How Christian Is Violence?
Sermon
When my children first started school, many years ago now, I was quickly faced with one of the dilemmas perhaps all parents face. These tiny children, whom we'd carefully nurtured at home for four and a half years, were suddenly thrust into a world which could be quite tough for them, the world of school.
As a Christian parent, when my children came home in tears because somebody had upset them or hit them, what should I do? Tell them to fight back? Say: "If someone kicks you, you must learn to stand up for yourself?" Or suggest they tell the teacher? Or go in myself to talk to the teacher? Or confront the culprits myself? Or should I say: "Don't worry about it. If you ignore them they'll leave you alone?" Or should I say: "It's wrong to fight. No matter how anybody treats you, you must always turn the other cheek?"
What would be the Christian position? As Christians, how should we respond to conflict?
At first sight, the Bible message seems to be very clear: at all costs, resolve your conflicts by peaceful means. "Blessed are the peace-makers," said Jesus in the sermon on the mount. And the idea of peace is at the heart of Christianity. "The peace of the Lord be always with you," we say in the communion service, and we exchange a sign of the peace. And many services end with: "The peace of God which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God and of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord."
It seems peace, and especially God's peace is extremely important to us. So surely we who are made in his image should strive to emulate his ways in our lives, and seek above all else for peace with each other.
But that's the Bible at first sight. On a second glance, it doesn't seem to be quite so simple. In today's OT reading of the Ten Commandments, we're told, "Thou shalt not kill." But God himself doesn't seem to be bound by such a law, and in the OT often orders his people not only to kill, but also to massacre in a way which nowadays we would regard as utterly horrific.
The God of the OT generally seems much more war-like and threatening than the God revealed by Jesus. Perhaps as the centuries rolled past, and people became more mature and more civilised, so they were able to become aware of the benefits of peace, and slowly to become aware of God's more peaceful characteristics. So that by the time we reach the NT, the new revelation of God seen in Jesus is one of peace and gentleness.
In Luke's version of today's gospel reading of the cleansing of the temple, we hear that when Jesus came in sight of Jerusalem, he wept over it and said: "If only you had known the way that leads to peace!"
But his very next act, according to St. Luke, is one of considerable violence. He went into the temple and began driving out the traders. He overturned the tables of the merchants, and according to today's reading from John's gospel, made a whip for the very purpose of driving out the money-changers. Considerable violence. No wonder they hated him and sought to crucify him, for it seems violence almost always breeds violence. And this violent act, according to John, took place at the very beginning of Jesus' ministry, although all the other gospel writers place this incident much later, as the events which sparked off the first Easter.
So on the one hand we have a gospel which seems to speak of peace. On the other, a God who throughout the time of his relationship with his people, both before Christ and through Christ, suddenly breaks out in violence against them.
How are we supposed to handle this contradiction?
Perhaps we could say God's violence is justified, for it's only against evil or evil-doers. But that doesn't always seem to be the case. Sometimes God's violence is against those who practise evil, but at other times it seems to be capricious, inexplicable.
The story of Uzzah is told in the first book of Chronicles in the OT (1 Chronicles 13:9f). Uzzah was one of the bearers chosen to accompany the Ark of the Covenant. The Ark was where God himself resided before a permanent home, the temple, was built for him. Because the Ark was so holy, it had to be carried on long poles on a sort of cart pulled by oxen. It couldn't be touched by human hand. On this occasion the ground was uneven and one of the oxen stumbled. Uzzah instinctively put out his hand to steady the Ark, to prevent it falling.
The story goes on: The anger of the LORD was kindled against Uzzah; he struck him down because he put out his hand to the ark; and he died there before God.
An incident which is similar, but in which God appears to have perhaps slightly more justification for his actions, occurs in the NT, in the book of Acts. The very earliest Christian church was a kind of experiment in Communism. No one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. We're told there was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold.
But Ananias, with the consent of his wife Sapphira, sold a piece of property. With his wife's knowledge, he kept back some of the proceeds, and brought only a part and laid it at the apostles' feet. Because of his deception Ananias fell down and died. And about three hours later, when his wife came in, she too was convicted of deception and instantly dropped dead. And not surprisingly, great fear seized the whole church and all who heard of these things. (Acts 4:32-5:11).
Admittedly Ananias and Sapphira did wrong. They sinned. They lied and deceived. But even so, the end result was incredibly drastic and very violent.
What are we to make of this God who apparently condemns human violence, but who is sometimes violent himself? And how does it help us to handle our own conflict?
Perhaps the answer is something to do with striving after peace whenever possible, but not peace at any cost. Integrity seems to be very important. Perhaps there are occasions when we need to confront evil, even if it means being violent. Many people believe the policy of appeasement just prior to the second world war was wrong. And in the end, it seems violence was necessary to stop the terrible evil which occurred.
Perhaps as Christians we've become afraid of conflict because it's so difficult to handle. We've become "awfully nice" people, but maybe the price, to some extent, has been our integrity. The world speaks with a smooth tongue. And perhaps we in the Church have persuaded ourselves that polite niceness is Christianity. But throughout history, God's prophets have been rarely smooth or comfortable. Like God himself, they've often been angry, and sometimes even violent in their confrontation of evil.
Most of us, of course, aren't like the prophets. We're a mixture. We're neither wholly good, nor are we wholly bad. But, if there's never any sign of conflict, perhaps we should beware! The prophets were angry because their faith was so important to them. And pehaps God's anger in OT times and his anger through Christ, is because he cares so deeply. Although Jesus is the Prince of Peace, he also said: "Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword." (Matthew 10:34)
Ultimately a violent event lies at the very centre of our faith. A very violent cross. Some people find the cross an offensive symbol, because of its violence. But perhaps the cross is actually the violence that ends all need of violence.
The cross kills. If I was really able to take up my cross, to face anything which has such a hold over me that it's crushing the life out of me, perhaps then I'd learn how to handle conflict, but find the need for violence had largely disappeared.
As a Christian parent, when my children came home in tears because somebody had upset them or hit them, what should I do? Tell them to fight back? Say: "If someone kicks you, you must learn to stand up for yourself?" Or suggest they tell the teacher? Or go in myself to talk to the teacher? Or confront the culprits myself? Or should I say: "Don't worry about it. If you ignore them they'll leave you alone?" Or should I say: "It's wrong to fight. No matter how anybody treats you, you must always turn the other cheek?"
What would be the Christian position? As Christians, how should we respond to conflict?
At first sight, the Bible message seems to be very clear: at all costs, resolve your conflicts by peaceful means. "Blessed are the peace-makers," said Jesus in the sermon on the mount. And the idea of peace is at the heart of Christianity. "The peace of the Lord be always with you," we say in the communion service, and we exchange a sign of the peace. And many services end with: "The peace of God which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God and of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord."
It seems peace, and especially God's peace is extremely important to us. So surely we who are made in his image should strive to emulate his ways in our lives, and seek above all else for peace with each other.
But that's the Bible at first sight. On a second glance, it doesn't seem to be quite so simple. In today's OT reading of the Ten Commandments, we're told, "Thou shalt not kill." But God himself doesn't seem to be bound by such a law, and in the OT often orders his people not only to kill, but also to massacre in a way which nowadays we would regard as utterly horrific.
The God of the OT generally seems much more war-like and threatening than the God revealed by Jesus. Perhaps as the centuries rolled past, and people became more mature and more civilised, so they were able to become aware of the benefits of peace, and slowly to become aware of God's more peaceful characteristics. So that by the time we reach the NT, the new revelation of God seen in Jesus is one of peace and gentleness.
In Luke's version of today's gospel reading of the cleansing of the temple, we hear that when Jesus came in sight of Jerusalem, he wept over it and said: "If only you had known the way that leads to peace!"
But his very next act, according to St. Luke, is one of considerable violence. He went into the temple and began driving out the traders. He overturned the tables of the merchants, and according to today's reading from John's gospel, made a whip for the very purpose of driving out the money-changers. Considerable violence. No wonder they hated him and sought to crucify him, for it seems violence almost always breeds violence. And this violent act, according to John, took place at the very beginning of Jesus' ministry, although all the other gospel writers place this incident much later, as the events which sparked off the first Easter.
So on the one hand we have a gospel which seems to speak of peace. On the other, a God who throughout the time of his relationship with his people, both before Christ and through Christ, suddenly breaks out in violence against them.
How are we supposed to handle this contradiction?
Perhaps we could say God's violence is justified, for it's only against evil or evil-doers. But that doesn't always seem to be the case. Sometimes God's violence is against those who practise evil, but at other times it seems to be capricious, inexplicable.
The story of Uzzah is told in the first book of Chronicles in the OT (1 Chronicles 13:9f). Uzzah was one of the bearers chosen to accompany the Ark of the Covenant. The Ark was where God himself resided before a permanent home, the temple, was built for him. Because the Ark was so holy, it had to be carried on long poles on a sort of cart pulled by oxen. It couldn't be touched by human hand. On this occasion the ground was uneven and one of the oxen stumbled. Uzzah instinctively put out his hand to steady the Ark, to prevent it falling.
The story goes on: The anger of the LORD was kindled against Uzzah; he struck him down because he put out his hand to the ark; and he died there before God.
An incident which is similar, but in which God appears to have perhaps slightly more justification for his actions, occurs in the NT, in the book of Acts. The very earliest Christian church was a kind of experiment in Communism. No one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. We're told there was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold.
But Ananias, with the consent of his wife Sapphira, sold a piece of property. With his wife's knowledge, he kept back some of the proceeds, and brought only a part and laid it at the apostles' feet. Because of his deception Ananias fell down and died. And about three hours later, when his wife came in, she too was convicted of deception and instantly dropped dead. And not surprisingly, great fear seized the whole church and all who heard of these things. (Acts 4:32-5:11).
Admittedly Ananias and Sapphira did wrong. They sinned. They lied and deceived. But even so, the end result was incredibly drastic and very violent.
What are we to make of this God who apparently condemns human violence, but who is sometimes violent himself? And how does it help us to handle our own conflict?
Perhaps the answer is something to do with striving after peace whenever possible, but not peace at any cost. Integrity seems to be very important. Perhaps there are occasions when we need to confront evil, even if it means being violent. Many people believe the policy of appeasement just prior to the second world war was wrong. And in the end, it seems violence was necessary to stop the terrible evil which occurred.
Perhaps as Christians we've become afraid of conflict because it's so difficult to handle. We've become "awfully nice" people, but maybe the price, to some extent, has been our integrity. The world speaks with a smooth tongue. And perhaps we in the Church have persuaded ourselves that polite niceness is Christianity. But throughout history, God's prophets have been rarely smooth or comfortable. Like God himself, they've often been angry, and sometimes even violent in their confrontation of evil.
Most of us, of course, aren't like the prophets. We're a mixture. We're neither wholly good, nor are we wholly bad. But, if there's never any sign of conflict, perhaps we should beware! The prophets were angry because their faith was so important to them. And pehaps God's anger in OT times and his anger through Christ, is because he cares so deeply. Although Jesus is the Prince of Peace, he also said: "Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword." (Matthew 10:34)
Ultimately a violent event lies at the very centre of our faith. A very violent cross. Some people find the cross an offensive symbol, because of its violence. But perhaps the cross is actually the violence that ends all need of violence.
The cross kills. If I was really able to take up my cross, to face anything which has such a hold over me that it's crushing the life out of me, perhaps then I'd learn how to handle conflict, but find the need for violence had largely disappeared.
