“At times of crisis it is a natural human reaction to turn to the past for support.” [1] These words were written by evangelicals, to evangelicals. In 1983. Wait—1983? But Ronald Reagan was president at the time. What could possibly have been the source of evangelical angst back then? In fact, the causes were many. The wounds of Vietnam and Watergate were still fresh, the economy seemed on precarious footing, and the threat of nuclear annihilation persisted. Add to that evangelical concerns about their nation’s “flight from morality and godliness”—witness “the collapse of discipline in the schools, the spread of pornography, the strident voices proclaiming ‘rights’ for homosexuals and ‘freedom’ for abortion, along with the manifest presence of great social injustices.” In response to these uncertain times, American evangelicals looked to the past for guidance—specifically, to a time when America seemed truly to have been a “Christian nation.” In the wake of the recent Bicentennial, evangelical popular culture was rife with paeans to the nation’s Christian heritage. As they began to mobilize as a political movement, conservative evangelicals eagerly embraced an unabashed Christian nationalism. It was in the midst of this anxious yet celebratory moment that three prominent Christian historians—Mark Noll, Nathan Hatch, and George Marsden—penned The Search for Christian America. At the time, they shared many of their fellow evangelicals’ concerns about the state of American culture. But as professional historians, they also harbored concerns about the mythical past that evangelical Christians were inventing. Knowing that views of the past shaped perceptions of the present, these three authors felt the need to set the record straight. There was “no lost golden age to which American Christians may return,” they insisted. Rather, a careful study of history made clear that “early America does not deserve to be considered uniquely, distinctly or even predominately Christian”—that is “if we mean by the word ‘Christian’ a state of society reflecting the ideals presented in Scripture.” To begin with, they urged Christians to reconsider the very notion of a “Christian nation.” “How much action is required to make a whole society Christian?” the authors pondered. And the flip side: “How much evil can a society display before we disqualify it as a Christian society?” When it comes to the Puritans, for example, should one focus on their desire to fashion a godly society? Or should one look to their theft of Native American lands, their displacing and slaughtering Native Americans whenever it suited their purposes, not to mention their persecution of Quakers, whose only crime was seeking to worship God according to their conscience. Similar questions could be asked of Revolutionary patriots and antebellum Americans, they maintained. Beyond these concerns, the authors raised a theological question: Is it “ever proper to speak of a Christian nation after the coming of Christ?” Is there any justification for ascribing to America the special status that Israel enjoyed in the Old Testament scriptures? Clearly they felt the idea of Christian America could do more harm than good. It is important to note that Noll, Hatch, and Marsden were not writing as secular critics of evangelicalism. They identified as evangelicals, and made clear that they, too, shared many of their fellow evangelicals’ concerns. However, they feared that by promoting the myth of Christian America, American Christians in fact weakened their own public witness, and paradoxically contributed to the secularization of American society. How so? They warned that misperceptions of the past served as stumbling blocks to effective Christian witness. “Positive Christian action does not grow out of distortions or half-truths,” they contended. “Such errors lead rather to false militance, to unrealistic standards for American public life today, and to romanticized visions about the heights from which we have fallen.” Perhaps more perniciously, a mythical view of “Christian America” discouraged “a biblical analysis of our position today.” Here’s how they explained what was at stake: “If we accept traditional American attitudes toward public life as if these were Christian, when in fact they are not, we do the cause of Christ a disservice. Similarly, if we perpetuate the sinful behavior and the moral blind spots of our predecessors, even if these predecessors were Christians, it keeps us from understanding scriptural mandates for action today.”By conflating a certain understanding of American history with scriptural revelation, proponents of “Christian America” risked idolizing the nation and succumbing to an “irresistible temptation to national self-righteousness.” They also sacrificed any ability to offer a scriptural critique of the cultural values they themselves embraced. And this, ultimately, leads to secularization—for “uncritically patriotic Christians” are no longer able to articulate a prophetic critique of their own culture, or of any religious impulse that “does not have its ultimate end in the God of our Lord Jesus Christ.” What, then, might a Christian understanding of the nation look like? To begin with, it would reject any notion that the United States, or any other nation since the coming of Christ, occupies a unique position as God’s chosen people. It would recall that God’s people, wherever they find themselves, were to be “strangers and pilgrims”—good citizens, yes, but always remembering that their real home lies elsewhere. And Christians must also remember that they will be judged not according to what they profess, but rather according to how they act. Thus, the righteousness of any society should be judged “not merely by the religious professions that people make, but also by the extent to which Christian principles concerning personal morality and justice for the oppressed are realized in the society.” Normally historians would be gratified to find their work holds up well over time—three decades of enduring relevance is an impressive feat. Yet the book’s prophetic witness only endures because its lessons have been rejected by the majority of American evangelicals for over thirty years now. I know there are more recent and excellent studies of the idea of Christian America—John Fea’s Was America Founded as a Christian Nation? and John Wilsey’s One Nation Under God?: An Evangelical Critique of Christian America come to mind. But I still like to assign portions of The Search for Christian America in my American religious history courses—it’s a wonderful primary source, a window onto questions of faith and culture in the early years of the Religious Right. In recent years, however, I’ve been struck by how compellingly these words speak to our contemporary situation. That said, I do think that evangelicals would do well to ponder, once again, the warnings these historians have offered. Perhaps the notion of a “Christian America” does more harm than good, and hinders the witness of the Christian church—robbing Christians of a prophetic voice, and hastening the secularization they have long feared. 1. Mark A. Noll, Nathan O. Hatch, and George M. Marsden, The Search for Christian America (Westchester, IL: Crossway Books, 1983), 13. All quotes are taken from the book’s introduction. Originally published by Kristin Du Mez, used with permission https://kristindumez.com/resources/still-searching-for-christian-america/

First, in the face of severe suffering such as that many Americans began to experience on September 11th, our human response is naturally a desire for the downfall and destruction of our enemies. But Jesus taught clearly that we are to love them and not to retaliate no matter how much we have been hurt (Matthew 5). While the political and military powers may strike back aggressively, in our hearts we are called to peace. We do not wage war with the weapons of the world. Moreover the Bible says we are to pray for our leaders (1 Timothy 2). We are to desire good for our enemies and wisdom for our leaders. Failure to pray at a time like this is gross neglect of a biblical command. Finally it is my hope that, whatever happens, the end result may promote the gospel that it may open doors. God has already moved to bring down Apartheid in South Africa and the Iron Curtain in Europe. Could it be that now he is moving to deconstruct the Islamic empire, eroding confidence in its leaders who are fueled by religious nationalism? How will the stiff opposition to Jesus and his message throughout the world of Islam melt away? Could it not be that the Lord is moving in our world to pave the way for his church? May the Lord provide one day in the near future safe and free access to every nation, especially those under the Muslim crescent! Should a disciple kill in wartime? I know that if you haven't already been asked this question you will be soon: Should a disciple kill during a wartime situation? I honestly was surprised that a lot of disciples feel that we should kill during a wartime situation.... I believe there is a distinction between thoughts of personal vengeance and a desire to see societal justice done. Personal vengeance is wrong (as are the sins of the heart that may go along with it -- hatred, spite, ill will), but a desire for societal control, protection, and even societal punishment of wrongdoers is not is it? And is it not inconsistent for us to believe in societal justice in theory or on a limited scale, but then not support the national means necessary to carry this out with reference to the current crisis? After all, Jesus does not command any of the soldiers converted in the first century to abandon their profession... Now how should I respond? Both make some excellent points, and if we are quick to dismiss them we are oversimplifying the issues. So let me begin by saying I am fully aware that the war issue is one on which disciples have a range of viewpoints. The fact that there are so many differing interpretations of the scriptures should give us pause. For example, while we do not desire the demise of our enemies--since we are praying for them--sometimes there are overlapping or even conflicting principles which must be weighed. If the enemy if threatening my wife, my love for her being stronger than my love for him will naturally impel me to protect her, possibly to the point of force. One could actually reason that in some situations it would be wrong not to use force. And yet when confronted with the arrest party, Peter, drawing the sword to protect his Master, was rebuked for resorting to arms! Another principle always to be considered is conscience. One disciple may be forbidden by his conscience to use deadly force even in self defense. For him to violate his conscience would be sin (Romans 14). In no way do I wish to be ungrateful for the blessings many of us enjoy under (powerful) military protection. Yet as one who has traveled the world, I know how most people live (less affluently than, say, the Americans). Often our lifestyles are maintained at the expense of others. The minor prophets speak about those who "sell the needy for a sandal." Then there is another dilemma: the destruction of innocent bystanders victimized by their own governments. They may not agree with their governments' policies; they may not be violent persons themselves; yet in a bombing attack, let's say, they will be killed. Even more shocking will be the toll on the women and children. No war is waged without these casualties as a by-product. Every war begins with rhetoric talk of justice and the building of some sort of consensus. I am not claiming to be above the fray--I was hurt by the attacks of September 11th, and deep down I admit I would like to see all terrorists get justice too. But history shows us that it is not always that simple. Perhaps that is why Jesus himself did not get involved in politics. I do not believe everyone in politics is in it for wrong motives. All these principles need to be taken into account, and we must respect others' views when they have studied the scriptures--even if they disagree with our own. So to respond: of course I have a problem with any disciple who enjoys killing others or who has not thought about the innocent who may suffer the "collateral damage." I would strongly encourage all Christians to study this out. The distinction between societal justice and personal vengeance is an important one--as eloquently articulated by the second question. The truth is, you can make a pretty good case for the pacifist position. But, you can also build a (weaker in my opinion) case for military service. I think, however, that only the pacifist position resonates with the teachings of Christ, as in Matthew 5. Christians since the fourth century have been divided on the war issue. And yet that is also the time that the church en masse became apostate, drifting far from the teachings and the spirit of Jesus. originally posted from Douglas Jacoby, used with permission. https://www.douglasjacoby.com/q-a-0121-disciples-and-war/

Perhaps you are asking, “Where is the best place for me to begin to understand what Christian nonviolence is all about?” Start with Jesus. Start with the message that Matthew puts front and center as he writes his Gospel to focus us on Jesus. I am talking of course about the Sermon on the Mount (Mat 5-7). Using one of the new artificial intelligence apps that will soon be ever-present in most of our lives, I asked what are some of the things people have called the Sermon on the Mount, and instantly, it spit out this list: The Greatest Sermon Ever Preached The Sermon of the Kingdom The Magna Carta of Christianity The New Law The Ethics of the Kingdom The Radical Teachings of Jesus The Sermon of the Seven Blessings The Sermon of the Disciple's Calling. I was encouraged to see the Sermon of the Kingdom listed as the second item. For the last ten to twelve years, I have been teaching that a better term is the “Sermon on the Kingdom,” believing that the sermon is about living out the life of the Kingdom—doing the Father’s will on earth (now) as it is in heaven. The AI piece ended by talking about the enduring influence this sermon has had on Western civilization. While in some sense that may be true, I believe it has not had nearly the influence that it should have. Many are those who will pay lip service to its loftiness and grandeur, but few are those who believe its message can be lived in the modern world. Fewer still are those who will commit themselves to follow it with all their hearts. Preferring a broader way—a much safer and less demanding way—the “many” will turn away from this narrow path that tests our resolve, determination and spiritual conviction. So taught Jesus in the sermon itself. We desire to be those who want to be serious about living these words Jesus both spoke and embodied. There is no question about it, the sermon is a biblical Mount Everest, rising high above normal ethics, religion and spirituality. To stand at its base and contemplate living its message humbles every heart that gazes upon it clearly. To actually leave the security of the flatlands and climb toward its peak is to embark on a journey that can only be completed by the receiving of abundant grace. But that is the incredible news! There are no physical or intellectual requirements for this expedition. One does not have to be blessed with self-confidence, self- esteem, creativity or high energy to embark on the journey. As Jesus makes clear in the first moment of the message, only those who realize their utter inadequacy have a chance of ascending its great height. What is needed is not smarts, good looks, or strong sinews … but allegiance. This sermon is for those who dare to trust God, and to continue trusting in Him. Along the journey they will be called fools and fanatics, aliens and strange … but in the end, they will have no regrets and will have the Kingdom of every blessing the sermon promises. Here are a few things to keep in mind as you journey into the heart of this message: 1. These are the words of Jesus Christ. The Sermon on the Mount is so contrary to what we have learned in the world that there will be times when something inside us will fight against what we are hearing. But we must remember whose words these are. These are the words of the Alpha and the Omega, he who was in the beginning with God, he who was God. In Understanding the Sermon on the Mount, Harvey McArthur has a chapter on twelve different ways people interpret the sermon. He says he could have called this chapter “Versions and Evasions of the Sermon on the Mount” because eleven of the twelve give “reasonable explanations” why you really don’t have to do what the sermon says. If we are honest, we are all tempted to come up with some ourselves, but our allegiance is to the risen Lord. 2. This is a message for all of us. At one time Roman Catholic theology taught that some of the teachings here were only for certain monastic orders. Protestants later said the things here were just to make us realize how badly we needed grace. But both of these views are wrong as Jesus makes clear by the way the sermon ends: “Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.” Jesus is teaching these things so people would embody them. Only those who put them into practice are wise. 3. Every word here is spoken out of Jesus’ love and wisdom. In a bookstore one day I perused a book by a well-known psychologist. A line referring to the Sermon on the Mount caught my attention. “Jesus Christ had no right to tell people to do such a thing,” wrote the highly regarded counselor and self-help guru. Convinced that what Jesus was asking was harmful to people, he virtually demanded that Jesus apologize for at least one of his extreme statements. Such religion, he felt, was a burden to people. The psychologist was in error on two accounts: (1) his very limited view from his own finite perspective and (2) the wisdom and love of Jesus Christ behind every word in this sermon. Jesus Christ does not lay upon us a new law of heavy burden, but of incredible blessing. 4. The Beatitudes are at the beginning for a reason. The opening 12 verses are not just an italicized poetic introduction. They are ripe with power. In fact, everything else in the sermon flows from this. Without embracing these attitudes, and without a continual renewal of them, we have no chance of embodying this sermon. Trying to live Matthew 5-7 without the Beatitudes firmly in place in our hearts and minds is like trying to go up Mount Everest without hiking boots. 5. The Sermon on the Mount is more than the words of Jesus, it was his life. He lived this message before he ever preached it, and after he preached it, he kept living it. Even as he hung on a cross wrongfully accused and oppressed by the wicked hearts of people and their power structures, he pleaded to God for their forgiveness and loved his enemies to his death. To see the heart of this sermon is to see the heart of Jesus. As disciples, our basic goal is to follow our Lord and be like him, to model ourselves after him in every way. There has never before, or since, been a message like this one. The Sermon on the Mount is to religious thinking what the cross of Christ is to human effort. It towers above the best that people have to offer – or can even conceive. But like the cross, when it is lived, it will either be loved or hated. It is a double-edged sword, threatening and frightening to those who fight against it, but helping and healing to those who submit to its summons. Families will both be divided over it, and will be transformed by it. Some families may first be divided by it, and then later transformed by it (as was the case in Jesus’ own family). One thing is for sure, this sermon will neither generate change nor controversy until there are those who will dare to put it into practice. But when even a few throw off fear, pride, and insecurity, and put on the climbing gear of grace and start up the mountain, the world will feel the impact. It did two thousand years ago and it continues to do so.

Anchor-Cross Publishing and Followers of the Way sponsored a debate on the subject of just war. They sought to bring leading thinkers together to discuss the issue in historic Faneuil Hall in downtown Boston. Speaking on behalf of just war were Dr. Peter Kreeft (professor of philosophy at Boston College) and Dr. J. Daryl Charles (Berry College). Speaking against just war and for biblical nonresistance were David Bercot and Dean Taylor. Originally published by Followers of the Way, used with permission https://youtu.be/K4xQaDDKY7k

Excerpt taken from The Kingdom of God, Volume 3: Learning War No More by Tom A. Jones, used with permission From my study it seems that the first notable Christian writer who explicitly gives approval to Christian soldiering and killing is Athenasius (296–373), who is often called “the Father of Orthodoxy.” All his writings took place well into the Constantinian era, with his first treatise being done in 319. In his Letter 48 he states, “It is not right to kill, yet in war it is lawful and praiseworthy to destroy the enemy; accordingly, not only are they who have distinguished themselves in the field held worthy of great honors, but monuments are put up proclaiming their achievements. So that the same act is at one time and under some circumstances unlawful, while under others, and at the right time, it is lawful and permissible.” While in the Constantinian Era most church leaders came to support this view of Athenasius, there were some who continued to oppose military service. But gradually, there were fewer and fewer who agreed with this pacifist position. After Jesus, we have the Didache, Justin Martyr, and Clement of Alexander, saying, follow Jesus and “love your enemies and pray for them.” Then later—but not until well into the fourth century—we have a leader of the church saying it is praiseworthy to destroy the enemy. The United States of America has been a country for two-hundred and forty-three years. To those of us who live here, we sense that this a long time. Yet, for almost three hundred years Christians taught that they were to love their enemies and not kill them. But then came a great shift—what scholars call the Constantinian Shift. The emperor began to befriend the church and most church leaders began to embrace the empire, including its war machine. Second, we need to be transparent about the fact that there were Christians who were in the Roman army during the first three centuries. A story, describing events from about 173, appears in Cassius Dio’s Roman History describing the seemingly miraculous rescue of a Roman legion. As the story spread, credit was given, at least by some, to the prayers of Christian soldiers. This is the story of the so-called “Thundering Legion,” whose enemy was supposedly driven away by the sudden appearance of a violent thunderstorm. Tertullian wrote his The Crown because of a story he had heard about a soldier who was a Christian and who was eventually put to death. Tertullian indicates this soldier was not the only Christian in that force. There are a number of indications that Christians joined the army between 175 and 313, but there are many who say that this was part of a broader moral laxness that began to permeate the church. The persecution of Christians under Diocletian (who became Emperor in 284 and initiated the persecution in 303) is known to have begun in the army. Before he moved on to the general population, he wanted to be sure that all Christians had been purged from the military, clear evidence of the presence of believers in the army of the empire. However, the presence of confessing Christians in the army is no more an argument against the pacifism of the early church than the presence of sexual immorality in the church in Corinth was an argument against the first century church’s teaching on sexual purity. Just because certain individuals did not live out the message that was taught does not nullify the fact that the message was taught. The church regularly fails to live up to its teaching. I have to admit that I am perplexed when people supportive of the pro-military position seem eager to discount the value of the early church writers, and yet, want emphasize, that there were Christians in the army in the second and third centuries. Seems to me that you can’t have it both ways. Third, we can conclude that while Christian practice was not always consistent, the normal posture in the early church was one of pacifism until the time of Constantine. We see that there was a unified message from the leading teachers in the church. We have no writer or leader in almost three hundred years who approved of violence. However, even the early church’s critics show us the believers took a pacifist position. Celsus, a Greek philosopher writing about 178, attacked the church for its practice of not serving in the army, arguing that if all people did as the Christians, the emperor would be deserted and his realm would fall prey to savages and barbarians. (By the way, that is still an argument used against Christian pacifists today.) We know as much about Celsus as we do because later Origen would respond to his various attacks including this one. Some of the quotes from Origen mentioned earlier were in reply to this very point. While there were exceptions, the Christian movement was known for its commitment to peace, non-resistance and non-violence, and that stance greatly troubled an opponent like Celsus. While the early church leaders were united in their message of enemy-love and non-violence, the Christian world has been equally united for the last seventeen hundred years in defending Christians who train for and go to war. Only here and there have small minorities resisted this idea and they have often been regarded as rather odd. It should, however, be said that in recent decades, there has been a resurgence of support for the pacifist view outside the traditional “peace churches.” For our purposes, it is important to note that this development has been closely linked to greater emphasis on Jesus’ Kingdom teaching. Following Constantine, the idea of “just war” was adopted and has been the flag under which many have gone off to fight for centuries, more often than not against other “Christians.” We will examine that theory or teaching in the following chapter. Before we turn to that historical shift, I would leave us with this question: Do we find anything in the teachings of Jesus and his gospel of the Kingdom that would cause us to move away from the pacifist teaching that we find in the second and third century church leaders? At least at this point, were they showing us how to live out the teachings of Jesus in this present age?

Excerpt taken from The Kingdom of God, Volume 3: Learning War No More by Tom A. Jones, used with permission Tertullian (160 –220) was raised by pagan parents, and he did not become a Christian until sometime in his late thirties or early forties. Nevertheless, he became one of the most prolific writers in the early church. He is sometimes called the “Father of Western Theology” and the “The Father of Latin Christianity.” He was the first of these leaders to write most of his works in Latin. He eventually left the mainstream church and became part of the Montanist movement because he felt the majority was turning in a worldly direction. Particularly after he joined the Montanists, he wrote much about the need for Christians to avoid war. He wrote an entire treatise titled The Crown, in which he spelled out the Christian case against military involvement. Here is a sampling of the points that he made in that work and in other writings: “If then, we are commanded to love our enemies, 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.” [1] “Only without the sword can the Christian wage war: the Lord has abolished the sword. Christ, in disarming Peter, disarmed every soldier.” [2] “But now inquiry is being made concerning these issues. First, can any believer enlist in the military? Second, can any soldier, even those of the rank and file or lesser grades who neither engage in pagan sacrifices nor capital punishment, be admitted into the church? No on both counts—for there is no agreement between the divine sacrament and the human sacrament, the standard of Christ and the standard of the devil, the camp of light and the camp of darkness. One soul cannot serve two masters—God and Caesar…But how will a Christian engage in war (indeed, how will a Christian even engage in military service during peacetime) without the sword, which the Lord has taken away?” [3] “Shall it be held lawful to make an occupation of the sword, when the Lord proclaims that he who uses the sword shall perish by the sword? And shall the son of peace take part in the battle when it does not become him even to sue at law?” [4] “Will those who are forbidden to engage in a lawsuit espouse the deeds of war? Will a Christian who is told to turn the other cheek when struck unjustly, guard prisoners in chains, and administer torture and capital punishment?” [5] Tertullian’s arguments revolved around three points: (1) Jesus’ command for us to love enemies, (2) Jesus’ call for Peter to put down the sword while condemning those who lived by the sword, and (3) Jesus’ overall ethic involving non-resistance and non-retaliation. Sometimes it is said that Tertullian and other writers were mainly concerned about the idolatry that was a consistent part of Roman military experience—something that would not be found in the military today. There is no doubt that this was a concern, and Tertullian addresses that in The Crown and in On Idolatry, but from the quotes we have here, we can see that his objections to the military were not limited to that concern. Some who don’t believe Tertullian to be useful in this discussion often point out that he also forbids a Christian to be a schoolmaster, a teacher of literature, a seller of frankincense, and that he condemns all forms of painting, modelling and sculpture. The argument is if he was wrong about these, then he was also wrong about the military. However, one must consider how biblically based was his critique of military service while his condemnation of other things was more based on his general concern for how far the church was drifting in worldly directions. Origen (185–254 ) was even more prolific than Tertullian, writing an astonishing 2,000 plus treatises on nearly every biblical subject imaginable. His works contain a great many comments related to our topic. Here are some of those: “Yet Christ nowhere teaches that it is right for his disciples to offer violence to anyone, no matter how wicked. For he did not consider it to be in accord with his laws. To allow for the killing of any individual whomever for his laws are derived from a Divine source ... For his laws do not allow them on any occasion to resist their persecutors even when it is their fate to be slain as sheep.” [6] “To those who ask us whence we have come or whom we have for a leader, we say that we have come in accordance with the counsels of Jesus to cut down our warlike and arrogant swords of argument into ploughshares, and we convert into sickles the spears we formerly used in fighting. For we no longer take ‘sword against a nation,’ nor do we learn ‘any more to make war,’ having become sons of peace for the sake of Jesus, who is our leader, instead of following the ancestral customs in which we were strangers to the covenants.” [7] “To this our answer is, we do give help to Kings when needed. But this is so to speak, a Divine help, ‘putting on the whole armor of God.’” Origin then mentions Paul's command for us to pray for those in authority and ends with this statement: “This is a greater help than what is done by soldiers who go forth to kill as many of the enemy as they can.” [8] “How was it possible for the gospel doctrine of peace to prevail throughout the world? For it does not permit men to take vengeance even on their enemies.” [9] The man who has been described as “the greatest genius the early church ever produced” consistently opposed Christian participation in military activities. He was tortured for his faith during the Decian persecution in 250 and died three to four years later from his injuries. Lactantius (c.250–c.325) is our main example of a church father whose early writing occurred before Constantine and his later work after the edict of Constantine in the new era when the Christian Church was viewed favorably by the empire. In his Divine Institutes, written in the earlier period, he makes as strong a statement as we can find, writing, “It is not right for a just man to serve in the army . . . Nor is it right for a just man to charge someone with a capital crime. It does not matter whether you kill a man with the sword or with a word, since it is killing itself that is prohibited. So, there must be no exception to this command of God. Killing a human being whom God willed to be inviolable [some translations: “a sacred animal”] is always wrong.” [10] After Constantine experiences his “conversion” and gives the edict legalizing Christianity, he asked Lactantius to become his spiritual advisor, tutor his son, and help shape the church’s relationship to the empire. At some point we find Lactantius changing his posture. In his Epitome, he writes: “Just as courage is good, if you are fighting for your country but evil if you are rebelling against it, so too with the emotions. If you use them for good ends, they will be virtues; if for evil ends, they will be called vices.” [11] In other places we see that he no longer opposed all violence. Pacifists see this as an example of letting politics take priority over conviction. They see how gaining power has a corrupting effect and here is an example of what happened to the church in general in the era of Constantine. Others argue he was just faithfully adapting to new circumstances. So, what is our conclusion? First, there is a united message from the church fathers of the first three centuries that the disciple of Jesus does not kill his enemy, but loves him. Let’s hear from Roland Bainton, the renowned church historian. In his Christian Attitudes toward War and Peace, he has a chapter titled “The Pacifism of the Early Church,” where he makes the following assertion: “The three Christian positions with regard to war . . . matured in chronological sequence, moving from pacifism to the just war to the Crusade. The age of persecution down to the time of Constantine was the age of pacifism to the degree that during this period no Christian author to our knowledge approved of Christian participation in battle.” [12] 1 Bercot, A Dictionary of Early Christian Beliefs, 677. 2 Bercot, 677. 3 Tertullian, De idololatria (Anti-Nicene Fathers 3:73). 4 Bercot, A Dictionary of Early Christian Beliefs, 678. 5 Bercot, 678. 6 Bercot, 678. 7 Bercot, 678. 8 Bercot, 679. 9 Bercot, 678. 10 Bercot, 681. 11 Epitome of the Divine Institutes, Chapter 61. http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/0702.htm. 12 Roland H. Bainton, Christian Attitudes toward War and Peace (New York, Abington, 1960), 66.

One of the abiding difficulties of living as a disciple of Jesus and attempting to teach others about the way of Jesus is the wall of resistance that one meets when Jesus’ way of peacemaking comes up for discussion. It appears that the world has so thoroughly groomed us in the way of violence that I might as well be an alien from another planet when I speak of this – even among other Christians. This impulse was driven home for me when my church in Accra, Ghana had conversations around what to do in an armed robbery scenario, given the slow response of our already overstretched police forces. It was such a given that one had to defend one’s family through a ​“kill or be killed” approach that there was very little room for imagining a different approach. First Century Expectations of a Messiah But perhaps that state of affairs is a symptom of a disease with which centuries of Christendom has left the church. And that disease is a spiritualization of Jesus so we can ignore his context and background. So we will attempt to cure a bit of that here and help establish the fact that the way of peace is not a bug but a feature of Jesus’ life and ministry and of our discipleship after him. You see, in the world of first century Palestine that Jesus lived in, one thing that everybody expected of a ​“Messiah,” aka ​“the Chosen One,” was that he would lead the Jewish people to violently overthrow the Roman empire that dominated them at the time. Such a victory would have signified that Yahweh was indeed with this ​“Chosen One” and with his people. What many Christians are not aware of while reading the Gospels is that there were indeed many ​“messiahs” who came before Jesus and many who came after him. Many such ​“messiahs” only ended up suffering a violent death. If you are a well-groomed spiritualizing reader of the Bible like I was brought up to be, you might not notice that the fate of two of such revolutionaries is mentioned by Gamaliel the Pharisee in Acts 5:34 – 37 during the persecution of the apostles. In fact, the Macabbean family dynasty, centuries before Jesus, had achieved a semblance of this desire for a 150 year period as they violently overthrew the Syrian empire and won Palestine their independence. But the nation couldn’t withstand the might of the Roman empire’s military machine and were back in subjugation by Jesus’ day. It is against this backdrop and with these pre-established expectations that Jesus enters the scene and totally repudiates violence towards ​“the enemy,” the most obvious one of which was the Roman empire. And it is this that we intend to establish as we go along. Redefining Messiahship Let’s be clear. Jesus commended Peter for declaring him ​“the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:16 – 17), which means he does accept the title. But his refusal to participate in removing the political ​“enemy” meant that for Jesus, being a Messiah meant something different than to the ordinary first century Jew. And this is part of what confused Jesus’ disciples about him. He obviously had the power through the signs and wonders he did – and hence the backing of Yahweh, Israel’s God – so what was power for, if it couldn’t be used against the enemy? The last thing anyone expected of a true Messiah was for him to die, not least on a cross, made doubly shameful because it was at the hands of the enemy. One can see the significance of Jesus’ rejection of the devil’s offer of ​“authority and splendor” as the NIV puts it in Luke 5:5 – 8. The only power that the devil can give is the same that he’s been giving since the fall – power by violence and lording it over, and not Jesus’ kind of paradoxical power that works by peace and nonviolent trust in God and in his wisdom to overcome by love. The devil offered Jesus something that God did intend him to have, but the temptation was to seize it in the wrong way. It’s no surprise that the devil exercised this power by violence – orchestrating the death of the Son of God – only for death to be the tool of the devil’s own defeat. So when Jesus tells his disciples to ​“love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44 – 45), it really is a manifestation of the radically different nature of Jesus’ ​“messiahship.” And yes, he means even the ​“wicked” political enemy – the Roman empire as represented by their soldiers dispatched to Palestine. That will certainly not have gone down well with his disciples, not to speak of the ordinary Jew suffering under the stifling control of Roman taxation and military brutality. Interestingly, this call to ​“love your enemies” is embedded in a much larger manifesto for living within his kingdom called ​“The Sermon on the Mount,” at the beginning of which is the ​“Beatitudes.” Here, Jesus teaches ​“blessed are the peacemakers” (Matthew 5:9). Just like his command to ​“love your enemies,” being peacemakers also shows whose children his disciples truly are. The two are intimately linked. Peace is the way of our God, and his children are manifested when they copy his behavior. But Jesus’ teachings thoroughly perplexed his disciples. Not only were they expecting him to use his power to violently advance his course and remove all resistance to his reign, but they were also quick to interpret any semblance of confrontation as one that will trigger that transformation from a peaceful messiah to a violent one. Jesus tells his disciples to get swords so he might look like a violent revolutionary, and his disciples think it means Jesus is finally going to be their hoped-for violent revolutionary (Luke 22:36 – 38). When two swords are made available, he shuts down their imagination with ​“that’s enough.” Anyone who knows anything about violent overthrows knows that two swords are light-years away from being enough. But that didn’t stop an impatient disciple from swinging that sword when Jesus was being arrested, cutting off an ear of a member of the arresting party (Luke 22:49 – 51). Not only does Jesus correct his disciple and heal the man’s ear, but he also questions his arresting party’s perception of him: ​“Am I leading a rebellion that you have come with swords and clubs?” (v52). That question was meant to drive home the point of how radically different he was from any ​“messiah,” past or future. Jesus practicalizes his own call to ​“love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” not only by dying naked at the hands of his enemy on a Roman cross but by also praying for forgiveness for them, ​“for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). As Peter pointed out in his sermonizing all over the book of Acts, Jesus may have been handed over to die by God’s plan, but the religious and political leaders of the day were certainly not blind to their active participation in the process. One of the ​“spiritualizing” failures of many church traditions today is to assume that the answer to the question ​“Why was Jesus killed?” is the same as ​“Why did Jesus die?” which then leads to religious leaders blindly behaving the same way now as the first century Jewish leaders behaved then. But perhaps Jesus’ statements in Matthew 23:37 hold a clue. For Jesus reminds Jerusalem of its sordid history of killing God’s prophets, then also reminds them that he had sought to ​“gather your children together … and you were not willing.” While many of us are quick to answer ​“Why did Jesus die” with one atonement theory or the other, a large majority of us fail to realize the challenge that Jesus’ alternative teaching of peace posed to his critics then and continues to pose to us today. Jesus’ death then triggered the same feelings that we can imagine all the other followers of previous failed ​“messiahs” had – feelings of fear and of failure. And in recorded history, every first century Jewish messianic movement either died with their leader or a brother of the dead leader was chosen to continue the course. And yet for Christianity, Jesus’ brothers didn’t take center stage and the course didn’t die. So what was different about this one? The Resurrection Makes Sense of Peacemaking Jesus’ resurrection and ascension to the right hand of the Father made all the difference. One of the important points to keep in mind about the Jewish belief in the resurrection was that not only was it meant to happen to the whole Israel at once, but it was also meant to happen only to those whom Yahweh had found to be faithful in keeping his commands. So Jesus’ resurrection on his own meant that he was indeed special. But more importantly, it meant that the claims he made about himself were true. Therefore, his radical, sometimes paradoxical teachings to his disciples were to be taken seriously, including those about peace and enemy love. New Testament scholar NT Wright puts it this way: “The resurrection and exaltation of Jesus proclaims and installs him as the world’s true lord and saviour … The future resurrection and glorification of Jesus’ followers will vindicate them as the true people of the one true God, despite their present suffering and humiliation.” ‑The Resurrection of the Son of God, pp 233. It is against this backdrop that his disciples went forth as witnesses to this nonviolent life, with Peter, the often impetuous and violent disciple, now ​“announcing the good news of peace through Jesus Christ, who is Lord of all” (Acts 10:36). The resurrection of Jesus now made sense of the way of life that he calls his disciples to live. It gave courage to his disciples that the way of peace was not only a possible way to live, but it was also the hopeful and true way to live. The resurrection of Jesus reminded his disciples (as it should remind us today) that peacemaking is not guaranteed to ​“work” every time, but it is their default way of engaging with the world because they are witnesses to a different kingdom than the kingdom that the world disciples them into. At the end of the day, his disciples knew that their pain and suffering in following the way of Jesus – including his call to be peacemakers – wouldn’t be in vain because their faithfulness to his way would be rewarded with resurrection from the dead. The Early Church: A people shaped by peacemaking This explains why we see such a strong emphasis on peace and nonviolence in the early church. Until the church gained political patronage and power in the fourth century with the conversion of Emperor Constantine, Christianity was a movement of people who took the way of peace seriously and required non-participation in military service for all its members. If a new member joined who was already in the army, it was made clear to them that they were in a compromised position and needed to look for an opportunity to exit the army. They refused to attend gladiatorial entertainment where gladiators fought to the death, a popular pastime in their day. They created communities where people from different ethnic and socio-economic groups were able to see each other as brother and sister, overcoming the barriers that the world had erected for such unions. Of course, there was friction between these ethnic and socio-economic groups which they tried to navigate within their communities, but the idea that the church was a place of welcome for all such people was driven by their belief that Jesus had brought peace to all near and far. If Acts 6 was anything to go by, then friction and its resolution according to Jesus’ example was par for the course instead of something to be afraid of. Many took on extra burdens and difficulties by rescuing abandoned infants from rubbish dumps so they could raise them in addition to their existing families. And when push came to shove and their way of life led to persecution, their leaders taught them to endure it faithfully, even to the point of death as martyrs. They weren’t ready to kill or hate for their cause. They were instead ready to die or suffer for it. Taking hope from Jesus’ example that the resurrection and not death was the true end of their lives, they came to not fear death for the sake of bearing witness to the unique kingdom of Jesus Christ. For them, peace meant not only nonviolence but also a wholeness of life that looked to live out the kingdom in self-sacrificial ways that the culture hadn’t even imagined possible. Athenagoras, a second century Christian apologist, captures the active peacemaking approach of early Christians this way: “Among us, however, it is easy to find simple people, artisans and old men who, if they are not capable of manifesting the usefulness of their religion in words, prove it by deeds. Because speeches are not learned by heart, but good deeds are manifested: not to hurt the one who hurts them, not to pursue in justice the one who despoils them, to give to everyone who asks of them and to love one’s neighbor as oneself.” ‑Athenagoras: Legation in favor of Christians, 11 How Power Ate Peacemaking for Lunch But what happened to this way of peace, this prioritizing of peacemaking among people of different backgrounds? You can start to see a move away from nonviolent peacemaking to the use of force and coercion as the church gained more political power with the conversion of Emperor Constantine to Christianity. This transition was certainly not a sudden one. But because the church had experienced many bouts of persecution over the first four centuries of its life, many leaders of the church viewed Constantine’s supposed conversion to Christianity with such joy that they began to throw off the habits learned from being a persecuted people to being the favored people of the empire. Let’s explore two examples of such diversions from the way of peace. During Emperor Constantine’s reign, Christianity became an accepted religion, no longer meant to face persecution. But a few emperors later, during the reign of Emperor Theodosius I, not only was Christianity an accepted religion, but it was the official one. It’s on record that in AD 388 in faraway Calinicium (now Raqqah, Syria,) a Christian mob attacked a Jewish synagogue and destroyed it. Emperor Theodosius, a professing Christian, ordered the punishment of the arsonists and the immediate rebuilding of the synagogue at the church’s expense. Many Christians today will agree that this was the just and fair thing to do. But Ambrose, bishop of Milan whose church Theodosius regularly attended, is captured in his own words in ​“Epistle 74,” rebuking the emperor for such an order, claiming that in times past Christians had to rebuild their own temples when they were under persecution. To our shame today, Ambrose prevailed. Another example is St Augustine, a keen student of Ambrose of Milan, calling on the empire to use violent means to suppress the Donatist heretics who had risen in the church long before he arrived on the scene. He questioned the church’s received tradition on peace and patience in his ​“On Patience” treatise. He calls some forms of patience ​“false patience” and tells us not to look at overt actions but to ​“discern their inner motivations.” In this, he became one of the first Christian leaders to call for the use of violence against others of the same faith, even if they preached a heretical set of teachings. Augustine then goes on to lay the foundations of what is called a ​“just war” position. Whereas Jesus’ teaching posited the church as an alternative community that is able to live by his kingdom ethics, Augustine lays the foundation for just war theory – proposing that violence would be needed to run the world and to coerce others to do what is perceived to be good for society. With the church’s blessing, war became legitimized and Jesus’ way of peace further marginalized. These two examples show the gradual ​“sophistry” around the peace teaching of Jesus, which only got worse over the course of the 2000-year history of the church. For the church to maintain its positions of power and privilege, it has had to move further and further away from Jesus’ teaching, using the Bible and a large dose of the Old Testament to justify its love of violence. The way of Jesus has always been a way in which peace is both the means and the end, because the Christian life is one of discipleship after our master, Jesus the king. And if his life was marked by peace, so that his way was rewarded by resurrection from the dead, then peace isn’t an afterthought of our discipleship but core to it. Unfortunately, many church traditions have taught us to read Jesus with rose-tinted glasses that teach us to focus only on his spiritual benefits and not his earthiness and the real challenges he confronted. The church’s collective amnesia about the way of peace is rather the bug in our witness. If we are to be a people of peace, we must become a people who are deeply soaked in the hope that the resurrection of the dead gives us, so we can face the challenges of being faithful to Jesus, knowing that our faithful peacemaking will not be in vain. References Bainton, R. (1963) Christian attitudes to war and peace. Trad. Rafael Munoz Rojas. Madrid, Spain: Tecnos. Well, R.D. (1950). Apostolic Fathers. Madrid, Spain: Catholic. Originally posted at Jesus Collective, used with permission https://jesuscollective.com/media/blog/jesus-and-peace

Jesus’ message of peace for all time The earliest Christians embraced Jesus’ message of peace. Indeed, up until the time of Constantine the early church taught that Jesus forbade his followers to kill. The most profound theological foundation for this conviction was the cross – that Christians should love, not kill, their enemies, as Jesus had shown them. Miroslav Volf is right: “If one decides to put on soldier’s gear instead of carrying one’s cross, one should not seek legitimation in the religion that worships the crucified Messiah.” Even so, when Jesus commanded his disciples to love their enemies, did he mean that they should never kill them? Did Jesus literally want his disciples to put down their swords? One may conclude with Reinhold Niebuhr that Jesus said to love one’s enemy, but that it does not work in the real world. One may also note the obvious, with C. S. Lewis: “Does anyone suppose that our Lord’s hearers understood him to mean that if a homicidal maniac, attempting to murder a third party, tried to knock me out of the way, I must stand aside and let him get his victim?” and with that, discount pacifism altogether. Yet Jesus’ command remains: Christians are to love their enemies. What does this mean? For two thousand years, Christians have sought – more or less seriously – to grapple with this question. What can we learn from the history of the church? Could Jesus have really intended his followers to lay down their arms? Originally published at Plough, used with permission https://www.plough.com/en/topics/justice/nonviolence/christian-nonviolence-and-church-history

What if Jesus meant every word he said? Dean Taylor is president of Sattler College in Boston and author of A Change of Allegiance, a book that chronicles his journey of faith to wrestle with the question, "what if Jesus meant every word he said?" While a soldier in the United States Army, Dean wrestled with the idea of Christian nationalism as he and his wife sat in the bunks reading their Bible every night. They simply couldn't get past Jesus' abundantly clear teaching to love your enemy. What if Jesus really meant every word he said ... Referenced Just War Debate: "It's Just War" : https://youtu.be/K4xQaDDKY7k

Excerpt taken from The Kingdom of God, Volume 3: Learning War No More by Tom A. Jones, used with permission As we pursue Kingdom living and obedience to Jesus, our ultimate authority is found in his words and the words of Scripture. However, church history is still a useful tool. And so, we ask, what do we find about Christians and the military in the times closest to Jesus’ life—the second and third century centuries? Do we find that those Christians in the first two or three centuries really embraced the principle of peace or did they soon depart from this most impractical way of living? Was it found to be an impossible ethic? Fortunately, we have the works of those we often call the church fathers. These leaders left us with writings and teachings on a variety of subjects including the one we are addressing in this book. The Roman Empire had a powerful world presence, and a robust military was a key to their success. The early church grew and spread in this environment. The invasion of the Kingdom of God clashed with the power of Rome on many points, and the works of the church fathers illustrate that Kingdom ideas about enemies and the military were in sharp contrast with those of the empire. We can agree that these believers were not writing Scripture. We are not basing our lives and the practice of our churches on Justin, Clement, Tertullian or Origen. They believed and taught some things that I do not believe and will not teach today. So, why does it matter what they taught and did regarding soldiering and war? Let us say clearly that it is not enough for us to be Christian pacifists because that is what the church of the first three centuries taught and practiced. We should only take that position if it fits with the message of Jesus and is a part of living out his Kingdom in the here and now. However, I find it significant that in a violent world where they were often the object of the violence, Christians of the first three hundred years held on to this non-violent message and only gave it up when their faith and the politics of this world, with its “wisdom,” were mixed together beginning with the emperor Constantine who brought church and empire together in an unholy alliance. In some cases, it appears the early church made decisions for worldly reasons. In this case, where the church held to non-violence, it seems clear that they made this decision purely because they were seeking to be faithful to Jesus as Lord and to do God’s will on earth as it is in heaven. There was no earthly reason and no argument from philosophy that would have led them to this commitment. It appeared weak, foolish and irrational. It was ridiculed. But when the world’s wisdom and God’s wisdom clashed, they held on to the “foolishness” of God’s wisdom—at least in this case. Quite often the early church writers put the emphasis on Jesus’ words of peace, non-resistance and enemy-love from the Sermon on the Mount. At other times they quote from Isaiah (or Micah) about swords being transformed into plowshares to show that the Kingdom life is oriented towards peace. One of the earliest extra-biblical Christian works actually is from the late part of the first century and is known as the Didache, or by its other title, The Teachings of the Twelve Apostles. We don’t know its author (or authors) but scholars date it between 80 and 90 AD. The opening words of this echo the words of Jesus in Matthew’s gospel and we can see that the church was putting front and center Jesus’ challenging teaching about how to treat an enemy. “This is the way of life: first, you shall love the God who made you, secondly, your neighbor as yourself: and all things whatsoever you would not should happen to you, do not thou to another. The teaching of these words is this: Bless those who curse you, and pray for your enemies, and fast on behalf of those who persecute you: for what thanks will be due to you, if you love only those who love you? Do not the Gentiles also do the same? But love those who hate you, and you shall not have an enemy.” [1] Clement of Alexandria writing about 195 AD, said, “He bids us to ‘love our enemies, bless those who curse us, and pray for those who despitefully use us.’ He elaborates on Jesus’ words when he writes, ‘If anyone strikes you on the one cheek, turn to him the other also, and if anyone takes away your coat, do not hinder him from taking your cloak also.’ An enemy must be aided so that he may not continue as an enemy. For by help, good feeling is compacted and enmity dissolved.” [2] Justin Martyr (100AD – 165AD) was born in Palestine, but died for his faith in Rome. He alludes to Isaiah 2 when he says, “We ourselves were well conversant with war, murder and everything evil, but all of us throughout the whole wide earth have traded in our weapons of war. We have exchanged our swords for plowshares, our spears for farm tools. Now we cultivate the fear of God, justice, kindness, faith, and the expectation of the future given us through the Crucified One…. The more we are persecuted and martyred, the more do others in ever increasing numbers become believers.” Later he added: “We who formerly treasured money and possessions more than anything else, now hand over everything we have to a treasury for all and share it with everyone who needs it. We who formerly hated and murdered one another now live together and share the same table. We pray for our enemies and try to win those who hate us.”[3] One of the more interesting documents that we have from the late 100s or early 200s is something known as the Apostolic . Most scholars believe it is written by Hippolytus of Rome (170 – 236) and it is basically a manual for church life including instructions about worship. It contains this passage that is relevant for us: “The professions and trades of those who are going to be accepted into the community must be examined. The nature and type of each must be established.” Then is listed different professions that must be given up by Christians, including: keeper of a brothel, sculptor of idols, charioteer, athlete, gladiator, and each time it states “give it up or be rejected.” Then we have this: “A military constable must be forbidden to kill, neither may he swear; if he is not willing to follow these instructions, he must be rejected. A proconsul or magistrate who wears the purple and governs by the sword shall give it up or be rejected.” And then a bit later he writes: “Anyone taking part in baptismal instruction or already baptized who wants to become a soldier shall be sent away, for he has despised God.” Another version of this document adds this: “A soldier in the sovereign’s army should not kill or if he is ordered to kill, he should refuse. If he stops, so be it; otherwise, he should be excluded.” Other practices that are then listed as unacceptable: prostitute, sodomite, magician, and soothsayer. All these must be given up.” [4] Preston Sprinkle argues that the Apostolic Traditions is important because it shows us what was going on down at the local church level and not just what was being taught by the church theologians. [5] Cyprian (200 –258), who was the bishop of Carthage in North Africa compared killing in war with murder with this pointed comment: “We are scattered over the whole earth with the bloody horror of camps. The whole world is wet with mutual blood. and murder—which is admitted to be a crime in the case of an individual—is called a virtue when it is committed wholesale. Impunity is claimed for wicked deeds, not because they are guiltless—but because the cruelty is perpetrated on a grand scale!”[6] For Cyprian, as for most early church writers and leaders, the problem was killing, and he found it odd that killing an individual in daily life is universally rejected while the wholesale killing that goes on in war is exalted. In another place he addressed the enemies of the faith: “None of us offers resistance when he is seized, or avenges himself for your unjust violence, although our people are numerous and plentiful…it is not lawful for us to hate, and so we please God more when we render no requital for injury…We repay your hatred with kindness.”[7] In this, he found the uniqueness of Jesus’ ethic. 1 Didache, I, 2-3 2 David Bercot, editor, A Dictionary of Early Christian Beliefs (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson Publishing, 1998), 677. Unless otherwise noted all quotes from the early Christian writers will be from this volume which quotes from the Anti-Nicene Fathers which is also published by Hendrickson Publishing. 3 Bercot, A Dictionary of Early Christian Beliefs, 676. 4 Eberhard Arnold, editor, The Early Christians in Their Own Words (Walden, NY: Plough Publishing, 1997), 90. 5 Sprinkle, Preston. Fight: A Christian Case for Non-Violence (Elgin, Illinois: David C. Cook, 2017) Kindle Location 3143-3165. 6 Bercot, A Dictionary of Early Christian Beliefs, 680. 7 Testamonia, iii, 106.

Pacifists always bear the burden of proof. They do so because, as attractive as nonviolence may be, most assume that pacifism just will not work. You may want to keep a few pacifists around for reminding those burdened with running the world that what they sometimes have to do is a lesser evil, but pacifism simply cannot and should not be, even for Christians, a normative stance. Nonviolence is assumed to be unworkable, or, to the extent it works at all, it does so only because it is parasitic on more determinative forms of order secured by violence. Those committed to nonviolence, in short, are not realistic. In contrast to pacifism, it is often assumed that just war reflection is “realistic.” It is by no means clear, however, if advocates of just war have provided an adequate account of what kind of conditions are necessary for just war to be a realistic alternative for the military policy of a nation. Just war in the Christian tradition In the Christian tradition, realism is often thought to have begun with Augustine’s account of the two cities, hardened into doctrine with Luther’s two kingdoms, and given its most distinctive formulation in the thought of Reinhold Niebuhr. Thus Augustine is often identified as the Christian theologian who set the stage for the development of just war reflection that enables Christians to use violence in a limited way to secure tolerable order. It is assumed, therefore, that just war is set within the larger framework of a realist view of the world. With his customary rhetorical brilliance, Luther gave expression to the realist perspective, asking: “If anyone attempted to rule the world by the gospel and to abolish all temporal law and the sword on the plea that all are baptized and Christian, and that, according to the gospel, there shall be among them no law or sword – or the need for either – pray tell me friend, what would he be doing? He would be loosing the ropes and chains of the savage wild beasts and letting them bite and mangle everyone, meanwhile insisting that they were harmless, tame, and gentle creatures; but I would have the proof in my wounds. Just so would the wicked under the name of Christian abuse evangelical freedom, carry on their rascality, and insist that they were Christians subject neither to law nor sword as some are already raving and ranting.” Luther is under no illusions. War is a plague, but it is a greater plague that war prevents. Of course, slaying and robbing do not seem the work of love, but, Luther says, “in truth even this is the work of love.” Christians do not fight for themselves, but for their neighbour. So if they see that there is a lack of hangmen, constables, judges, lords, or princes, and find they are qualified they should offer their services and assume these positions. That “small lack of peace called war,” according to Luther, “must set a limit to this universal, worldwide lack of peace which would destroy everyone.” Reinhold Niebuhr understood himself to stand in this “realist” tradition. In his 1940 “Open Letter (to Richard Roberts),” Niebuhr explains why he left the Fellowship of Reconciliation. He observes that he does not believe that “war is merely an ‘incident’ in history but is a final revelation of the very character of human history.” According to Niebuhr, the Incarnation is not “redemption” from history as conflict because sinful egoism continues to express itself at every level of human life, making it impossible to overcome the contradictions of human history. Niebuhr, therefore, accuses pacifists of failing to understand the Reformation doctrine of “justification by faith.” From Niebuhr’s perspective, pacifists are captured by a perfectionism that is more “deeply engulfed in illusion about human nature than the Catholic pretensions, against which the Reformation was a protest.” Just war theory as limit to state action Paul Ramsey understood his attempt to recover just war as a theory of statecraft – that is, that war is justified because our task is first and foremost to seek justice, to be “an extension within the Christian realism of Reinhold Niebuhr.” Ramsey saw, however, that there was more to be said about “justice in war than was articulated in Niebuhr’s sense of the ambiguities of politics and his greater/lesser evil doctrine of the use of force.” That “something more” Ramsey took to be the principle of discrimination, which requires that war be subject to political purpose through which war might be limited and conducted justly – that is, that non-combatants be protected. Yet it is by no means clear if just war reflection can be yoked consistently to Niebuhrian realism. Augustine’s and Luther’s “realism” presupposed there was another city that at least could call into question state powers. For Niebuhr, realism names the development of states and an international nation-state system that cannot be challenged. Niebuhrian realism assumes that war is a permanent reality for the relation between states because no overriding authority exists that might make war analogous to the police function of the state. Therefore each political society has the right to wage war because it is assumed to do so is part of its divinely ordained work of preservation. “Realism,” therefore, names the reality that at the end of the day, in the world of international relations, the nations with the largest army get to determine what counts for “justice.” To use Augustine or Luther to justify this understanding of “realism” is in effect to turn a description into a recommendation. In an article entitled “Just War Theory and the Problem of International Politics,” David Baer and Joseph Capizzi admirably try to show how just war requirements as developed by Ramsey can be reconciled with a realistic understanding of international relations. They argue that even though a certain pessimism surrounds a realistic account of international politics, that does not mean such a view of the world is necessarily amoral. To be sure, governments have the right to wage war because of their responsibility to a particular group of neighbours, but that does not mean that governments have a carte blanche to pursue every kind of interest. “The same conception that permits government to wage war also restricts the conditions of legitimate war making … Because each government is responsible for only a limited set of political goods, it must respect the legitimate jurisdiction of other governments.” But who is going to enforce the presumption that a government “must respect the legitimate jurisdiction of other governments”? Baer and Capizzi argue that Ramsey’s understanding of just war as the expression of Christian love by a third party in defence of the innocent requires that advocates of just war should favour the establishment of international law and institutions to better regulate the conduct of states in pursuit of their self-interest. Yet Baer and Capizzi recognize that international agencies cannot be relied on because there is no way that such an agency can judge an individual government’s understanding of just cause: “absent effective international institutions, warring governments are like Augustine’s individual pondering self-defence, moved by the temptation of inordinate self-love.” Baer and Capizzi argue that a more adequate understanding of just war will combine a realist understanding of international politics with a commitment to international order by emphasizing the importance of just intention. This means that a war can be undertaken only if peace – understood as a concept for a more “embracing and stable order” – be the reason a state gives for going to war. The requirement that the intention for going to war be so understood is an expression of love for the enemy just to the extent that the lasting order be one that encompasses the interests of the enemy. My first reaction to this suggestion is: And people say that pacifists are unrealistic? The idealism of such realist justifications of just war is nowhere better seen than in these attempts to fit just war considerations into the realist presuppositions that shape the behaviour of state actors. The likes of Ramsey, Baer and Capizzi are to be commended for trying to recover just war as a theory of statecraft – that is, as an alternative to the use of just war as merely a check list to judge if a particular war satisfies enough of the criteria to be judged just. Yet by doing so, they have made clear the tensions between the institutions necessary for just war to be a reality and the presumptions that shape international affairs. For example: What would an American foreign policy determined by just war principles look like? What would a just war Pentagon look like? What kind of virtues would the people of America have to have to sustain a just war foreign policy and Pentagon? What kind of training do those in the military have to undergo in order to be willing to take casualties rather than conduct the war unjustly? How would those with the patience necessary to insure that a war be a last resort be elected to office? Those are the kind of questions that advocates of just war must address before they accuse pacifists of being “unrealistic.” Ultimately, I think the lack of realism about realism by American just war advocates has everything to do with their being American. In particular, American advocates of just war seem to presume that democratic societies place an inherent limit on war that more authoritarian societies are unable to do. While such a view is quite understandable, I would argue that democratic society – at least, the American version – is unable to set limits on war because it is democratic. Put even more strongly, for Americans war is a necessity to sustain our belief that we are worthy to be recipients of the sacrifices made on our behalf in past wars. Americans are a people born of and in war, and only war can sustain our belief that we are a people set apart. The Civil War as sacred war For Americans war is a necessity for our moral well being. Which means it is by no means clear what it would mean for Americans to have a realistic understanding of war. In his extraordinary book, Upon the Altar of the Nation: A Moral History of the Civil War , Harry Stout tells the story of how the Civil War began as a limited war but ended as total war. He is quite well aware that the language of total war did not exist at the time of the Civil War, but he argues by 1864 the spirit of total war emerged and “prepared Americans for the even more devastating total wars they would pursue in the twentieth century.” Stout’s story of the transformation of the Civil War from limited to total war is also the story of how America became the nation called America. According to Stout: “Neither Puritans’ talk of a ‘city upon a hill” or Thomas Jefferson’s invocation of “inalienable rights’ is adequate to create a religious loyalty sufficiently powerful to claim the lives of its adherence. In 1860 no coherent nation commanded the sacred allegiance of all Americans over and against their states and regions. For the citizenry to embrace the idea of a nation-state that must have a messianic destiny and command one’s highest loyalty would require a massive sacrifice – a blood sacrifice … As the war descended into a killing horror, the grounds of justification underwent a transformation from a just defensive war fought out of sheer necessity to preserve home and nation to a moral crusade for ‘freedom’ that would involve nothing less than a national ‘rebirth’, a spiritual ‘revival’. And in that blood and transformation a national religion was born. Only as casualties rose to unimaginable levels did it dawn on some people that something mystical religious was taking place, a sort of massive sacrifice on the national altar.” The generals on both sides of the Civil War had been trained at West Point, not only to embody American might and power, but they were also taught to be gentlemen. The title of “gentlemen” not only carried with it expectations that the bearers of the title would be honourable, but they would also pursue their profession justly. They “imbibed” the code of limited war which demanded that they protect innocent lives and minimize destructive aspects of war. According to Stout they were even taught by Dennis Mahan, a professor of civil engineering, to use position and manoeuvre of interior lines of operations against armies rather than engaging in crushing overland campaigns that would involve civilian populations. Stout argues that Abraham Lincoln as early as 1862, prior to his generals, realized that the West Point Code of War would have to be abandoned. After Bull Run and frustrated by McClellan’s timidity, Lincoln understood that if the Union was to be preserved it would require that the war be escalated to be a war against both citizens and soldiers. In response to Unionists in New Orleans who protested Lincoln’s war policy, Lincoln replied: “What would you do in my position? Would you drop the war where it is? Or would you prosecute it in future with elder-stalk squirts charged with rose water? Would you deal lighter blows than heavier ones? I am in no boastful mood. I shall not do more than I can, and I shall do all I can, to save the government, which is my sworn duty as well as my personal inclination. I shall do nothing in malice.” Crucial to Lincoln’s strategy for the prosecution of the war against the population of the South was the Emancipation Proclamation which Lincoln signed on 22 September 1862. Lincoln’s primary concern was always the preservation of the Union, but the Emancipation Proclamation made clear to both sides that a way of life was at issue requiring a total war on all fronts. Emancipation blocked any attempt that an accommodation between the North and South could be found because now the war by necessity stood for moral aims which could not be compromised. Stout quotes Massachusetts’s abolitionist senator Charles Sumner who supported the Emancipation Proclamation as a “war measure” in these terms: “But, fellow-citizens, the war which we wage is not merely for ourselves; it is for all mankind … In ending slavery here we open its gates all over the world, and let the oppressed go free. Nor is this all. In saving the republic we shall save civilization … In such a cause no effort can be too great, no faith can be too determined. To die for country is pleasant and honorable. But all who die for country now die also for humanity. Wherever they lie, in bloody fields, they will be remembered as the heroes through whom the republic was saved and civilization established forever.” Stout’s book is distinguished from other books on the Civil War by his close attention to what religious figures on both sides were saying about the war. It was ministers of the Gospel that supplied the rhetoric necessary for the war to achieve its mythic status. To be sure, the South represented a more conservative form of Christianity than the North, as Christianity was recognized as the established religion in the Confederacy’s constitution, but for both sides, as Stout puts it, “Christianity offered the only terms out of which national identity could be constructed and a violent war pursued.” Stout provides ample examples of how Christians narrated the bloody sacrifice of the war, but Horace Bushnell’s contribution is particularly noteworthy for no other reason than his Christianity was liberal. Early in the war Bushnell suggested that morally and religiously a nation was being created by the bloodshed required by the war. According to Bushnell, through the shed blood of soldiers, soldiers of both sides, a kind of vicarious atonement was being made for the developing Christian nation. Such an atonement was not simply a metaphor, according to Stout, “but quite literally a blood sacrifice required by God for sinners North and South if they were to inherit their providential destiny.” Shortly after Gettysburg, Bushnell identified those who gave their lives in the war with the martyrs writing: “How far the loyal sentiment reaches and how much it carries with it, or after it, must also be noted. It yields up willingly husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons, consenting to the fearful chance of a home always desolate. It offers body and blood, and life on the altar of devotion. It is a fact, a political worship, offering to seal itself by martyrdom in the field.” As the toll of the war mounted the most strident voices calling for blood revenge came from the clergy. Thus Robert Dabney, at the funeral of his friend, Lieutenant Carrington, told his listeners that Carrington’s blood “seals upon you the obligation to fill their places in your country’s host, and ‘play the men for your people and the cities of your God,’ to complete the vindication of their rights.” One Confederate chaplain even prayed, “We should add to the prayer for peace, let this war continue, if we are not yet so humbled and disciplined by its trials, as to be prepared for those glorious moral and spiritual gifts, which Thou deignest it should confer upon us as a people.” Such a prayer makes clear that the war had become for both sides a ritual they had come to need to make sense of their lives. Stout’s account of the religious character of the Civil War, perhaps, is best illustrated by the most celebrated speech ever given by an American, that is, the Gettysburg Address. Stout observes that something “emerged from Gettysburg that would become forever etched in the American imagination. A sacralization of this particular battlefield would mark it forever after as the preeminent sacred ground of the Civil War – and American wars thereafter.” Stout is surely right, making these words all the more chilling: “It is for us the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us – that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion – that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain – that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom – and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” A nation determined by such words, such elegant and powerful words, simply does not have the capacity to keep war limited. A just war which can only be fought for limited political purposes cannot and should not be understood in terms shaped by the Gettysburg Address. Yet after the Civil War, Americans think they must go to war to insure that those who died in our past wars did not die in vain. Thus American wars are justified as a “war to end all wars” or “to make the world safe for democracy” or for “unconditional surrender” or “freedom.” Whatever may be the realist presuppositions of those who lead America to war those presuppositions cannot be used as the reasons given to justify the war. To do so would betray the tradition of war established in the Civil War. The unreality of war Realism is used to dismiss pacifism and to underwrite some version of just war. But it is not at all clear that the conditions for the possibility of just war are compatible with realism. At least, it is not clear that just war considerations can be constitutive of the decision-making processes of governments that must assume that might makes right. Attempts to justify wars begun and fought on realist grounds in the name of just war only serve to hide the reality of war. Yet war remains a reality. War not only remains a reality, war remains for Americans our most determinative moral reality. How do you get people who are taught they are free to follow their own interests to sacrifice themselves and their children in war? Democracies by their very nature seem to require that wars be fought in the name of ideals that make war self-justifying. Realists in the State Department and Pentagon may have no illusions about why American self-interest requires a war be fought, but Americans cannot fight a war as cynics. It may be that those who actually have to fight a war will – precisely because they have faced the reality of war – have no illusions about the reality of war. But those who would have them fight justify war using categories that require there be a “next war.” Pacifists are realists. Indeed, we have no reason to deny that the “realism” associated with Augustine, Luther and Niebuhr has much to teach us about how the world works. But that is why we do not trust those who would have us make sacrifices in the name of preserving a world at war. We believe a sacrifice has been made that has brought an end to the sacrifice of war. Augustine and Luther thought Christians might go to war because they assumed a church existed that provided an alternative to the sacrificial system war always threatens to become. When Christians no longer believe that Christ’s sacrifice is sufficient for the salvation of the world, we will find other forms of sacrificial behaviours that are as compelling as they are idolatrous. In the process, Christians confuse the sacrifice of war with the sacrifice of Christ. If a people does not exist that continually makes Christ present in the world, war will always threaten to become a sacrificial system. War is a counter church. War is the most determinative moral experience many people have. That is why Christian realism requires the disavowal of war. Christians do not disavow war because it is often so horrible, but because war, in spite of its horror – or perhaps because it is so horrible – can be so morally compelling. That is why the church does not have an alternative to war. The church is the alternative to war. When Christians lose that reality – that is, the reality of the church as an alternative to the world’s reality – we abandon the world to the unreality of war. Article first appeared in ABC Religion & Ethics. Posted at Stanley Hauerwas, used with permission https://stanleyhauerwas.org/the-end-of-just-war-why-christian-realism-requires-nonviolence/

Lecture by Dr. Douglas Jacoby, Harvard University 2013 Observations O.T. Church-state. Although priesthood and monarchy were separate, Israel was a “church-state.” Citizens were covenant members. Messianic expectation: political, economic, military. Lion of the tribe of Judah > Lamb that was slain. The teaching of Christ Isaiah 2:4 (Micah 4:3), 9:6, 52:13-53:12—Interpretations of the victorious Messiah Matthew 4:17 etc.—Kingdom of God as rival government Matthew 5:21-26,38-48; Romans 12:14-13:7—Love for enemies Antenicene Christianity: Good citizens: Paid taxes; prayed for government officials; engaged in social work. Counter-cultural: distanced themselves from (idolatrous) sacrifices; civic events; violence. Early Medieval Christendom: Legislating morality Persecuted becomes persecutor. “No wild beasts are such enemies to mankind as are the majority of Christians in their deadly hatred of one another.”– Ammianus (4th C.) State church: mandatory christening; clergy employed by government; churches exempt from taxes; magistrates enforce church decrees & doctrine; non-conformity (heresy) = sedition (political); militarism; civic duty and Christian duty coalesce. Later Christendom: Forced baptism, Crusades, Inquisition, armed bishops (personal armies) Reformation & dissent: Mainstream Reformation vs. the Radical Reformation (Anabaptists) Pacifist reaction: Quakers, Amish, Mennonites, Brethren, Churches of Christ (until 1917/1918) The American experience: John Winthrop’s “City upon a hill” (1630); American Civil Religion; the political right; pro-Israel sentiment; equation of Christianity with (American) democratic capitalism. Violent apocalypticism: Doctrine of the Tribulation; Armageddon and survivalists. “We, while the stars from heaven shall fall / And mountains on mountains are hurled / Shall stand unmoved amidst them all /And smile to see a burning world.”– Millerite hymn, 1843 Implications The place of the state Oaths of allegiance Warfare Business ethics (exploitation) Gentleness (driving, language, courtesy, aggressive activism) Entertainment (violent themes) Medical ethics (abortion, euthanasia, definition of life…) Litigation Nationalism. (U.S. nationalism: revolution, slavery, decimation of indigenous peoples) A moral and ethical trajectory? Originally posted at Douglas Jacoby, used with permission https://www.douglasjacoby.com/jesus-christ-prince-of-peace-or-god-of-war-douglas-jacoby/