Was Jesus a True Pacifist?
Was Jesus a true pacifist?
Did Jesus believe that violence was always wrong, regardless of context? Let’s use two of Jesus’ disciples, Gandhi and Martin Luther King, as examples. Neither man advocated that rational people should surrender to a violent attack without resistance—a madman murdering a child in the streets—for instance. Both Gandhi and King did, however, recognize the absolute futility of using violence against the empire as a means of bringing change.
For Gandhi, England was the greatest empire in the world of his time. For Martin Luther King, it was the United States, which was and is the single greatest military power in human history.
For Jesus, it was no different.
Rome, in the time of Christ, was history’s greatest power and Augustus Caesar was Rome’s unchallenged ruler. Augustus was universally known throughout Rome’s vast empire by the title of “The Son of God Who brings Peace to the World.” For anyone to suggest otherwise—as Jesus followers did when they adopted the title and applied it to Jesus—was considered treason and punishable by death. This saying was written on Roman coins, which the Jews commonly used, as well as on governmental buildings everywhere the empire set foot, even in Jerusalem.
Jesus, the precursor to both Gandhi and King, used a strategy of passive resistance against Rome, and, against Israel’s false rulers, Herod “The Great” and his sons.
Why?
Because any other strategy would have been suicidal. That is the historical framework for the Gospels.
The trial of Jesus and the offer of Barabbas or Christ to the mostly Jewish crowds exemplified the nation of Israel’s choice. Violent resistance, as Barabbas symbolized. Or, peaceful resistance as Jesus offered. As the result of their choosing Barabbas and not Jesus, the nation of Israel and the temple system of sacrifice—for the remission of sins—was destroyed for the second time, forty years after Jesus’ death in a very bloody, protracted war with Rome. That was the timeframe for the writing of the Gospel of Mark, which is generally regarded as the earliest canonical gospel, as well as the basis for the other three.
Solomon’s original temple had been destroyed by the Babylonians some 500 years earlier, driving the Jewish people into exile and rendering its population slaves once again, as had been the case in the time of Moses. The destruction of the temple provided the cultural framework, as well as the impetus for the writing of the Hebrew bible.
The building and the destruction of the two Temples, in both Old and New Testaments, provide the link tying the two together as a single, continuous narrative.
Jesus stated that his intent was not to change the law, meaning, primarily, the Ten Commandments. The dietary laws and the sacrificial rituals he seemed to view as essentially symbolic, more than literal, an idea that is threaded throughout the Hebrew bible.
When Jesus opposed the stoning of the woman caught in adultery, for instance, it wasn’t capital punishment that was in question. It was the hypocrisy of the crowd who had an obligation to punish the man caught in the act, as well. It was unlawful to accuse someone of a crime without witnesses. If they had actually seen the woman committing adultery, the man must be brought to account with her, making both the man and the woman guilty. The woman’s accusers were using her as a pretext for getting Jesus to incriminate himself. If he had told them to release the woman, he could be accused of disobeying the Law of Moses. Jesus saw through their scheme and avoided the issue by placing the onus back on the woman’s accusers, saying “You, who are without sin, cast the first stone.”
Capital punishment was not the issue, religious hypocrisy was.
That is the problem of reading or interpreting the bible without context. Meaning, “a scripture without a context, is a pretext for whatever we want it to be.” Even in the case of what appears to be the obvious pacifism of Jesus.
All of the above can be fleshed out with much greater detail. Anyone who does so, however, must first look to the culture that produced the text and not their own surmise as the basis for understanding it. That much should be obvious. If it isn’t, therein, may lie the problem.
Mark Magula
Did Jesus believe that violence was always wrong, regardless of context? Let’s use two of Jesus’ disciples, Gandhi and Martin Luther King, as examples. Neither man advocated that rational people should surrender to a violent attack without resistance—a madman murdering a child in the streets—for instance. Both Gandhi and King did, however, recognize the absolute futility of using violence against the empire as a means of bringing change.
For Gandhi, England was the greatest empire in the world of his time. For Martin Luther King, it was the United States, which was and is the single greatest military power in human history.
For Jesus, it was no different.
Rome, in the time of Christ, was history’s greatest power and Augustus Caesar was Rome’s unchallenged ruler. Augustus was universally known throughout Rome’s vast empire by the title of “The Son of God Who brings Peace to the World.” For anyone to suggest otherwise—as Jesus followers did when they adopted the title and applied it to Jesus—was considered treason and punishable by death. This saying was written on Roman coins, which the Jews commonly used, as well as on governmental buildings everywhere the empire set foot, even in Jerusalem.
Jesus, the precursor to both Gandhi and King, used a strategy of passive resistance against Rome, and, against Israel’s false rulers, Herod “The Great” and his sons.
Why?
Because any other strategy would have been suicidal. That is the historical framework for the Gospels.
The trial of Jesus and the offer of Barabbas or Christ to the mostly Jewish crowds exemplified the nation of Israel’s choice. Violent resistance, as Barabbas symbolized. Or, peaceful resistance as Jesus offered. As the result of their choosing Barabbas and not Jesus, the nation of Israel and the temple system of sacrifice—for the remission of sins—was destroyed for the second time, forty years after Jesus’ death in a very bloody, protracted war with Rome. That was the timeframe for the writing of the Gospel of Mark, which is generally regarded as the earliest canonical gospel, as well as the basis for the other three.
Solomon’s original temple had been destroyed by the Babylonians some 500 years earlier, driving the Jewish people into exile and rendering its population slaves once again, as had been the case in the time of Moses. The destruction of the temple provided the cultural framework, as well as the impetus for the writing of the Hebrew bible.
The building and the destruction of the two Temples, in both Old and New Testaments, provide the link tying the two together as a single, continuous narrative.
Jesus stated that his intent was not to change the law, meaning, primarily, the Ten Commandments. The dietary laws and the sacrificial rituals he seemed to view as essentially symbolic, more than literal, an idea that is threaded throughout the Hebrew bible.
When Jesus opposed the stoning of the woman caught in adultery, for instance, it wasn’t capital punishment that was in question. It was the hypocrisy of the crowd who had an obligation to punish the man caught in the act, as well. It was unlawful to accuse someone of a crime without witnesses. If they had actually seen the woman committing adultery, the man must be brought to account with her, making both the man and the woman guilty. The woman’s accusers were using her as a pretext for getting Jesus to incriminate himself. If he had told them to release the woman, he could be accused of disobeying the Law of Moses. Jesus saw through their scheme and avoided the issue by placing the onus back on the woman’s accusers, saying “You, who are without sin, cast the first stone.”
Capital punishment was not the issue, religious hypocrisy was.
That is the problem of reading or interpreting the bible without context. Meaning, “a scripture without a context, is a pretext for whatever we want it to be.” Even in the case of what appears to be the obvious pacifism of Jesus.
All of the above can be fleshed out with much greater detail. Anyone who does so, however, must first look to the culture that produced the text and not their own surmise as the basis for understanding it. That much should be obvious. If it isn’t, therein, may lie the problem.
Mark Magula