theophiliacs

IV: No. It’s just War.

Continuing my series on Nonviolence, this post will discuss Church tradition. I’ll lean heavily on an essay by Greek Orthodox Priest Stanley S. Harakas that appeared in his book, Patristic Ethics.

It would be an oversimplification to claim broadly that the pre-Constantinian fathers were wholly pacifist and that it was only after Empirical Christianity that anyone bothered asking tough questions about violence. Modern scholarship (Swift for example) has shown us that while nonviolence was the popular norm for the first two centuries of the Church, there existed a growing tension on the issue as the nature of Christianity became less subversive and more institutional. Likewise, the tradition of nonviolence did not die with Constantine’s cross in the sky, but expressed itself in more creative ways, often in opposition to the majority, and preserved more obviously in the Eastern tradition.

It would be impossible and redundant to launch a broad discussion on the history of Christian attitudes toward violence (wonderful studies exist elsewhere). Instead I’d like to briefly outline what I see as 1) primitive Christianity’s committment to nonviolence as an ideal, 2) the developing pro-peace tradition that interpreted that ideal, 3) and the travesty brought to this delicate interpretive-dance by Just War theory.

Peace As Reconciliation
For the patristics, peace wasn’t merely the absence of war, but the fullness of creation’s reconciliation with the Creator through Christ. Nonviolence wasn’t so much the point, as an inevitable, visible consequence of Kingdom living. Harakas provides an enlightening etymological background on the relationships between “shalom,” “eirene” and “peace,” that I don’t have space to discuss here but you should probably check out. This understanding of “peace as kingdom status” rather than merely “peace as absence of violent action” was expressed primarily theologically with ethical implications. In the letter from the Romans to the Corinthians we find a good example:

… let us hasten on to the goal of peace, which has been handed down to us from the beginning; let us fix our eyes upon the Father and Maker of the whole world, and hold fast to his magnificent and excellent gifts and benefits of peace. Let us see him in our mind, and let us look with the eyes of the soul on his patient will. Let us note how free from anger he is toward all his creation.

I Clement 19:2-3

The early patristics understood this peace to have unique outward, social and moral implications. For Clement of Alexandria, Christ uses the Church as his soldiers of peace:

The loud trumpet, when sounded, collects the soldiers, and proclaims war. And shall not Christ, breathing a strain of peace to the ends of the earth, gather together His own soldiers, the soldiers of peace? Well, by His blood and by the word, He has gathered the bloodless host of peace, and assigned to them the kingdom of heaven

Clement of Alexandria, Exhortation to the Heathens, II

(And as David pointed out in the comments of Part III,) the status of peace is not a standalone ethic, but an intricate part of Christ’s command to love: “..if there is peace, there will also be love; if love, there will be peace, also” (John Chrysostom, Homily on Ephesians). For the ascetics, peace was also a unique outpouring of the inner spiritual life. “…true inner peace comes from above…” Thus, Christians should “…seek peace, which is the separation from the turbulences of this world… so as to obtain the peace of God.” (St. Basil, Homily on Psalm 33).

It should be no surprise that for most preconstantinians, this fuller status of peace led to nonviolence as a norm. Justin Martyr interpreted the period after Christ as the fulfillment of Isaiah 2:4 when the peoples of the world will beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning-hooks upon the arrival of Christians who “formerly killed one another” but now “refuse to make war on their enemies.” (Justin Martyr, First Apology 39:3). Tertullian famously maintained a sustained polemic against Christians serving in the military for both reasons of the inevitable idolatry involved with being a part of the Roman Legions, as well as for reasons of peace:

“Will a son of peace who should not even go to court take part in a battle? Will a man who does not avenge wrongs done to himself have any part in chains, prisons, tortures and punishments?”

Tertullian II, 1-7

There are many more examples but I must move on.

Interestingly, by the time of Origen, we already see evidence of compromise in this ethic. Attempting to portray a Christianity more complementary to the state (among many other things), Origen OKs acts of war for the Empire as long as there is “just cause” but reduces the Christian’s duty to that of peaceful prayer: “We do not go out on the campaign with (the emperor) even if he insists, but we do battle on his behalf by raising a special army of piety through our petitions to God.” (Origen, Against Celcus 7:73).

The subtle distinction here, from “war as evil that Christians cannot support” to “war as necessary evil that Christians can support through prayer and petition” provides a backdrop for future justification.

Pro-Peace in the Empire
For the brand new Christian Empire, non violence created a novel conundrum. How could the Empire maintain order without using violence. Eusebius (Constantine’s most vocal supporter) painted a utopian picture where the union of Church and Empire meant that “the whole human race was converted to peace and friendship when all men recognized each other as brothers and discovered their natural kinship” (Eusebius, In Praise of Constantine 2). But unfortunately, his optimism couldn’t last as the Empire continued to encounter opposition. One solution sought by the Apostolic Canons forbid monks and clergy from participation in the military but allowed it for civilians. The idea seemed to work functionally but introduced a duality previously foreign to Christian teaching on nonviolence.

The Eastern Church struggled with this tension differently from the Western tradition. Whereas Augustine called it a Manichaean heresy to suggest that war was intrinsically evil and unchristian, the Byzantine fathers historically retained a reluctance for war—even when violence was thrust upon them. St. Basil suggested a pardon for men who killed during war in defense of justice, but also provided that perhaps these men should be refused communion for three years since they were not “clean handed.” An anonymous Byzantine war strategy manual dated during the 6th century outlines carefully how the armies of the Empire could engage and defend the city with the least amount of bloodshed (for example, refusing to surround the enemy so that they might retreat if they wish; using diplomacy, intrigue, and hunger sieges primarily and only resorting to outright battle as a final option.)

My goal here is not to extract a concise “war as necessary evil” ethic from the Eastern Church so much as to illustrate how the ancient idea of “peace” outlined above was sought in creative, albeit difficult ways. From these few examples, we see the Eastern Church living in the “already but not yet” tension of living the nonviolent ideal in a violent world.

“Good Wars” and “Bad Wars?”
Contrast this with the strong “Just War” tradition of the Western Church, founded by Augustine and St. Ambrose. Whereas elements in the Eastern tradition maintained that all war was inherently bad, but at times unfortunately unavoidable; this theory introduced the idea that under the right conditions, violence could, in fact, be virtuous.

The travesty of Just War theory is precisely this idea of virtuous violence. By outlining right conditions for Holy War, proponents elevated violence to the same Kingdom status that peace once held alone. No longer was nonviolence the sole ideal—it was dethroned by a certain type of violence that could justifiably be proven to lead to a certain type of peace.

By justifying state violence, the Church was robbed of its theology for peace as reconciliation with God the Creator. Further, the fuller, mystical understanding of peace as a “Kingdom Status” was buried under natural law.

Such thinking has dominated the western landscape for most of Church history and been used to justify most violent atrocities Christians have either instigated or found themselves involved in. In Part V, I’ll discuss the modern errors of Just War thinking that still pervade modern culture as well as outline my thoughts for a new way forward for the pro-peace Christian.

“When individuals slay a man, it is a crime. When killing takes place on behalf of the state, it is called a virtue. Crimes go unpunished not because the perpetrators are said to be guiltless but because their cruelty is so extensive.”

St. Cyprian of Carthage, 6

Read Part V