Clarifications on that crazy idea

Since at least two of the regular readers of this blog are my friends who served the United States military in the ongoing crisis in Iraq, I felt the need to clarify my statements in two previous posts on nonviolence as well as in the Comments section.

Yes, I believe that nonviolence is the Christian ideal to which Jesus Christ called his disciples in the Sermon on the Mount. I also believe that the posture of nonviolence is anchored in the New Testament as a whole and, following John Howard Yoder, that it finds its germ already in the Old.

But we live in a broken world that has very little space for ideals. In this broken world, shit happens. Mothers miscarry, parents divorce, bad men rise to power, governments turn racist. And while I still believe that nonviolence lies at the core of the Christian commitment to peace, by no means do I think that every situation comes in a clear black-and-white package. While I still believe that the suffering which comes from our nonviolent strategies is always redemptive, I confess that the consequences of such nonviolent choices are often disruptive and destructive not only for ourselves but, perhaps more importantly, for those affected by our choices.

I say this because I do not wish to dishonor the service of men and women who’ve sacrificed their lives to defend the citizens of their nation or strangers in others. Every war is a disaster whether its cause is reckoned just or not, and I respect the decisions of men and women who make sacrifices to attempt to alleviate it. I admire their bravery and greatness of spirit which I so seldom find in others, much less in myself.

And as for those among them who are Christians, I do not hesitate for a moment to call them my brothers and sisters in the one Lord. I am not yet so confident of my own exegetical conclusions as to criticize their sacrifice or stem my deep admiration for their heroic generosity.

Moriyo rahemelain oovadarain.

“Do not resist the one who is evil” (Part 2)

καὶ μὴ εἰσενέγκῃς ἡμᾶς εἰς πειρασμόν,
ἀλλὰ ῥῦσαι ἡμᾶς ἀπὸ τοῦ πονηροῦ.

And do not lead us into Tribulation
but deliver us from the one who is evil.

Matthew 6.13

Who is “the one who is evil” and what are we to do if we cannot use aggression against him? More recycling from an archived post:

Finally, the disciples must pray to be spared of the eschatological trial (peirasmos, usually translated “temptation”) that will precede Israel’s restoration, and to be delivered “from the evil one” (apo tou ponērou) (Matthew 6.13). It is important to note that these two statements are linguistically joined together in the Greek by the adversative alla (”but”). The pairing of peirasmos and ho ponēros is highly significant when viewed within the context of the Sermon. “The evil one” (ho ponēros) has already been identified as a potential provoker of the forbidden oaths (Matthew 5.33). More importantly, the ponēros is the enemy who strikes on the right cheek (Matthew 5.39), takes the disciple’s coat (Matthew 5.40), and commandeers him for one mile (Matthew 5.41).

For those who have ears to hear, he is none other than the Roman aggressor! Little wonder, then, that he is linked to the eschatological trial (peirasmos) which Israel must undergo as a prelude to redemption–”the evil one” is, in essence, the most tangible “obstacle” to national restoration! And from this “evil one” the disciples must pray to be delivered, for they have already been forbidden from the use of force: “Do not resist the one who is evil (ho ponēros)” (Matthew 5.39)! They must trust rather in the power of God to change even these enemies by the witness of the light of their good works (Matthew 5.16).

Does this interpretation of ho ponēros necessarily contradict the traditional Christian reading in which “the evil one” is thought to be Satan himself?  I don’t think so.  Although I think the primary historical meaning of “the evil one” is the Roman soldier, the heritage of Christian (especially patristic) exegesis warrants a polyvalent understanding that is still rooted in Jesus’ concrete, historical context.

We can say, for instance, that “the evil one” is someone who stands in the way of the kingdom.  Satan would of course be the chief contender for this title from a Christian perspective, but his work of deception and rebellion finds concrete expressions in the world—in real people and real institutions governed by his lies.  This is why the Book of Revelation did not hesitate to depict the Roman Empire of the first century as a terrifying beast (see Revelation 17), an instrument of Satan.

We can also say that, today, “the evil one” is “incarnated” in those who perpetuate what Shane Claibourne calls “the myth of redemptive violence” (the belief that violence can be ended with more violence) as the Jewish rebels did, as well as the many governments that tout their political ideals and economic progress as means by which human beings can find security, wealth, justice and freedom, much like the Roman Caesars who promised these benefits under the name of σωτηρια—”salvation”.  From these, too, we must pray to be delivered.

“Do not resist the one who is evil”

The Gospel for the Malankara lectionary this Sunday is Matthew 5.38-48. I posted the following commentary on this text over a year ago and thought to let it air a little bit more. Once again, your thoughts and comments are welcome.

*****

“Do not resist one who is evil” (Matthew 5.39). The verb for “resist”, antistēnai, is frequently used by Josephus to describe the military resistance against Roman rule, connoting violence in 15 out of its 17 uses by the Jewish historian. Israel is thus called to renounce not only strategies of violence, but the resistance itself—a departure from the many popular movements of the day. Rather, she must respond with “good works” so that the Roman aggressors might glorify her heavenly Father (Matthew 5.16).

When struck on the right cheek—an act of humiliation, since it is done with the back of the aggressor’s hand—, the disciple must offer his left. If the aggressor were to strike again, he must at least use the front of his hand, thereby recognizing at least to some degree the worth of his victim. By assuming a posture of vulnerability, the disciple thus draws to himself further opportunity to actually serve the offender.

If the aggressor sues him for his coat, the disciple must offer his cloak as well (Matthew 5.40), and if requisitioned by Roman military personnel to go “one thousand paces” (Matthew 5.41), he must go two instead. The word agareusei in Matthew 5.41 (translated “forces” by the RSV) means “presses into service”. Roman soldiers had the right in the first century to forcibly recruit a Jew for an operation. The classic example of this is Simon of Cyrene’s being “compelled” (Matthew 27.32) to bear Jesus’ cross.

For Jesus, Israel must break the cycle of violence that has been imposed upon her whether from within (by the resistance movements) or from without—that is, from Roman occupiers. She is called, not merely to non-resistance, but to go beyond non-resistance to love. In encapsulating his own words, Jesus presents the new perspective that Israel must adopt: the aggressor who takes her coat and commandeers her into forced labor is re-cast as “one who begs from you” and “him who would borrow from you” (Matthew 5.42)! Although commentators often see these sayings about generosity in monetary terms, thus necessitating a sudden shift in Jesus’ stream of thought, I think it is far better to read them as words which invite the hearer to see “the one who is evil” in new light—that is, God’s light—under which the Roman aggressor emerges as a fellow human being who is likewise caught in the drama of sin and violence. He, too, is a beggar and a borrower in need of mercy.

It is this radical perspective one’s enemy as a fellow human being in need—indeed, a “beggar” and a “borrower” to whom one must “give” and “lend”—that is the underlies Jesus’ invitation, not only to a passive non-resistance, but to meet brutality and force with abounding goodness. Only in this way could Israel’s light shine before others for their sake, that they might glorify her heavenly Father.

Jesus’ teaching concerning Israel’s relationship with “outsiders” reaches its climax in his command to love and pray for one’s enemies (Matthew 5.44). In doing so, the disciple will realize his divine sonship—”that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5.45) since God, too, gives to all without discrimination. This, then, is what it means to be one of the “peacemakers” whom Jesus blessed earlier and whom he promised would be called “sons of God” (Matthew 5.9). Unless Israel does this, she is no better than her enemies, be they tax collectors (Matthew 5.46) or “Gentiles”, that is, Roman occupiers (Matthew 5.47).

The conclusion, marked clearly with in the Greek with “therefore” (oun), cannot and must not be missed: it is in loving his enemies and in praying for them, not resisting them with violence, that Jesus’ followers will show themselves to be true sons of God. Indeed, they will then become like God—”perfect” just as he is “perfect” (teleios, Matthew 5.48). The Greek teleios designates not some kind of moral perfection or flawlessness (an interpretation which has sometimes led Christians to a despair induced by perfectionism). In the Septuagint, teleios translates the Hebrew word tamim, which has the basic meaning of “whole”, “complete”, or even “all-encompassing”. This last meaning of tamim fits excellently with the context of Matthew 5.48. The disciples’ love must be all-encompassing, just as their heavenly Father’s love is all-encompassing: “for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust” (Matthew 5.45).

A prayer for Mumbai

[Photo: Ruth Fremson/The New York Times]

Prayer for the Pacification of Animosity

We thank you, O Master, Lover of Mankind, King of the Ages and Bestower of Good Things, Who destroyed the dividing wall of enmity, and granted peace to the human race, and Who now has granted peace to Your servants. Instill in them the fear of You and confirm in them love one for the other. Extinguish every dispute and banish all temptation to disagreement. For You are our peace and to You we ascribe glory: to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages. Amen.

From The Book of Needs (St. Tikhon’s Seminary Press, South Canaan, PA)

Matthew 7.21-29: A Historical Reading

Warning 3: There are two kinds of hearers (Matthew 7.24-27)

With today’s Gospel, we arrive at the final and climactic warning. The one who not only hears but also practices the Sermon is likened to a wise man who builds his house on rock. As a whole, modern commentators read this parable against the backdrop of wisdom literature (the classic distinction between the wise man and the foolish) and subsequently pass over any possibility of historical referents.  However, I think the most likely reading of this text is that it is an allusion to the Temple, “the House” built on the foundation stone by the wise man, King Solomon.  It makes best sense of the wise man/house/rock constellation.

What Jesus was calling for from his disciples was the building of another “house”—an alternative Temple to the Herodian renovation in Jerusalem that would serve as the last stronghold of Jewish resistance against Rome in 70 AD. In retrospect, we can see why Jesus passed over the Temple in silence when expounding the subject of “surpassing righteousness” earlier, despite the centrality of the Jerusalem Temple to Jewish piety.

A new eschatological Temple is unveiled, here at the Sermon’s end, as the end of the Sermon. It is the fulfillment of everything for which the Jerusalem Temple stood: the locus of Torah, worship, deeds of loving-kindness. From this vantage point, Jesus’ audience must again see that the Jerusalem Temple has thus rendered obsolete and de-centered. The old House is no longer the seat of the kingdom which one must possess or preserve in order to enter the kingdom.

What is necessary for entrance, rather, is hearing and doing the words of Jesus. Everyone who hears and does what Jesus proclaims here on the mountain participates in the building of the true and lasting eschatological Temple. To depart from the call of the Sermon, to refuse Jesus’ vision for Israel—whether by embracing armed resistance against Rome or by a “peaceful” attempt to preserve the status quo—is in the end to make only one decision: to build on sand and thereby choose wreckage.

The dichotomy is sharp: to refuse one way is to choose the other. The rains, the floods and the winds of divine judgment—the peirasmos dealt in the military wrath of pagan Rome—will break upon both Temples, but only one of these houses will be spared of destruction. This description of a storm that destroys a house is strikingly similar to Ezekiel 13.10-16. Signicantly, the Ezekiel text consists of an oracle of judgment against Jerusalem and the false prophets who proclaim to her a false peace, i.e. those who tell her inhabitants that the Babylonian incursions of the seventh and sixth centuries BC would neither last nor lead to prolonged exile. It was revealed, on the contrary, to Ezekiel that there would be a “deluge of rain, great hailstones will fall, and stormy wind break out” (Ezekiel 13.11) and that both the city and the false prophets would be destroyed—as was the case when Jerusalem was decimated by the Babylonian “storm” in 587 BC. That Jesus follows his own warning against false prophets with the announcement of an imminent “storm” can hardly be coincidental. He saw a future pagan assault on Jerusalem as clear and present danger.

The house will survive whose builders heed the command, “Do not resist” and learn to pray, “Lead us not into peirasmos but deliver us from the evil one”. The other house in Jerusalem, to which all other kingdom agendas lead, will also attempt to weather the Roman storm, yet it will fall. Its builders are “foolish” (mōros) and like the salt that has been “rendered foolish” (mōrainō, Matthew 5.13) they will be trampled under foot by men. Of this house Jesus said, “Great was the fall of it” (Matthew 7.27).  The Sermon snaps shut, leaving the course of history to be its vindicator.