nonviolence

The True Power of God's Love

Mark 1:4-11

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”


On Wednesday we all witnessed a historic, unprecedented, and horrific event as fellow American citizens stormed the US Capitol building in a deadly attempt to thwart democracy. 

Also on Wednesday, the Western Christian church entered the liturgical season of Epiphany – a season dedicated to the idea that God’s presence and goodness is being unveiled, revealed, shown to the nations of the earth. Light, in the midst of darkness. Order out of chaos.

The gospel text for the day of the Epiphany of our Lord this past Wednesday was the story of the magi presenting themselves and their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the Holy Family. Their journey takes place under the orders and watchful gaze of an arrogant and entitled ruler who has received word that his political power will come to an end due to the birth of a new king. Herod’s solution to the threat of his power being taken away is a violent one: he has every male infant in the region murdered. He himself does not carry out the violence, but he entrusts his followers to use whatever violent means they see fit in order to accomplish this goal. They oblige. 

The wise men, upon finding the Christ Child, do not return to Herod with news of the child’s location, but instead went home by another road – a beautiful and brilliant act of nonviolent resistance. The magi, those “wise” men, did their part to disengage from a pattern of destruction and take some violence out of circulation – a brave decision with history-altering ramifications. 

The season of Epiphany begins with a warning about the horrific lengths that individuals intoxicated by worldly power will undertake when that power is threatened. The season also begins with the acknowledgment that nonviolence is the foundation of God’s kingdom.

The next Epiphany story – the next story about God’s presence and goodness being unveiled, revealed, shown to the nations of the earth – is what we heard today. John the Baptizer is calling people to repent – to do a 180-degree about-face with their lives – in order to be ready for the coming of salvation. 

One among the crowd heeds the invitation and completely submerges in the cleansing waters of baptism. “And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” His life would go on to prove that being loved by God is the true power of the universe and that love cannot be taken away.

I don’t remember my baptism, but I know without a doubt that water was poured over my head along with the declaration that God loves me. If you have been baptized, then you too have heard the words of God’s love for you. If you have witnessed the community gathered around the baptismal font and applauded as the baby, teen, or adult was presented to the community, then you have been reminded of the unique way that God’s love is expressed over and over again as those water drops fall off the forehead and return to the font. If you have experienced the pronouncement of God’s love for you, then you have within you the most powerful thing in the world and it is power that cannot be taken away.

Two Epiphany stories of two powerful men. Two totally different ways of reacting to God’s presence and offer of salvation. Herod was horrified; Jesus was humbled. Both were loved by God, but only one knew that God’s love was sufficient...that God’s love is the most powerful thing in the world and it is power that cannot be taken away.

World history is replete with stories of men who reacted violently when their worldly power and positions of privilege were threatened. The pages of scripture tell of scores of rulers, even God-fearing ones, who sought to preserve their power at all costs, even when it meant engaging in violence. Herod is simply one among many. 

But we don’t worship the leaders who react violently when their positions of power and privilege are threatened. Instead, what unites us is our worship and adoration of the one who was humble enough to be washed, who rejected worldly power and false idols, who identified with society’s outcasts and gave them hope. 

We worship the one who was executed by the violent power-hungry rulers and structures of the world. And we worship the one who rose from the dead, proving once and for all the complete futility of worldly power. 

Why, then, was Christian imagery referencing the prince of peace and the God of love found on the flags, clothes, signs, and lips of those who stormed the U.S. Capitol on Wednesday...those who express the sentiment that their worldly power and privilege is being stripped away? Why would the baptized and beloved of God resort to violence (or at least be a part of the mob that put others in harm’s way)?

As a representative of Christ’s church I have to publicly condemn not just their actions but the theology that contributed to their sense of right and wrong because it has more to do with Herod than Jesus. 

Many Americans (though, sadly, not all) were quick to condemn the violence and lawbreaking that unfolded in our nation’s capital on Wednesday. However, those who participated in the insurgency are not the only elements that are to be condemned. As an assembly of people who profess to follow Christ above all else, we must all take the time to reflect on the ways in which we, too, are prone to react with violence when we feel that our power and privilege is being threatened. This is what it means to remember our baptism – to daily put to death that which seeks to displace God in our lives and daily to rise to new life as we focus on God alone.

The events of this week and the lives that were lost demand that each and every one of us take an honest look at how our actions are contributing to the violence that seems so readily-accessible today. In what ways do we feel our worldly power slipping away? To what lengths are we willing to go to prevent that from happening? And if our honest answer to that question scares us, we can remember our baptism and our belovedness. We can repent and return home by another way.

These are the early days of Epiphany. God’s presence and goodness is being unveiled, revealed, shown to the nations of the earth. Light, in the midst of darkness. Order out of chaos. We keep watch together. We keep watch over one another. And we do all we can to remind one another of our belovedness. That is the true power that cannot be taken away. 

Amen.

The Temptation of Redemptive Violence

Mark 8:31-38

Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.


Two weeks ago we explored the story of Jesus transfigured on the mountain. If you recall, that message centered on the idea of cruciform discipleship. Today’s gospel story is the scene that unfolds immediately prior to the ascent up the mountain, making today’s message something of a prequel. 

The scene begins following Jesus’ question to the disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” To which Peter replied, “You are the Messiah.” 

Today’s gospel scene makes a pretty bold and startling claim about what being the Messiah actually means. Namely, it involves great suffering, rejection, and death. Resurrection, yes; but by the time that bit of good news gets to Peter’s ears, he has already stopped listening. And chances are, we have stopped listening also.

Peter rebukes Jesus for talking about suffering, rejection, and death; just as he will do again a few verses later on the mountain in the presence of the transfigured Christ. Peter suggests Jesus has it all wrong because that’s not how the story is supposed to go. Suffering? Rejection? Death? No, no, and no. Their ancestors already been there and done that for far too long.

The Messiah was to usher in a new age of peace and prosperity for God’s chosen people; an age of peace and prosperity that would come about once they have had the chance to engage in all the nasty, violent, angry, evil stuff against their enemies. The people who had endured generations of great suffering, rejection, and death were ready to dish it out in kind, teaching their enemies a lesson. Peace would follow, but only after more violence. It would only be fair and just.

It was an approach to peace-making modeled efficiently by millennia of occupiers; most recently, Rome. Caesar was Lord. Caesar promised and brought the good news of peace to the nations; albeit, a peace produced by the blade of a sword. All who threatened the peace were killed. This system had worked incredibly well for the Romans as their boundaries spread into multiple continents. The Hebrew people were simply awaiting their turn, when their Lord would come, lead them into battle, and vanquish all their enemies so they could finally enjoy the blood-stained peace for which they had fought.

There’s something tempting about the notion of repaying violence with violence. Something exciting, invigorating, alluring, and even instinctive. It’s a very human thing. Repaying an insult with an insult. Passing and cutting off a driver who cut you off. Wishing some degree of bad fortune on “those people.” Killing people who kill people. Repaying violence with violence…the examples are everywhere. 

Last week I went to the theater to watch a movie and most of the movie previews preceding the show were about a man who had something awful happen to him so he sets off to kill everyone who could have had a hand in it. There are so many movies that tell this same story because it is a fool-proof formula for profit. People are willing to pay to watch someone use violence to rectify the world and rid it of the violent people. It speaks to a very human part of our nature. And it is tempting to see this as an appropriate way to engage with the world. 

If there had been theaters instead of gladiator games for entertainment in these times, Peter would have wanted a Bruce Willis-type Messiah. After all Die Hard is a much better title for a movie about a Savior than Suffer, Be Rejected, and Die.

The desire to use violence to rid the world of violence is a human thing. Which is why Jesus rebukes Peter’s rebuke with the statement, "Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

Revenge is a human thing; not a divine thing. The myth of redemptive violence (the idea that violence is an appropriate response to violence) is a human thing; not a divine thing. 

Notice, that Jesus refers to Peter as “Satan.” The first reference to Satan in Mark’s gospel was when Jesus went into the wilderness following his baptism, where he was tempted by Satan for 40 days and 40 nights. Satan is temptation personified. And the only things that tempt us are the things we crave but know that we should avoid. 

We confess Jesus was fully divine and fully human. In this exchange with Peter, Jesus’ full human-ness is on display. Peter tells him he should walk down the path of victory through violence. Jesus is tempted; otherwise he would have not have called Peter the name of temptation personified. For an instant he peers into that probable future of might, conquest, and revenge. But then he turns his back on the tempter. Jesus looks at his disciples and fully commits himself to the path that will lead to victory through suffering, rejection, and death. Not only does he commit to follow this path, but he instructs any who would follow him to pick up their cross and walk the same path.

There is much that needs to be said about the myth of redemptive violence – the idea that violence can be used as an instrument of good. I cannot adequately unpack this profound idea in a few minutes here, but I would like to point to the words of theologian Walter Wink, who writes, 

"The myth of redemptive violence is the simplest, laziest, most exciting, uncomplicated, irrational, and primitive depiction of evil the world has ever known…. By making violence pleasurable, fascinating and entertaining, the Powers are able to delude people into compliance with a system that is cheating them of their very lives."*

Violence begets violence; and violent actions are just as deadly for the perpetuator as the victim.

Jesus’ instruction to pick up crosses and follow him are not just prohibitions against violence. It is more an invitation to live a full life that exudes the divine force of peace throughout the world. 

Consider Jesus’ call as an invitation for you to notice when the tempting tunes of violence and revenge sing their siren songs. Notice when the voice in your head turns violent, insisting that either you yourself or those people over there deserve to be punished. Boldly proclaim the same mantra Jesus used when he was tempted, “Get behind me, Satan.”

Amen.

 

* Walter Wink. The Powers That Be: Theology for a New Millennium