Hospitality in a Hostile World: Being Serious About the Madness of the Sermon on the Mount

Already since the terrorist attack on Friday analysts and commentators have been warning France – and, implicitly, the rest of the world currently waging war against ISIS in Syria, most notably the US – to be careful not to “play into the hands of ISIS” and let our anger and desire for vengeance lead us blindly into a disastrous war as happened following the 9/11 attacks. By Sunday, however, France had begun aerial assaults upon ISIS targets.

Meanwhile, on our side of the pond, fear of the Syrian Other has risen to manic levels. Several states have declared that they will accept no more refugees. A large part of the inspiration for such a move is the discovery of a Syrian passport near the body of one of the attackers Friday night. Some have suggested, however, that the precise purpose of planting this passport may have been hopes of stoking European fear of, and hatred for, Syrian immigrants. As Dierdre Fulton reports on Truthdig:

“One theory is that ISIS hopes to turn Europe against Syrian refugees,” Kingsley wrote. “This would reinforce the idea of unresolvable divisions between east and west, and Christians and Muslims, and so persuade Syrians that Islamic State’s self-proclaimed caliphate is their best hope of protection. ‘You know what pissed off Islamist extremists the most about Europe?’ summarised Iyad El-Baghdadi, an activist and jihadi-watcher, on Twitter. ‘It was watching their very humane, moral response to the refugee crisis’.”

Justin Salhani concurs, writing: “ISIS has released statements saying it wants the West to turn on refugees, proving its assertions that Western nations are at war with Islam. The extremist group has also said on at least 12 occasions that Muslims should be seeking refuge in their self-declared Caliphate as opposed to ‘the lands of the infidel.'”

Watching the response of United States politicians (to say nothing of citizens) suggests that, if this in fact reflects the aims of ISIS, they have been nothing if not effective. As Adam Taylor observes, “one of the most persuasive arguments against equating refugees with terrorists is simple: It’s exactly what the Islamic State wants.”

With all of this in mind, I think we are faced with an opportunity here – an opportunity to not let the terrorists win by reinforcing a narrative of “us” versus “them”; to not continue the cycle of violence, hatred, and revenge (and implicitly thereby to affirm the legitimacy of violence, etc.), a cycle which will not end until someone has the courage to take the risky step of simply renouncing tit-for-tat violence and the logic of lex talionis (more on this in a minute); an opportunity to demonstrate the love, compassion, and hospitality so powerfully exemplified in the Judeo-Christian scriptures and tradition of which we are the inheritors (even those heretics, skeptics, and atheists among us); an opportunity to deny evil’s superior power over good and to instead overcome evil with good – in short, an opportunity to be loving and welcoming, which (I think) are the best weapons in our arsenal in the fight against fear, hatred, and violence.

That all sounds nice, it may be objected, and the Bible gives us a lovely ideal, but this is the real world and we have to be practical and we have to defend ourselves. However, I think (and here I will surely start to lose readers if I haven’t already) that we are in the unique position of affirming and participating in a tradition (again, whether we are church-going Christians or Sunday-is-for-sleeping atheists) that wants to radically disrupt and overturn the business-as-usual, eminently practical, feet-on-the-ground rationality of the kingdoms of the world.

Though myself a heathen, heretic, and theological ne’er-do-well, one of the reasons that I still love the Gospels is Jesus’ talk of a new kingdom, a kingdom that is both among us and still to come, in which everything is turned upside down, in which the last are first, forgiveness is unconditional, strangers and weirdos are always welcome, violence is not repaid for violence, and gifts are given without anything being expected in return – in short, pure madness, holy hell, and sacred anarchy (to borrow John Caputo’s words). Human relationships are no longer matters of economic exchange but rather of overflowing love and grace.

And nowhere does Jesus say, only welcome strangers if you are certain that it is safe to do so; only give to a beggar if you are sure she won’t use your money to buy drugs; only be nonviolent if your life isn’t actually in danger. Specifically in regard to nonviolence, D. Stephen Long sums this up nicely:

Nowhere does Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount suggest that it is only for individuals. There is no footnote or proviso where Jesus says, ‘You are to live this way except when it comes to the defence of your neighbours, then you must use the violence at your disposal to protect them.’ In fact, the Sermon on the Mount is not private instruction for individual consciences; it is the political platform for the new kingdom or city that Jesus proclaims, the city that is to be ‘set on a hill’ and illumine the world (Matt 5:14-16).[1]

What madness! Yes, indeed. But the kingdom that Jesus proclaims is not of this world. And that does not mean, I am convinced, that it is therefore a kingdom of some magical hinter-world. Rather, I think, it is a radically new kind of kingdom which is breaking into this world and disturbing the present kingdoms. Mark Van Steenwyk calls this kingdom that Jesus preaches an “unkingdom,” and Jesus its “unking.” For what kind of king establishes the kingdom described above? Would not such a king be, by all worldly lights, naught but an anti-king, the very opposite of a power-grabbing monarch?

I am convinced that two of the most powerful and radical ideas on which this Unkingdom turn are radical nonviolence and radical hospitality.

I mentioned lex talionis earlier. You will hear this phrase a lot if you spend any time at all in Christian anarchist and/or pacifist circles (like Jesus Radicals or Young Anabaptist Radicals). In short, lex talionis is the law found in the Hebrew Bible of an eye for an eye. When Jesus cites this law, however, he immediately overturns it: “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say unto you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also[.]” For centuries (well before the birth of “Christian anarchism,” even) certain Christians have been calling attention to the significance and radical implications of this passage. It may be old hat to some, but I think it is worth reviewing.

In his excellent work Jesus and Nonviolence, Walter Wink argues (and he is by no means the first to do so) that the word that is translated as “resist” is best understood as implying “violent rebellion, armed revolt, sharp dissention.”[2] Kurt Willems agrees with Wink’s translation, writing that “antistēnai is the word repeatedly used in the Greek version of the Hebrew Bible as ‘warfare’ and is also used in Ephesians 6:13 in the context of active military imagery.”[3] Such an interpretation furthermore confirms the words of Long cited above that Jesus was not teaching private morality but a distinctly social ethic. Indeed, scholars as different as John Howard Yoder and Bart Ehrman agree that Jesus was executed precisely because, in the words of Yoder, he was “a social critic and an agitator.”[4] Ehrman agrees, pointing out that “only two known people were specifically called ‘the son of God.’ The emperor was one of them, and Jesus was the other.”[5]

Jesus was boldly proclaiming the coming kingdom of God, of which he (Jesus) would be the king. It does not get much more subversive than that. “This was the message he delivered to his disciples,” writes Ehrman, “and in the end, it was the message that got him crucified.”[6] Once again, the kingdom that Jesus was preaching – the Unkingdom of which he is the unking – is not a magical other-worldly palace, but a very this-worldly in-breaking and overturning of the kingdoms of the world. And I think we have a role to play in realizing this impossible Unkingdom.

(Otherwise, if Jesus never meant for us to take his words literally, if we are supposed to just sit on our hands and wait for God to come back and fix all of our problems, then I don’t want anything to do with such radically life-denying defeatism. It’s a convenient way to avoid having to accept any responsibility, but it ultimately sounds to me like Gnostic escapism — which, I am convinced, comes down to nihilism in the end.)

Christian anarchists and pacifists argue that Jesus’ teachings imply a refusal to perpetuate the cycle of violence. Responding to violence with violence only results in more violence. As Jacques Ellul says, “Violence begets violence — nothing else.[7] Accordingly, commentators who argue that violent intervention in the Middle East is largely to blame for the rise of ISIS don’t sound too crazy. It’s blowback. Imagine several of your friends and family members, while attending a wedding, are killed by a US drone strike – a strike sent on the shaky suspicion that a militant or two might have been present and which is anyway considered a success because your father and brothers are all over the age of fifteen which is enough for them to classified as suspected militants. What could possibly fuel more anger and resentment toward the US? What better inspiration could there be to join a radical group committed to waging a brutal war with the western world?

Violence begets violence. And it will happen again. I suspect that ISIS knows that if they are able to evoke a violent military response from France that will only mean more recruits for them.

So, what of the bit about hospitality? I mentioned earlier the disturbingly hostile responses to immigrants that we have been hearing recently. Since we never know which Muslims might be secret members of ISIS, the reasoning seems to go, we had better keep them all out. And this fear is, to a certain extent, understandable. But ultimately such xenophobia, if left unchecked, will plant the seeds of fascism.

More to the point, I have been arguing that we are the inheritors of a tradition that teaches radical hospitality. (Here’s a nice list of references.) And that is no hospitality that only welcomes sameness and familiarity, comfort and safety. Rather, as Kierkegaard says,

Your neighbor is every man [sic], for on the basis of distinctions he is not your neighbor, nor on the basis of likeness to you as being different from other men. He is your neighbor on the basis of equality with you before God: but this equality absolutely every man has, and he has it absolutely.[8]

Or in the words of Caputo:

We welcome those who are welcome to begin with, not those who are unwelcome. But if hospitality is what we say it is – that is, welcoming the other – then ought it not be a matter of welcoming those who are unwelcome? Should it not extended beyond our neighbors to strangers? Beyond our friends to enemies? Beyond the invited to the uninvited?[9]

Such hospitality is by no means easy, but, then, when was it ever supposed to be? “[I]f you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others?” That’s the easy part. The hard part is greeting – and loving – one’s enemies (or, in this case, those who look like one’s enemies and therefore inspire the same fearful reaction). Is it risky? Of course! But that is “the madness of the kingdom.”[10] And anyway, “There is always a risk in everything worthwhile.”[11] Is it possible that among the Syrian refugees – men and women trying desperately to save their families from the chaos and death of civil war, as any of us would similarly do – there is a militant Jihadist? Yes, it is possible (although considering the fact that initial reports indicate that most of the Paris attackers were French- and Belgian-born nationals, fears that militants are hiding among refugees from Syria seem pretty exaggerated). Just like it’s possible that your all-American neighbour is a white supremacist who has plans to shoot up a black church.

Either way, as I’ve said, I am convinced that if we let this fear drive us, if we respond only with hostility and violence, we will just exacerbate the problem; not only will we be reinforcing the beliefs of violent militants, but we will be telling the rest of the Muslim community that we are in fact the hateful, hostile, violent society that we are feared to be. A good way to make someone your enemy is to tell them that they are your enemy and treat them accordingly. And, as noted above, it would be very much in the favor of ISIS for us to do so.

If we lose faith in the power of good to overcome evil – love to overcome hatred, compassion to overcome violence, welcome to overcome hostility – then we have lost it all. If we refuse to give up the worldly logic of lex talionis then we have given up on Jesus. He was maddeningly impractical, to be sure. But, then again, revolutionaries always are. Revolutionaries are the ones who call for the impossible — who demand that we make the impossible possible. That’s what I want. The possible is easy. The possible is lex talonis. I want to push against the limits of the possible and challenge the status quo, a desire that I take to be at the very heart of the Sermon on the Mount.


Appendix (of interest to those concerned with matters of biblical exegesis):

I can foresee the objection that Romans 13 gets us off the hook of having to take Jesus literally and assures us that Jesus’ teachings aren’t that crazy. Anyone who has ever made a habit of talking about Christian anarchism and/or pacifism has grown accustomed to responding to this objection on a pretty regular basis (as in, every time the words “Christian anarchism and pacifism” cross your lips). The passage has been addressed many, many times, and there are many, many interesting points that could be raised, and but so I will try to keep my comments here short.

(Though in a very real sense I have no dog in this race — in the end my views are unaffected by what Paul may or may not have said — I think it is important to discuss alternative interpretations of this passage so that a more coherent Christian position on nonviolence and the state can be sketched out. Why do I care about finding a “coherent Christian position”? Because, as I’ve suggested, I think there are riches in the teachings of Jesus which tend to be swept under the rug because it is thought (implicitly, though it is not explicitly said) that Paul’s teachings trump those of Jesus.)

For one thing, I think it’s a little odd that I am supposed to not take Jesus literally on the basis of seven verses written by Paul (and a few more written by Peter, of course). True, the latter half of Romans 12 is basically a verbatim recitation of the Sermon on the Mount, but Romans 13:1 signals a rather strange departure from this. After all, Jesus never said anything of the sort (not even, I maintain, in the (in)famous “render unto Caesar” passage). First and foremost, then, I think that Christians should privilege Christ (this is not to advocate some kind of anti-Paul Jesusism, per say, just what seems to me like a perfectly legitimate method of prioritization).

One interesting interpretation that I think is particularly worth pointing out is that of Kevin Daugherty, who argues that it is in fact an unfounded assumption that this passage is referring to governing authorities at all. The Greek, he says, does not necessitate such a reading. Instead, Daugherty suggests, the passage could perhaps be better understood to be referring to religious authorities who wield a symbolic, spiritual sword, “Unless of course, Ephesians 6:17 means that the Holy Spirit can literally cut me.”[12]

What is helpful about such an interpretation is that it quells cognitive dissonance over how Paul could quote Jesus’ Sermon and then so suddenly seem to contradict it. Indeed, Paul himself clearly did not believe that obeying the governing authorities was of overwhelming importance, and the rulers clearly did execute wrath upon him, in spite of his “good conduct.” Accordingly, if we want to give Paul the benefit of the doubt (which, admittedly, I don’t always want to do – especially when he talks about women) this reading would be the way to go.

But even assuming the traditional translation the passage does not have to be read as condoning all forms of state violence (i.e., military, police, capital punishment). John Howard Yoder points out, for example, that “The sword (machaira) is the symbol of judicial authority. It was not the instrument of capital punishment,” nor was it “the instrument of war,”[13] so the passage has nothing to do with war or Christians’ involvement therein. Furthermore, Yoder writes, “verses 3-4 did not include any services that the Christian is asked to render”[14]; rather, these verses describe the authority as carrying out a function “which the Christian was to leave to God”[15], meaning, in other words, that the role taken up by state authorities is one which can only rightly be claimed by God and therefore state authorities have no claim on the allegiance of Christians.

Once again, we have a reading that does not so blatantly contradict the teachings of Jesus and is therefore preferable. Indeed, this makes perfectly good sense considering that the early Christians were followers of a man who had gone around declaring himself king of this crazy new kingdom and subsequently got himself killed for doing so. Of course authority only comes from God – which is bad news rather than good news for the state and those who would seek to morally justify it.

This turned out to be quite a detour into Christian anarchist and pacifist debates, but I think it is all relevant to my original point. I am fully and painfully aware that there are aspects of the debates that I had to leave out, but – believe it or not – I was really trying to be concise.




[1] D. Stephen Long, “What About the Protection of Third-Party Innocents? On Letting Your Neighbors Die,” in York and Barringer, 21.

[2] Walter Wink, Jesus and Nonviolence: A Third Way, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003), 13.

[3] Kurt Willems, “Nonviolence 101 – Resistance is Futile… or the Meaning of ἀντιστῆναι (part 2),” available fromἀντιστῆναι-part-2/ (accessed 2 August 2014), para. 7.

[4] John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus (2nd Edition), (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1994), 1.

[5] Bart D. Ehrman, How Jesus Became God: The Exaltation of a Jewish Preacher from Galilee, (New York: HarperOne, 2014), 225.

[6] Ibid., 128.

[7] Jacques Ellul, Violence: Reflections From A Christian Perspective, translated by Cecilia Gaul Kings, (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2011), 100.

[8] Søren Kierkegaard, Works of Love, translated by Howard and Edna Hong. (New York: Harper Perennial, 2009), 72.

[9] John D. Caputo, What Would Jesus Deconstruct? (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), 76.

[10] Ibid., 77.

[11] Ibid.

[12] Kevin Daugherty, “Romans 13 and the State,” available from

[13] Yoder, 203.

[14] Ibid.

[15] Ibid., 198.



In Response to “What Bible is Pope Francis Reading?”

Just for kicks, I thought I would throw off the more serious, scholarly-ambitions tone of most of my blog entires to write a brief response to a truly asinine article I recently read entitled, “What Bible is Pope Francis Reading?” wherein the author argues that Jesus was a capitalist.  Putting aside that this is rather anachronistic (the type of Enlightenment individualism championed by capitalist economists didn’t really exist until, well, the Enlightenment) (I), and not wanting to introduce my own anachronism, I tend the think that Jesus, as presented in the Gospels, appears to have been pretty antiauthoritarian and pro-egalitarian (not to mention pro-altruism), which would put him at odds with the hierarchical, pro-greed, pro-inequality nature of modern capitalist economic theory.

To begin, the author writes:

The misconception that Jesus’ message is anti-capitalist probably stems from the same confusion that pervades all leftist thinking: the inability to distinguish voluntary from coerced human action. Jesus often exhorts his followers to voluntarily give to the poor. Nowhere in the gospels does he suggest that the Romans or the vassal Jewish government should be empowered to tax the wealthy to provide for the poor.

Actually, I would argue that said failure to distinguish voluntary from coerced human action falls in the capitalist camp.  As I’ve quoted Bakunin before:

The worker always has the right to leave his employer, but has he the means to do so? And if he does quit him, is it in order to lead a free existence, in which he will have no master but himself? No, he does it in order to sell himself to another employer. He is driven to it by the same hunger which forced him to sell himself to the first employer. Thus the worker’s liberty, so much exalted by the economists, jurists, and bourgeois republicans, is only a theoretical freedom, lacking any means for its possible realization, and consequently it is only a fictitious liberty, an utter falsehood.  – Mikhail Bakunin, ‘The Capitalist System’ (II)

In other words, it’s unclear to me how an economic system in which one must have money–which one can only earn by selling oneself in the market place and be subjected to the hierarchical nature of capitalist-worker relationships whereby the worker has most of the value of her labor stolen by the capitalist–constitutes true freedom.  Furthermore, it’s unclear how socialism, as an economic theory which advocates the collective ownership of the means of production, is inherently coercive.  Indeed, the point is to eliminate the coercive, exploitative, hierarchical nature of the capitalist-worker relationship, as has been noted.  Socialism does not mean–as the author seems to think–maintaining capitalism, but merely stealing from the richest members of society (who obviously work very hard and deserve every penny of their earnings) to give to the poor (who are obviously poor because they’re lazy and have a sense of “entitlement”).  That’s just a categorical misunderstanding of socialism.  So, I agree that Jesus does not advocate coercion, but for this reason I would argue that this puts him more at odds with capitalism than with socialism.

Next, the author writes,

Jesus also warns against the temptations that great wealth may expose one to. Being consumed with accumulating wealth to the exclusion of all other concerns leaves no room for devotion to God or charity to one’s fellow man. This is summed up in Luke 16:13 when Jesus says,

“No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.”

I completely agree.  This sounds like an argument against capitalist Jesus to me,  insofar as the capitalist would say that the only goal of capitalism is wealth accumulation (i.e., greed and infinite growth).

Moving on.

In the parable of the bags of gold (Matthew 25: 14-30), the servants who choose to be capitalists with the master’s money are richly rewarded upon the master’s return. The servant who chose not to be a capitalist is not only not rewarded, he is “cast into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth!”

Okay, again, no one is “being capitalist”.  Capitalism did not exist.  Most of the basic ideas of capitalism did not exist.  In fact, as the author notes,

Certainly, the story is symbolic. The money in the story represents the abilities given to each individual by God. But even on that level the story does not support the anti-capitalists. First, the master, the ultimate capitalist in the parable, actually represents God. Certainly, Jesus would have found another way to make his point if capitalists were de facto sinners (like tax collectors).

So, if the story is symbolic, how again does it support capitalism?  Considering that Jesus has a lot of not-so-nice things to say about wealth, greed, the wealthy, the greedy, money, etc. throughout the Gospels, why do we suddenly assume that this parable, in which he uses metaphors that his listeners could easily understand, automatically means the he was a capitalist and that all of his hippie sayings apparently just don’t count?

Notice also that the servant who chooses not to invest the master’s money is the one given the least. Symbolically, he represents the person who has the least natural gifts or who is born to disadvantage. Does Jesus suggest that the other two servants should be taxed to help him? No. The most disadvantaged servant is expected to do the best with what he has. He isn’t punished because he achieves less. He is punished because he fails to try.

This might be a valid point if capitalism were in fact meritocratic, but clearly it is anything but.  Plenty of folks “try” their whole lives and get nowhere (economically speaking), and I doubt Jesus was naive enough to believe that the sole key to success in our uber-fair world is hard work.  Again, if this were the case, why would he advocate helping the poor if they’re just lazy bums who need to work harder?  And, again, the author’s misunderstanding of socialism, as noted above, rears its ugly head.

In two other parables, Jesus represents God as the owner of a vineyard. In Matthew 20: 1-16, he makes the point that it is never too late for salvation and that a repentant man can claim the same salvation as one who has been devout all of his life. He represents salvation as wages paid to laborers. When a laborer who worked longer complains that he is paid no more than one who only worked an hour, the master replies,

“Friend, I do thee no wrong: didst not thou agree with me for a penny? Take that thine is, and go thy way: I will give unto this last, even as unto thee.”

Again, the message is spiritual, but Jesus uses the very libertarian, capitalist idea that no one is entitled to any more wages than both parties voluntarily agree to.

Giving everyone the same regardless of the work done?  As in, not making one’s value as a human being contingent upon one’s ability to bring monetary profit to the capitalist?  This actually seems more socialist to me.

God is again depicted as the owner of a vineyard in Matthew 21: 33-41. In this parable, the vineyard owner is even more overtly capitalist. Verse 33 in particular highlights that it is the previous work of the owner in planting the vineyard, hedging around it, and building a tower that makes the land productive before it is ever rented out to the husbandmen.

In other words, the capitalist has sacrificed his own consumption in the present to invest in land and capital goods to improve the productivity of the land. This has created an opportunity for the husbandmen to be more productive by working on the owner’s land than they would be on their own, without the land or the capital goods the owner has provided.

Yeah, this passage doesn’t have anything to do with profit-making.  Are you sure you’re not just paraphrasing Locke and assuming that this is what the Bible says?

The husbandmen are evil specifically because they act like Marxists and renege on the agreement. They kill the owner’s agents and even his son, hoping to seize all of the wealth for themselves.

Sorry, but, how the hell does reneging on agreements and murdering people imply Marxism?  Again, that seems more capitalistic to me: make profit, no matter what.  The capitalist has no implicit reason to honor agreements or value human life should such inconveniences get in the way of profit-making.  If the capitalist does honor agreements and value human life, that’s great, but s/he didn’t learn that from capitalism.  In fact, s/he probably learned that from lefty socialist types who are responsible for such crazy ideas as child labor laws and a minimum wage, and other such measures to prevent the unmitigated domination of the worker by the capitalist. 

So, to answer the question of the article, I think Pope Francis is reading the same Gospels from which the author quotes.  There’s an important difference.


(I) “There is a direct line from the new Roman conception of liberty–not as the ability to form mutual relationships with others, but as the kind of absolute power of “use and abuse” over the conquered chattel who make up the bulk of a wealthy Roman man’s household–to the strange fantasies of liberal philosophers like Hobbes, Locke, and Smith about the origins of human society in some collection of thirty- or forty-year-old males who seem to have sprung from the earth fully formed, who then must decide whether to kill each other or to swap beaver pelts.” — David Graeber

(II) And again: “If I offer my labor at the lowest price, if I consent to have you live off my labor, it is certainly not because of devotion or brotherly love for you.  And no bourgeois economist would dare to say that it was, however idyllic and naive their reasoning becomes when they begin to speak about reciprocal affections and mutual relations which should exist between employers and employees.  No, I do it because my family and I would starve to death if I did not work for an employer.  Thus I am forced to sell you my labor at the lowest possible price, and I am forced to do it by the threat of hunger.”

Friedrich Nietzsche and Christian Anarchism

While working on a paper over Nietzsche to be used as my writing sample for graduate school applications, I sort of happened into writing the following section on certain points of convergence between Nietzsche and Christian anarchism.  To be sure, Nietzsche was no Christian, and his relationship to anarchism is up for debate, but he had some interesting things to say about the relationship between Jesus’ teachings and the political ramifications therein.  I have not included the portion of this paper on Nietzsche’s ideas regarding the will to power, which surely cast a great deal of light on his critique of Christianity, but suffice it to say that it was precisely because he saw Jesus as the teacher of a “typical socialist doctrine” that he found said teachings so repugnant.  For Nietzsche, morality was commensurate with strength, and immorality with weakness.  Christianity, socialism, anarchism, and similar moral doctrines were, according to Nietzsche, born out of ressentment–a way for the weak to punish the strong and validate the morality of meekness, mildness, self-sacrifice, etc. as opposed to the morality of the strong, who valued self-determination, self-mastery, self-overcoming, etc.  There is much more that could be said on this, but hopefully this will serve as a sufficient prelude to the following.


One final point deserves consideration: it is worthwhile to the mind of the present author, to point out what was mentioned above that it is a mistake to see Nietzsche as positioning himself as “The Antichrist”.  As it happens, Richard Schacht has argued in a recent issue of The Journal of Nietzsche Studies that translating the work The Antichrist under that particular title is inaccurate and misleading.  In the original German the title is Der Antichrist, which seems to leave little room for debate concerning the English translation.  However, according to Schacht, Walter Kaufmann, who translated the work, as well as dubbed Nietzsche himself as “Antichrist”, “knew that, in German, the word “Christ” means “Christian” rather than (Jesus as) “the Christ” (which is “Christus” in German)”[1].  In actuality, it was not so much Jesus whom Nietzsche was opposing as it was “the Christianity of St. Paul and his kindred spirits”[2].  To be sure, Nietzsche was no follower of Jesus—though he thought well enough of Jesus to believe that the teachings found in the gospels are what they are simply because Jesus, though free from the domination of the religious establishment, was simply young and immature in this freedom, and would have outgrown and subsequently renounced his early teachings had he lived longer[3]—but he also believed Paul to have essentially betrayed Jesus in founding what was to become the Christian religion.  Indeed, “In Paul”, Nietzsche wrote, “was embodied the opposite”[4] of Jesus.  Conversely, according to Nietzsche, “there was only one Christian, and he died on the cross”[5] suggesting here a use of the term “Christian” as the practitioner of Jesus’ teachings, of which the church was certainly not comprised.  Nietzsche makes this point with such pronouncements (not so unfamiliar to 21st century ears) as, “The Church is precisely that against which Jesus preached”[6], “’Christianity’ has become something fundamentally different from what its founder did and desired”[7], and this scathing remark:

Christians have never put into practice the acts Jesus prescribed for them, and the impudent chatter about “justification by faith” and its unique and supreme significance is only the consequence of the church’s lack of courage and will to confess the works which Jesus demanded.[8]

Interestingly enough, there is an increasing number of Christians who would fully agree with Nietzsche that the church has betrayed Jesus’ teachings.  Indeed, throughout church history, there has been an insistent minority of what we might call “back to basics” Christians, who advocate a return to an honest reading of Jesus’ teachings and a Christian life that is characterized by one’s attempts to follow His teachings, no matter how difficult or inconvenient–a characterization that has, it seems, been totally lost on the institutional church.  And Christian anarchists, in the tradition of thinkers such as Leo Tolstoy, Dorothy Day, and Jacques Ellul, who understand the specifically political ramifications of Jesus’ teachings and the subsequent betrayal thereof by the church, could almost—mistakenly, of course—embrace Nietzsche as one of their own for passages such as the following:

Primitive Christianity is abolition of the state: forbids oaths, war service, courts of justice, self-defense and the defense of any kind of community, the distinction between fellow countrymen and foreigners, and also the differentiation of classes . . . The gospel . . . [is] . . . the news that a gateway to happiness stands open for the poor and lowly—that all one has to do is free oneself from the institutions, traditions, guardianship, of the upper classes: to this extent the rise of Christianity is nothing more than the typical socialist doctrine.[9]

Indeed, Tolstoy argues essentially the same in The Kingdom of God is Within You when he writes, “Christianity in its true sense puts an end to government. So it was understood at its very commencement; it was for that cause that Christ was crucified.”[10]

Furthermore, Nietzsche writes:

Whoever says today: “I will not be a soldier,” “I care nothing for the courts,” “I shall not claim the services of the police,” “I will do nothing that may disturb the peace within me: and if I must suffer on that account, nothing will serve better to maintain my peace than suffering”—he would be a Christian.[11]

The difference, of course, between Nietzsche and the Christians who would agree with these isolated statements is that Nietzsche sees such a “typical socialist doctrine”, which panders to the weak, as fundamentally flawed, for reasons elucidated above, whereas the Christian obviously thinks otherwise.  It is true that Nietzsche was opposed to the state, as he understands Christianity to be, and his writings have enjoyed considerable influence among anarchists[12], but when he refers to Jesus as “that holy anarchist”[13]—which is now the title of a Christian anarchist book[14]—he was not seeking to be complimentary.  Why and to what end the state is to be opposed is, for him, entirely different from the classical anarchist cause.  As Walter Kaufmann says in Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist: “It is for this reason that the State becomes the devil of Nietzsche’s ethics: it intimidates man into conformity and thus tempts and coerces him to betray his proper destiny”[15].  Such a position is considerably more popular among individualist anarchists in the tradition of the German anarchist, Max Stirner.


[1] Richard Schacht.  “Translating Nietzsche: The Case of Kaufmann.”  Journal of Nietzsche Studies 43.1 (2012): 69-85.  P. 70.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Walter Kaufmann.  Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist.  4th ed.  (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1974.)  342.

[4] Friedrich Nietzsche.  The Antichrist.  The Portable Nietzsche.  Ed. and Trans. Walter Kaufmann.  (New York: Viking Penguin, Inc., 1982). 617.

[5] Ibid. 612.

[6] Friedrich Nietzsche.  The Will to Power.  Trans. Walter Kaufmann and R.J. Hollingdale.  (New York: Random House, Inc., 1968.)  101.

[7] Ibid. 114.

[8] Ibid. 113.

[9] Ibid. 123.

[10] Leo Tolstoy (2011-07-12). The Kingdom of God Is Within You. Trans. Constance Garnett.  (New York, 1894.)  Kindle Edition. 177.

[11] Friedrich Nietzsche. The Will to Power.  Trans. Walter Kaufmann and R.J. Hollingdale.  (New York: Random House, Inc., 1968.)  125.

[12] John Moore and Spencer Sunshine (eds.).  I Am Not A Man! I Am Dynamite! Nietzsche and the Anarchist Tradition. (Brooklyn: Autnomedia, 2004.)

[13] Friedrich Nietzsche.  The Antichrist.  The Portable Nietzsche.  Ed. and Trans. Walter Kaufmann.  (New York: Viking Penguin, Inc., 1982). 599.

[14] Mark Van Steenwyk.  That Holy Anarchist: Reflections on Christianity & Anarchism.  (Minneapolis: Missio Dei, 2012). Kindle Edition.

[15] Walter Kaufmann.  Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist.  4th ed.  (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1974.) 158.

In the Beginning, there was Rush Limbaugh. Thank God Kierkegaard Came Along.

If you love goodness, truth, and beauty, you should read this pretty lady’s new blog.


I was raised in the stereotypical conservative evangelical Christian home. My parents had a loving and healthy marriage my entire childhood. I grew up on sunday school, Focus on the Family, and my mom’s Republican talk radio shows. At three my father taught me to say “I’m a right-wing conservative and proud of it!”. As disturbing as many of these facts may be to some of you (including myself, and probably my parents who have a somewhat different outlook on the world now), I was also raised to think for myself. I know many people think that it isn’t possible to be raised a conservative evangelical, and be raised to think for oneself, but it is, and my parents did it pretty well. In early grade school I remember asking my dad how we knew we were right about God and Hindus were wrong since both religions believed with equal…

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Christianity, Anarchism, and Anti-Authoritarianism

I am going to take a stab at responding to perhaps the two most common objections to the idea of Christian anarchism: the well-known “render unto Caesar” passage and Romans 13:1-7.  In so doing, I hope to subsequently begin building a case for Christian anti-authoritarianism, which is necessary for any discussion of Christian anarchism.  By no means is the following discussion exhaustive of my thoughts or the Christian anarchist literature on the topic of anti-authoritarianism, but as I say, it is a beginning.

Jesus’ admonition in Mark 12:13-17* to “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s” is often employed as a weapon against Christian anarchism.  Clearly, it is argued, Jesus is here instructing his followers to be good and obedient citizens.  However, a brief turn down historical context alley would suggest otherwise.  Indeed, I would argue that this passage turns out to be quite subversive.

Greg Boyd and Paul Rhodes Eddy point out in The Jesus Legend that “within Palestine coins were often printed without the customary representation of the emperor on them, done in deference to their [that is, Jewish folks’] sensitivity to anything that could violate the second commandment.”  [I]  One could speculate then (and it is mere speculation), that when Jesus responded to the Pharisees’ question regarding taxes by asking, “Whose head is this, and whose title?” the Pharisees would have immediately realized that they had been outwitted.  For, as soon as they admitted that it was the emperor’s image, they were essentially saying that they carried a graven image, in direct violation of the second commandment.

Furthermore, I remember coming across a quote by Dorothy Day (though I regret to admit that I no longer remember the source) that was something to the effect of, once we have given to God what is God’s, as Jesus tells us to do, what more is there to give to the emperor other than these coins with his head stamped on them?  As Jacques Ellul points out, it is here that “the basis and limit of his [the emperor’s] power” is revealed, for, “whatever does not bear Caesar’s mark does not belong to him.”  Most importantly, “Caesar has no right of life and death”, [II] for humans are made in God’s image, not Caesar’s.  Therefore, he can have no legitimate dominion over human life!  (Which has profound and radical implications for discussions of war and capital punishment.)

Seen in this light, then, the statement appears very dismissive of the political system which, compared with (un)Kingdom of God (to use Mark Van Steenwyk’s phrase) [III], places importance on trivial and even sinful things.  The emperor has no real authority.  Give him his coins back and be on your way, focusing instead on the things that matter (i.e., realizing God’s (un)Kingdom on earth).

Paying taxes, therefore, is by no means a moral admonition.

This leads rather naturally into a discussion of Romans 13, which is typically considered the absolute trump card that proves once and for all that a Christian cannot be an anarchist.  (I have already discussed a couple of important aspects of this passage in my entry on nonviolence below, which will not be repeated here).  However, to my mind there are several important considerations which count against this typical reading, which divorces this particular passage from the surrounding verses and, indeed, from the whole of the Bible (most importantly, the teachings of Jesus).  As John Howard Yoder rightfully points out, this passage does not represent the only, or even the central, biblical teaching regarding governments. [IV]

First of all, the passage can by no means be rightly understand apart from the preceding verses in chapter 12 (remember: Paul did not divide his letters into chapters–it was a single literary unit).  Chapter 12 begins with Paul admonishing his readers to “not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds”.  As Jacques Ellul points out, “This is obviously a strange beginning if he is later to demand obedience to political authorities!” [V] And not only this, but Paul goes on to exhort his readers to “love one another”, “bless those who persecute you”, “live in harmony with one another”, “do not repay anyone evil for evil”, “live peaceably with all”, “never avenge yourselves”, and finally, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”  Then, “Let every person be subject to the governing authorities.”  How strange that a Christian should read chapter 12, which is a direct echo of Jesus’ teachings in The Sermon On the Mount (Matt. 5-7), but then to read chapter 13 and determine that we must as Christians morally support the state in all of its violence as instituted by God!  To my mind, either Paul is directly contradicting the teachings of Jesus, in which case, as Christ followers, we must privilege the teachings of Jesus over those of Paul; or, this is not quite what Paul is saying.

First, as N.T. Wright notes, “Romans 13 is dovetailed into an argument against the taking of private vengeance (12:14-21)”, [VI] which is entirely consistent with Jesus’ own teachings regarding retaliation (see my post on nonviolence below).  As I have elsewhere pointed out, it seems unlikely that Paul would have couched his brief discussion of submission to political authorities within a broader discussion of non-retaliation had Christians not been fully aware of how diametrically opposed to Jesus’ teachings of love and justice the workings of the state were, which would undoubtedly drive some to want to violently retaliate.  And what follows seems to be a bit of practical advice–i.e., “the authority does not bear the sword in vain” and will punish those who rebel.

A second important point is that Paul’s statement that “there is no authority except from God” sounds quite subversive when we consider that Paul writes in Colossians 2:15 that “He [Christ] disarmed the rulers and authorities and made a public example of them, triumphing over them in it.”  Furthermore, in light of the fact that one of Satan’s temptations of Jesus was to give Him control over the “all the kingdoms of the world” very explicitly tells us that it is Satan who has dominion over the human kingdoms, not God.  After all, Jesus himself said, “My kingdom is not of this world.  If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews.  But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” (John 18:36)  In other words, these passages seem to count against the typical doublethink interpretation of Romans 13 as saying that God directly institutes governments for our good.

Rather, as Yoder goes on to point out,

God is not said to create or institute or ordain the powers that be, but only to order them . . . Nor is it by ordering this realm God specifically, morally approves of what a government does.  The sergeant does not produce the soldiers he drills; the librarian does not create or approve of the book she or he catalogs and shelves.  Likewise, God does not take responsibility for the existence of of the rebellious “powers that be” . . .[VII]

In other words, Paul is not here saying how the government (or lack thereof!) should be, but merely how it is.  At no point does he suggest that society must always be structured in this particular way.  Rather, he is speaking to specific people at a specific point in history who were dealing with specific issues in relation to their government (and there is much more that could be said about these contingencies and perhaps one day I will get around to it).  Clearly, neither Paul nor Jesus nor any of the disciples gave any allegiance to the state.  Rather, as was discussed above, the state is seen as a mild inconvenience at best in pursuing the will of God (see Acts 5:29, for example, or simply pick a Gospel and start reading).  For this reason, when Paul writes that “rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad”, I am inclined to understand this as essentially saying that those who are following Christ (i.e., “doing good”) have no need to fear human rulers, for in reality, human rulers are no rulers at all (see Matt. 23:8-12).  On the other hand, those who are “doing bad”, as it were, (presumably, those who have seen and understood Christ’s work, but choose instead to oppose Him), will be left to the “mercies” of the state–a frightening place to be!


[I] Paul Rhodes Eddy & Gregory A. Boyd, The Jesus Legend (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), 109.

[II] Jacques Ellul, Anarchy and Christianity (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2011), 60-61.

[III] Mark Van Steenwyk, That Holy Anarchist, (Minneapolis: Missio Dei, 2012), 14.

[IV] John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus, (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Erdman, 1994), 194.

[V] Jacques Ellul, Anarchy and Christianity, 80.

[VI] N.T. Wright, Romans, vol. 10 of New Interpreter’s Bible (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2002), 723.

[VII] John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus, 198.

*All scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible

Christianity, Anarchism, and Nonviolence

            Christian anarchists essentially believe two things regarding violence: 1) it is morally wrong; and 2) the Bible corroborates this belief.  Generally, Christian anarchists do not take such a position as “Violence is wrong because and only because the Bible says so”, but something more to the effect of, “Violence is wrong, and there are biblical and non-biblical reasons to believe this.”  The present paper will treat of some of each of these in order to offer a Christian anarchist defense of revolutionary nonviolence.  The author will not be so ambitious as to tackle the more general question of whether or not violence is ever justified, though it is worth noting that for most Christian anarchists, there is no morally significant difference between political or revolutionary violence and violence in personal encounters.  Nevertheless, the present discussion will narrow its focus to that of political and revolutionary violence.

Christian anarchists—and anarcho-pacifists more generally—offer two mutually informative philosophical criticisms of violence, from the moral and the practical standpoint, respectively.  And if these critiques are accepted, leading to the conclusion that violence is both immoral and impractical in the pursuit of anarchist ends, it must be accepted that violence and anarchism stand irreconcilably opposed to one another.  Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910), who is indisputably among the forefathers of Christian anarchist thought, offers just such a twofold critique in “On Nonviolent Resistance”. 

            Tolstoy defines violence as being “used only in order to compel some people, against their will, to do the will of others” which, he concludes, “is slavery” (157).  If this definition is accepted—that violence is a form of slavery—then it follows straightforwardly that anarchists must reject violence as immoral, insofar as anarchists are opposed to all forms of domination, oppression, and coercion.  That is the first part of the argument.  Tolstoy goes on to denounce the idea that violence can be effectively used to combat violence as absurd on its face, comparing such attempts to “extinguishing fire with fire, stopping water with water, or filling up one hole by digging another” (157).  Tolstoy is channeling the common anarchist ideal of consistency between means and ends, as when Jean Grave writes that, “The surest means of making Anarchy triumph is to act like an anarchist” (157).  Hence, if anarchism is opposed to slavery, and violence is slavery, the anarchist, in seeking to “act like an anarchist” must abstain from violence at all times.  Again, if peace and nonviolence are the ends, by definition violence cannot be the means, for violent means will necessarily lead to violent ends.  Only peaceful means can lead to peaceful ends. 

            In the revolutionary anarchist literature, there are few who espouse such radical nonviolence as Tolstoy.  A more moderate approach to the question would be that of Errico Malatesta, who, in Violence as a Social Factor essentially argues that violence is permissible insofar as it is necessary for the successful carrying out of the revolution, but he urges his readers to remember “that ours is a struggle inspired by love and not by hatred, and that it is our duty to do all in our power to see that the necessary violence does not degenerate into mere ferocity, and that it be used only as a weapon in the struggle of right against wrong” (163).  However, the anarcho-pacifist would immediately point out upon reading this passage that, if we accept the moral principle that violence is wrong, then Malatesta’s advice is essentially that we utilize the wrong to which we are opposed as a tool in our struggle against it.  But surely this is absurd.  The basic idea, as the above quotes from Tolstoy explain, is that responding in such a way—combating violence with violence—simply begets more violence. 

            All of this militates against the common objection that a nonviolent revolution is impossible because it would take too long and would not be able to effect any real change.  On the contrary, if the above arguments are accepted, it follows necessarily that a nonviolent revolution is the only revolution that could ever succeed, for a violent and forceful revolution could not possibly lead to a nonviolent anarchist society.  And it is true that a nonviolent revolution would be longer and more difficult—Tolstoy readily allows this—but if violence is both immoral and impractical, there can be no justification for anything but nonviolence.  As John Howard Yoder writes, “Violence is always, apparently, the shortest and surest way . . . [a]nd in the long run that appearance always deceives” (40)[1].  Going along with this, Jacques Ellul writes in Violence: Reflections from a Christian Perspective that “once we consent to use violence ourselves, we have to consent to our adversary’s using it, too” (99).  In other words, in using violence to combat violence, we are legitimating our enemy’s use of violence as an effective way to achieve certain ends.  As Alexandre Christoyannopoulos says in Christian Anarchism: A Political Commentary on the Gospel, “Adopting violence as a method to attain one’s goals implies the recognition of violence as an acceptable method in the first place” (39).  And again, the violence will be perpetuated indefinitely, never allowing for a peaceful society to emerge.

            To sum up, then, the basic philosophical argument against revolutionary violence is that, quite simply, violence begets more violence, and nothing more.  To be sure, the assumption is that there is no morally relevant difference between the individual who commits acts of violence out of anger, hatred, etc. and the individual who commits acts of violence as a means to overthrowing a tyrannical government.  However, the burden of proof seems to lie with the one who would argue that there is a morally relevant difference.  Violence just is violence, regardless of the motivation, and if, as anarchists, we affirm the inherent value and equality of every human person—value and equality which is not contingent upon the individual’s purported “goodness” or “badness”—it is hard to see how any violence could be justified. 

Judging one’s value according to “goodness” or “badness” has three relevant problems: First, these terms are relative, and who one person deems especially good may appear to another person to be morally unimpressive or even bad; furthermore, one person might be considered fairly good, but not as good as, say, Mother Theresa, in which case the former is actually taken to have less value as a human being than Mother Theresa.  Finally, no one is perfect, and if the absolute value of human life can only exist where absolute goodness does, it is impossible that any person could possess absolute value.  But this results in a slippery slope, whereby different individuals will judge others as more or less valuable according to his or her own standards of goodness and badness and could end up justifying the murder, torture, imprisonment, etc. of just about anyone[2].  Hence, if any one human life is taken to be inviolable, all human lives must be taken to be so, and, consequently, even the worst of tyrants is still inherently valuable as a human being.  Such a position may be difficult for many anarchists to accept, but, to the mind of the present writer, it is the only position which is truly consistent with the philosophy of anarchism.

            Not only is nonviolence consistent with the philosophy of anarchism, but it is also consistent—crucially, for the Christian anarchist—with the philosophy of Christianity.   Quite simply, Christian anarchists believe that nonviolence is what Jesus unequivocally taught and there are several passages in the Gospels and in the New Testament more generally which corroborate this belief.  With hopes that the discussion to follow will not stray too far into theology and away from philosophy, it seems necessary that the biblical case for nonviolence be expounded upon.  To the mind of the present writer, what follows is a consideration of Christian philosophy rather than theology, but of course, to study the philosophy of Jesus, we must turn to the New Testament.  Among such passages which lend themselves to this task are the following:

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. (English Standard Bible, Matt. 5:9)

You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”  But I say to you, do not resist the one who is evil.   But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.[3] (Matt. 5:38-39)

Then Jesus said to him, “Put your sword back in its place.  For all who take the sword will perish by the sword.” (Matt. 25:52)

But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. (Luke 6:27)

Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven. (Luke 6:37)

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them.  Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.  Live in harmony with one another.  Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.  Never be wise in your own sight.  Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all.  If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.  Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay,” says the Lord.  To the contrary, if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.  Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Rom. 12:14-21)

The above passages are largely self-explanatory and seem to corroborate the argument already made in the present paper: namely, that those who would seek to be “peacemakers” cannot “repay evil for evil”, which results in twice the evil and renders peace increasingly difficult to achieve.  Instead, Christian anarchists see the nonviolent way of Jesus as the only feasible way of overcoming evil.  Furthermore, the love of enemies would entail, for the Christian anarchist, loving one’s political oppressors.  Again, this idea may be difficult for many anarchists to accept, but it is necessary for Christian anarchists and it has implications for the defense of nonviolence.  Quite simply, if we are to love our oppressors, it follows trivially that we ought not to act violently towards them.  Rather, as Paul advises, we should seek to “overcome evil with good.”  Going back to Tolstoy’s definition of violence as slavery, because anarchists believe in the immorality of slavery, this evil must be overcome with good (i.e., nonviolence and love). 

            Furthermore, Jesus rejects the law of lex talionis—“an eye for an eye”—which is still prevalent in society today.  Lex talionis was established as part of Old Testament law and was originally intended to prevent the meting out of unjust punishments (Christoyannopoulos, 36).  In other words, the idea was that punishment of criminals must be reduced to only an eye for an eye.  Because the Old Testament law was the first legal system which assumed the inherent and equal value of all human beings, regardless of class (as opposed to the law of Hammurabi, which specified criminal punishment according to the class of the criminal and that of his or her victim), it is not difficult to see how lex talionis, at the time, was an important step for human rights.  No longer was punishment to vary in intensity according to who the criminal was, nor was the punishment to ever exceed the crime.  As Kurt Willems notes in part two of his online Nonviolence 101 Series, “such a law was a preventative measure to ensure that punishment was proportional to the crime, and no more” (Willems).  And when Jesus came, he taught that it was time to take the next step.  As Christoyannopoulos explains in Christian Anarchism:

Indeed, this is one of the senses in which Jesus “fulfills” rather than “destroys” the law, by rearticulating it based on its original purpose . . . Jesus is instructing his disciples to move beyond the lex talionis of the Old Testament, to push its original intentions even further.  For Christian anarchists, the reason for which Jesus does this has to do with the way with which the law of retaliation can—and usually tends to—spiral out of control and degenerate into an unrelenting cycle of violence and revenge. (36-37)

According to this view, then, our systems of justice are to this day largely in opposition to the teachings of Jesus.  As Christoyannopoulos says, “The state is founded on the very thing Jesus prohibits” (44).  Capital punishment, for example, which clearly advocates an eye for an eye—indeed, this is generally the precise logic which is used in defending the death penalty—can hardly be justified according to this interpretation of Jesus’ teachings.  And furthermore, regarding the issue of revolutionary nonviolence, it is unjustifiable for the same reasons to advocate such violence as assassinations or warfare to bring about specific political ends.  If the system is based upon the logic of lex talionis, it makes little sense to fight the system with the same logic.  A new logic of resistance to evil—i.e., that of Jesus—must be adopted. 

            This, however, brings up another issue: that of resistance.  Is Jesus saying that we should not resist at all (in which case any revolutionary action might be immoral), or is he saying that we simply must not violently resist?  Obviously, Christian anarchists, insofar as they are anarchists, agree with the latter interpretation and this for a few different reasons.  First, in regard to the passage itself, Walter Wink argues that the verb Jesus uses, “resist”, is most accurately understood to refer to “violent rebellion, armed revolt, sharp dissention” (13).  And “[s]upport for this translation,” writes Kurt Willems, “is not unwarranted as antistēnai is the word repeatedly used in the Greek version of the Hebrew Bible as “warfare” and is also used in Ephesians 6:13 in the context of active military imagery” (Willems).  Furthermore, this reading is consistent with the rest of the life of Jesus.  Quite simply, Jesus was executed as a political revolutionary; he was, in the words of John Howard Yoder, “a social critic and an agitator” (1) and a threat to the religious and political establishments of his day.  And not only this, but the same is true of his early followers, who were dissident, anarchistic, and politically suspect.  Mark Van Steenwyk writes in That Holy Anarchist that “It is clear that in its earliest centuries, the Church rejected the religion, economics, and violence of empire” and that “Christians saw themselves as a distinct socio-political reality” (4).  It was with this status of the new Christians in mind that “Luke compiled his story for Theophilus”, writes Yoder, “presumably with some apologetic concern to avoid giving the impression that Christians were insurrectionists” (23). 

Furthermore, Paul in Romans 13[4] must implore his readers to not violently revolt against their government, but to remember Jesus’ teaching of love and nonviolence, the knowledge of which Paul appeals to in Romans 12.  It seems unlikely that Paul would think it necessary to offer this advice if the Christians did not understand there to be political implications in Jesus’ teachings—and revolutionary implications at that!  But Paul seems to share in the Roman Christians’ contempt for the government (1 Cor. 2:6-8) and paid no heed when the government instructed him to act contrary to the teachings of Jesus (Acts 4:19-20).  This is a centrally important point for Christian anarchists, who obviously believe that the government daily does and commands things which run counter to the teachings of Jesus, which gives the Christian anarchist a moral obligation to (nonviolently) oppose the government. 

As for counter-arguments against the biblical case for nonviolence, there are few to be made from the New Testament.  One of the most commonly cited passages which purportedly demonstrates Jesus advocating violence is found in the Gospel of Luke, when Jesus is about to be arrested.

He said to them, “But now let the one who has a moneybag take it, and likewise a knapsack.  And let the one who has no sword sell his cloak and buy one.  For I tell you that this Scripture must be fulfilled in me: ‘And he was numbered with the transgressors.’  For what is written about me has its fulfillment.  And they said, “Look, Lord, here are two swords.”  And he said to them, “It is enough.” (Luke 22: 36-38)

Christian anarchists and pacifists see no problem with this passage.  Indeed, Jesus explains precisely why he is instructing his disciples to take swords—and it has nothing to do with making use of them or being violent in any way, which would run contrary to all of Jesus’ teachings regarding violence.  Rather, Jesus is merely acting to fulfill the prophecy that he and his followers would essentially look like hoodlums.  Furthermore, if he had in fact been advocating violence of any sort, it makes little sense that, upon being told that there were two swords among the eleven disciples, he would have told them that it was enough.  If he expected the disciples to use the swords why didn’t he tell them to get more?  As Ellul writes in Anarchy and Christianity, “The idea of fighting with just two swords is ridiculous.  The swords are enough, however, to justify the accusation that Jesus is the head of a band of brigands.” (64)

            Another common passage which is used as an argument both against Christian pacifism and Christian anarchism more generally is Romans 13:1-7.  What is important about this passage for the present discussion is Paul’s statement that state authority “does not bear the sword in vain” (Rom. 13:4), which, it is supposed, means that state violence is justified and that Christians can take part in it.  There are two important things to note here: first, as John Howard Yoder explains, “The sword (machaira) is the symbol of judicial authority.  It was not the instrument of capital punishment,” nor was it “the instrument of war” (203), so the passage has nothing to do with war or Christians’ involvement therein.  Furthermore, Yoder writes, “verses 3-4 did not include any services that the Christian is asked to render” (203); rather, these verses describe the authority as carrying out a function “which the Christian was to leave to God” (198), meaning, in other words, that the role taken up by state authorities is one which can only rightly be claimed by God and therefore state authorities have no claim on the allegiance of Christians[5].  As has already been mentioned, the early Christians saw themselves as an independent political entity and took no part in the affairs of the state.  Therefore, it would make little sense to argue that this passage demonstrates biblically justified violence.  Instead, the passage seems to simply be pointing out the fact that the state possesses a monopoly of force and that said force would be used against dissidents, but that Christians should not respond in kind as this would be inconsistent with the teachings of Jesus. And it is worth remembering, as was noted above, that these verses follow Romans 12:14-21, wherein Paul reminds his readers of Jesus’ teachings of enemy love and nonviolence. 

            In conclusion then, Christian anarchists see a moral obligation to be revolutionaries, as Jesus was, and at the same time to be nonviolent, as Jesus was.  And there are moral, practical, and biblical arguments which support this claim.  It should be once more emphasized that Christian anarchists see the biblical arguments in favor of nonviolence as one (albeit the most important for Christians) among three such arguments.  Therefore, both Christian and non-Christian anarchists alike can find sufficient moral and practical reasoning to reject violence and can work together in facilitating a peaceful revolution.

Works Cited

Christoyannopoulous, Alexandre.  Christian Anarchism: A Political Commentary on the Gospel [Abridged Edition].  Charlottesville: Imprint Academic, 2011.  Print

Ellul, Jacques.  Anarchy and Christianity.  Trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley.  Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2011.  Print.

Ellul, Jacques.  Violence: Reflections from a Christian Perspective.  Trans. Cecilia Gaul Kings.  London: SCM, 1970.  Print.

Graham, Robert, ed.  Anarchism: A Documentary History of Libertarian Ideas, Volume One: From Anarchy to Anarchism (300CE to 1939).  Montreal/New York/London: Black Rose Books, 2005.  Print.

Grave, Jean.  “Means and Ends.”  Graham 156-157.

Malatesta, Errico.  “Violence as a Social Factor.”  Graham 160-163.

The Holy Bible, English Standard Version.  Wheaton: Crossway, 2001.  Print.

Tolstoy, Leo.  “On Non-violent Resistance.”  Graham 157-159.

Van Steenwyk, Mark.  That Holy Anarchist: Reflections on Christianity & Anarchism.  Minneapolis: Missio Dei, 2012.  Print.

Willems, Kurt.  “Nonviolence 101 – Resistance is Futile… or the Meaning of ἀντιστῆναι (part 2).”  The Pangea Blog.  Patheos, 7 February 2011.  Web.  6 May 2013. 

Wink, Walter.  Jesus’ Third Way.  Philadelphia: New Society, 1987.  Print.

Yoder, John Howard.  The Politics of Jesus.  2nd ed.  Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1994.  Print.


[1] From “The Theological Basis of the Christian Witness to the State” as quoted in Alexandre Christoyannopoulos’ Christian Anarchism: A Political Commentary on the Gospel.  The original source is no longer available.

[2] This is the underlying ideology of structures such as racism and sexism, wherein certain members of society are considered less valuable than others, and so it is morally permissible to mistreat them.

[3] One is reminded of the well-known quote attributed to Gandhi (though the source is unknown): “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”

[4] For an in-depth discussion of Romans 13, see Jacques Ellul, Anarchy and Christianity, and John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus.

[5] In reference to the famous anarchist dictum, “No Gods, no masters”, which is a purported problem for Christian anarchists, Jacques Ellul, calling to mind 1 John 4:8 (“God is love”), writes in Anarchy and Christianity: “I do not believe that anarchists would be too happy with a formula that runs: No love, no master.” (35)