There is No Joy in Warmongering

I've been hearing a lot of bellicose language lately, and it's enlightened me to a reality that I don't much like. It seems that in these troubled times, Christians are not seeking the love of God, but a god of war.

For example, I recently heard a homilist refer to Jesus as a "warrior in the cosmic battle between good and evil." Not long after that I read an essay that described the Blessed Mother as a "warrior maiden". I've also been told that we all are engaging in "spiritual warfare;" that those who pray fervently are "prayer warriors;" and that the rosary is a "weapon" against evil. Some churches are even incorporating the Prayer to St. Michael into the mass by inviting us to appeal to the sword-wielding archangel to defend us in battle.

I've done some research in trying to understand why this military attitude has so successfully permeated present-day Catholicism. One explanation is that people are scared and feeling vulnerable. Strong imagery can assuage their fears and empower them. Another explanation is that people are overwhelmed by their own problems and the problems of the world more generally, and thus desire the intervention of a hero who can make it all go away. A third explanation is that the image of God as all-forgiving has led people to become too complacent, to believe that they can do as they please because God ultimately will forgive them. The solution to this problem is to give God some teeth, to restore his image to that of the vengeful God depicted in the Old Testament. While I can to some extent understand the rationale supporting all three arguments, I don't think declaring war on Evil is going to release us from our fear, helplessness and complacency.

Christians need to be strong, and they need to be able to defend their faith. Showing strength, however, is not the same as engaging in warfare—spiritual or otherwise. Consider a woman who crushes the head of a serpent before it can bite at the heel of her child. That is the natural, protective response of a loving mother, not the belligerent strike of a "warrior maiden". Consider as well a man expelling trespassers and vandals from his Father's house. Jesus was not making a war declaration when he overturned the moneychangers' tables and drove the traders and their livestock out of the temple. I would even argue that the whip described in John 2:15 was not intended to be a weapon, but an efficient means for moving oxen and sheep. In cleansing the temple, Jesus was making a strong statement that underscored the gravity of the offense against God that the people of the marketplace were committing. He acted the part of a tough teacher bringing his students back into line, not that of a general launching a counteroffensive.

We can't allow ourselves to be taken in by those who want to turn Jesus into a military hero, because that's not who he was. When Jesus said "I have come to bring not peace but the sword" (Matthew 10:34) he wasn't identifying himself as a warrior but as a cause of division. Use of a blade in combat is a secondary application of its essential function, which is to cut. Jesus used his sword to sever the ties that bound us to an ancient system of beliefs that were devoid of hope and of the promise of an authentic and affective relationship with our Father in Heaven. The unfortunate but inevitable consequence of liberation, however, is enmity between those who wish to take advantage of their freedom and those who prefer to remain where they are, as if they never had been released from bondage: son against father and daughter against mother. But hostility borne of partisanship is of human origin. Jesus does not purposely design conflict.

Jesus never started a war nor fought in a battle; and he likewise discouraged his disciples from the same. He rebuked James and John when they asked if they could call down fire from heaven in response to the Samaritans' lack of hospitality (Luke 9:54-55). He told Simon Peter to put away his sword when the latter cut off the ear of the high priest's slave (John 18:10-11). In neither case were the apostles defending their faith. Rather, they were going on the offensive, and attacking an evil that was perceived rather than real. The Samaritans' not welcoming Jesus and his disciples into their village hardly was an act of war, and neither was the high priest's slave being present at Jesus' arrest. A slave is just that—a slave. He likely was there in the garden for the sole purpose of combing the mud from his master's tassels.

If we go out looking for Evil, we most assuredly will find it; but not in the battlefield of a cosmic war. Rather, like Peter, James and John, we'll find it in our brothers and sisters—people whom we judge to be evil. A warrior's attitude demands that we focus on that perceived evil, to the exclusion of all else, and with the intention to destroy. That destructiveness, that hatred, is the coal feeding Hell's furnace because it eliminates not only the target, but all hope of finding and cultivating latent Good. So, because swords are more alluring than plowshares, Good becomes a casualty of war; and this unavoidable collateral damage is Satan's victory.

This essay is not intended to be a condemnation of the Armed Forces. I sincerely respect and appreciate the men and women who devote their lives to protecting and defending us. What I do condemn is inserting a military agenda into the context of Christian faith. There is no joy in warmongering. On the contrary: Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God (Matthew 5:9). If that promise is not sufficient to calm our fears and inspire us to do what is right, then we must remember this: War is a contest; but when Jesus is the protagonist there is no contest. Evil simply does not prayer when matched against the Goodness of God.