command only makes sense in the context of the prophetic community or polis Jesus has announced he is building. By exemplifying the peaceableness and conciliatory spirit of the Beatitudes, the believer confounds and shames the aggressor, creating an opportunity for the violent person to be reconciled with God. By absorbing undeserved suffering and not retaliating in kind, the disciple also destroys the evil inherent in the logic of force. Instead of an endless cycle of violence and recrimination, there is shalom, there is peace.
The assumption among believers that violence is an acceptable tactic and tool, and the willingness of the Christian community to play chaplain to our nation’s military complex, therefore discloses a crisis of mistaken identity. When Christians declare that “we” must wage war for the sake of this or that political goal, when they point to what “they” did to “us” and argue about what “our” response should be, they mistakenly identify the calling of believers with the objectives of the nation-state. But the polis of Jesus is not merely one kind of allegiance contained within others, wheels within wheels. It is a radically different allegiance based upon goals and principles that the state may at times not tolerate or comprehend. In the final analysis, because nonviolence may result in martyrdom as it did for Jesus, it only makes sense to those who see all war in “cosmic perspective,” who know that there is genuine freedom because there is also Advent hope.
The freedom of the prophetic community is not freedom from “this-worldliness.” It is not liberty for the sake of personal security or individual purity. It is not motivated by narrow perfectionism or pious idealism. Rather, those who are truly free are conscious that they must live as faithful witnesses amid all of the ambiguities and anxieties of society, speaking truth to power in a fallen world and acting in ways that might actually make a difference. This means challenging the unquestioning raptures of a war-worshiping culture. This means proclaiming the principles of the Sabbath Jubilee as God’s judgment upon social and economic systems that oppress and exploit. This means fighting for peace using the weapons of peace rather than the weapons of death and fear.
The hope of nonviolent resistance to evil is not unrealistic, as history has proved. The accomplishments of Gandhi and Martin Luther King are well known, but there have been many others. During World War II, the French Huguenot village of Le Chambon Sur Lignon saved thousands of Jewish children through nonviolent noncooperation with Gestapo and Vichy authorities. The entire nation of Denmark likewise engaged in nonviolent resistance to the Nazis. When told that Jewish refugees must wear stars, the Danes declared that they would all wear stars; they mounted strikes and protests; they refused to repair German ships in their shipyards; they ferried Jews to Sweden out of harm’s way; they hid Jews in their homes. Again, thousands of lives were saved. Nazi officials were thoroughly unnerved, bewildered, and deflated by these actions. Many were converted. Eichmann was repeatedly forced to send specialists to Denmark to try to sort out the problem since his men on the ground could “no longer be trusted.”16 These movements, however, were rooted in communities that took their Christianity seriously and were prepared to count the cost. Let us cease praying for the success of our technology and weaponry long enough to ponder: are Christians still ready to count the cost?
—2002
1. Fagles, trans., The Iliad.
2. Weil, “The Iliad, Poem of Might,” 168, 170.
3. The facts in this section have been adapted from Glover, Humanity, 69–116; McCullough, Truman, 391–96, 436–44, 453–60; and Merton, “Target Equals City,” in Passion For Peace: The Social Essays, 28–36.
4. Glover, Humanity, 78.
5. Gilbert, Churchill, 782–83.
6. Ibid., 783.
7. McCullough, Truman, 455.
8. Merton, Passion for Peace, 28.
9. Heschel, The Prophets: Volume II, 19.
10. Lattimore, trans., The Iliad of Homer.
11. McCullough, Truman, 442.
12. Berry, “Peaceableness Toward Enemies,” in Sex, Economy, Freedom and Community, 77, 87.
13. Luther, Martin Luther, 374.
14. See Hayes, Moral Vision of the New Testament, 317–43; and Yoder, Politics of Jesus.
15. All biblical citations are from the New American Standard Bible unless otherwise noted.
16. See Arendt, Eichmann in Jerusalem, 171–75; and Merton, “Danish Non-Violent Resistance to Hitler,” in Passion for Peace, 150–53.
2 · Bonhoeffer’s Pacifism
In times of war, Dietrich Bonhoeffer is sometimes cited as an example of authentic Christian resistance to tyranny through the tactics of force. In a July 11, 2003, Washington Post article, provocatively entitled “Bonhoeffer: Thou Shalt Kill,” Philip Kennicot writes that any serious debate about violence and nonviolence must deal with the question: What about Hitler? Bonhoeffer, he suggests, offers a compelling example of a conscientious Christian concerned with radical discipleship who nevertheless saw that violence was morally justified in the face of Nazi evil. Political philosopher Jean Bethke Elshtain has also invoked Bonhoeffer’s name as a rebuke to Christian pacifists and as a summons for believers to embrace the necessity of force in America’s “war against terrorism.” The United States and its military arsenal, she writes, offer the only assurance of “international civic peace.”1 “For Christians living in historic time and before the end of time, the pervasiveness of conflict must be faced,” Elshtain continues. “One may aspire to perfection, but living perfectly is not possible . . . For St. Augustine, for Martin Luther, and for the anti-Nazi martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the harsh demands of necessity as well as the command of love require that one may have to commit oneself to the use of force under certain limited conditions, and with certain intentions.”2
In sharp contrast with Elshtain and others who have sought to appropriate Bonhoeffer for the “realism” of the just war tradition, James William McClendon in his Systematic Theology (1986) sees Bonhoeffer’s final political actions as exhibiting a tragic loss of nerve and loss of faith that can in no way be reconciled with the demands of the Gospel. The German pastor’s participation in the Abwehr plot against Hitler, McClendon writes, “was not only inconsistent with Bonhoeffer’s long-formed Christian convictions but was ineffectual as well.”3 For McClendon, Bonhoeffer’s theological ethics were so heavily reliant upon the practices of the Christian community as a community that when the German church