I’m the kind of Christian who believes that, when Jesus said Love your enemies, he probably meant Don’t kill them. I’m also the kind of Christian who thinks that the discernment of the early church was correct when they concluded that military service is incompatible with following Jesus. For those of us who worship a man who rejected the role of a military messiah, and who died at the hands of the imperial state, participation in state violence should be off the table.
Shouldn’t it?
It’s a live question. From my perspective Christian nonviolence is self-evident, but this is a minority viewpoint within the wider Christian community. Most modern-day Christians accept that violence and even warfare between nations is something that followers of Jesus can participate in.
And I get it. I understand why millions of my fellow believers see no alternative but war and bloodshed as the lesser of two evils. Just like the ancient Roman state that killed Jesus, the modern empires we live in do bring about a certain kind of peace. It’s definitely preferable to live in a strong, centralized state that has a monopoly on violence than it is to live in a chaos of perpetual warfare. Peace and security count for a lot – probably more than most first world citizens truly appreciate.
Still, I am convinced that God has more in store for us than the peace and tranquility of empire. Jesus invites us into a life where we can truly trust in God to be our strength and protection. The way of Jesus is dangerous for sure, but it’s also full of vibrance, beauty, and passion that simply can’t compare to the sad security of violent domination.
That’s not to say that the arguments of fear aren’t persuasive. Perhaps one of the most effective challenges to pacifist conviction is to simply ask the question: What would you do if someone broke into your house and was threatening your family?
This question contains so many assumptions – about violence, masculinity, and my ability to project force onto others with predictable consequences. And yet, despite all the problems I have with this question, there’s a reason people keep asking it. It strikes at something important, a challenge that must be answered: Am I willing to sacrifice my loved ones on the altar of Christian nonviolence? Am I really willing to allow my family to become martyrs along with me?
I think that anyone who answers this question easily hasn’t really thought enough about it. I can take risks with my own life, but what business do I have endangering the lives of those under my care? If I can protect my loved ones, isn’t it worth using violence?
My honest answer is: I don’t know. I just don’t know. I haven’t ever been in a situation where I’ve been presented with this horrible dilemma. I pray that I never am.
One thing is for sure: I know that, in such a situation, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I’m not capable of simply being a passive spectator while evil people abuse and slaughter my family. Honestly, it’s hard for me to imagine anyone having the callousness to do nothing while such terrible, personal injustice is being committed.
At the same time, I have hope that I am becoming a person who is open to a power that can guide me in such moments of crisis, in ways that go far beyond my natural capacities. I have experienced the Spirit that Jesus promised, who will guide me in those times of extremity. When I’ve gone to the breaking point and beyond, God is there.
I want to be a person who trusts the power of the Spirit to find a creative, loving response to any situation – even those that terrify me.
If you ask me whether I would use violence to defend myself or others, my human nature says yes. Without a doubt. But my identity in Jesus calls me to find a more creative, beautiful, loving way. A way that demonstrates the power and justice of God. A way that imitates Jesus’ sacrificial death on the cross.
I can’t even fathom what it would mean to live this way in a moment of crisis. But with God’s help, I want to be ready to find out.
How about you?
I understand the fear and the struggle — as a parent living within, or at least on the edges, of an area prone to violent crime, having raised two children in crime-ridden area of DC at a time when the shooting-homicide rate was four times what it is today.
I recall the wrenching discussions with my husband about whether we
could or should leave, the implications of such a choice, and whether
anywhere was truly “safe.” I recall, too, being told by a Black resident of then-nearby (now destroyed) public housing: Your children, white children in general, don’t see one one-hundredth of what kids here see all the time.
I shared the struggle with a couple from Friends United Meeting who were then (20 years ago?) working in the high crime Cabrini Green public housing in Chicago (now also destroyed). They continued their work but moved out of the projects. My husband and I stayed, although we lived two blocks from troubled public housing, not inside.
My husband tells me that it is particularly hard on men to think of putting loved ones in harm’s way. And I’m not a man so can’t say. But I know women struggle as mightily. And I think the question of “would I use violence to protect a loved one?” is a confusion.
I don’t think any of us can know until faced with a horrible and immediate choice how we’d react to a violent threat. In some circumstances — preparing for war or protest, e.g., we can practice. But I know of no “practice” for handling a home invasion.
A better question might be, how can I use the power of my faith to connect with others in my neighborhood to help create more opportunities and justice so as to remove some of the conditions that contribute to violence and crime?
Good questions, Virginia.
I was going to make a reassuring comment but after reading Virginia’s comment I am just going to pontificate in the spirit of Piers Morgan from a British point of view and say America needs to sort out its gun problem.
There’s lots of things need sorted out, for sure.
Micah, I appreciated reading this article. I realized that I had so much to say in response that I decided to blog my reflections. So here it is: http://innerpeace-outerpeace.org/what-is-a-pacifist-response-to-violence/.
Thanks for this thoughtful post, Lizbeth. Gave me a lot to think about.
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I just finished reading Walter Wink, “The Powers That Be,” which I thought addressed this question really powerfully. Essentially, he calls out the assumption embedded in discussion of whether violent responses to a threat are justified: the assumption that violent responses are effective as interventions in violent situations. He makes the case that if you really think through the specifics and logistics of violent self-defense, violence is riskier than creative nonviolence. But/and he argues that even if we try to reserve violence as a last resort, we’re undermining the focus and persistence and creativity that were going to need in order to find a nonviolent solution. If you haven’t read it, I think you would appreciate it a lot.
Micah, thank you for your honesty.
I don’t think anyone can truly know how they will react in dire situations such as this. But if that moment comes, they will react one way or another. May we all react righteously.