least she’s grossly oversimplifying issues, for instance when she boils down doctrinal controversies to who was willing to torture whom. On the other hand, she’s making one specific point, and I won’t begrudge her that. But what happens when I admit that I have benefited at the expense of others, albeit indirectly? What am I supposed to do now? I apologize, and I’d like to make amends wherever by doing so I won’t be enabling further dehumanization. Are we being called to a corporate posture of apology? Are we being asked to simply be ready to make amends in one-to-one interactions? To put it simply, taking her point for what I hear her to be saying (which, again, I think is a bit one-sided), what actual differences does or should it make in my life and the life of my church?

Hope something in there make sense…

Cone is not a racist. He was writing in the aftermath of MLK, Jr.’s assassination. His critique of traditional white theology )which thinks it is actually neutral and universal) is a powerful one. However, Cone, like many in the Black Power movement at the time, failed to understand 2 things: 1)Many whites were looking for an excuse to NOT deal with their racism and being able to point to the anger of the Black Power folk as “reverse hate” or similar claims gave them that excuse. On the other hand, (2) the whites who had risked family and friends, jobs, and sometimes even life and limb to be part of the Freedom Movement already thought of themselves as guilty of white privilege. When the Black Power folk (and Cone) told them to “go home, we don’t want you, nothing is as useless as a white liberal, etc.” they upped the guilt level. And, trapped in guilt-feelings, such whites stopped trying to reach beyond their own selfishness, etc.

The Bible is full of jeremiads–harsh critiques against injustice. Jesus and the prophets were quick to use very harsh language–as harsh as Cone’s. But, there is also the language that invites to repentance, that says, “you can do better, follow me and we will create something new–the Rule of God.” The Jesus Movement was a liberation movement that also fostered radical reconciliation: including between Zealots like Simon (and maybe Judas Iscariot and the “Sons of Thunder”) and traitorous tax collectors like Levi/Matthew.

The African-American theologian, J. Deotis Roberts, in my view, got it better than Cone did. Cone contended, at least in his early work like Black Theology and Black Power and A Black Theology of Liberation that there could be no racial reconciliation until AFTER the liberation of oppressed racial minorities was achieved. In Liberation and Reconciliation: A Black Theology, J. Deotis Roberts contended to the contrary that both liberation and reconciliation were equally central biblical themes–and must be worked on simultaneously.

In my view, Cone stumbled and Roberts recovered.

But when I was teaching theology, especially with classes that were mostly white, I always assigned at least something by Cone. We need to learn to hear critiques–even when we don’t agree with all aspects of the critique. Angry voices are difficult to hear but can teach us things. Even our enemies can teach us.

White middle class evangelicals, especially males, in the U.S. are very bad at listening for the voice of God in the voice of harsh critics. It is something that we need desperately to learn.

On the other hand, as Martin Luther King, Jr., J. Deotis Roberts, and, yes, Barack Obama have tried to articulate: necessary critiques can be heard better if one also tries to affirm what is good about the one needing the critique. Whites are not devils as the early Malcolm X thought. Men are not automatically sexist and rapists just because born with a penis. Straights, even straights who do not approve of gay marriage, are not automatically to be equated with homophobic heterosexists.

Most of us are both oppressed and oppressor. Few of us are pure. Cone has much to teach–but the tone of the early Cone was so self-righteous, so lacking in any humility, as to be very difficult for even the most sympathetic whites to hear. I understand the historical context that contributed to this tone–but that does it make it any easier to hear.

In South Africa there has just been a row over a white journalist, David Bullard, who was fired for writing in his column that blacks yould be ifnorant savages if it weren’t for white colonialism (that’s an oversimplified generalisation, but it gives the gist of the objections as well as what he said).

A black commentator compared this with the whole “apologise” thing — because both Bullard’s point and the “apologise” thing are based on the same assumption — if one is like that, then “they” are all like that. If their putative ancestors did such things, then the descendants must do those things today, or if they don’t do them right now, they will “revert to type” at any moment.

This is the principle of the blood feud, which persists to some extent in Albania, though it may not be as strong as it was a century ago. If someone kills a member of my family, even accidentally, then I must kill a member of their family, even if it is an 8-year-old third cousin twice removed of the killer. Neithr civil law nor religious morality is allowed to stand in the way of the blood code, which is stronger.

AQnd this is why the idea that “we” (who are “we”) should apologise for the crusades is the most pernicious racism.

I think “destroy:Ideas” and westmoreland make a good interpretations of what Cone is saying, but I haven’t really read Cone, so I’m as lost as anyone else. My initial reading of Cone’s excerpt was indignation. I felt like accusing him of reverse racism. I would have liked to check it out from the library, but our library (of mostly white students) doesn’t have it. I do, however, think that his opening line is key to what he is saying,

“It is unthinkable that the oppressors could identify with oppressed existence and thus say something relevant about God’s liberation of the oppressed.”

If by this he means that is unthinkable for an oppressor to continue as an oppressor while “identifying” with oppressed then I think he is profoundly correct and that I am in trouble. For all my talk about peace and justice I live a pretty oppressing existence, though I am trying to change. So, my existence as an oppressor precludes me from really preaching the gospel. If this is what he means than here we have a profound truth. I know that some seminaries offer degrees in contextualized hermeneutics. Basically students live in 3rd world countries (for extended periods of time) while doing their Bible classes. The idea is that the experience forces them into a world more like Jesus’. Living in a situation of oppression provides a context to understand the gospel otherwise unattainable. I also think of Paul’s words in Philippians 3.7–9,

“7 Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. 8 More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ 9 and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but one that comes through the faithfulness of Christ, the righteousness from God based on faith.”

It would be interesting to hear from an oppressed person on this particular issue, someone who had actually suffered the loss of all things. The sad thing is that since none of us are oppressed were guilty of Cone’s objection. It might be similar to saying that someone who has never been persecuted has never really witnessed. Despite his helpful observation it doesn’t seem like his language is actually helpful to bring about change. On the one hand, Reconciliation between oppressor and the oppressed cannot take place, as Cone might say, by allowing the two to get along under the same conditions. The oppressor must change. On the other hand, reconciliation certainly will not take place by elevating the oppressed to the level of oppressor. Cone’s suggestion that theology cannot be white but must be black is itself oppressing and not helpful to actually bring about reconciliation or liberation.

I have a little less respect for Clawson’s excerpt. I would like to know what role she plays in “Christianity” today. I read her entire post and I entirely agree with her overall sentiment. Christians should be the first to apologize for the sins of our past before God and the world. With that said, I think she completely oversteps her bounds by portraying Christianity as wholesale “toxic.” If she is actually involved and serving at a church I will try to hear her, but if she stands on the outside throwing stones condemning the ignorant little Christians then I have little respect for her.

Amen, Tyler.

After some reflection on Cone’s thoughts (as limited as they are on this post), I have become more and more indignant. Frankly, the context of his statements mean very little to me. He says what he says and it is racist. There is no other way around it. Cone is a “face-taker.” His statements are the typical grandstanding and all-or-nothing rhetoric that unfortunately we find in far too much theological discourse.

What a simple world it would be if we could easily label the oppressed and oppressor with labels like black and white or rich and poor.

I’m going to respond to everyone’s thought-provoking and/or thought-precluding comments within a week. I’m still waiting for Solomon Burchfield to comment, as promised, and I have just a few more final exams to take. My comprehensive response will probably be in a new post, to which I’ll link here in the comments.

Thanks for your contributions so far!

Thanks, Thom. You’ve done a very thorough job. A one page summary of your own view of the text would be useful.

The whole hidden transcripts thing is fascinating. I don’t know whether you have been following discussions about the extent to which Paul subtly criticises the imperial cult in his letters.

You may be interested in some of my own work on Acts and Paul. I argue that there are quiet a few cases of ‘protective silence’ in Paul and Acts where the author hides certain facts from potentially hostile authorities to avoid getting anyone into trouble. Also, when the author and his intended audience have insider information that is not available to potential persecutors (who are the unintended audience), this can be exploited by the author to communicate with his intended audience while hiding his meaning from the unintended audience. An example of this, I suggest, is the account of the beating of Sosthenes, which makes no sense to those without insider information (such as potential persecutors and modern commentators), but makes perfect sense to insiders who knew that Sosthenes was none other than Crispus renamed. For the insider the text states that the Jews were given the jurisdiction to beat up Christian benefactors, but this meaning had to be kept hidden from the unintended audience because it would tell them that they could beat up other Christian benefactors and appeal to the precedent of the Gallio incident to avoid repercussions.

I have written about protective silences here: http://members.shaw.ca/rfellows/My_Homepage_Files/Page56.html

And I’ve written about Crispus-Sosthenes here:

http://members.shaw.ca/rfellows/My_Homepage_Files/Page9.html

If my reading of Acts 18:17 is correct, Gallio’s ruling gave the Jews permission to beat up Christian benefactors. Therefore Paul cannot have meant what he appears to say in Rom 13:1-7. Phoebe, who delivered Romans and was herself a Christian benefactor would therefore not have been able to read this passage to the Roman church with a straight face. Perhaps she read it with an ironic tone of voice.

Thanks again for an interesting series of posts. The hidden transcript stuff was new to me.

Rags, blanket statements are always made, especially in metaphor. Your argument doesn’t hold weight in the historic record of metaphor and oppression in general.

Clearly not every Egyptian was holding the Hebrew in slavery, yet it’s not unjustifiable to refer to oppression as “Egypt.” I would continue but I have trust in your own mental capacities to extend this example to every instance of oppression throughout history.

Your father example is only valid if you said we used the metaphor of “father” as oppressor and “child” as oppressed because that would make sense, drawing it to race doesn’t not connect. This is because oppression in the States and Colonies was based on race, and fatherlessness is not a racially based phenomenon.

Let’s use a metaphor Jesus used: the world. He says the world hates us. Clearly not every worldly person hates us, rather it is the underlying systems, institutions and consciousness within the world that hates us. In the same way, this metaphor by Cone is used. It is the “white” systems, institutions and political consciousness that has oppressed “black” and is still unjust in its dealings with that race.

So while Jesus says to hate the world, he also calls us to the ministry of reconciliation with the world.

Richard,

I am very interested in your work. I’ve been browsing your sites and I am planning on doing some serious reading of your stuff in the near future. It sounds like your arguments definitely complement the Hidden Transcript approach; in fact, they fit right into Scott’s categories. I really appreciate your taking the time to read through this long series, and I very much appreciate your comments.

Your comment on the Benefaction Convention post was helpful. Although Winter’s reading is possible, it remains highly unlikely, I think, for several reasons. One of those reasons is that Paul’s language is too ambiguous to be determinative, and, as Walters points out, the language of agathon and epainos is right at home in Greco-Roman and Jewish moral paraenesis as well.

I do think it remains a possibility that Paul could be alluding to the benefaction convention, but, since I read the pericope ironically, I think such an allusion would be tongue-in-cheek, as you suggested when you imagined Phoebe reading 13:4 with a smirk, in light of Gallio’s precedent.

Your comment on the Nanos section (Jewish synagogue authorities) was very astute. In fact, the point you made was so painfully obvious, I slapped myself for not having thought of it already. Your addition will definitely make the second draft!

I hope to be in dialogue with you in the future. Thanks again for taking the time to carefully read my work, and critique it. I am obliged to you, sir.

Grace and peace,
Thom

Interesting thoughts.

I would have to disagree. On several points.

“The internal unity of a Christian church can be attained or maintained today only by minimizing and playing down the radical historical oppositions that divide its members.”

Really? Only? The only methodology for ecumenism is the WCC’s method? I think this assertion is completely errant. Especially in light of the Pauline rhetoric for unity in 1 Corinthians.

And I think he has a lack of understanding of what true liturgy is. It is not “formulas and rites.”

I think he is addressing a valid point, but I think his argumentation is way off. He fails to have good definitions of what Church unity, rites and formulas, and “picturing God” actually mean.

thank you for your pejorative non-reply.

and this is my non-reply to that.

dialogue isn’t really fostered in this way, is it?

Furthermore, I might add, as a reply to your accusation that I gave a non-reply, that your original critique was actually a non-critique, because you didn’t provide any positive account of the concepts you claim Segundo has wrong. We don’t know what you think they are, and we don’t know why you think what you think about what Segundo thinks they are, thus, we don’t know what to think about what you think they are in contrast to what you think Segundo thinks they are. That’s what I think.

Okay, let me start by saying that I don’t know what Segundo’s context is. I don’t know who he is, and all I have of him is this isolated pericope. But with that in mind, I still think that whatever language he is speaking of, he is confused about the Christian language.

He presupposes that the only way to gain or maintain Christian unity is by passing over any disputed political or social matters. This seems to be the opposite of the Pauline rhetoric in 1 Corinthians. When Paul in confronted with divisions on the basis of social realities, he does not try to play down the differences for the sake of Christian unity, but rather he calls the oppressors to be what they are already supposed to be. He does not allow for least common denominator Christian unity, he rather calls the oppressors bad Christians who need to become better ones.

Is it not possible that when those in league with the Junta of Chile were partaking in the rites and rituals they were doing so not as Christians themselves?

I’m not sure if I am being clear so allow me some further elaboration.

The God of the Scriptures aligns himself with the poor and the weak, over against the oppression of the rich and the powerful. This is the God of the Nicene Creed. Those who stand in the assembly week after week and read those words and participate in the Body and the Blood of Christ and then proceed to extend oppression in their actions and inactions are not somehow a different branch of Christianity with which the oppressed branch needs to achieve unity, they are themselves bad Christians, Christians who are failing to play their part in the story.

Furthermore, I think his definition of religious rites and formulas seems to be shallow and unbiblical. Is not the Eucharist socially subversive against the economic oppression of the powerful? I would argue that it is subversive whether or not those partaking are aware of this subversion in the same way that Christ is present in the Eucharist whether or not those partaking of it believe in the real presence or not.

I also think that Segundo fails to properly view the oppressors (as Moltmann would) as victims of the system themselves. They are victims who need to be released from the vicious cycle of oppression by following the risen Messiah. I think his concluding statement is one of the problems I see (and again, I think Moltmann would agree) with Liberation Theology. While I agree that God does tend to align himself with the oppressed over against the oppressors, he does not exactly capitulate himself to these dichotomies. He offers a third way. I can’t help but feel that some Liberation Theology seems to be the Zealotry that Jesus refused to align himself with.

Finally, the Christianity that Segundo seems to be articulating is a Christianity of constant sectarianism. I think that we can work toward dialogue and unity without denying the oppressed justice. We can articulate that we really do disagree on certain areas, but we need to be willing to compare our theological systems to see which is more coherent and more theologically faithful to the biblical and historical revelations of the church.

My gosh, I’m sorry for some of the harsh words spoken here, Thom. Things could be said with much more grace and understanding to you than they have been, especially since your writing was meant to help and not harm, to push our understanding and thoughts forward and not backward. And the essay that you wrote did help ME – helped me to understand death and that it can be grieved, among other things.

Thanks Thom,
-Tyler

I am having trouble seeing the direct relation between the first paragraph and the other two. How much is missing between the first and second paragraphs? Maybe I’m just out of it.

I think that Yoder has a valid critique of classic pietistic spirituality in the first paragraph. I think that it might be good to wed his statements with good ole’ Soren (”Purity of heart is to will one thing”). When the one thing that you are willing is union with God, then the Spirit of God will bring you into the heart of God, from which flows the missio dei, namely reconciliation and new creation.

I think the second and third paragraphs offer some very wise words to the contemporary church. This is especially true within the dialogues of some of the newer movements in Christianity that have been directly influenced by Yoder’s thought (I am thinking here of New Monasticism, Christarchy, etc.). I sometimes feel that their (and mine too, I would label myself close to many of those groups) rhetoric borders on the postmillennialism so prevalent 200 years ago.

We need to enter into the struggle for social justice, but with the full knowledge that the movement that we form for doing so will (in all likelihood) end up contradicting itself (Wendell Berry’s insight, not mine). We also should recognize that there are deeper and deeper causes of injustice that will only reveal themselves as we work toward a more just future (the end of slavery did not bring justice to the blacks in America, neither did suffrage, or the civil rights movement. As good as all those things are, they are only steps toward justice). Justice herself lies deeper and we will discover as we endlessly pursue it that we will never attain it.

We must still strive for justice, but we must do so knowing that justice will only be fully actualized within our history when the future of the risen Christ is made fully manifest and our hope gives way to music (Jenson).

I like the new site and this post from Yoder (looking MUCH younger than when I knew him!). Why is my blog listed only under politics?

The GLBT series is finished there. Oh, and just to be provocative, this Anabaptist pacifist just posted an appreciation of the Family Niebuhr! See:
http://levellers.wordpress.com/2008/07/26/an-appreciation-of-the-family-niebuhr/

Good ole Fox News.

Father Flager made some excellent points about context and the role of Rev. Wright as a preacher talking to family vs. a politician speaking to a nation. So, contextually speaking, how does Rev. Wright suggest that America is responsible for the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Africa?

Well, I don’t know much about this Jeremiah Wright guy. What I do know is that, even if there were not already an overwhelming amount of corroborative evidence, this clip alone is enough to forever invalidate Fox’s claim to be “fair and balanced.” Big props to Flager for taking the offense of the gospel into public space like this.

Thom,

To what extent does Mr. Carter represent your position on the Church’s role/ability in faithful participation in U.S. politics? I’m just curious.

So Thom,

To what extent does Mr. Carter represent your position on the Church’s role/ability in faithful participation in U.S. politics? I’m just curious.

Why do people pray? Most of this is conjecture and imagination but here’s what I see.

Man did not find God. Unless God initiated the contact Man was oblivious. God started the whole thing, God found Man, God made himself known. When Man came to his senses and realized that what just happened to him was something of the divine he tried to respond. That response was prayer.

All this to say, you do not start praying because you want to find God. You start praying because God found you.

Hey,
You should check out this line up:http://www.theologyphilosophycentre.co.uk/Rome2008/
Particularly I think you should look at the following under the 4.45 session on “Dialogics: Postmodern and Premodern”, you can see it here:
http://theologyphilosophycentre.co.uk/Rome2008/programme/Rome2008Programme5-14.pdf
take care,
ps: back on the Wittgenstein train I see.

What are the notable differences your finding between MacIntyre and Wittgenstein?

Good thoughts on the nature of belief, as if there were such a thing.

Oh Thom,

It’s not Joseph who was raised up “for such a time as this,” but Esther (4.14), which clearly makes Palin a supreme archtype, as anyone can see. However, this does make her the queen of a harem…

Hey Thom, did you see Palin’s “explanation” of her comments? She responds by quoting Abraham Lincoln who said “Let us not pray that God is on our side, but let us pray that we are on God’s side.” She says that is what she meant. So what does this statement mean? It seems as though it is either irrelevant, in that it doesn’t really change anything, or worse–dangerous–in that it objectifies America’s Mission to Missio Dei. Thoughts?

Hey Thom, how’s TN?

I just thought in the interest of fairness that Palin’s prayer was actually represented here:

“Pray for our military men and women who are striving to do what is right. Also, for this country, that our leaders, our national leaders, are sending them out on a task that is from God. That’s what we have to make sure that we’re praying for, that there is a plan and that that plan is God’s plan.”

I well know your stance against war, and I respect it. But on the surface – I don’t see any nationalistic wackiness in this prayer. Where do you see it? I know that you are convinced that war is never a part of God’s plan, and so you disagree on a theological/philosophical level with Palin – but I simply don’t see the idea endorsed in this prayer that this war is a divinely sanctioned crusade. I simply see a Christian political leader who wants to pray and seek God’s will. What’s wrong with that? I understand why you would protest any Christian even bothering God with such a non-sensical prayer (seeking God’s guidance in war is sort of like seeking God’s guidance for adultery), but we shouldn’t twist her words.

Wow, thanks for posting this. I posted a rant yesterday based on her comments re: Russia. Palin scares me.

But, my wife made a very good point yesterday. Palin is a pick to pander to a base. The problem is not Palin. The problem is that a significant electoral base of Christians are perceived by the McCain camp to be in line with her.

Jake, I went to your blog, and I agree. Decatur is the armpit of Illinois. The entire paternal side of my family lives there – I love the smell of soybeans in the morning.

Let me ask this: What is the more arrogant/ignorant statement?

God has not blessed America

or

God has blessed America

Keep in mind that neither statement pretends to assert that everything that America does is blessed or not blessed by God – obviously that cannot be the case for a nation any more than it is more an individual.

Your comments are not “tainted?” Do you ask yourself the same questions?

I wasn’t accusing Jake of making the claim. Jake, I’m sorry if this is how it was taken. His comments merely caused me to ask the question.

Thom, your allegiance to Rev. Wright is peculiar. He’s a “better Christian” than us put together. Despite the obvious dangers of labelling others (particularly those we have never met) “better Christians” than others, I would also point out that Wright has been accused by a woman in Texas of engaging in a prolonged sexual affair. Further, his current wife was met while offering marriage counseling between her and her former husband. Have you let your ideology taint your view of this man?

Love you Thom.

At the risk of dominating the discussion, let me also quickly add that conservative Christians are not the only ones guilty of nationalism. Many “liberal” Christians also struggle with their own brand of nationalism which looks for its savior not from heaven, but from Washington.

Thom, this is perhaps a first. I find myself in agreement with virtually everything you said. I appreciated your comments about “Washington” and “Heaven.” I think they are right on.

You are also right that sexual sin doesn’t make Wright a “wack-job.” It makes him human. But it does, I think, undermine his whole “prophetic” initiative. Sexual sin, tragically, is not uncommon to those in leadership positions – particularly very charismatic leaders. And Wright is not the first by any means to attempt a denial and cover-up of such gross sin. But leaders who do not own their gross sin do their entire ministries and those whom they are leading a colossal disservice. The message is not divorced from the messenger. His message of liberation would be much more effective in the wider world, if it were brought together with a message of personal holiness.

I still maintain that Wright is wacky however. He is a racist and a conspiracy monger. I am certain that at least on this point we will have disagreement, so all is right with the world.

Black people can’t be racists?

Hi, I found your blog on this new directory of WordPress Blogs at blackhatbootcamp.com/listofwordpressblogs. I dont know how your blog came up, must have been a typo, i duno. Anyways, I just clicked it and here I am. Your blog looks good. Have a nice day. James.

It seems like Wright struggles with Pride and arrogance more than anything else. Did you guys see any of his interviews during the primaries?

“Many “liberal” Christians also struggle with their own brand of nationalism which looks for its savior not from heaven, but from Washington.”

You hit the nail on the head here Chad. I was at an Obama house party a few weeks ago and though few Christians were present, the general consensus was that Obama was the savior of our nation and all our problems. The campaign staffers decided it would be a good idea to go around the room and say why you supported Obama. Since Amy and I don’t support him, we kindly explained why we tended to vote Democrat and why we came to the party… because our friend (Paxton) invited us. The rest of the attendees bared their souls about how there was “just something about him” and how they knew he would make everything right again and how they felt like this was the most important time in their life. Amy and I talked afterward about how most of them are simply filling their God-sized hole with Obama… crazy really. But seriously, I got to talk about Christianity to an atheist (agnostic) and a homosexual soon-to-be liberal Jew on the same night, democratic house-parties have a lot of lost people.

P.S. I read on CNN that the black population in America ranks 7th globally in AIDS infections… it has since been replaced by headlines like this: “2 month wait for Palin eye-glasses” shameful.

Just as we’ve heard and continue to hear cries that Obama is not truly black because he’s not a descendant of slaves.

You might reading a little too much into Michael’s “just another Republican” comment. I personally don’t know any lefty more outspoken against Democrat immorality than Michael.

The problem is, a lot of the racists remaining in this country DO have their values represented by Obama. And moreover, it’s precisely the racist (and sometimes sexist) coverage that prevents so many from actually discovering what the candidates actually have to say on issues. Instead it’s the “black guy” versus the “old guy,” or the “inexperienced community organizer,” versus the “over-experienced corrupt politician.”

You’re right that it swings both ways, but I disagree with you that values are the biggest issue preventing Americans from voting for Obama. I might also disagree with Michael that race is THE MAJOR issue, although I agree that it is certainly A MAJOR issue. The major issue is and remains the juvenile mainstream media coverage that intentionally deceptive cliches that have become viral on the web. And as a recipient of countless progressive/democratic newsletters and chain emails, I have to say that Obama has been attacked much more heavily in this regard. He simply is not a closet Muslim, a terrorist sympathizer, an abortion monger, or the Anti-Christ, among other accusations, but I continue to meet otherwise sane people EVERY SINGLE DAY who know these things about Obama as certainly as they know that Jesus is Lord and God, guns and guts made America free.

So I would say that racially and religiously charged disinformation is THE MAJOR REASON this race is as close as it is. The issue of values is a chimera.

Wow. That explains a lot about you, Chad. You know, racism isn’t the only form of ideological blindness! Actually, are you sure that last comment wasn’t just a bit of satire to prove to Michael Westmoreland-White that historical and economic unconsciousness are more of a problem in our country than racism?

I think you’re confusing ideology with rational convictions. “Firm beliefs” can be either ideological or rational, not both. Read this book.

I agree with you that education is a big part of the solution for poor communities in America, although we probably disagree on what sort of education is going to fix the problem. We also disagree on the issue of the redistribution of wealth. On that issue, read this book.

“Are you assuming that they are only rational convictions if you happen hold them? If other people’s beliefs are opposed to yours, then they become ideologies?”

That’s right. Obviously.

“Also, thanks for pointing me to the Bible to solve my dilemma about the redistribution of wealth. Yes, it really is that simple isn’t it? I’m now a tax and spend Democrat.”

No problem. I’m glad you made it.

Also, also, I think you’ve noticed that I play fast and loose with my accusations only when it comes to very specific dialogue partners, and you happen to be one of them. It’s my way of only taking our disagreements half-seriously, even though I think most of them are very serious. For what that’s worth, a rare moment of self-exposition.

Hey, Eric.

Before I approve your comment, I wanted to offer you the opportunity to read my response to it. If, after you read my response, you still want me to post your comment, I’ll go ahead and do that. However, if after reading my response you’d like to amend or rewrite your comment, then I’ll rewrite my response to it. Just wanted to give you the opportunity to clarify yourself before I make this little spat public. Here is my response:

——————————————————

Eric,

You said, “It seems like Wright struggles with Pride and arrogance more than anything else. Did you guys see any of his interviews during the primaries?”

Yes, I saw them, and I’m wondering how you are able to quantify the “pride” and “arrogance” of a stranger very far removed from your social situation. When’s the last time you attended a black church? When’s the last time you dialogued with a black person who lived through the civil rights era? When’s the last time you read any black liberation theology? If I were to be presumptuous, like you, I’d name your distant, ignorant and naive judgmentalism “proud” and “arrogant,” but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and just assume you’re trying to be honest with what little you know about Wright and the black liberation theology tradition in the U.S. Moreover, even if we are to read Wright’s body language and intonations as “proud” and “arrogant,” I daresay that’s not something he’s “struggling with.” He seems to be pretty comfortable. By the way, Jesus, also, was considered proud and arrogant by those from a different class and social situation, who were threatened by his message. Anyway, I guess I just hoped to have heard something a little more substantive from you.

Chad said, “Many ‘liberal’ Christians also struggle with their own brand of nationalism which looks for its savior not from heaven, but from Washington.”

To which you replied, “You hit the nail on the head here Chad.”

Umm… what Chad said was obvious, nothing very spectacular about it, except for its virtue of being right. But it wasn’t some big mystery Chad unveiled for everyone for the first time. I’m not sure if you read the dialogue Chad and I had after that comment of his, but if you had, you’d know that our conversation went in quite a different direction from where you decided to try to take it. So you begin with Chad’s observation about liberal Christians’ own struggle with nationalism, then you follow that up with an anecdote about a room full of mostly NON-CHRISTIAN nationalists. I’m not following your logic there.

Then, after your easy in-house dismissal of agnostics, homosexuals, and liberal Jews, you conclude by saying that “democratic house-parties have a lot of lost people.” Yeah, well, so does Ozark Christian College. Actually, OCC has some agnostics, homosexuals, and liberal Jews, and in addition to those sorts, OCC also has a lot of lost people. So I don’t see what your point is. Taken as is, it seems to be a ridiculous overgeneralization about democrats, or at least about democratic house parties, as if you won’t find thousands of republican house parties across the nation with their share of agnostics, homosexuals, and liberal Jews, or “lost people” in general.

I’m sorry; I’m just having a really hard time trying to figure out what purpose your comment has served in this or any conversation. You agree with something Chad said, something I was arguing years ago, vociferously and publicly at Ozark, something I expressly agreed with in this very conversation. Beyond that, the general tone of your comment is dismissive. You dismiss Wright for being arrogant, Obama followers for being gullible, and democratic house parties for being gay. You make reductive remarks about how people who hope Obama will change things are merely “filling their God-sized holes,” whatever that means. And I’m just wondering, because, from where I’m standing, I can’t see how you have access to all that information from where you’re standing.

If I sound like I’m coming down on you hard, it’s because I think this silliness is beneath you. From the little time I’ve spent with you, you’ve struck me as someone too intelligent for all this evangelical mumbo-jumbo. I challenge you to listen to the arrogant man and discover a new sort of humility; listen to the agnostic and hear a sure word from the God s/he isn’t sure about; listen to the queer and hear him straight; listen to the soon-to-be liberal Jew and hear his faithfulness. Listen to the other and hear God, and hear yourself. Don’t look for the “God-shaped hole” in their hearts. Look for the other-shaped hole in yours.

Regardless, this post is about identifying nationalism in the church, not about identifying “lost people” in the democratic party. I imagine you have a lot to say that’s a lot more constructive. If that’s the case, then just go ahead and read this response as an invitation to say that stuff instead.

PS – You’re right about the mainstream media: liberal bias, conversative bias–whatever. It’s all a “bastardization” of journalism (to use a cuss word from OCC prof. Chad Ragsdale). That’s why I stay away from mainstream media as much as possible and follow real journalists.

——————————————————

If you want me to just go ahead and publish these two comments as they are, and respond to my obviously inflammatory response in turn, I’m good either way. I just want the choice to be in your hands.

Peace.

Eric,

Thom asked me to read these comments and (my word, not his) “mediate” between you. I guess he did this for a few reasons, not least because a response to your latest comment by his own pen (or word processor) would just be defending himself, and that is a strange position to be in. It’s like telling someone they always want the last word – they are unable to speak, because that would prove the point, yet they are unable to be silent, but that would be concession. Not to imply that this was the nature of your comment, to somehow trap Thom. I think what I read was sincere. Only to explain a bit as to why he might ask me to speak “on his behalf.”

What he did not know when he asked me is that we are friends. His first line was, “Do you know Eric Malone?” Well, as we both know, for my part, I do know Eric Malone. I know him to be a wonderful guy, intelligent, funny, and all-around good. So I do not view my role here as anything but that. My respect for you remains unchanged. As does my respect for Thom. You are different people.

I would add that I think Thom has respect for you. I’ve not known him to send a person their comments back for “revision.” This is not to imply that this is the first time he’s done it, but only that it is the first I have heard of it. [Thom’s note: This is in fact the first time I’ve done this.] I think, as he stated, he was surprised by your response, and thus thought maybe you would like to “sharpen” it in light of the nature of the kind of blog that Thom is facilitating. Secondly, although it is not overt (because Thom knows very little about complimenting overtly), there are at least two statements that make his respect for you clear, and that he expected more.

I don’t know how right he was to expect. This is a different arena than we often face on the OCC campus, and thus, we don’t always know the rules. This is a political blog that deals with, as the title states, Jesus Politics. Most of us frequenters (quiet or outspoken) bring a bit of “social baggage” to the conversation, usually that of something like sympathy (there’s a better word here, but I’m not getting it) to some groups and outspoken, “righteous” anger to others. You have heard me speak in this vein many times in our “relationships” class – mostly in situations where I believe that class to be perpetuating the very social bullshit we often are trying to denounce in this arena. It is to this end that I believe Thom speaks. I do think that he is quick to attack some opinions different than his own, and sometimes even the people that hold them, but I don’t think I am any different, nor do I think it is a particularly extraordinary phenomenon.

And I think Thom knows why he does this. Thom does this because, at least in part, he is trying to open people’s eyes to many of the deeper issues that are the cause of problems of injustice and oppression and violence in the world. I know you, Eric. You just saw that Chad said something, and you were telling a story. Then Thom goes in with a scalpel and dismantles everything you say. It seems over the top, I know. But I agree with much of Thom’s critique. He is overzealous, but I think that there was some “evangelicalism” to what you said. Your point absolutely stands that there are “liberals” (whatever that even means) that think of Obama as their savior, and that this is just as obnoxious as viewing McCain (or worse, Palin…*shudders*) as a savior. However, I’m not sure that the “god-sized” hole dialogue that followed was helpful. And I think Thom is right to press that maybe we should do less “talking about Jesus” and more listening to the heart of God all around us.

But more importantly, I have to give credence to his support/defense of Rev. Wright. See, that’s where I see his critique as especially important for the topic of this thread and blog. He was probably a little overzealous (maybe needlessly, I don’t know – so much of it is linguistic divide, it’s hard to tell; maybe Thom will take me to task for that remark; frankly I don’t really know and don’t really care) in his critique of your story, but I think right on in his defense of Wright. I think he called out the common mistake that you were making along with many other people that have continued (in a “Foxian” vein) to mischaracterize him, especially when the gospel that he preaches far more strongly resembles the gospel I believe in (though I don’t live very well) than the kind of silliness (or maybe even madness) that Palin and her preacher “preach.”

But that’s not really the issue. The issue is what Thom risks when he, as you put it, comes off as arrogant, wishing to proudly exert his keen intelligence and rhetoric to dismantle others and make them feel stupid. Having spoken to you since this…whatever, I know that you are less “emotionally involved” than your last note lets on. However, I would think your “observations” still represent your reaction to Thom, and it is to this end that we speak. Does Thom appear in these ways to people? Sure, I guess, depending on how well you know him. Is Thom these things? Maybe. Does Thom know it? Probably. But here is what is important I think in understanding Thom (something that I’m still working on): it really doesn’t matter. Maybe arrogance motivates him. I’m sure that’s in there somewhere, mostly because, when I hear myself speaking (loudly, as is my fashion), I know that’s somewhere in there for me too. But that does not make a vehement reproach wrong or less appropriate. Whatever his “heart” is, his friends and his family and his God may deal with that; what his words are – well, it demands a greater audience, so to speak.

Thom knows what he risks with his demeanor. We’ve talked about it. But at the same time, he says things that need to be said. He’s hurt my feelings before – really, it’s not all that hard to do. I’m the most sensitive person in the room, almost always (unless I’m with Stephen, then it’s about equal =). But I know how much he cares. And I know that he does not enjoy humiliating people. Does Thom have some people skills to work on? Sure. Will he work on them? I don’t know, probably not. But will he continue to speak truth and justice – he must. And so he risks these characterizations (and I think they do bother him more than he lets on, but that’s just me). He never intended to humiliate you.

All those ramblings to say this (I’m starting to really doubt Thom’s choice of myself for this response): Thom is frustrating, insensitive, and wonderfully caring. All of that came out in his response to you, and I think it’s easier for me to see because I know him better. It’s not that Thom is disrespectful, it’s just that he has a lot of respect for the people we often carelessly put down and destroy with our language, our apathy, and our ignorance. This hopefully has not been an attempt to defend Thom exactly, and solidify your “wrongness” – which I think may be more apparent than real exactly, at least in some ways. But rather, it was to acquaint you to who Thom is, and thus create a better environment for you two, and the rest of us, to dialogue in the future. This, I sincerely hope, will happen.

Thom,
Quit being such a dick. It puts people off. =)

“I believe that “going green” is empty rhetoric unless it is combined with other environmentally responsible uses of natural resources.”

I’m really confused by this statement. If you mean that people are “going green” and not being responsible with their use of natural resources, then they are not really “going green.” However, if you mean that if they are not, then it is an empty rhetoric, then who’s gonna disagree with that? Seems like a fairly obvious statement. Beyond that, “going green” is a process, right? Not like, wake up one day in a bad Dr. Seuss book and go, “Hey, I’m green!” but something you do over a period of time?

“I believe that what will save our inner cities is not a redistribution of wealth but a revolution in education that simply will not tolerate the mental slavery that is happening in poor communities today…I believe that, while it may win you votes in November by tapping into people’s classism, it is dumb to further tax the wealthy especially in a time of economic difficulty. It is the wealthy after all who are the venture capitalists funding the dreams of the middle class. It is the wealthy who are our bosses. It is the wealthy who take financial risks to create further vitality. It is the wealthy who stock our shelves with food and who fill our tanks with gas. Now, undoubtedly there must be reforms put into places and economic incentives for not sending jobs overseas, but what do you think will happen if the wealthy are further taxed? They will find ways around the new taxes by constricting growth and moving business overseas.”

Whoa…Chad, this is something else. I love you, but I have no idea what to make of this. A revolution in education of the kind necessary to liberate those from “mental slavery” would and must result in a redistribution of wealth. The very problem is that you’re categorizing the slavery of poor communities as a “mental slavery” at best, at worst implying that if they just weren’t dang uneducated, they would not be slaves, and in any case, assuming that that there are some kind of divides in slavery – some spiritual or mental or whatever – that somehow dictate the way we should help them out. “ Don’t give them money, give them books written by people with money, so they can be educated and not mental slaves.” People are not mental slaves, or spiritual slaves, they are slaves, and their liberation must come in a very real way, not from people (myself included) that like to relegate their slavery in nebulous, abstract terms that free me from actually doing anything about their slavery.

Of course, the wealthy are taking financial risks. Of course, they are feeding us and putting gasoline into our tanks. Wow. Those wealthy – they are so swell! Now why can’t those poor ghetto kids just see that? Especially since they are so obviously blessed by the wealthy. Those good ole selfless wealthy, God bless ‘em! Are you kidding me? I find it strange that first you defend them (or beyond), then in the next move of your argument say that if they were to be constricted from their do-goodedness by sanctions, they would do further damage to the local economies “stateside.” The situation is senseless: the do-gooder wealthy help the poor, like rich Robin Hoods, then the government puts laws on them so they can’t do that anymore, so they respond by exploiting communities outside of our government jurisdiction, doing the exact opposite of the apparent good they were doing over here. I see no reason for this senseless defense of the wealthy except the justification that it is the incredibly wealthy that help us who are not-so-incredibly-wealthy-yet-still-quite-wealthy continue to be wealthy and blind to its affect .

I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Chad, I promise. My sarcasm/satirical tone is not meant to insult, but simply expressing how flabbergasted I am that you would defend the rich. The wealthy don’t take care of the rest of the world. That is simply not, and never has been, how it works. I am ashamed of my own subservience to this principle, and hope in Jesus that I can somehow succeed in being a liberator, not an oppressor.

“Come now, you rich, weep and howl for the miseries that are coming upon you. Your riches have rotted and your garments are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver have corrded, and their corrosion will be evidence against you and will eat your flesh like fire. You have laid up treasure in the last days. Behold, the wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, are crying out against you and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts. You have lived on the earth in luxury and in self-indulgence. You have fattened your hearts in a day of slaughter. You have condemned and murdered the righteous person. He does not resist you.” James 5:1-6

This is fun. Can I join in?

“I believe that, while it may win you votes in November by tapping into people’s classism, it is dumb to further tax the wealthy especially in a time of economic difficulty.”

“Jesus looked at him and loved him. ‘One thing you lack,’ he said. ‘Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor’” (Mark 10:21).

Jesus was such a freakin’ idiot.

Dear Chad “Isaiah 64:6″ Ragsdale,

Here’s another book for you.

If you want any more book recommendations, just keep commenting as usual.

1. Are all conservatives so blantantly non-Christians and out-of-touch as you seem to beleive? Perhaps they might have good (even Christian) reasons for believing what they do.

2. Look over my comments again. Did I at any point celebrate the benevolence and inherent good of the wealthy? I’ll wait….Ok, thought so. I’m not a dope. I’ve read the Bible once or twice. I know what it says about the poor and the wealthy. My comment was simply an observation of economic reality.

3. Are you so naive as to think that forcibly giving money to the government is more Christian than allowing businessmen to keep their money and do with it as they wish? So the corrupt beauracracy is the force of light in this world given the task of redistributing wealth to the poor. Excuse my sarcasm, but how has that worked out so far?!

4. So negotiating with terrorists thus encouraging them to continue in their terrorist activities = loving them? Loving them means submitting to their lunatic demands? Did I ever say not to love terrorists? I’ll wait…thought so.

5. Am I to understand that God encourages classism? Those jerks who sacrificed their whole lives to gain a measure of financial wealth. They obviously don’t deserve it. They are evil. I think they should give it to me. I’m more righteous than they are. Generosity is by its very nature a voluntary matter of the heart. Stealing from the rich and giving to the poor seems to violate at least one of the commandments however.

That’s all I’ve got for now. I’ve got to go back to my cave and plot the takeover of the world.

In regard to (4), now you’re being fracking dense. How the hell do you get “encouraging them to continue in their terrorist activities” out of being willing to talk with them as human beings. This is what I mean (and I do mean it) when I say that you are blinded by ideology, Chad. Are you honestly trying to suggest that a Christian ethic WOULDN’T tell us to listen to the grievances of our enemies and be willing to confess our culpability in their resort to violence? Get real!

Speaking of “lunatic demands,” what about the demands of, say, a George H.W. Bush who demands that Saddam leave Kuwait, and then when Saddam says he’s ready to comply, Bush retorts, “It’s too late!”? What about that lunatic demand? What about the “lunatic demand” of George W. Bush that Saddam just hand over Iraq to the invading U.S. forces because Bush has the bigger, er, stick? What about our lunatic demands that democratically elected presidents in multiple South American countries step down or face U.S. backed military coups or even invasions?

Did you ever consider that those we call terrorists may not be willing to negotiate with us because they share the principle, “We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Chad, get a history book or stop teaching people what it means to follow Jesus!

Not all conservatives are out of touch. You are. Your rationalizations of the status quo are consistently unchristian. But I know many conservatives who don’t sound a lick like you. Actually, many of the policies you seem to want to support are a far cry from conservative. And of course it depends on what you mean by conservative. We could pour all our money into consumption and waste, or we could maybe take some of that money off the top and put it toward health care, alternate energy sources, and diplomacy, among other things. Saving lives, the environment, and money on “necessary” wars, I think is very conservative.

Do you think the rich Israelites who were supposed to submit to Jubilee thought it was fair? They worked hard for their property. They acquired it by generously giving loans to the needy and then, instead of requiring their death when they couldn’t pay it back, taking their land and their lives as slaves. Do you think they were like, Oh, Jubilee’s coming up. I can’t wait to level the playing fields!

But God didn’t care what they thought. If you want to call justice theft, you’re on the wrong side of the gospel.

I’d like to ask Jordan Wood to respond in some detail to Chad’s latest response, in part because I’m very busy today, and in part because Jordan never responds in detail. If I feel like something more needs to be said in response, I’ll say it after Jordan.

Thanks, Jordan.

“1. Are all conservatives so blatantly non-Christians and out-of-touch as you seem to believe? Perhaps they might
have good (even Christian) reasons for believing what they do.”

I will defer to Thom’s comment about the slipperiness of the term “conservatives.” However, no, I don’t not think they are
“non-Christians.” And I don’t think they are out-of-touch with everything, to imply that they are mentally deficient or something like that, but I would maintain that they are out-of-touch with certain important aspects of the gospel of Jesus if by conservatives you mean the kind of things you said in your previous comments. I think you are intelligent, Chad, you know that. But every deviation, even if or especially if we believe it to be crucial or even essential, does not make us attackers of intelligence. Moreover, I don’t think they don’t have reasons for what they believe, I think that their reasons are ideological, blind or otherwise, and continue to support the free-market capitalist context in which they find themselves (and which serves most of them quite well, to the exploitation of others). Most of these people are not poor (I might even say all of them are not, and that includes myself), and their interests are not vested in speaking for or being one of the poor. I’m not calling us (note the us) stupid, I’m calling us (again, note it) unjust. And if we continue to support our economics of injustice overagainst the economic leveling of the Kingdom of God, then yes, we are out-of-touch with the gospel.

“2. Look over my comments again. Did I at any point celebrate the benevolence and inherent good of the wealthy? I’ll wait….Ok, thought so. I’m not a dope. I’ve read the Bible once or twice. I know what it says about the poor and the wealthy. My comment was simply an observation of economic reality.”

Chad, c’mon, please. You cannot fault me for seeing a “celebration” of the wealthy in your statements simply because you did not say, “I celebrate the benevolence and inherent good of the wealthy.” I’m not implying you’ve not read the Bible – you’ve read it more than I have, and for longer. However, I think you’re back-peddling by saying it was simply “an observation of economic reality.” It was not some “objective observation,” it was a defense of the way things are. And humble, respectfully, as an older, wiser Christian, I urge you to read your statements against Scripture, which I unabashedly admit you have read much more than I, and see if they match up. Because I continue to hold that they don’t. The wealthy do not feed and clothe the “peasantry,” although they may help us (note the us) out because we are wealthy too, within the workable confines of free-market capitalism (which they do so to make themselves more wealthy; I think you’re confusing them providing product from the sweat of workers to sell and make money for provision); the wealthy exploit the “peasantry” for their own gain. It has always been so, and until the words of James come true (speaking in line with the Hebrew prophetic tradition), I fear it will always be so.

I would also challenge you to see how much your thinking on this is in line with American nationalistic thought. I know you, and I know you speak against nationalism. I think you should consider (I speak in humility, I hope truly) whether or not this is consistent with your “anti-nationalism” gospel. Because I’m not sure it is.

“3. Are you so naive as to think that forcibly giving money to the government is more Christian than allowing businessmen to keep their money and do with it as they wish? So the corrupt bureaucracy is the force of light in this world given the task of redistributing wealth to the poor. Excuse my sarcasm, but how has that worked out so far?!”

Someone else could deal with this objection better than I, so I’ll just say a quick word. I think that if we can get the governments to put sanctions upon the wealthy that might (big might) actually help the poor, then we should. However, I don’t pretend that I have to work within the framework of the system to be Christian. In fact, this is what Jesus did, and Paul – they worked outside the rules of the system to create a new people that was intended to have its own economic politics, space, and ‘system’ for lack of a better word. I would like the governments to redistribute the wealth, but I doubt they will, because they are wealthy – it’s not in their best interests. However, I know that the Church is to bring the wealthy into the folds, and then use the resources they bring to bring about the economic leveling that is necessary for us to fit the vision of the early Christian leaders like Paul. And that, in the West, has not worked so far. Shame on us.

Oh yeah, and note the us.

Thanks, Alex. Again, there is nothing personal in my responses, and I know you all well enough to not take offense.

Alex, I’m not going to risk misreading your statements, so I’m going to wait for a better explanation. It seems like you are saying that the bourgeoisie exist to exploit the proletariat and what we need is a government to level the economic classes. Is this really a Christian concept supported by James or anyone else for that matter? Now Alex, I’m not calling you a Communist, but your language takes you perilously close to the edge.

Ooh. I love books that challenge me not to face reality. Here’s one of my favorites.

You’ve GOT to be kidding me, Ragsdale. How many books on economics and globalization have you read, other than The World Is Flat (note: it’s not The Earth Is Flat)? “One of the most important books on economics and history written in the past twenty years”?! Where’d you read that, the back of the book? That right there betrays your almost complete ignorance of economics and globalization literature. One of the most important books on economics in the last twenty years, written by a PROSE COLUMNIST with a Masters in Middle Eastern studies. (Can you keep a straight face while saying this crap while looking at yourself in a mirror?) If you want to read some of the most important books on economics and globalization written in the past twenty years, I’ll give you a list of the 10 or so I’ve read, and several other ones on my list. Until then, I’d commend you to stop peddling (your word) neo-lib, popular level prose propaganda full of factual errors and omissions, written by a business journalist who wants to underwrite offshoring because it serves the interest of the American upper and middle classes.

Let me know when you’re ready for that list of books, but only if you’re seriously going to read them.

I know who Tom Friedman is. I read the New York Times. I read five different summaries of the book’s content, and 50 reviews on Amazon, 25 positive, 25 negative–and didn’t count reviews I didn’t consider to provide substantive information about the book. I have a fairly good background in economics and globalization discussions, as I took a course at MSSU on these issues, and I’ve read fairly extensively in the field. I’ve read other books like Friedman’s too, and talked extensively with well-read students in class who have read this book and dozens like it. There is nothing new or groundbreaking in the basic data this book provides that would make it deserve the high praise you give it. Friedman’s book is trite, and propagandistic, especially in its massive omissions. It doesn’t discuss any of the problems globalization creates that are relevant to the discussion we’ve been having here, and it’s omission of those problems is precisely one of the things that makes it a popular work of propaganda. It’s a New York Times brand name product, with trite insights, replete with misunderstandings of Indian, Chinese and Arab cultures. That it limits itself predominantly to outsourcing in IT and computer technology means it covers a very, VERY small portion of the phenomenon that is globalization. Basically, in its content it’s irrelevant, and in its claim that it is offering an accurate picture of globalization, it is dangerously misleading.

Your sarcastic remarks and failure to answer any of the substantive questions I asked leads me to believe that you’re running out of steam here. I suppose I would be too if all I had to go on was Tom Friedman. (Who, incidentally, has a very unfortunate surname for a guy who wrote a book on the global economy!)

Pardon my late entrance to this conversation. I am not well read in economics and the like, but I do have a couple questions for both sides.

1.) At what point does a political candidate stop reflecting your Christian perspective? I mean, I think we all would agree that our candidate does not reflect all of our hopes and ideologies (can I say that word?), but where do we say it is okay for him/her to disagree with me here? For instance, is it okay for a candidate to be pro-abortion? For me personally, I would rather a candidate be anti-war than anti-abortion because at least the anti-war person might be able to save lives (yes I am a defeatist about overturning Roe vs. Wade). Please realize that I do not wish to oversimplify these issues, but seriously how much hope are we placing in candidates that should be placed in the church. Yes, the church needs to be purged from its ardent nationalism (and patriotism) so that she can speak out against the government.

2.) How do we foster a unity among believers that reaches deeper than conservative vs. liberal, so that the church can have that voice to speak out against injustice? Not only speak out, but actually do something about it.

Chad, I applaud your persistence in showing up to these blogs where you are out numbered and highly disagreed with. You are a good man even if I disagree with much of what you say.

Fellow non-violent friends, “But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere.”

One final set of questions for everyone, its a nice thing to vote for a candidate to solve all the problems of poverty and abortion and education, but what are we doing about these issues in our every day lives? Are we giving our churches vision to do something more than just vote? Are our personal lives characterized by service to the marginalized and oppressed? Or is this whole conversation just lip-service? If these issues really mattered to us, wouldn’t we do something about them? (I really don’t want to hear answers on this last paragraph, I just wanted to leave a little bit of reflection. But if there are any ideas as to how to get the church to be strong, I would love to hear them.)

David,

Thanks for your comments. They’re appreciated. I have MANY problems with Obama from my Christian perspective, but I’m still voting for him after weighing those problems against my problems with McCain. I can also align myself with more of Obama’s positions than with McCain’s positions. It’s always good to be hopeful, as long as we can also be realistic. As long as we can maintain gospel realism and preserve a proper CRITICAL stance toward governments (just as we ought to be able to preserve a proper critical stance toward ourselves), I think as long as those conditions remain in place the gospel sort of mandates that we remain hopeful about broader society. Otherwise we disengage in pessimism and end up with (at least functionally) escapist eschatologies.

Anyway, the vote is important, especially for those communities who have historically been denied the vote, but it’s not the be all and end all of politics. You are absolutely right to call attention to the fact that being political isn’t blogging about politics (although blogging is certainly a politically significant phenomenon). Please don’t allow the lack of discussion in this thread about viable from-below political strategies necessary to supplement statecraft to be an indication that that isn’t a question we don’t regularly reflect on and engage. I for one am currently intentionally preparing for a life of grassroots education and community organizing. I do appreciate you, and anyone, who insists on reminding all of us that talking about change is a necessary but NOT A SUFFICIENT condition for being authentically political.

Your second question is hugely important. One of the big dangers with the Stone-Campbell movement, as I’ll be arguing in an upcoming paper, is that it tends to prize unity over political discussion, so that functionally unity amounts to the bracketing of vital, shared, but conflicting political concerns. I don’t have an easy answer for your question. I think that in many ways there is more basic agreement on peace and justice issues among Evangelicals than there has been in the past 100 years, with the singular exception of Chad Ragsdale. But your question is the right question, and one I and others with me frequently struggle to find some answers to.

I second your commendation of Chad for continually speaking up here on this forum where he’s outnumbered. Alex and I were commending him for that just last night. I think we do share A LOT of agreement with Chad on peace and justice issues, agreement that has surfaced or that has been forged in past threads. But we tend to focus on our disagreements because they’re more fun and because they continue to be significant in spite of our agreements.

As for the challenge for us (probably mostly me) to be nicer pacifists, that is often valid. I come down hard on certain people and certain positions for very specific reasons that I would argue are biblical and Christian. Many Christians will continue to disagree with me on that. Most of the time I respect their disagreements. This is not you, but often some Christians will try to use my bluntness as an excuse not to listen to me, and I refuse to accept culpability for that (I’ll take partial responsibility though). But people who know me and have seen me operate in a variety of different contexts know very well that I can be very gentle, patient and respectful of different positions. In short, I am conscious and very intentional about how I say what I say in what context. It hasn’t always been that way with me, but it is something I’ve been intentional about for a few years now.

Anyway, thanks for your comments! Keep ‘em coming.

Chad,

Is being close to Communism perilous? I guess i’m not worried about it.

To sharpen your thoughts of my thoughts, I must say that I do not think the bourgeoisie exist to exploit the proletariat, as a purpose statement, However, I think this is simply an observation – this happens. I don’t know if those terms are as helpful for our current economic situation, as per a discussion i had with Thom. However, I think that the wealthy exploit the lower classes, and will continue to do so.

I also support economic leveling. I’m not sure I am in line with the statement “we need a government that will level the classes,” but if the government gives me a voice (*snickers*), then I’ll use it to support the Christian ethical commitments I have, such as economic leveling. I am certainly not going to stand against it, which I think the wording you have used on this thread so far would suggest you do, if only for “practical” purposes.

By the way, did y’all hear what Bush said about the economy? Says we need like 900 billion dollars to fix it, because it’s going under. Or something like that. I just skimmed the article. Somebody could probably represent it more accurately. Anyway, interesting enough.

What do you think of this?

http://my.barackobama.com/page/invite/bolatestremarks/

I appreciate all your comments. I agree with what Thom said previously. Although it is true that we have some pretty major differences, there is actually far more agreement between us than might be normally reflected on this blog. It is just more fun to spar over our differences – and I for one benifit from the verbal jousting because it causes me to reflect with more seriousness on my positions (even if for now I am not changing many of my major assumptions). I hope that talking to people like me may have the same affect on many of you. Anyway, I am pulling out of this conversation simply because I am pretty busy with other things and I think I’ve sufficiently presented my side.

Hugs and Kisses.

Thanks, Thom.

I appreciate your answers. Maybe the question I was trying to pose was/is; what is the proper method for discovering your political positions? Will the method one chooses make a difference in the conclusions one comes to?

Also, thanks for the books. I will definitely look into them.

Well?

So this post is justification for that shiny new sticker on the back of your car?

I see.

You’ll be pleased to know that you and Brian McLaren linked the same article to make the same point. I hope you know this makes you best friends. I’ll call soon – things have been crazier than usual the past couple months.

Thom, you are the only person I have ever known to have written these words: “Obama is in favor of keeping abortion legal for certain circumstances.”

What circumstances are outside of that realm? I would like to know. If there are no circumstances under which he would be for outlawing abortion rights, then the phrase “for certain circumstances” is just fluff.

Hope that you, Erica and the little princess are doing well. Greet Mr. Lawson for me.

DGF

I’d like your thoughts on this if you get a chance:

http://politicsofthecrossresurrected.blogspot.com/2008/10/im-catholic-staunchly-anti-racist-and.html

Michael, we talked about this last night but I’m posting my thoughts here for interested readers to see. I misunderstood your request and responded to Donahue’s article, when you were asking me to respond to the brief engagement between you and former-Yoderian Craig Carter. Here are my reactions to his response to you:

He said: “I hear this claim of moral equivalence all the time. In what way is voting Republican a vote for direct, moral evil as voting for a president who pledges to expand and entench[sic.] abortion is? What ‘intrincically [sic.] evil acts’ is McCain proposing that Obama is not proposing?”

For one, McCain is proposing the indefinite prolongation of an unjust war by any criteria. As Craig Carter knows, every person killed (combatant or not) in an unjust war by an invading army has the moral status of a murder victim. McCain wants to continue to murder Iraqis. Obama insists we try only to kill those responsible for the attacks on 9/11. Now, perhaps Craig Carter thinks the war in Iraq is just by now. He’s argued in the past that it isn’t, but, he’s forgotten about all that now. Moreover, he claimed on his blog a while ago that the Persian Gulf War under Bush I was “just by any criteria,” an egregiously false claim, as demonstrated cogently by Stassen and Gushee in Kingdom Ethics. When I confronted Carter on this point, I was ignored.

Second, it simply is not true that Obama “pledges to to expand and entench[sic.] abortion” as Carter claims. Carter can only interpret the data this way by ignoring other relevant data. Obama, unlike McCain, has an abortion reduction plan. And Obama’s position on after-birth abortion has been misconstrued by conservatives (like Carter) into the absurd position that Obama wants mothers to be able to kill their babies after they are born. The reason he voted down the piece of legislation at issue is because the wording did not allow doctors to abort the baby prior to birth even if it is clear that the baby would be unable to survive without the mother. One can check factcheck.org and that will become clear. What is also clear is that it was ALREADY ILLEGAL in Illinois for a doctor to kill a born baby who shows signs of being able to survive outside the womb. Obama’s vote against the legislation in question DID NOT change or repeal that law in any way, and Obama knew that. Thus, it is patently false to say that Obama has sought to “expand” abortion in any way.

Carter said, “My point is that voting for someone who pledges to murder is morally wrong and as a Christian I couldn’t do it.”

This is a very simplistic way to conceive of the vote and an overly simplistic way to conceive of moral action to boot. Carter needs to go back and read some more Yoder. For Yoder, the issue in voting was NEVER whether the Christian voter could or could not morally support every one or even certain of the candidate’s policies. To Yoder, that thinking wasn’t creative enough, and it elevated the significance of the vote too high. Granted, Yoder argued that abstaining from the vote was a form of voting, but he was never very clear on precisely what that meant. It’s a slogan with a certain punch to it, but that’s about all. But Yoder advocated Christians voting for all kinds of reasons Carter seems to think would be considered morally evil. This is only one of several reasons I call Carter a “former-Yoderian.”

Carter said, “As for the so-called arguments: Who says that voting for a pro-life president is about nothing but overturning Roe v. Wade? Who ever said that? So far as I know only Democrats. It is about building a culture of life and there are many bricks in that wall.”

Actually, I’ve never heard a Democrat say this, but I’ve heard countless Republivangelicals say this emphatically. Perhaps Carter needs to come down from his Canadian roost a little more often.

And the notion that McCain’s presidency is about “building a culture of life” is absolutely ridiculous. That is precisely the point of those evangelicals who are supporting Obama precisely because they are staunchly pro-life. Carter seems to me to be increasingly out of touch with reality.

Carter said, “The Democrats want to expand the welfare state and pay single mothers to raise children by themselves. Is that a solution? I don’t think so. Let’s strengthen two parent families instead and hold fathers responsible for their actions. Why is that not the objective?”

How the hell does Carter propose we do this–”hold fathers responsible for their actions”? Are we going to legislate that? Make it a law that if you impregnate a woman you are financially responsible for her child until it is 18? Or does he mean that churches should do that? If so, how are churches going to do that? How are they going to do that within their own congregations, let alone outside the walls of the church? This suggestion is just stupid. Is has no practical value.

I agree fathers should take responsibility for their children. The problem is, a lot of fathers don’t, and in a democratic, pluralistic society, we can’t “hold fathers responsible.”

The church can work on strengthening two parent families (of course, by that Carter means two heterosexual parent families, so the possibility of homosexual couples adopting children to help decrease the number of abortions is out the window). But the reality is, because of the widespread phenomenon of single motherhood, it actually IS a solution for the state to give those mothers financial support. It is a functioning, working solution. It is not an ideal solution. It is hopefully not a permanent solution (permanent for individual mothers), but it IS a solution. I don’t know any “welfare state” democrats who think it’s ideal to have single mothers on welfare, let alone ideal to have single mothers in the first place. (At the very least they think the father should take responsibility if the mother is not financially secure.) But these democrats recognize we don’t live in a Utopian world. These democrats recognize we live in a world in which churches want to claim government should not support single, unwed mothers, while at the same time ostracizing those same single, unwed mothers. If Carter can get every church in the U.S. to help financially support single, unwed mothers, and then expand that support to apply to all single, unwed mothers (not just the Christian ones), then I will say with him that it’s time for the government to stop helping them, NOT because, like Carter, I have a principled objection to the state HELPING PEOPLE in crisis, but because that help would already be there. Of course, Carter would also have to make sure that none of these churches are giving support merely as a means of evangelization, requiring certain things of the mothers in order to continue to receive the aid, like church attendance, doctrinal confession, etc. etc. If Carter can get that all squared away, I’ll be functionally on his side.

The reality is, the only real alternative we have to “big government” in the U.S. is the free market. And if I have to choose between the two, I choose “big government” every time, because “big government” in the U.S. is and never will be anywhere near as BIG as the free market. That is to say, the free market preys on the weak. That’s how it remains “free.”

Carter said, “Distributing more birth control (the Democratic platform) has only increased abortion rates so far. How will that help?”

I’d like to see the scientific data on that correlation!

Carter said, “The Democratic Party has become the party of death and for them to present themselves as an alternative to the war-mongering Republicans is Orwellian.”

Orwellian? I think Carter really is projecting his Canadian experience onto the U.S. scene. The only Orwellians down here have been those promising to overturn Roe v Wade.

It just occurred to me, as I was re-reading Mr. Fish’s comment and my response, that there seems to be a glaring inconsistency in Craig Carter’s position. He’s up there in Canada, and he’s complaining that the government is beginning, very seriously, to intrude upon religious organizations’ right not to hire homosexuals. There is dispute (on Halden’s blog) between Carter and others as to whether the language of a recent court decision means that only (even partially) government funded organizations are considered “public” and thus fall under the ruling, or whether all religious organizations that perform public services, including religious services open to the public, are considered “public” and thus fall under the ruling. Carter insists it’s the latter, and he may be right, but it isn’t clear that he is, except to him. Anyway, the point is, Carter is adamantly insisting that the government has no right to tell Christians that they can’t have homosexual clergy, or that they can’t perform homosexual weddings. That is a religious issue that the government cannot and should not determine. Th decision should remain in the domain of the churches/mosques/synagogues, etc.