From the August issue of the Lions Mark, the newsletter of Saint Marks Church... Living Peaceably in a Violent World Violence and religion are hardly new acquaintances. We happen to live in a violent world in which we often see violence recruited in the supposed service of religion. This situation is not an innovation; the Scriptures themselves are full of violence – not infrequently invoking the intentions of the Almighty. Even Jesus was not immune to the use of violent language, at least. The Cross’s edges have been sharpened more than once to lead crusades. From within a garrisoned faith, however, a prophetic voice of peace has persistently asserted itself, and for Christians this voice finds its aim, its hope, and its reality in the person of Jesus, who, despite sometimes harsh talk, never took up a weapon, told others to put theirs away, and died at the hands of violent men. It is not for nothing that we sometimes call Jesus the Prince of Peace – for we see a witness to a deep and abiding peace in his teaching and in his preaching, in his suffering and in his death. The church has not always been on the right side of violence (which is to say the opposite side). We have had to repent and amend our ways more than once, to lay down our arms and declare our fealty again to the Peaceful Prince whom we have betrayed. Perhaps it is in our DNA, since it was St. Peter who had to be told to sheathe his sword, since even St. Paul had to put aside his violent (childish) ways and turn to peace and own up to his weakness. We are prone to wander in the worst possible ways. So much violence surrounds us, no matter how near or far we cast our gaze. Our own history as a church is soaked in blood – who can count the heads? Have we any ground to stand on if we search for peace in a violent world? When I think of the great religious figures of the last century – a century of violence – I consider peaceful voices: Ghandi, Bonhoeffer, Martin Luther King, Archbishop Tutu. Religion in the last century only really triumphed when it was wedded to a peaceful cause, driven by peaceful hopes, singing songs of peace. Perhaps this is why religion triumphed so seldom – the peaceful songs of Zion get stuck in our throats, while the whoops of war are belched out with ease. These days we have been trained not even to hope for the triumph of religion, so much do we distrust the enterprise, even though we be people of faith. We know how prone to wander we are, and how effectively we do so in groups. And we know how unlikely it is for religion to wed herself to peace – to be faithful to her spouse. But we should not give up on the marriage. There are so many things to argue about, to fight about, to wage war about, and a great industry has thrived at home and abroad engaging the arguments, taking up the fights, waging the wars. The church, to my ears, is called again to sing her peaceful songs, to dance harmlessly though it will put her in danger, to embrace lovingly her Prince of Peace and keep her lips close to his and let everyone watch as she embarrasses herself with public displays of peaceful affection for him. The posture of peace that the church may be called to adopt is not, per se, a recipe for every social ill, or a prescription for public policy; it is, rather, a personal stance. I don’t know what the answer is to racial tensions in America. I don’t know how to address the proliferation of guns in our nation. I don’t know what the solution is to the conflicts in the Middle East. I don’t know how we will address immigration issues here. I don’t know what will become of the world when we deplete our natural resources. But I know that there are ways of addressing these vexing matters that hew closely to peaceful solutions, and there are ways of addressing these matters that seek power through violence. Christians are beseeched to consider the peaceful way, and to long for a peaceable kingdom. Peace almost always seems to be the weakling’s way. And the church has chosen to emblazon herself with the weakling’s sign: to take up the weakling’s Cross, on which a weakling died at the hands of supposedly powerful men, and to lift it high as a banner. That banner has brought peace when saints have been willing to stand beneath it peaceably, rather than sharpen it as a sword. As we survey this violent world, we have a choice about whether to sharpen the cross to a point or to raise it high as a banner of peace. Only one choice will ever really lead to triumph, though it may cost us to leave the tip blunt. – Fr. Sean Mullen
Posted on: Tue, 02 Sep 2014 18:11:52 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015