Category: Nonviolence

May the Force…uh…Not be with You?

From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force – Matthew 11:12 NRSV

I love Star Wars.  It’s been a part of my life since I was nine.  As a kid, I loved it for the light sabers, lasers, and quirky space characters.  As the years have rolled by, I’ve loved it for its decades’ long exposition of the battle between light and darkness, the downright biblical struggle of ordinary people fighting the forces of empire.  Star Wars has made more than a few appearances in my sermons over the years, and I have often compared the Way of Jesus to the Rebel Alliance. 

But I’m starting to realize I need to be careful there.  The comparison is a good one insofar as it reminds us that in a world full of imperialists, we need rebels to stand up for what’s right and present the option of another way.  But it’s not so good in terms of the way the rebels of Star Wars do that.  The rebels in Star Wars, you see, are violent.  You might say they are ‘forceful.’  The ‘god’ of the Star Wars universe is called, appropriately enough, ‘the Force.’  The rebels use ‘the Force,’ violently, just as they instinctively use other less mystical forms of violence to achieve their ends.  In doing so, they wind up fighting, at least to some degree, on the empire’s terms. 

That seems to work in the Star Wars universe.  But I’m beginning to see that it doesn’t work so well in the real world. 

Let me explain.

The forceful tend to have their way in our world.  Selfish men and women have used their power to construct a society that preserves their interests at the expense of the interests of others.  This typically means that the wealthy, the powerful, and the privileged are the ones who benefit from the way a society is organized.  This is true in all societies, even in supposedly democratic ones.  As a friend commented the other day, when we rail against the violence, corruption, and injustice inherent in our systems, we need to bear in mind that the problem with those systems isn’t that they are broken.  The problem is that they are working fine.  They are achieving exactly what they were designed to do. 

Take the present political scene as an example.  For years, many, myself included, have railed against an administration straight out of the Star Wars universe.  Our Palpatine may have orange hair, and his apprentice may not wear a black helmet, but the similarities are nonetheless present.  Day after day, we ‘rebels’ have imagined ourselves following in the footsteps of our Star Wars heroes, battling an administration that is undermining democratic principles and thrusting the nation in the direction of dictatorship.  Our tactics don’t involve lasers and light sabers, but we are fighting the battle on the enemy’s terms, that is, by means of power politics. 

And it isn’t working. 

Our enemies are simply too good at what they do.  They know how to use the systems they created.  And so, as we fight against them on their own turf, using their own means, we find ourselves losing.  I would go so far as to say that in the present crisis, we may have already lost.  Many of us have pinned our hopes on the 2020 election in the effort to rid the ‘galaxy’ of its current emperor. But I have become convinced that for all the rightness of our cause, we may in the end still come out on the losing side. The emperor, despite our best efforts and current polling, stands a good chance of being re-elected.  Indeed I believe that’s likely. Why?  Because the system has been rigged by the violent, and violent men and women know how win by force. Sure, I hope I’m wrong. But you have to admit, it’s at least a distinct possibility.

Which leads me to believe there must be a better way.

And that takes me to Jesus. 

Jesus had a different approach.  Instead of battling the kingdoms of the forceful by using their means, he wrote a new script for insurrection.  He eschewed, not just violence, but all tactics of the imperialists.  He created an alternative community and called it to live at the heart of the empire.  His followers, he envisioned, would follow in his steps.  They would not seek political power.  Their movement would be ‘political‘ in the sense that it would challenge the current order, but it would not be political in the sense the imperialists used that word. They would not fight on the enemy’s terms.  They would love, sacrifice, and serve.  They would do these things even as the empire attacked them, even as it killed them.  Living this way, God’s way, they would offer the world another path.  This would be the way to bring in God’s Kingdom.  This, in fact, would be God’s Kingdom.

A movie series about such a rebellion taking place a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away probably wouldn’t sell as many tickets as the Skywalker saga.  But here’s the thing: in the real world, this form of rebellion actually works.  We know this because God’s word tells us so.  One day, when history draws to a close, it will be those who participated in this rebellion who will be hailed, alongside of Jesus, as the world’s true heroes (see, e.g., Revelation 7:9-17). 

I’ve been thinking about this kind of thing a lot lately.  In a time when evil politicians plot and scheme, my forty plus years of immersion in the Star Wars universe makes me want to fight.  I read the news.  I see the cruel, foolish, life-endangering acts of the imperialists, and my heart and soul cries to unite with Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia Organa, and Rey Skywalker (nee Palpatine).  And while I do not turn to physical violence, the alignment of my heart to fight on the empire’s terms does spiritual violence to my soul.  I become angry, to the point of coming close to forsaking the call to love my enemies and follow Jesus’ path of downward mobility.  I am tempted to align myself with those who can take power and change the world from the top down, instead of from the bottom up.  And while I convince myself that I am fighting the good fight, I neglect the subtle danger that comes with aligning oneself with another, more benign version of empire, another attempt to establish a kingdom by force. 

And that is not Jesus’ way.

Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not that those who follow Jesus’ way need to be silent doormats who say nothing while the imperialists cause them harm, or worse, say nothing while they hurt and harm others.  And it isn’t that we should refrain from taking sides in the struggle for justice (a tactic only the privileged can afford to take). That isn’t Jesus’ way either.  It is incumbent upon us to speak truth to power, challenge the empire, and present alternative ways of living.  It is incumbent upon us to demonstrate, in word and deed, the truth of Jesus’ Kingdom. 

But I, we, need to be careful of what we allow into our hearts.  We need to be careful lest we begin a journey that employs force instead of love, plays into the enemy’s hands, and forsakes the winning way of Jesus. 

And so, today, I’m committing myself anew to the rebellion of Jesus.  The rebellion of love.  And I’m praying and thinking hard about how to best do that.  If you are interested in making the same commitment, I’d love to hear from you.  Perhaps together we can find our way, which is and always must be the way of Jesus.    

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

God, Guns, and Country

‘Drop your sword’ – Matthew 26:52

I remember the first time I saw it.  Driving down the street of my hometown, I noticed the sign on a former neighbor’s front lawn.  Emblazoned in red and white were the words, ‘Trump 2020.’  Eye roll.  Above this were the words that caused me to do more than an eye roll:

‘God, Guns, and Country.’

I nearly puked. 

For starters, I find it almost impossible to believe that people dare to juxtapose the names ‘Trump’ and ‘God’ in a manner that suggests they are on the same team.  Paula White, the prosperity Gospel heretic who serves as the President’s spiritual advisor, has gone so far as to suggest that ‘saying no to Trump is like saying no to God.’  And she’s not alone.  So many Church leaders and politicians have said pretty much the same thing: Trump is ‘God’s anointed;’ ‘the Lord ordained this Presidency; those who oppose him are ‘demonic.’  Yes, somehow, even professing Christians have concluded that a racist, misogynist, white nationalist, fear-mongering bully is God’s man.  Not, mind you, in the Nebuchadnezzarian sense of God sending a wicked king to teach us a lesson and turn us from sin.  Trump is God’s man because he is carrying out God’s moral agenda for America. 

As a follower of Jesus, this flummoxes me.  I wonder what sort of god such people follow.  Trump’s values fly in the face, not just of the Christian faith (which is undoubtedly the professed faith of most who will buy one of those signs), but of all major religions of the world.  No right-thinking Jew, Muslim, Buddhist, or Hindu could possible look at the policies and manners of Donald Trump and say, ‘Yup.  That’s what God is like!’ 

In the words of Bart Simpson, ‘Aye caramba!’

But beyond that, there is the juxtaposition ‘God and Guns.’  That’s another one that flummoxes me.  Shane Claibourne, citing the fact that 41% of American Evangelicals own guns, echoes my surprise with the exclamation: ‘the followers of Jesus are packing heat!’  In my own experience, it seems that Christians are most often the most likely to at least figuratively stand alongside Charlton Heston and dare the government to pry their guns from their ‘cold dead hands.’  Christians are often the most likely to defend their ‘God given right’ to bear firearms. 

Which is strange given what Jesus said on the subject. 

The scene was the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus wrestled with the cup he was about to drink under the light of the Paschal moon.  His enemies came for him.  Judas.  Temple Guards.  200 Roman soldiers.  All carrying torches to arrest the Light of the World.  Armed to the teeth to arrest the Prince of Peace. 

Jesus was ready for them all, and ready to teach his disciples a crucial, if often neglected, lesson. 

Peter decided not to let Jesus go down without a fight.  After all, if there was ever a moment when the use of force would be justifiable, this was it.  He pulled his sword from his sheath and swung wildly.  His poorly aimed blow glanced off the head of, not a soldier, but Malchus, the High Priest’s servant (you know, collateral damage).  It did nothing more than chop away the small lobe of the servant’s ear.  But soon the disciples were scuffling with the guards and soldiers, as together they teetered on the brink of calamitous violence. 

That’s when Jesus spoke up. 

‘Enough of this!  Drop your sword!  Those who use the sword will die by the sword.’

Seems clear to me.  But just in case you think Jesus didn’t mean it, you should go back and read the rest of the Gospel story, in which Jesus allowed his enemies to have their way with him, never striking back, never taking up the sword, but instead following the way of Calvary Love. 

At the end of the story, the wisdom of Jesus’ way would be vindicated.  Those who use the sword will die by the sword.  Violence begets violence.  But those who follow the way of Calvary Love will find life.  For Calvary Love begets Resurrection. 

There’s a lot to think about in that.  But getting back to what this post is about, I’m pretty sure that when Jesus said to drop our swords, he didn’t mean to pick up guns instead. 

Mind you, followers of Jesus do possess weapons.  It’s not like Jesus sends us into the world defenseless.  He gives us the most powerful weapons of all: prayer and unlimited love. 

Not guns. 

Sorry Trump followers.  The juxtaposition ‘God and Guns’ is antithetical to Christianity.  Maybe not to the violent, nationalistic Christianity you have been taught to believe.  But certainly, to the Biblical Christianity found in the pages of the New Testament.  Followers of Jesus do not carry swords.  And they do not carry guns. 

And if you don’t understand that, well, you just don’t understand the Biblical Jesus. 

Oh, and by the way, the ‘God and country’ thing isn’t right either.  But that’s for another time. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

War, Peace, and Mr. Rogers

‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God’ – Matthew 5:9

‘Isn’t peace wonderful?’ – Fred Rogers

This past week, the United States and Iran journeyed to the brink of war.  Thankfully, it seems that cooler heads have, at least for the time being, prevailed.  While I decry the appalling lack of foresight and impulsivity that led to the crisis, I am thankful to leaders on both sides for their willingness to find an off ramp to what might otherwise have been the start of WWIII. 

The crisis of the past week has made me think of how nations and individuals need to look for such off ramps in the face of impending violence.  Which of course leads me to think of Mr. Rogers. 

You would have to be living under a rock right now not to know who Mr. Rogers is.  Even if you didn’t grow up watching his show, Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, he is all over the cultural landscape.  Tom Hanks’s biopic, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood is a big hit, as was the 2018 documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor? Fred Rogers exemplified decency and kindness and generosity, things in short supply these days, and so it isn’t surprising that America is taking a nostalgic look back to the life of a man who taught a whole generation how to be decent, kind and generous. 

What many don’t know about Mr. Rogers, (although the movies are making people aware) is that Mr. Rogers was subversive.  Quietly so, but subversive all the same.  His show’s first week on the air coincided with the Tet offensive in Viet Nam.  While America debated the wisdom of the conflict, Mr. Rogers made no bones about where he stood, opening his children’s series with a weeklong ode to peace.

The plotline for that first week of programming focused on a kingdom in crisis.  The Land of Make Believe had become a warzone.  King Friday, fearful of changes in his kingdom wrought by Lady Elaine Fairchild, has become convinced that foreign devils are at work.  His response bears an eerie similarity to today’s headlines.  To prevent further change, he increases security at the border, commences military exercises, and otherwise prepares for war.  What was once a peaceful kingdom turns into a dominion of fear.

As terror descends upon the land, many of the King’s subjects, chiefly Lady Aberlin and Daniel Striped Tiger, become increasingly concerned.  Lamenting the situation, Daniel has a wild idea (what other kind would you expect from a tiger?).  Turning to Lady Aberlin, he suggests they float ‘peace balloons’ over King Friday’s castle to let him know that his subjects want peace.  It seems silly, but the dissenters get to work, filling balloons with helium and writing messages on them: ‘love,’ ‘peaceful coexistence,’ ‘tenderness,’ and most obviously, ‘peace.’  They then send the balloons Friday’s way. 

The balloons land inside the castle grounds.  At first, the paranoid Friday thinks they are enemy paratroopers.  But as he reads the messages, he comes to his senses. ‘Stop all the fighting!’ he shouts.  Repenting of his foolishness, he calls off all preparations for war, and restores peace to The Land of Make Believe.

Now, this is where the cynic rolls his or her eyes and says, ‘That’s a nice story.  But for crying out loud, it’s a children’s TV show, and it takes place in The Land of Make Believe!  It doesn’t work that way in the real world, bub.  In the real world, those who turn their swords into plowshares wind up plowing the fields of those who didn’t.  Better to be ready.  To do it to them before they do it to us.’ 

But the cynic is wrong. 

G.K. Chesterton famously quipped, ‘Christianity has not been tried and found wanting.  It has been found difficult and left untried.’  For the most part, we can apply this to the quest for peace.  War seduces us by promising results.  It’s an effective way, so the argument goes, to deal with your enemies.  Never mind the carnage it leaves behind.  It’s the price you pay to protect yourself.  But there is another option, the option of nonviolence.  And oddly enough, when it is tried, nonviolence works. 

Consider Gandhi’s nonviolent revolution in India (built upon the teachings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount), a revolution that took on an empire and won without firing of a shot.  Or look to the Civil Rights Movement in America in the 1960’s, when the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King and many others armed themselves with nothing but love and determination and brought about positive change.  Go further back in time to Saint Patrick’s missionary work in Ireland, when he helped change a savage land into the pacific outpost that saved civilization (see Thomas Cahill’s masterful book, How The Irish Saved Civilization).  Read the stories of how the Iron Curtain and Communism fell in Eastern Europe before candles and prayers.  Or the story of the five martyred missionaries in Ecuador whose nonviolence became the catalyst for the transformation of a culture that was perhaps the most violent on earth into a community of peace (you can watch the movies, The End of the Spear or Beyond the Gates of Splendor to learn about that amazing story).

The truth is that when people creatively seek peaceful resolutions to conflict, incredible things happen.  Yes, it is often at a cost.  But a far lower one than the cost of war.  Nonviolence and peace may seem silly and difficult, as ridiculous even as floating balloons over a castle to prevent a war.  But history shows that when people seek creative and ridiculous solutions, they often wind up changing the world.

Anyway, that’s what Mr. Rogers thought. 

And guess what?  It’s what God thinks too.  For when God established his plan to save the world, he did something as nonviolent and ridiculous – perhaps more so – as floating balloons over a castle.  He sent a baby into the heart of the Roman Empire, a baby who grew to face the world with no weapons but prayer,  unlimited love, and the guidance of his heavenly Abba, a baby who grew to be a man who would courageously embrace death upon a cross as the way to crush evil. 

Yeah, God is pretty crazy.  As crazy, if not more so, than Daniel Tiger.  But he is also pretty darn creative in his response to a sinful and violent world.    

Which is why, when danger lurks in our world, when change threatens to undermine our ‘kingdoms,’ we can’t respond as king Friday originally did.  We need to be more like Daniel Tiger.  We need to be ridiculously creative and try crazy things in order to achieve peace.  Because believe it or not, doing crazy things is God’s way of doing things.  And believe it or not, it works. 

Maybe it’s time we all started floating some balloons of our own. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Note: Story from Mr. Rogers’ first week of programming is adapted from Michael Long’s Peaceful Neighbor: Discovering the Countercultural Mister Rogers.