Sunday, April 12, 2015

a just god in the midst of unjustifiable genocide: how the great narrative preserves god’s goodness

After September 11th, talk about “holy war” has occupied a lot of the discussion in the public sphere. The horrific application of religion has stirred a postmodern nation to think twice about moral relativism. However, the growing attitude has been that religion in general is responsible—anti-religion has been growing as an essential absolute for a better world. This is certainly the goal of the New Atheists such as Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens.[1] The popularity of these men has brought questions about wars in the Old Testament to the forefront. Does the Bible promote the violence that plagues the world today?
Because of the popularity of these writers, much of the discussion has been framed around New Atheist criticisms. This precedent has forced the discussion to be defensive in its very nature, either causing Christian writers to aggressively assert that God can be a monster if he chooses, or apologizing for scripture and dismissing it as not truly a revelation of the loving God they worship. In the book, Four Views on God and Canaanite Genocide, the authors tend to fall into this very trap.[2] Either, in C.S. Cowles’ case, Old Testament scripture is undermined, or in the case of the other three authors (there is hardly any real difference between them) the angry, violent God is upheld and weakly tied to the loving picture of God revealed through Jesus Christ.
Part of the problem with how the discussion has been framed recently is that it has catered to the attacks from the outside. There has been a rich, ongoing discussion in the Church for a long time—particularly among the Anabaptist peace churches. This discussion gets some attention from the authors in the popular theology book, but usually it is footnoted and left out of the wider discussion. Of course, this has always been the case for Anabaptists—they are rarely included in the wider Christian conversation. However, I believe that by inviting them into the center of the discussion, Christians can find a much more satisfying answer to the tension between the nature of God and the reliability of scripture. Thus, I have focused much of my research on the Anabaptist tradition, but still attempting to allow it to fit into the popular discussion. Nevertheless, the answer will likely not be very popular—not because it harms God’s reputation, nor because it undermines scripture, but because it has such a great demand upon the life of the follower of Jesus.       
To answer the question, Is genocide justified in the book of Joshua, without making some of the same errors that have been displayed in the popular argument, the question must be considered in two parts. First, God’s action will be considered—was God justified in taking the lives of the Canaanites? Second, Israel’s action will be considered—was Israel justified in engaging in war and genocide? By considering the question in two parts, I hope to show that God is always justified in withdrawing life, but it is always sinful for men to carry-out violence. Furthermore, I hope to show that God commanding violence in Joshua does not present a contradiction to these two statements when considering the full narrative of scripture. Finally, I will suggest some ways that Christians can apply what has been argued.

God Acting in the Book of Joshua
The first thing to be evaluated in this complicated question concerns how one views God’s actions in Joshua. As has been demonstrated in the popular discussion, God’s nature becomes an area of great confusion. Is God justified in taking the lives of human beings? Is God a violent being? And, if one concludes any of these questions in the affirmative, how does one reconcile this God with the revelation of the “Crucified Christ”—a humbled God that chose death on a cross out of his desire that all might be saved? Each of these questions will be answered in turn. Then one can adequately assess God’s action in the book of Joshua.

Is God Justified in Taking the Lives of Human Beings?
The force of the question about God’s justification in killing people and wiping out societies cannot be belittled. Unfortunately, in many arguments that have been presented, this question is dismissed as though anyone who sincerely wrestles with it ought to feel ashamed. The tone of the argument becomes, “Of course God is justified, HE IS GOD.” However, a confident and forceful assertion should not stir a sense of piety or triumphant faith in the believer. This does not line up with God’s own attitude about such things. Rather, God regularly lays out a patient and careful rationale behind his judgment.[3] The prophets always meticulously speak on behalf of God to offer a reason for why God must bring his judgment.[4] And in the Joshua narrative where so-called “genocide” is committed, God demonstrates His purposes as the entire story plays out. God reminds Israel that it is not because of their righteousness or favor, but because of the wickedness of the nations before them that He is driving them out.[5] Furthermore, God does not allow Abraham to take the land immediately because the sin of the people had not yet reached its full measure.[6] Finally, in Leviticus 18:24-25, one can see the level of sin that the nations surrounding Israel had reached. Thus, it is important that those seeking a rationale for these troubling acts of God be taken seriously—for God Himself thought it a worthy question to address.
            From the previous point, one can see a glimpse of God’s rationale and purpose for ending the lives of certain peoples—it is sin and rebellion. This is the case with the flood in Genesis, with the fire that rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah, and so on. But in Joshua 6:21, the text reads: “They devoted the city to the LORD and destroyed with the sword every living thing in it—men and women, young and old, cattle, sheep and donkeys.” This passage raises a legitimate question—Did God kill innocent people?[7] “Surely,” one might argue, “among all those people, there were some who did not practice the sinful things listed in Leviticus.” They might continue, “At least consider the children; certainly they could not be guilty of such acts. Yet, we read that God indiscriminately killed them as well.”
Depending upon one’s view of original sin, the answer to this question may go several ways. One might conclude that there are none who are innocent—even the children are guilty from birth. It is a sheer act of mercy on God’s part that we are given life at all. On the other hand, one may view the children under a certain age as innocent and argue that it is an act of mercy that God preserved them from a life within such a society. Furthermore, one could point to the story of Rahab, where God acknowledged her faith and spared her life as well as her entire family.[8] This demonstrates God’s willingness to relent for those who would change—it was simply the case that none other than Rahab wanted to repent. All of these are scripturally sufficient ways to make sense of God’s rationale, and they will be comforting to some, and troubling still to others.  
Yet, while it is good to recognize the rationale of God’s actions—primarily because God mercifully offers it—it is not philosophically necessary. Peter Craigie insightfully uses the phrase “withdrawing life” to describe God’s actions.[9] God, being the One who sustains life, has a unique right to withdraw it whenever He chooses without needing any justification. The truth remains that God does not need a justification for His withdrawal of life, because there is no one who can sit in judgment of God. Giving and taking life remains God’s free prerogative. Nevertheless, at the risk of belaboring the point, God does offer a rationale for such an emotionally difficult decision (for both Him and humanity) out of His mercy to his creatures.

Is God a Violent Being?
            The need to consider whether God is violent may not be obvious to all readers, especially after it has been established that it is God’s free prerogative to withdraw life. However, the question serves to develop some important theological conclusions that will be useful later when we consider the consistency of the nature of God between the Testaments. But before we move on to a discussion of God’s nature, let us consider a working definition of violence.
            John Howard Yoder offers a series of possible constructions for the concept of violence.[10] Violence, in the most common conceptions, is distinguished from force. If one is a legitimist, they will argue that force can be legitimate when carried out by a legitimate government and authority. Thus, anyone using force that is not part of a legitimate authority structure is guilty of using violence (apparently synonymous with “illegitimate force”). On the other hand, one can take the liberationist position which argues that the distinction between force and violence is based upon justice. That is, one must distinguish between force being used for a just cause, but violence being used as an injustice.
            This is a helpful distinction in considering whether God is violent. Regardless of which definition one adopts, God is nonviolent. He either uses legitimate force, or force for a just cause, but God cannot be guilty of violence by either of these definitions. For, as we discussed above, God withdrawing the life for which He sustains certainly cannot be seen as unjust. Likewise, being the unique authority, that none can sit in judgment of, God is the ultimate legitimate authority. Thus, while God is all powerful, uniquely sovereign, and free to give or take life, He cannot be violent by definition.

Can the Nature of Jesus be reconciled with the Nature of God in the Old Testament?
            Concluding that God is nonviolent is proved further by the fact that when Jesus humbly left his place of honor to become a man, he did not use “force” or violence, but died peacefully on the cross.[11] Thus, the question of continuity between God in the New Testament and God in the Old Testament is supported by the way we understand violence. When Jesus is depicted as using force, it is only when he is exalted to the right hand of his Father, ruling as the King of the entire universe. When God became a man, he took on the role of man, so that he might be the perfect man in our place. In his obedience and humility, Jesus modeled the way to overcome evil with good. This is what Jesus meant in his Sermon on the Mount and what Paul had in mind in Romans 12.[12]     
            Thus, the clear, nonviolent nature of Jesus serves as a moral imperative for all other humans, but does not negate God’s ability to rule justly and give and withdraw life freely of His own prerogative. This is the key to reconciling the Old and New Testament pictures of God—the just wrath of God versus the nonviolent life of Jesus. The confusion for someone like C.S. Cowles, who cannot reconcile Jesus’ pacifism with God’s justice, needs to recognize the unique role that Jesus played while walking upon the earth.[13] Jesus has taken on the likeness of man, offering us a picture of perfect humanity. But eventually, God exalts Jesus to His right hand, and gives him a name that all will bow to—the picture of Jesus that is seen in Revelation. It is in this unique position that Jesus will finally execute justice. Thus, it is still proper to refer to God as nonviolent, especially in light of the image of Jesus in Revelation, because Jesus has been exalted to the proper authoritative position for executing “just force” or “legitimate force”. Nevertheless, God can still be called nonviolent, because violence is something only mere humans can carry-out—something that Jesus, taking on the form of a man, but having the very nature of God, never utilized.[14]
            In the effort to answer the question about God’s behavior in Joshua, several preliminary questions have had to be addressed. Thus far, it has been shown that God is justified in withdrawing life from anyone, because he is the very giver of life. Nonetheless, God does mercifully offer a rationale for His actions—that sinfulness had reached its full measure. This action does not qualify God as a violent God, but is consistent with his nature as a sovereign God who acts justly and legitimately. And when Jesus took on the form of a man he behaved nonviolently, offering a model of perfect humanity. But once he resumed his place of authority at the right hand of God, he now exercises judgment upon injustice and sin. Hence, the tension between the Testaments has already begun to be resolved. However, the full answer to that problem will have to be addressed in the following section.

Man Acting in the Book of Joshua
            The question that now must be evaluated is the genocide itself—were the acts that were carried out by the Joshua and the Israelites justified? It will be concluded that genocide was not justified because war, let alone genocide, is always evil. However, this quickly raises a deeper question—why God would allow or command war if it is evil? These questions cannot be answered without a proper, yet brief, discussion of the full narrative that is at work. Once there is a better understanding of the concept of God as a warrior, the larger picture of God’s purposes will become clearer—that is that God intends to remove war from the world and does not desire that humanity engage in it. It is from this perspective that one should evaluate the actions of Israel in Joshua. 

God is a Warrior
            Throughout the Old Testament God is called the Warrior God, the Lord of Armies or Hosts, and so on. This is a glaring problem for one who wishes to argue that the war that humans engage in is evil. If God is a warrior God, how can war be evil—is it not part of God’s nature? Would this not be accusing God of evil? However, in the following paragraphs, it will be clear that while God has this designation, war still remains the responsibility of humans, not God.
Peter Craigie offers a helpful insight at this point. To Give God the name “Warrior God” it is clearly an anthropomorphism.[15] This is just like calling God a Loving Father or Jealous Husband. These are parts of the human language, born out of human experience, that clearly reveal something about God, but do not reveal the full nature of God. We should not imagine that God is wearing armor and holding a spear, or that God is actually covered in the blood of His enemies. As Craigie says,
It may be true language about God, but it is incomplete, for the reality of God is greater than any words which may be used to describe him. And so expressions like “God the Warrior” and “Lord of Hosts/Armies” we may understand as a part of the divine revelation; it is truly descriptive language about God, provided that the limitations inherent in language are recognized and remembered…Thus, when we read of God the Warrior, we are being pointed to truth about God, albeit a limited and less than complete truth.[16]
To simply call God a Warrior does not settle the discussion. Rather, it opens up the question, what does God wish to reveal about himself by taking the title of Warrior God? The truth that lies behind this title has much to do with God’s relationship with Israel and His role in human history.
God has chosen to act in human history. Now this is a messy thing to have chosen to do as one can quickly see. Nevertheless, this is a truth about God, revealed in His participation in the human act of war, as well as many other things. This truth is very valuable to the Israelites. God is not only active in human history, but He is acting through their particular nation, giving them success in battle, going before them to give them their promised land.
Statehood requires securing borders. If God is going to act through Israel as a nation, which He does for a time, they will have to secure the borders around themselves or they will be wiped out. This very fact requires that God, working through Israel, get involved in war. This is not part of God’s actual nature—to have people kill other people in order to prevent further killing. Rather, this is a reality of humanity’s brokenness. The title Warrior is not so much about God’s particular skill set, or about the activity with which He wishes to be occupied with, but about His commitment to his people, who for now happen to be in a position where war is inevitable. Of course, God does give and take life, but it is not His desire to pit his creation against itself and be worshipped for his destruction of His own creation.   
There are other titles that God is given, such as the Prince of Peace. How does this fit with His warrior status? The Old Testament has to be understood as a whole if we are going to reconcile these seemingly contradictory names. While God had worked through Israel as a nation for a time, eventually they too fell into the sins that their neighbors committed and God sent them into exile. Once they were sent into exile, they did not become a sovereign state again, until the recent century. The prophets helped Israel to see that, once they abandoned God as their King, they failed as a nation. But God had every intention of preserving his work, and He powerfully rewrote this tale of human brokenness into a story of God’s redemption. God turned the Kingdom of Israel into the Kingdom of God, a coming hope in the words prophets and finally inaugurated by Jesus. The Warrior God is now the Prince of Peace, the Crucified Christ.

War and Genocide are Evil
            It is because of this larger picture of God’s actions that we can look back on the wars and the genocide and see that those actions are evil. That killing and death were never part of God’s plan for humanity. God merely used these things out of his commitment to work through sinful humans. A clear example of this paradox is the fact that God told David to engage in war, yet because of this sin he was not able to build the Temple. The fact that God uses humans, and thus uses methods that humans employ, does not change the fact that those things are evil.
            Let us consider other similar examples in the Old Testament that may serve as analogies, and that also may refine one’s intuitions. Polygamy was prevalent throughout the Old Testament. God allows it, uses people who engage in it, uses the fruits of it, and even seems to endorse it.[17] Yet, it is very clear that this is not how God intended humans to interact with one another. Rather, this is the result of God working through broken human beings. The same way one reads the texts that demonstrate polygamy, so one ought to read the texts that seem to condone war.
            Divorce also represents one of these realities that the sin of human beings brings into reality, and God works with, but does not reflect God’s real desire for his people. Thus, just because God allows divorce because of the hardness of humanity’s hearts, and even commands it because of their disobedience, it does change the fact that divorce is part of the evil that will be wiped out when God restores all of the earth under Jesus’ rule.[18]
It is never God’s will that humans engage in such things—they are evil, they are lacking in goodness, they are sin, they miss the target—but God’s commitment to working through sinful people leads Him to get involved in a very messy narrative. This may not make one feel better about God’s seeming participation in evil, but the problem of evil is an ongoing philosophical and theological question that cannot be answered in this essay. The point of this argument is to simply point out that war and genocide should be handled theologically the same way one handles other aspects of evil caused by human sin and rebellion. War does not have a special status—there is no such thing as a “holy war”.   

The Way of Non-Violence
            Ultimately, the fact that war and genocide are not the way God intended people to behave is made obvious through His coming to show humanity the true way to overcome evil. That is, when Jesus came and modeled perfect humanity, he exposed the failure of war and offered a better way. Jesus demonstrated the way in which people can overcome evil with goodness—even if that means suffering and dying, as Jesus did. Some question that Jesus actually modeled nonviolence as a way of being a full human. Most of this argument rests on the belief that war is justified in the Old Testament. However, this argument is not as compelling once one considers how war is seen in light of the entire Old Testament.
John Howard Yoder argues that the primary theological insight one should gain from the war narratives is that God fights for us.[19] In light of the argument above, this would be the appropriate way for God’s judgment to be carried out since God is the only one who can justly withdraw the lives of humans. Paul Copan tries to answer the criticism from the New Atheism movement that war also destroys the individual committing the act, psychologically and emotionally breaking the person down.[20] But Copan, hoping to defend humans engaging in some kinds of war, does not adequately answer the criticism. While the psychological impact may have been less severe in the days of Joshua due to what one might consider a “hardness of heart”, it remains clear that taking the life of a human being ought to be reserved for the One who gives it. And as the full story unfolds, this seems to be how God would have it; several times in Israel’s history God miraculously delivers his people.
Part of the emotional and psychological consequence is that war has a cyclical effect; once it starts it cannot stop. The chain started with the very first murder in the Bible, Cain killing his own brother. The effect was that others in society wanted to return the act—God had to protect Cain from the wrath of society, for they would surely have killed him.[21] Further, after the flood, God forbids the shedding of man’s blood because it will result in more shedding of man’s blood. And Jesus also points to the cyclical reality of violence; he explains that those who live by the sword will die by the sword. If it is God’s ultimate plan to turn destructive weapons into constructive tools, and to foster a society where people do not train for war anymore, then the cycle of humans killing humans must be broken. But this does not mean that justice is forgotten, for God says that vengeance is His, and throughout His narrative He has shown that He is faithful—He will fight for His people.
The belief that God will fight for his people became a powerful part of the Jewish consciousness. Before Jesus came on the scene, there were already Jewish pacifists who read the same Old Testament as Jesus and his followers and came to the very same conclusions.[22] Jewish pacifism continued through the Middle Ages and suffered persecution from all corners of the world, including those corners filled with Christians.[23] For many Jews, the failure of war so many times in their history proved to them that they must rely on the miraculous intervention of a messiah. The failure of the Maccabbean Revolt, and the revolts in the late-first-century and early-second-century set their convictions in stone. In fact, the only two forms of Judaism that survived these episodes, Rabbinical Judaism and early Christianity, were both clearly nonviolent. If this is how the Old Testament was understood then, perhaps there is stronger reason for modern Old Testament readers to consider a similar understanding of the whole narrative. 
While historical arguments can be compelling, the strongest argument for a nonviolent alternative to war is Jesus himself. As briefly mentioned earlier, the Sermon on the Mount is Jesus’ clearest articulation of how his followers might overcome the violent and corrupt institutions around them. Walter Wink offers an interpretation of Matthew five through seven that is far from passive allowance of evil.[24] Rather, according to Wink, Jesus offers a profound alternative that resists evil, but creatively uses methods that do not fall into the cycle of violence and war. What is most compelling is the fact that the Early Church practiced this kind of resistance, and eventually overcame the most powerful military the world had yet seen—all without using violence.
It has been argued that God, though referred to as a warrior, does not delight in war. Rather it is a consequence of His participation in human history. Instead, the fact that humans participate in violence has always been a result of sin nature and should be viewed as evil. Further, the fact that God intervenes to fight instead of His people, and that Jesus modeled a way that is nonviolent, demonstrates that war as a way for God to accomplish His purposes has been eradicated. It is now, with the redeeming work of Jesus, possible for God’s people to overcome evil with good, not more evil. Thus, the actions of Joshua and Israel in the book of Joshua were not justified. Rather, they are an evil that resulted from the sinful human nature. But God has overcome man’s cycle of war and violence by becoming a man and showing the way of nonviolence—of loving one’s enemies the way God loves them, and praying for one’s persecutors trusting that God will act on behalf of his people.

Conclusion
God acted justly when he withdrew life from the Canaanites, but this act was carried out through a broken, human act of violence that cannot be “justified” as a normative way of executing justice. Rather, this human activity was a result of God’s commitment to use the nation of Israel for His purposes. It is clear, through prophets, and Jesus, that God does not desire that man engage in violence, though God himself will exact judgment. The strength of this answer lies in the fact that it does not fall into the complication of the popular arguments. That is, it explains war that was sanctioned by God, but later clearly prohibited, without viewing God as schizophrenic or damaging the inspired status of the Old Testament. Further, it preserves the peace tradition that, from the perspective of many Christians, comes directly out of the teachings of Jesus. Nonviolence should not need to be a footnote in a discussion about war in the Old Testament. Instead, when the wealth of this theology is brought into the center of the discussion, a much clearer picture of God come to the fore.

Application
            John Woolman was a Quaker in eighteenth-century colonial America. His life serves as a powerful testimony to American’s today for a number of reasons: he was a business man who put Christ before his bottom line; he was a man who recognized his own guilt in the midst of a sinful nation; he resisted taking on a lifestyle that abused other human beings for the sake of comfort; and he chose peace when most of society chose the easy option of violence. I want to share one story from a recent biography on Woolman that will illustrate some applications for the conclusions made in this study of war in the Old Testament.[25]
            Among many things, Woolman’s ministry was to arbitrate peace between Native Americans and the European Settlers that were taking the land. Frequently, the “white man” would take land and claim it as his own—even though that land was shared by many of the tribes beforehand. This of course created tremendous tension between the “white man” and the “Indian”. One such clash had recently happened, resulting in what was certain to become a terrible cycle of violence. Woolman and his friend decided that they needed to visit this particular tribe and see what they could do to prevent any kind of retaliation. Frequently, Quakers were able to negotiate peace by going to these tribes and offering to pay for the land that had been stolen from them. This was what Woolman had in mind this time as well.
            However, this trip was a little more troubling. The violence and hostility had reached an all time high—the tension was palpable. Woolman had heard about settlers being killed even though they were not intending to be hostile. In fact, by the time Woolman finally left for the journey, he had resolved that he would likely die on this particular mission. His wife and family were terrified as they watched the two men leave.
            They had decided ahead of time not to bring guns for hunting because they were committed to the Quaker way of nonviolence. Instead they would have to have a more simple diet for the duration of their trip.
            As they were walking along a narrow path through the woods, approaching the village where this particular tribe lived, Woolman and his friend came upon an Indian who looked startled at their presence. The man was a long way off down the path, but Woolman and his friend could see that he had lifted his hatchet and was running toward them. Woolman immediately began calling out that they only wanted to talk, that they only had peaceful intentions. As the man came closer and closer, Woolman’s words became quicker and louder: Peace, peace, peace! The Native American finally reached the two men with his hatchet in the air. But he stopped, put his hatchet away, and led the men into his village. Woolman relays in his journal that the episode scared him worse than any other moment in his life. And even though he was successful in establishing peace between that tribe and the local settlers, he never went on another mission that dangerous again.
            The point of this story is that it illustrates the need to commit to peacemaking if we are to ever really give it a chance. That is, if John Woolman and his friend had brought guns, whether for hunting or for protection, at what point in their crying out for peace would they have grabbed their guns to save their lives? Some may have grabbed their guns immediately, some may have grabbed them at the last minute, but not many would have waited until peace actually triumphed. Perhaps Woolman knew that he would be tempted to use his hunting tools against his fellowman. Perhaps Woolman knew that he was too weak to leave that possibility open. But by leaving the guns at home, they had to rely on the protection of God and the hope of peace.
            Now I believe our commitment to being peacemakers is going to require a similar approach. Regardless of what one believes about war, whether they are a pacifist or hold to a version of Just War, if they are a Christian they ought to be committed to peacemaking. It is clear that the trajectory of God’s story is to establish peace, and insofar as we are participants in the winning side of that story, we will be working toward peace.
            What are some specific things that we can do to truly give peace a chance? For one, we can question and challenge any acts of violence that are committed in the name of God. This obviously applies to the concept of “holy war” in Islam—Christians have a strong theological ground, even in the Old Testament, to challenge the entire concept of a war that is holy. But this also applies to so-called Christian nations. Not too long ago, George W. Bush claimed that God told him to fight the war in Iraq.[26] Committed Christians have a responsibility to challenge such claims on the basis of scripture. Even Just War advocates should be able to embrace this, considering the fact that no war ever waged by the U.S. has actually lived up to the requirements of classic Just War Theory, save the arguable position that World War II met those standards. Christians must get clear-headed about their calling to be peacemakers and raise at least as much of a witness on this issue as they do on issues such as homosexuality and abortion. 
Second, we can change who we promote as heroes. In my view, Woolman’s courage far exceeds that of many of the people that society holds up as heroic. But Woolman is not alone. In fact, throughout Church history there are models for peacemaking that can inspire us to live out a Christ-like commitment to love even our enemies. There is St. Francis, who tried to negotiate peace with Muslims in the midst of the awful crusades; there is William Penn who brilliantly founded a state without conflict with Native Americans; and, of course there are the numerous martyrs of the early church who chose to die peacefully at the hands of their enemies just like their Lord and Savior. The belief that nonviolence is a sign of weakness is a lie that has promoted violent nationalism for too long. We must begin to be inspired by the courage of Jesus’ way—the way of love, the way that truly overcomes evil.     
Third, we can make the wise choice that John Woolman made and create an environment where violence is less accessible, because we know that our inclinations will exclude a real chance for peace. Whether this means a personal application where guns are removed from the house, or a national application where we diminish our military spending. Nuclear weapons have long been a terrible threat that ought to be removed. There is no hope in building up stronger and stronger armies—they might promise to secure our comfort for the moment, but they also promise to continue the cycle of violence. In fact, building a bigger and bigger military is the worst kind of selfishness and indulgence. Our desire for security now will cost the lives of many to come. Let us learn from Woolman and leave behind the weapons. This will then allow for my last point, the real chance for us to think creatively about peacemaking.
Finally, by removing the possibility of choosing violence, we create the atmosphere for real, creative peacemaking strategies. In fact, our lives will depend upon calling for peace. Just as Woolman had to trust God and persist in his effort to call out peace in that situation, we must view peace, and the power of God, as our only real hope. As long as we trust in the habits of war, we will never get serious about making peace. Churches need to train Christians in ways to make peace. They need to stop encouraging all of their courageous young people to fight wars and to harness that potential for creative peace alternatives. As long as a young man or woman believes their zeal is best used for violence, and the Church encourages such an ideal, we will continue to lose that needed part of the body of Christ to the evil cycle of war. I am not suggesting that Christians adopt the Mormon policy of missions, but the fact that they successfully mobilize their young people to such a courageous and difficult task—sometimes in dangerous and difficult parts of the world—makes it clear that the Church has not creatively engaged the potential in the body of Christ.    
At this point, I would like to close with a response to a common objection. Many people, in response to the thought of nonviolence, like to paint a picture of a situation where an intruder has broken in and is threatening to harm or do evil to one’s family. A scenario like this often allows the use of violence to seem heroic and plays on the intuitions of self-preservation and love for family members. I think of the last Rambo movie where the pacifist preacher is seen as a weak and naïve man who almost allows his whole group to perish. But thankfully, Rambo, who is the real hero, shoots everybody.
However, Gregory Boyd challenges the Christian to think differently about this hypothetical situation. He tells a story about a woman who is being attacked and who is about to be raped. In a moment of panic, and perhaps a moment of divine intervention, she calls out “Your mother forgives you,” and the man immediately stops and breaks down into tears. She runs away and the man is caught right where she left him.[27]
There are numerous cases where miraculous and inspiring redemption happens in moments where many would turn to violence but instead nonviolence is practiced.[28] The point is not that nonviolence will always rescue us from suffering or danger, not even violent alternatives can promise that, but that nonviolence at least opens the opportunity for God to fight for us, redeem his people and overcome violence.



[1] See Christopher Hitchens, God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything (New York: Twelve, 2007). See also Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion (Boston: Mariner Books, 2006). Both books were New York Times bestsellers.
[2] C.S.Cowels et. al., Show Them No Mercy: Four Views on God and Canaanite Genocide, ed. by Stanley N. Gundry (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2003).
[3] Pierre Gilbert, “The Problem of War in the Old Testament,” Articles, Papers, Essays by Pierre Gilbert, http://www.cmu.ca/faculty/pgilbert/articles/index.shtml (accessed September 9, 2011).
[4] For example, see Amos 2:6-16, Micah 2:1-2, and Habakkuk 1:2-4.
[5] Deuteronomy 9:4-6.
[6] Genesis 15:16.
[7] Gregory Koukl. “Can God Kill the Innocent?” Stand to Reason, 2005. http://www.str.org/site/News2?page=News Article&id=5271 (accessed September 9, 2011).
[8] Joshua 6:22-23. 
[9] Peter C. Craigie, The Problem of War in the Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdman’s Publishing Co., 1978), 42.
[10] John Howard Yoder, The War of the Lamb: The Ethics of Nonviolence and Peacemaking (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2009), 33-36.
[11] Philippians 2:5-11.
[12] See Matthew 5:38-48, Romans 12:17-21.
[13] Cowles, 23. Cowles makes several comments about the “discontinuity” between Jesus and the Old Testament picture of God. One of the more remarkable comments he makes suggests that Christians should no longer view God as “the father of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,” but as the “Father of our Lord and Savior.” This kind of discontinuity would not be necessary if Cowles recognized that the revelation of Jesus is not merely that of the nature of God (which it is), but also the revelation of how humans ought to be human.
[14] Tremper Longman III, in his criticism of C.S. Cowles’ position, argues that Cowles overlooks Jesus flogging the people in the temple and driving them out. However, it seems to me that Longman is making the common mistake of assuming that Jesus was striking humans. Jesus was not striking people, but driving out the animals. (Martin Scorcese’s Last Temptation of Christ has furthered this misconception by dramatizing the scene, depicting Jesus as crazed and violent.)  C.S. Cowles, et al., Four Views on God and Canaanite Genocide: Show Them No Mercy (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2003), 60. See Longman’s footnote.
[15] Craigie, 39.
[16] Ibid., 95.
[17] See Ex 21:10, Deut 25:5–10, and 2 Samuel 12:8.
[18] See Ezra 9 and 10; Matthew 5:31-32, 19:1-11.
[19] Yoder, The Politics of Jesus, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdman’s Publishing Co., 1994), 76-88.
[20] Paul Copan, “Yahweh Wars and the Canaanites: Divinely Mandated Genocide or Corporate Capital
Punishment?” Evangelical Philosophical Society, 2011, http://www.epsociety.org/library /articles.asp?pid=63 (accessed September 9, 2011).
[21] Yoder, The War of the Lamb, 28-29.
[22] Ibid., 71-75.
[23] Ibid.
[24] Walter Wink, The Powers that Be: Theology for a New Millennium (New York: Galilee Doubleday, 1998), 99-111 .
[25] Thomas P. Slaughter, The Beautiful Soul of John Woolman, Apostle of Abolition (New York: Hill and Wang, 2008), 259.
[26] BBC, “God Told Me to Invade Iraq, Bush Tells Palestinian Ministers,” BBC Press Office, June 10, 2005, http://www.bbc.co.uk/pressoffice/pressreleases/stories/2005/10_october/06/bush.shtml (accessed October 11, 2011). Nabil Shaath, Palestinian Foreign Minister, quoted Bush, saying "President Bush said to all of us: 'I'm driven with a mission from God. God would tell me, "George, go and fight those terrorists in Afghanistan." And I did, and then God would tell me, "George, go and end the tyranny in Iraq ." And I did. And now, again, I feel God's words coming to me, "Go get the Palestinians their state and get the Israelis their security, and get peace in the Middle East." And by God I'm gonna do it.'"
[27] Gregory Boyd, The Myth of A Christian Nation (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2005), 162-167.
[28] See Thomas Merton, The Nonviolent Alternative (New York: Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 1980).

saving absolutism: a defense of pacifism

There is a wonderful irony in the fact that pacifists have long been seen as a threat to society. Whether it was first-century Christians under the Roman Empire, Anabaptists during the Reformation, or Quakers during the American Revolution, the popular sentiment was that these folks were dangerous. Obviously it was not that they presented any immediate physical threat—they are pacifists—but it was because they undermined the social order by calling into question one the most fundamental presuppositions of any state: justifiable violent force. After all, what would happen to the stability of a state if this view was to spread and everyone started behaving like these pacifists?[1] But pacifists tend to reject this kind of teleological moral reasoning—they are usually absolutists, not consequentialists. Indeed, it is because of my own absolutist position that I reject the various forms of Just War theory and embrace a kind of pacifism. Primarily, it is the viewpoint presented by John and Paul Feinberg in their book, Ethics for a Brave New World, which I wish to critique. The Feinbergs present five different non-biblical arguments that have been offered in favor of pacifism and seek to refute each.[2] While a few of their arguments are unconvincing, it is not necessary to show that they all fall short. It should suffice to show that at least one of them can succeed. Thus, I hope to demonstrate, contrary to the Feinberg’s arguments, that there is in fact solid philosophical ground for one to accept pacifism.[3]
The strongest case for pacifism is based on the sanctity of human life—or as the Feinbergs describe it, the sacredness of life. What is peculiar in their critique of this view is that they seem to both embrace and reject consequentialism. For example, the Feinbergs make the following claim: “Does the principle that life is sacred mean nothing should ever be killed, or does it require us to preserve as much life as possible? Pacifists hold the former, non-pacifists hold the latter.”[4] That is, they clearly recognize that pacifists hold to an absolutist position while non-pacifists appear to have a consequentialist position. But just a few lines later they try to fit pacifism into a consequentialist framework, describing life as a non-moral good that must be preserved. They then reject this view, saying, “Our problem with the argument understood this way is that it is based on a consequentialist approach to ethics and is objectionable on that ground.”[5] This critique smells of a straw man when they finally conclude that the consequentialist approach to pacifism is impossible, because it “appears to encourage rather that discourage killing.”[6] Indeed, this should have been obvious from the outset, for pacifism, by definition, holds an absolutist position on violence. Further suggesting that this is a straw man, they do not provide any footnotes as to one who might actually defend this position.
More problematic than the straw man is the fact that the Feinbergs have clearly rejected consequentialism, which according to their own words, is the justification for non-pacifist positions. Perhaps the Feinbergs believe that their form of hierarchicalism saves them from consequentialism.[7] But, as it turns out, they openly admit that their non-consequentialist view turns to consequentialism when a really tough moral dilemma arises.[8] In fact, their entire hierarchical model is subject to a situational understanding. That is, they believe there is no way of knowing which moral obligation takes precedence over the other except to consider the given situation. What else could the situation reveal except what one anticipates the consequences to be? This seems like a thinly veiled form of situational ethics.
Pacifism, on the other hand, is rooted in strong moral absolutism. The Feinbergs do consider an absolutist view of the sanctity of life, but reject it on the grounds that it cannot withstand a moral dilemma. That is, they take their hierarchical view (that there are moral dilemmas and when they arise there is only one moral obligation) as one of the premises. For example, the Feinbergs would suggest that there are situations where one must take a life in order to honor some other moral obligation, such as self-defense or defense of a defenseless third party. However, as stated above, this all presupposes a hierarchical view of moral dilemmas. If it can be shown that moral absolutism can survive a moral dilemma, then the Feinbergs objection fails. Thus, this is what I shall attempt to prove.
Using the language of the Feinbergs, the best way to describe the position I am offering is a synthesis of non-conflicting absolutism and ideal absolutism.[9] I am a non-conflicting absolutist because I believe there is always a way to avoid the use of violence. But I am an ideal absolutist, of sorts, because I believe that there may be moral dilemmas where we may not perceive any other option other than choosing the lesser of two evils. In such cases, I believe choosing the lesser evil is indeed a morally reprehensible action. This position may seem odd so please allow me to further elaborate this view.
First, I reject the idea that moral dilemmas actually pit one evil against the other and leave us with no other choices. I suppose you could call this, as Norman Geisler does, a third way position.[10] As he describes it, “The assumption is that if God commanded both, then He expects us to keep both and He will see to it that we are able to keep His commandments without sinning.”[11] Thus, if I believe it is clear in scripture that God commands us to not use violence, then it is always wrong to use violence.[12] Therefore the position of this third way holds that there are no scenarios, no such moral dilemmas, in which it is justifiable to violently take the life of another human being. There is always an alternative that allows for one to honor all of the commands of God.
No doubt this is hard for a Just War theorist to swallow. The desire is to immediately draw up the most devastatingly painful moral dilemma one can imagine and offer it as a counter-example.[13] “See,” they say, “you certainly would use violence in this situation.” One problem with this response is that these hypothetical situations can conveniently eliminate all possible third options for the sake of their argument. It is not clear to me that these situations will ever truly arise as they are presented. Furthermore, because every real situation will be significantly more complex than we can imagine it (or remember it, for historical examples are always over-simplified as well), it is impossible to use a hypothetical moral dilemma to prove that there is not a nonviolent alternative in any actual moment. Our imaginations are not powerful enough to accurately present the options available to us in a real situation.
This point about the weakness of our imagination is important to another aspect of this argument. Namely, that it is possible in a given situation that one might perceive a real moral dilemma. That is, though there is truly an alternative that honors all of God’s commands, one may not be able to imagine the alternative and perceive that the situation presents a real moral dilemma. This is because human reasoning and insight into God’s will is broken—less than perfect. Here is where I see my view as a synthesis between non-conflicting absolutism and ideal absolutism. The individual may very well see a moral dilemma and the only action they are able to take, due to a lack of imagined alternatives, is one of two evils. For example, if one were faced with the perceived moral dilemma of killing their enemy or allowing their friends and family to be killed, they very well may choose to kill their enemy as the lesser evil. Indeed, without any other imagined alternatives, this is a very likely outcome. Nevertheless, I believe killing remains an evil. In this case, the evil act appeared to be unavoidable, and in some sense it was unavoidable because the individual truly lacked the ability to imagine an alternative.      
Both the Feinbergs and Geisler reject this view on the grounds that it misrepresents the nature of Jesus. Geisler’s argument can be summarized as follows:[14]
P1) Christ is our moral example and we are to act as he acted
P2) Christ faced all kinds of moral situations and was tempted as we are (Heb. 4:15)
P3) Christ never sinned (cf. 1 Peter; 1 John)
C) Therefore, there are no situations where a lesser evil is called for

However, the conclusion does not follow because premise two overlooks an important difference between Jesus and other human beings. Namely, that while Jesus was tempted, he was without sin and did not have a sin nature. Rather, he always does the will of his father and therefore knows his father’s will. While this is certainly the way all humans ought to behave and potentially can behave, nevertheless they do not. Because of sin, they are not aware of God’s will. Rather, humans suffer some relational distance due to sin. The fact that Jesus was tempted in every way does not require that he faced every moral decision with the same moral deficiency and relational distance from God with which sinful human beings face moral decisions. In fact, I think it is better to understand all perceived moral dilemmas as a consequence of our sin nature. It is possible that Jesus faced all the moral decisions humans face without perceiving moral dilemmas because he perfectly knew the will of his father. However, it is important to note that knowing the father’s will is not super-human, it is perfectly human.
            Here the third way position actually comes to light. Jesus perfectly modeled the third way and did so in a perfectly human way. Jesus simply walked through a mob of men wanting to kill him; he understood the hearts of men with which he conversed; he knew what the future held; he paid taxes with money from the mouth of a fish; he miraculously calmed storms, healed wounds, raised people from the dead, and fed hungry people. All of these things offer alternatives to various moral dilemmas and they are not super human but perfectly human. If we could be more like Jesus, I believe we would not perceive moral dilemmas, we would see powerful alternatives that allow us to perfectly walk in the will of God.     
            Violence lacks imagination. It fails to walk in the steps of Jesus. Dietrich Bonheoffer understood this very well. Even as a pacifist, he could not imagine any other way to take action against the evils propagated by Hitler other than to plot his assassination. He felt compelled to choose between what appeared to be his only options, all of which violated his convictions. Nevertheless, he took action and recognized that he would be sinning. In the end, his plot failed and exposed the truly humble situation sinful human beings are in—we cannot overcome evil on our own strength. Indeed, it has seeped so deeply into human nature and society that we often cannot see any other way. This does not mean evil ceases to be evil—rather, it evokes a desperate cry for redemption and deliverance. We long, with all of creation, for the sons of God to finally be revealed for what they truly should be: perfect like their heavenly father is perfect. 


[1] This is precisely the concern of the anti-Christian philosopher Celsus, causing him to complain, “If everyone were to act as you [Christians], the national government would soon be left utterly deserted and without any help, and affairs on earth would soon pass into the hands of the most savage and wretched barbarians....” Quote found in the online pdf version of Eberhard Arnold’s Early Christians in Their Own Words (Rifton: Plough Publishing House, 2011), 80, http://cdn.plough.com/~/media/Files/Plough/ebooks/pdfs/e/earlychristiansEN.pdf. 
[2] John and Paul Feinberg, Ethics for a Brave New World, 2nd ed. (Wheaton: Crossway, 2010), 36-37.
[3] It is not the goal of this paper to fully refute the Feinberg’s scriptural arguments. It is my view that answering the philosophical problems with pacifism will be more compelling because Just War theorists, as I see it, rarely have the stronger scriptural argument. Instead, they are able to appeal to moral dilemmas that force intuitions to accept violent actions. It is from this position that scripture is used to support a prior philosophical assumption. 
[4] Feinberg, 642.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Ibid., 643.
[7] Ibid., 38.
[8] Ibid., 59-61.
[9] Ibid., 36.
[10] Norman L. Geisler, "Biblical Absolutes and Moral Conflicts," Bibliotheca Sacra 131, no. 523 (July 1, 1974): 222. ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials, EBSCOhost (accessed January 19, 2013).
[11] Ibid.
[12] It is clear to me that this is an absolute command in scripture, though there is not space to also make that case in this paper. Besides, as stated earlier, it seems that Just War theorists rarely have the advantage in terms of scriptural support; rather, it is the strength of their intuitively devastating moral dilemmas that force people to find some scriptural support for the use of violence. I believe if the intuitive strength of the moral dilemmas can diminished, commandments such as the following will become more compelling: put your weapons down (Matt. 26:52); do not resist an evil person but turn the other cheek (Matt. 5:39); love your neighbors and your enemies (Matt. 22:39, Matt. 5:44, Romans 13:9-10); do no harm to your neighbor (Romans 13:9-10); bless those who persecute you, do not repay evil for evil, live at peace with everyone, do not take revenge but leave it to God, sustain your enemies with food and water, overcome evil with good (Romans 12:14-21); make peace and reap righteousness (James 3:18); follow the example of Jesus and not retaliate or threaten (1 Peter 2:22-23).
[13] This is essentially the way Jeffrey Peterson responds to John Howard Yoder’s pacifism. See Jeffrey Peterson, "What Should Christian Do? Revisiting John Howard Yoder's What Would You Do?." Christian Studies Journal no. 25 (January 2011): 61-77. Academic Search Complete, EBSCOhost (accessed January 19, 2013).
[14] Geisler, 225.