But let’s think about that same notion in terms of a number of the church’s sacraments. Let’s think about the intelligibility of, for example, baptism: Does anyone ever fully understand the implications of baptism? Of course not. But we do it anyway. What about marriage? People make promises about what they are going to be doing fifty years from now. Talk about unintelligible. It’s absurd! And what about the Eucharist? Do we ever fully understand what we are doing when we partake of the flesh and blood of Christ? Two thousand years worth of theological texts on the subject seems to suggest that we don’t, but we partake of it anyway. And in the partaking of the Eucharist we do come to understand its implications in a manner that would otherwise not be possible if we just said, “Well, I’m not going to do it until I have totally wrestled with all of its implications.” I think that’s certainly how it works for Christian nonviolence as well. You don’t ever fully understand it, but one way to come to grips with it is to start practicing it. It’s the same thing with Christianity as a whole. You don’t first fully understand Christianity and then become a Christian. You become a Christian and then realize that it’s far more convoluted than you could have ever imagined. It gives you a whole new set of problems you never knew were possible. Thanks, Jesus!

So, my advice would be to read from our rich tradition of sources on Christian nonviolence, and there are plenty. You will quickly realize that if a two thousand-year-old tradition of nonviolence is faddish, then we are certainly a trendy bunch. So, yeah, utilize the vast resources of the early church. The first three hundred years of Christianity is full of material. Those kids had not yet been sucker-punched by words such as "responsibility" and "realism." You can also check out the 16th century writings of the Anabaptists, or read all the John Howard Yoder your little aspiring peacemaking hearts can handle. You could also join a Christian Peacemaker Team. I imagine that would be helpful. It may enable you to read scripture in, perhaps, a more faithful manner. I think that’s one major problem with trying to make sense of Jesus in the North American church. We are all way too rich, too well protected, and much too secure to probably understand that guy. I guess the best thing you can do to cover that hermeneutical gap is to try to find a church that has an overriding concern for "the least of these." Granted, it may not have a gymnasium or a coffee cocktail hour, but it may have Jesus.

From Kerry: I often think of Bonhoeffer when I think of pacifism ... he talked about sometimes having to choose between one bad thing (Hitler) and another bad thing (killing Hitler). As a practicing pacifist, how do you respond to gigantic evil (Hitler, genocide, etc.)? This is always where I hit a wall: I can totally accept that there's no such thing as a "Christian war"; I favor conscientious objection. But how do we just stand by when terrible violence unfolds?

I have come to the painful realization that I’m probably not good for anything more than recommending books . . . and I’m okay with that bit of self-deprecating knowledge. With that being said, you should check out Robert Brimlow’s book What About Hitler? James McClendon’s Ethics, Stanley Hauerwas' Performing the Faith, and, from what I hear, Mark Nation’s forthcoming book on Bonhoeffer. You may find their responses far more interesting than mine (I certainly do).

First of all, if Jesus’s death and resurrection did not save us from having to choose between “one bad thing” and “another bad thing” then I’m afraid it didn’t do much at all. If after the cross and resurrection the only option I now have is to do a "little less evil," then Christianity is fraudulent. Get out while you can. To answer your question, “How do we just stand by when terrible violence unfolds?”—the simple answer is, you don’t. By no means do we just stand by. Why would a pacifist want to do that?

Get in the middle of things. Raise holy hell, but don’t fall prey to, say, John Milbank’s concern that pacifism entails voyeurism. You call it out. You speak truth to the orders that perpetuate violence (and the notion that the only appropriate response to violence is violence). You quote the prophets who proclaim the coming of the messiah. Remind the world that the prophets also make clear that injustice will not be ignored. Proclaim the subversive message of Jesus. Put a creative spoke in the wheel. Get arrested, put your body in the middle of things, hold your “gentile leaders who lord their power over others” accountable, but don’t just stand by.

More importantly, whatever you do, don’t assume that there are only two options: voyeurism or physical violence. I fear that the powers-that-be make sure we can only envision a world in which those are the only two options we have, and to that notion, I say we have been duped. Or, as Malcolm X put it: “You've been had. You've been took. You've been hoodwinked, bamboozled, led astray, run amok. This is what they do." Yeah. This is what they do.

From Christy: I identified as a pacifist for 15 years, but no longer do - although I do (mostly) strive for non-violence in my own life. Here's a question that I always found difficult to answer for myself: Do you ever worry, as a well-educated American, that you're just out-sourcing the violence? I don't own a gun, but the cops do. Even when I was a pacifist, I lived in a very high-crime neighborhood, and called the cops on numerous occasions so that officers with guns could go after the criminals with guns and lock them up in our tremendously violent prison system where guards with guns would keep them there. I've worked with a lot of kids in neighborhoods where violence was a daily reality - being tough and making people think you might hurt them, even if you actually didn't, was, for many of them, a vital survival technique. I took a self-defense class a couple of years ago - and having been on the receiving end of physical violence on a number of occasions, I found it incredibly healing and empowering. At the same time, I've seen the incredibly devastating effects of violence, so it's not like I think violence solves anything. Do you wrestle with these sorts of questions as a pacifist and have you been able to resolve them to your satisfaction? How much violence have you been exposed to in your life? How do you think that has affected your thinking on this?

Hi Christy, I love how you phrased that—"out-sourcing the violence."

Yes, I do worry about such out-sourcing. I’m not sure how to entirely eradicate my complicity with a violent world. I fancy myself something of an anarchist, but I know at the end of the day I’m a capitalist. It’s the default mode. I have very little chance to be anything other than a unsatiated consumer whose very economic structure is predicated on the seven deadly sins.

So, no . . . I have not been able to resolve this to my satisfaction. I can’t imagine I will ever be purely satisfied, though I do hope I am eventually capable of living in such a way that I become far less reliant upon the systematic tools of violence that make our current way of life possible. I’ve found that gardening helps. In terms of my own personal experience, I have, for the most part, been fairly sheltered from violence. Although, we recently had to repair the hood of our car because someone put a bullet through it. They must have really hated my last book.

From Elizabeth: What is the biggest challenge of being a pacifist in your daily life? I think I would find myself stumbling over the little frustrations that raise my ire. Do you extend your pacifism to not grumbling at the driver who just cut you off in traffic or smacking your computer when it's on the blink? I believe firmly that peace must begin inside each person, and between an individual and God before humanity can begin to live peacefully on a larger scale. Are there any spiritual disciplines you practice to maintain that necessary inner peace?

This is the one question I dreaded most. To paraphrase Stanley Hauerwas, the reason I claim to be a pacifist (which I often try to avoid) is because I know I am so violent. I need a body of people who will hold me accountable to that which I claim to be true.

To use your own reference, I’m a terribly aggressive driver. I lived in Chicago for several years and then moved to south central Kentucky where it must have been a moral obligation to maintain a speed of 5-10mph below the speed limit. I now understand why those kids lost the Civil War—they move too slow. It drove me crazy. So, what did I do? I moved to the Virginia Beach area that has to have some of the worst traffic on the planet. I’m doomed. I don’t know what it would mean to say that peace must begin from within a person.

Christianity claims that we are a fallen lot and are wicked from birth (difficult to be optimistic with that sort of language). Biology seems to suggest that, for all of our empathetic features we still operate with a fairly instinctual pulse toward survival and self-serving fulfillment (or to at least live long enough to reproduce), so it’s difficult for me to envision peace coming from within; but, I can submit myself to the communal disciplining of a peacemaking body of people who may, through rigorous training, shape me into the kind of person who can live peacefully amidst the insanity of never-ending traffic. So far, it hasn’t worked.

From Thomas: While I can concede that a pacifist position is a strong one, there is one story that I can't seem to reconcile. That is the story of Jesus in the temple with the moneychangers. I have heard some interesting arguments that attempt to bring that story in line (for instance - that there is no indication that Jesus's whip actually "hit" a person - which more sounds like an argument from omission). It would seem that Jesus intervened when necessary. For the woman that was to be stoned. For the children that wanted to speak to him. For the common people against the ruling religious party. In many cases, he used his words, but in the temple incident, he used physical action ... or dare I say: violence. How do you reconcile that story into a Christian pacifist view as opposed to a Christian as interventionist (a changer), and how sometimes that intervention involves physical contact in defense of another?

It’s a well-known fact that, as a carpenter’s son, Jesus never could get over his animosity toward wood. He hated tables. Resented them. His version of teenage rebellion was donning a whip and turning them over whenever he could. Apparently, he never outgrew it.

You know, this is one of those really interesting questions if only because I hear it so often. To be honest, I have never understood the conceptual leap that leads some people to envision Jesus’ actions toward the moneychangers as translating so easily into killing people, but, apparently it does. I therefore concede that I am clearly missing something, so let’s give it a shot (bad pun . . . sorry).

First of all, as King once said, let’s not deprive ourselves of a little righteous anger. Now that guy was an interventionist! Last year I offered extra credit to any students willing to overturn the tables in their churches where the selling of so-called goods was occurring. Can you imagine that sort of movement? Talk about the need for a good trend, let’s do this! We have completely rendered Christianity ridiculous with our banal and mawkish commodifying of this subversive homeless guy who angered every single religious and political zealot that crossed his path. And now we are those same religious-politicos. But we’re worse, because we sell it! We wear gold diamond encrusted crosses, we place fish ornaments on our $20-$50,000 cars, we sport some of the most embarrassing Christian t-shirts that any self-respecting capuchin would be ashamed to wear and where are all of our table turners? Where are they? This is a significant issue. I want to see some table-turning. How do we make this happen? Because Christian participation in this marketing nonsense is the real threat to Christianity, not the so-called “New Atheists.” I don’t blame the Hitchens, Dawkins, and Harrises of the world for making fun of us. Somebody needs to do it. As a whole, we’re quite laughable. I find it difficult to take any of this seriously (including myself).

Ah, back to your question: I guess the issue would revolve around whether or not such an action (the overturning of tables while pulling an Indiana Jones) would be considered violent. And, apparently, if it were determined to be violent then that would mean I could kill my enemies and still consider myself a follower of Christ. As you can see, there’s a radical disconnect in that last line.

From Agmccoy1: What do you think about the scripture in Ecclesiastes when the writer says there is a time for peace and a time for war?

I think Ecclesiastes is one of those books that’s best left alone if you’re feeling remotely melancholic. It’s been known to drive people into the ethereal arms of Jack Daniels (as well as toward the brilliance of The Gaslight Anthem, so it can’t be all bad).

I’d also say that Christians in North America have certainly embodied the war part.

I’m just wondering when we get to the "time for peace" part. It should be now, right? I mean, we are convinced that the Messiah has come, correct? This is the age of the resurrected Lord--war need no longer be practiced by those who believe Jesus is the Messiah. If there is a time for anything then it's time for turning our weapons into plowshares. So the question, it seems, in all of this is whether or not we really think Jesus is the Messiah. If so, well, time to ante up.



My apologies for not being able to address the many stellar questions I see listed throughout the original post. I’ll do my best to address comments as they come. Let me just say that Yoder’s The Politics of Jesus and The Christian Witness to the State are two classics that proponents and opponents of Christian nonviolence should check out.

Also, I’m more than pleased to report that most of the questions you posed are actually addressed by various people in our upcoming book A Faith Not Worth Fighting For. As a matter of fact, I think the only one we didn’t cover was from the oh-so enigmatic person known as "DLS." Here is what he/she askes: “If the Zombie Apocalypse were upon us, would a Christian pacifist still be prevented from using violence on the undead, or does the fact that they're undead and feasting on human flesh release us to use our axe, chainsaw, or other instrument of blunt force to decapitate the horde?”

Well, DLS, given that I already have a 'Lobo' handy, I certainly hope so.

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