What Being Anabaptist Is Not

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Rob Martin | Monday, 27th June 2016

[Reposted from Abnormal Anabaptist. Originally posted on 10 May 2016.]

Over the years, since I personally rediscovered my Anabaptist roots and have spent time exploring and uncovering what it means to be an Anabaptist minded Christian, I’ve had many conversations with folks about what being an Anabaptist is. I even wrote an article here defining an Anabaptist in which I link several other articles. I participated in a Synchro-blog with other like-minded folks exploring three distinctives that we felt defined Anabaptism. But there are still people I run into who, when I mention being an Anabaptist, they say, “Yeah, I believe in adult baptism, too.” Sigh. So, in this article, I want to spend a bit of time listing a few things that Anabaptism is not.

Anabaptism is NOT about baptism. Yes, the term “Anabaptist” has to do with the concept of “rebaptizing” related to how the original folks carrying the name were given that moniker after they started baptizing grownups that had previously been baptized as infants. But the rule and timing and age of baptism was never the purpose for re-baptizing. The adult baptism comes from the idea of making a conscious, risky, radical decision to break away from institutionalized, hierarchical church into a Jesus-shaped lifestyle with baptism being performed as a public witness and a sanctification of that life dedication. Technically speaking, for a person to be “Anabaptist” in the original sense, if it were truly about baptism, they would have to be baptized at least twice. Truly, when and how often someone is baptized is not the point of Anabaptism. Who you are following is.

Anabaptism is NOT about being a pacifist. There are quite a few religions and philosophies around the world that have, at their core, a pacifistic ideology and have nothing to do with Christianity or with being an Anabaptist. However, Anabaptism does have as one of its central ideas this concept of shalom from which an Anabaptist operates. This concept is rooted, itself, in a radical love that encompasses all human beings, even those who would consider the person to be an enemy.

What’s key here is that love is the key to all human interaction. Anabaptists take very seriously Jesus’ words to love our enemies, to love our neighbors, to love other people, even if those other people are the disgusting, heretical, heathen Samaritans that obviously have their theology wrong. The Anabaptist Christian approaches every situation, even ones where wrong is being confronted, with the general question of “How do I show love to this person?” This is the example Jesus gave us, that even his strongest opponents were given respect, were answered in kind, and were treated, not as some outcast to be avoided but as humans who are brothers and sisters. If we have made the radical decision to follow Jesus, as I mentioned above, then we follow his example. And his example is to love everyone, equally, with nothing held back, even to the point of laying down our lives for those who hate us.

And going further with pacifism, Anabaptists are NOT passive. Over the centuries, the Mennonite branch of Anabaptists has taken pacifism in a direction where to be a pacifist means to avoid conflict. If there is something that is going to cause people to be in conflict, we avoid it, we cover it over, we make it into an inconsequential thing to be handled, quietly, at the next committee meeting. We Mennonites have gotten very good at avoiding conflict. And this has, unfortunately, infected our activities within the church as well as in how we interact with the world around us. We chose to just stay quiet. In our silence, though, we have let racism in our own churches go unaddressed, we’ve covered over abuses of power, both the more “acceptable” kinds as well as those that result in sexual assault. Our pacifism cannot lead us into passivism. There are ways in which we can still express our enemy love while still addressing the problems around us.

Anabaptism is NOT conservative, nor is it progressive, nor is it liberal, nor libertarian, nor any other label that we might apply to it that relates to a human based ideology. It is not a protest movement nor is it collaborative with the powers around us. An Anabaptist sets aside human structures and ways of thinking as best as possible and, again, chooses to radically follow Jesus. Sometimes that may look like what the world thinks as conservative (living by a code of morality in contrast with the world), sometimes that looks very progressive (the code of ethics of care for the poor, the marginalized, and the voiceless is very progress). And every other flavor in between. In Jesus day, he had factions to deal with as well such as Pharisees, scripts, Sadducees, Zealots, Essenes, etc., who all had a particular ideological framework by which they operated. And Jesus pretty much rubbed them all the wrong way, not because that was his aim, but because they couldn’t fit him in their neat little boxes.

For Anabaptists following after Jesus 2000+ years after he walked the earth, this can look and feel very messy. The voices and patterns of this world are very loud and very hard to keep separate from our Christian walk at times. The Spirit that Jesus left behind for us speaks so quietly that we often miss our way. But an Anabaptist seeking to follow Jesus holds very lightly to these things because they recognize the limitations to their own understanding and, instead, seek Jesus guidance through his Spirit, through the community of Christ-followers around us, and through the stories and writings in the Bible.

In our day and age where people like to categorized and classify and define things to the utmost of details, where we want to be able to very clearly put things in their proper place and perspective, Anabaptism stands out in that it is probably easier to describe what it is not and much harder to describe what it is. I’m sure that there are folks who will come along to my article here and say, “Yeah, but you didn’t talk about this” or “You need to make sure you defined that.” And those are probably good points of discussion. But ultimately, the biggest test for what I see as the Anabaptist way is whether or not I can see Jesus in it. If it doesn’t, then it doesn’t really belong in Anabaptism. And, honestly, if it doesn’t look like Jesus, I question if it should even belong in Christianity at all. And isn’t that the better question?

 

Rob Martin is a software validation analyst living in Southeastern Pennsylvania. He has a Masters of Arts in Missional Ministry from Biblical Theological Seminary. He blogs at Abnormal Anabaptist.

Politics that Devour: A Reflection on Revelation 13

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Shane Fenwick | Wednesday, 22nd June 2016

[Reposted from Ethos Engage Mail. Original article dated 6 June, 2016.]

Politics.

It’s a word that will conjure up a myriad of feelings for Christians. For some, politics — or ‘being political’ — has come to represent how one votes in the partisan political process, and is deemed to have nothing to do with the ‘spiritual’ message of the Gospel. For others, Christians must be heavily involved in this process, often through lobbying, to maintain a strong moral voice for ‘Christian values’ in the hallways of power.

As we enter into another federal election season, and as many of us have been observing the U.S. presidential race, perhaps it’s time to re-engage with a passage of scripture that has continuing relevance for us as Christians today – and whose significance many of us don’t seem to grasp. It is perceived as bizarre and out-dated, or conversely as a kind of guide for deciphering the events that will lead to the end of the world. Both views, unfortunately, don’t do this magnificent passage justice. The passage is Revelation 13. And, just as it spoke prophetically to the early church of Asia in the late first century, so too does it continue to speak to us today: not about how we will escape into the heavenly realms, but rather about how faithful Christians are to respond to politics. Or, more precisely, about how we are to faithfully respond to politics that devour.

To begin to engage with this passage, one must first understand it within its own historical context: as a distinctly Christian apocalyptic prophecy. John, no doubt, would have viewed himself as standing in the Old Testament prophetic tradition, writing during the moment in history when those very prophecies were being fulfilled in the Messiah Jesus.

In the opening verses of Revelation 13, we are given a carefully constructed description of the first beast that rises out of the sea. The beast’s physical characteristics resemble that of each of the four beasts in Daniel 7, for in John’s eyes this beast was the summation and epitome of all beasts that had come before. Its origins as coming from the sea, on top of the rich imagery of its seven heads bearing blasphemous names, is a clear allusion to the Roman Empire. For John, this beast — Rome — was a devouring beast, given authority and power by the Enemy. It demanded the worship and allegiance of its citizens, and whoever opposed its supposed divine status would meet its brutal might. Indeed for Rome, might was right, establishing a Pax Romana — Roman peace and security — through its military might. Yet John calls on his readers to resist the temptation to buy into the beast’s deception. They were to worship the slaughtered Lamb alone, who conquered not with the sword, but with the cross. Faithfulness to the true Lord was to be the mark of Christ’s disciples, not allegiance to a system that devoured in order to maintain the status quo. Evil is self-propagating; only Suffering Love can break its power.

The second beast we are introduced to rises not from the sea, but from the land, suggesting that it was something indigenous to the people of Rome. The imperial cult would have been a religious group well known to John’s readers. In the province of Asia, it was controlled by a body known as the commune, made up of representatives from major towns including priests from the cult itself. In all matters relating to local government, it would have wielded the power of Rome itself. What’s more, scholars suggest that it would have been responsible for taking the initiative in elevating Roman emperors to the status of divine beings. John’s second beast — which looks like a lamb but speaks like the dragon — is a clear parody of Christ. It appears to wield divine power; but beware, it is a murderous beast. At the conclusion of this passage, we are given the infamous number of the beast: 666.

Contrary to popular culture and the claims of stringent dispensationalists, John’s readers would have swiftly picked up on who this number referred to: the Roman emperor Nero. John utilises the practice of gematria, known to both Jews and Greeks of his day. But, more than just being a numerical representation of Nero, John would have employed the number 666 for its symbolic significance as a triangular number which not only constantly falls short of the perfect number 7, but also as a parody to the number of Jesus Christ: 888. Thus, the message is clear. Nero, as an anti-Christ figure, represented the beast, that idolatrous creature that sought to wage war on God and on God’s people. Rome and Nero were the embodiment and completion of ancient Babylon, demanding total allegiance from humanity.

What, then, could this possibly mean for us as Christians today? We may not have literal emperor-like figures demanding our worship. But, we would be foolish to ignore the beast-like political systems which devour in our world today - the systems and political powers which, in often covert ways, demand our allegiance and punish those who refuse to comply with ‘business as usual’. Revelation would have not justbeen read by Christians who were outright oppressed by the Roman Empire. Many Christians were, in fact, wealthy and compromising within the beastly, oppressive system. Perhaps we are the comfortable ones that God is disturbing today through John’s Revelation. How do our prosperity, security and wealth come at the expense of the innocent who experience violence, scapegoating and bloodshed? John continually calls us back to faithfulness to the One who is true and faithful. On April 9th, we remembered the life of German pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer, whose resistance to the beastly political power of the Third Reich led him to death. It is Bonhoeffer who said, in his sermon ‘My Strength is Made Perfect in Weakness’, that:

Christianity stands or falls with its revolutionary protest against violence, arbitrariness, and pride of power, and with its plea for the weak. Christians are doing too little to make these points clear… Christendom adjusts itself far too easily to the worship of power. Christians should give more offense, shock the world far more, than we are doing now. (In The Collected Sermons of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, ed. Isabel Best, Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 2012, 169)

As we behold the politics that devour around us today, may we be patiently faithful in our witness as the alternative community of God. For we worship and follow the Crucified and Risen One, whose politic does not devour, but brings truth, healing, justice and peace.

Shane Fenwick is a young Christian from Sydney who is deeply passionate about theology and its implications for discipleship, mission and engagement with a hurting world. He is a case manager with Mission Australia as he undertakes his Master of Theology through Charles Sturt University.

Book Review — Merdeka and the Morning Star: Civil Resistance in West Papua by Jason MacLeod

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Thursday, 3rd March 2016

MacLeod-Merdeka and the Morning StarJason MacLeod, Merdeka and the Morning Star: Civil Resistance in West Papua (St Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 2015), 284 pp. AUD $39.95. (Also distributed by Penguin Books Australia.)

Review by Dale Hess

Although West Papua is only about 125 km from Boigu Island, Australia’s northern point, very few Australians know much about it. It is a beautiful land, but it is shrouded in secrecy. Part of the secrecy arises because it is currently under militarily occupation by Indonesia. The Indonesian Government has enforced a policy to keep foreign journalists out of West Papua in an effort to prevent stories of human rights abuses, economic exploitation, and lack of health and educational services, which are being experienced by indigenous Papuans, from reaching the outside world. The Indonesian authorities do not want others to know of Papuan struggles to achieve merdeka (independence, liberation, identity, human dignity, self-reliance, material and spiritual satisfaction).

Jason MacLeod, a Quaker educator, organiser and researcher, has written an astounding book in which he gives an in-depth analysis of this struggle, the most protracted violent conflict in the Pacific. He writes from both an academic and a practitioner viewpoint. He tells that as a 19-year old he dropped out of university and travelled to Papua New Guinea in search of adventure. In a remote area on the Keram River he collapsed with cerebral malaria, and it was only because of the efforts of two Papuan health workers that his life was spared. This experience led him to a life’s journey of solidarity with the Papuan people. His research is based on 14 years of interviews with over 150 groups and individuals, participant observation and dialogue, on facilitating skill-building community workshops on strategic nonviolent action with over 450 Papuan activists, and is informed by current theory of civil resistance.

He begins by relating the historical and political background to the conflict. Belatedly in 1961, the Dutch created a Papuan national legislature and the Morning Star flag was adopted by the Papuans as their symbol. These events led to an invasion of West Papua by Indonesia, and in 1962 the Kennedy Administration brokered the New York Agreement and Indonesia took over administrative control of West Papua. The Papuans were not involved, nor consulted, in this process. Under the New York Agreement, a referendum for self-determination was to be carried out, but instead of allowing universal adult suffrage, Indonesian authorities handpicked 1025 participants, and then the military terrorised villagers and executed those who dissented. The result was declared 100% in favour of integration with Indonesia. The result was not challenged at the time or later. The Indonesian Government interprets their control of West Papua as being sanctioned by the United Nations, while the overwhelming majority of Papuans feel the process was a sham and they have not been given a chance to choose whether or not they wish to be part of Indonesia.

Resolution of the problem is very complex because besides the denial of self-determination, the issues of racism, state violence (over 100,000 Papuans are estimated to have been killed), economic exploitation (e.g. large-scale projects like the Freeport-McMoRan/Rio Tinto mine, and logging) and migration (estimated to reduce Papuans from 96% in 1971 to just 29% of the population by 2020) add interactive layers of direct, structural and cultural violence. MacLeod quotes research by Chenoweth and Stephan (Why Civil Resistance Works) which shows that nonviolent campaigns are more than twice as effective than violent campaigns to achieve national liberation, democracy and equal rights. But secession struggles against occupation are more difficult and chances of fully achieving success for either violent or nonviolent campaigns fall dramatically.

After exploring the dimensions of problem, MacLeod outlines the sources of Indonesian power in West Papua and the strategies employed to maintain state control. This perceptive analysis of the root causes of the conflict, the opponent’s sources of power and their strategies of rule provides essential information to develop civil resistance strategy.

Papuan civil resistance has a long, largely unknown, history stretching back to the 1850s. Making these stories known—stories that give a collective identity to Papuans and strengthen civil resistance—was a prime reason MacLeod authored this book. He provides a critical analysis of the strategies, the successes and failures, of case studies, missed opportunities, and the evolution from sporadic protests to unified campaigns. Over time there has been a transition from armed struggle in the mountains and jungles of the interior towards unarmed resistance in urban areas, carried out by younger Papuans. MacLeod provides an analysis of the dynamics which have led to these shifts, a transition that is still going on.

In his last chapter MacLeod offers a framework for nonviolent liberation. He argues that success hinges on increased movement participation, enhanced strategic skillfulness, greater unity, the ability to attract greater support from within Indonesia and also internationally, and taking advantage of political opportunities. He admits the immense difficulty of the task, but civil resistance has already achieved some notable advances in Papua, as he documents.

In a moving Epilogue, MacLeod presents testimonies of Papuans, telling of the great suffering they have experienced, and sharing insights into how they survive and hold onto hope.

The drama and excitement of events leading up to the United Liberation Movement of West Papua application for membership to the Melanesian Spearhead Group (MSG) are captured in a thrilling postscript. Membership in MSG represents internationalising of the West Papuan issue, which is exactly what Jakarta was and is trying to avoid.

This is a very valuable study, filled with penetrating insights, by someone who is both a participant and an academic. It deserves a wide readership and I highly recommend it. It gives a discerning overview of the current situation in West Papua and provides a vision of the potential of nonviolent civil resistance.

Sanctuary—Christendom Again? Some Reflections

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Matt Anslow | Monday, 8th February 2016

Last week church leaders all over Australia began to offer sanctuary in their church buildings to 267 people seeking asylum whom the government is planning to deport to the detention centre on Nauru. The offers have increased in number over the weekend, and it is now approaching 50 congregations involved.

One blogger suggested this offer was, “Invoking a practice from the Middle Ages during the height of Christendom.” His comment reflects numerous criticisms that have appeared on social media. So, is the Christian invocation of sanctuary an appeal to a dying age of Christendom?

I don’t take these critiques lightly—after all, I am an Anabaptist. But critiquing particular acts of churches and Christians as being rooted in Christendom is fraught with difficulty. “Christendom” is a complex reality, denoting multiple dimensions of a lengthy historical situation. It can simply refer to those lands in which Christianity was dominant from Constantine, through the Medieval period, up until the present day. It might also refer, simplistically, to those arrangements between the church and state during this period that bestowed on the church a privileged status in society.

Is sanctuary a product of this latter definition of Christendom simply because it arose during the height of Christendom? The premise is itself doubtful, as the concept of sanctuary has Old Testament roots. But even accepting the premise—that sanctuary arose during Christendom—so too did Western hospitals, universities and the Nicene Creed!

The obvious different between sanctuary on the one hand and hospitals, universities and the Nicene Creed on the other is that sanctuary involved arrangements between the state and church that gave the latter special legal status, specifically to override the regular law on account of a penitent fugitive who had sought asylum. There can be little argument that such an arrangement is rooted in the dynamics of Christendom. But to apply this historical dynamic directly into the early 21st century is problematic.

In the study of logic, the genetic fallacy describes a flawed line of reasoning in which the origins of a concept, claim or thing are thought to discredit its contemporary form. It’s the same line of reasoning used by some to denounce the use of Christmas trees because they originated in pagan religions. To argue in this way is to suggest, at the very least, that the concept, practice or thing has not changed over time.

We ought to keep in mind that the Medieval form of sanctuary required from the fugitive penance and exile, and neither of these is being suggested by Australian church leaders. In fact, sanctuary was offered to criminals, and people seeking asylum are innocent of any crime. The point in naming these dissimilarities is to show the substantial modification of the concept of sanctuary over time.

Church leaders have simply stated that sanctuary is a concept that existed in the Medieval period, but they have not said they are invoking the concept in the same way. The media may have gone further in seriously discussing the legal aspects of sanctuary, but this cannot be confused with the intentions of church leaders. If anything, the form of sanctuary that the church leaders are invoking is much closer to that of The Sanctuary Movement, a U.S. religio-political movement in the 1980–90s providing safety for Central American refugees fleeing the civil conflicts in their home countries at that time. The movement was part of the anti-war movement opposed to U.S. foreign policy in Central America and at its peak there were over 500 U.S. congregations from varied denominations declaring themselves sanctuaries.

Indeed, the fact that church leaders have openly stated that their offer of sanctuary to people seeking asylum is an act of civil disobedience (at least potentially) suggests they do not see their act as an appeal to special treatment by the state, but as a challenge to the secular authorities to cross a symbolic line of sanctity. That the High Court of Australia has decided that the government’s approach is legal, and the church has rejected this decision and resolved to risk arrest and prosecution by “getting in the way” reflects in this instance a vast separation between church and state.

If Christendom implies the special legal standing of the church in society, it is difficult to conclude that Australian churches offering sanctuary in opposition to the government and courts is a reversion to Christendom.

If, however, lawyers do find a way to make a legal case for sanctuary (based on, say, English Common Law), the question of church privilege will take on a new dimension. Still, there is a vast disparity between invoking a law because it carries the weight of institutional privilege, and simply making use of the legal system as it is (and accepting the risks and consequences that go with doing so). The former may well reflect Christendom, but in the latter we can see reflections of St Paul’s use of his Roman citizenship.

And tradition tells us that the relationship between Paul and Rome didn’t end well.

This article originally appeared on life.remixed.

Matt Anslow is married to Ashlee, father to Evie, works for an international development NGO, is a PhD candidate in theology at Charles Sturt University, and is an organiser for #LoveMakesAWay. He and Ashlee live in a small [un]intentional community in Sydney where they try to put their convictions into practice in the context of the mundane. Matt is also an editor of On The Road. You can follow him on Twitter.

8 Ways to Defend Against Terror Nonviolently

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George Lakey | Monday, 16th November 2015

[Reposted from Waging Nonviolence. Original article dated January 22, 2015. Image: LA Times]

One of my most popular courses at Swarthmore College focused on the challenge of how to defend against terrorism, nonviolently. Events now unfolding in France make our course more relevant than ever. (The syllabus was published in “Peace, Justice, and Security Studies: A Curriculum Guide” in 2009.) In fact, the international post-9/11 “war against terror” has been accompanied by increased actual threats of terror almost everywhere.

In the first place, who knew that non-military techniques have, in actual historical cases, reduced the threat of terror?

I gathered for the students eight non-military techniques that have worked for some country or other. The eight comprised the “toolbox” that the students had to work with. We didn’t spend time criticizing military counter-terrorism because we were more interested in alternatives.

Each student chose a country somewhere in the world that is presently threatened by terrorism and, taking the role of a consultant to that country, devised from our nonviolent toolbox a strategy for defense.

It was tough work, and highly stimulating. Most of the students had a ball, and some did brilliant strategizing.

Students especially liked brainstorming synergistic effects — what happens when technique 3 interacts with techniques 2 and 5, for example? At the time I wished we had an additional semester to handle the complexity of making the tools not just additive, but discovering how the whole became more powerful than the sum of the parts.

Some students who assumed that military defense is crucial opened to a bigger perspective. They realized that, given the success some countries have had using just two or three of the tools, there is significant untapped potential: What if countries used all of the tools together, with the resulting synergies? For me the question arose: Why couldn’t populations rely completely on the nonviolent toolbox for their defense against terror?

What are the eight techniques?

1. Ally-building and the infrastructure of economic development

Poverty and terrorism are indirectly linked. Economic development can reduce recruits and gain allies, especially if development is done in a democratic way. The terrorism by Northern Ireland’s Irish Republican Army, for example, was strongly reduced by grassroots, job-creating, economic development.

2. Reducing cultural marginalization

As France, Britain and other countries have learned, marginalizing a group within your population is not safe or sensible; terrorists grow under those conditions. This is also true on a global level. Much marginalizing is unintentional, but it can be reduced. “Freedom of the press,” for example, transforms into “provocation” when it further marginalizes a population that is already one-down, as are Muslims in France. When Anglophone Canada reduced its marginalization, it reduced the threat of terrorism from Quebec.

3. Nonviolent protest/campaigns among the defenders, plus unarmed civilian peacekeeping

Terrorism happens in a larger context and is therefore influenced by that context. Some terror campaigns have lapsed because they lost popular support. That’s because terror’s strategic use is often to gain attention, provoke a violent response and win more support in the broader population.

The rise and fall of support for terrorism is in turn influenced by social movements using people power, or nonviolent struggle. The U.S. civil rights movement brilliantly handled the Ku Klux Klan’s threat to activists, most dangerous when there was no effective law enforcement to help. The nonviolent tactics reduced the KKK’s appeal among white segregationists. Since the 1980s, pacifists and others have established an additional, promising tool: intentional and planned unarmed civilian peacekeeping. (Check out Peace Brigades International, for one example.) [Also Christian Peacemaker Teams – ed.]

4. Pro-conflict education and training

Ironically, terror often happens when a population tries to suppress conflicts instead of supporting their expression. A technique for reducing terror, therefore, is to spread a pro-conflict attitude and the nonviolent skills that support people waging conflict to give full voice to their grievances.

5. Post-terror recovery programs

Not all terror can be prevented, any more than all crime can be prevented. Keep in mind that terrorists often have the goal of increasing polarization. Recovery programs can help prevent that polarization, the cycle of hawks on one side “arming” the hawks on the other side. One place we’ve seen this cycle of violence is in the Palestine/Israel struggle.

Recovery programs build resilience, so people don’t go rigid with fear and create self-fulfilling prophecies. The leap forward in trauma counseling is relevant for this technique along with innovative rituals such as those the Norwegians used after the 2011 terrorist massacre there.

6. Police as peace officers: the infrastructure of norms and laws

Police work can become far more effective through more community policing and reduction of the social distance between police and the neighborhoods they serve. In some countries this requires re-conceptualization of the police from defenders of the property of the dominant group to genuine peace officers; witness the unarmed Icelandic police. Countries like the United States need to join the growing global infrastructure of human rights law reflected in the Land Mines Treaty and International Criminal Court, and accept accountability for their own officials who are probable war criminals.

7. Policy changes and the concept of reckless behavior

Governments sometimes make choices that invite — almost beg for — a terrorist response. Political scientist and sometime U.S. Air Force consultant Robert A. Pape showed in 2005 that the United States has repeatedly done this, often by putting troops on someone else’s land. In his recent book “Cutting the Fuse,” he and James K. Feldman give concrete examples of governments reducing the terror threat by ending such reckless behavior. To protect themselves from terror, citizens in all countries need to gain control of their own governments and force them to behave.

8. Negotiation

Governments often say “we don’t negotiate with terrorists,” but when they say that they are often lying. Governments have often reduced or eliminated terrorism through negotiation, and negotiation skills continue to grow in sophistication.

Realistic application of non-military defense against terror

At the request of a group of U.S. experts on counter-terrorism, I described our Swarthmore work and especially the eight techniques. The experts recognized that each of these tools have indeed been used in real-life situations in one place or another, with some degree of success. They also saw no problem, in principle, in devising a comprehensive strategy that would create synergies among the tools.

The problem they saw was persuading a government to take such a bold, innovative leap.

As an American, I can see the direct contradiction between, on the one hand, my government’s huge effort to convince taxpayers that we desperately need our swollen military and, on the other, a new policy that mobilizes a different kind of power for genuine, human security. I understand that for my country and for some others as well, a living revolution might need to come first.

What I like about having an alternative, non-military defense in our back pocket, though, is that it speaks to the real need of my fellow citizens for security in a dangerous world. Psychologist Abraham Maslow long ago pointed out the fundamental human need for security. Analyzing and criticizing militarism, however brilliantly, doesn’t actually enhance anyone’s security. Imagining an alternative, as my students did, may give people the psychological space they need to put energy into something more life-giving.

Our role at the grassroots

The good news is that a number of these eight techniques can be applied by civil society, without waiting for governmental leadership that may never come. Two are no-brainers: Spread the skills and strategy of nonviolent protest, and teach a pro-conflict attitude.

The Black Lives Matter movement found many white people joining in on black-initiated turf — that’s a concrete example of reducing marginalization, a concept that generates dozens of creative moves by whoever happens to be mainstream (Christian, middle class, etc.). We can also initiate recovery programs after terror has erupted in our midst, as it did during the Boston Marathon.

Activists are used to launching campaigns to force the government to give up some of its reckless policies, but may forget to frame activism that way. A scared public needs to know that activists hear the fear, and are on the side of everyone’s safety.

By my count, these five of the eight tools can be used by people taking bottoms-up intitiatives to reduce the theat of terror. They might be incorporated by the Transition Town movement and others who want to bring a holistic and positive approach to the fear that otherwise depresses and paralyzes. As usual, what helps others lightens the load for each one of us who takes that step.

George Lakey is a Quaker activist and expert in nonviolent activism. He co-founded Earth Quaker Action Group which just won its five-year campaign to force a major U.S. bank to give up financing mountaintop removal coal mining. Along with college teaching he has led 1,500 workshops on five continents and led activist projects on local, national, and international levels. Among many other books and articles, he is author of “Strategizing for a Living Revolution” in David Solnit’s book Globalize Liberation (City Lights, 2004).

The Jihad of Jesus (Part 4): A Strong-But-Gentle Struggle for Love and Justice

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Dave Andrews | Monday, 4 May 2015

This series of articles is based on Dave's upcoming book release, The Jihad of Jesus, which is being published by Wipf & Stock. Read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 of this series.

On one balmy Sabbath, at the very beginning of his ministry, Jesus visited the synagogue in his home town of Nazareth, and when he was asked to read a passage from Holy Scripture, he turned to a part, written by the prophet Isaiah, where it says:

The Spirit of God has got hold of me,
And is urging me to take on a special task;
To share good news with the poor,
To free the prisoners,
To help the disabled and the disadvantaged,
And to smash the shackles of the oppressed
 (Luke 4:18–19)

In so doing, Jesus announced, in front of everyone he knew at the time, that he wanted to make this radical struggle, for God’s love and justice, his manifesto, his mission in life.

Jesus grew up with a passionate concern for the welfare of his people, particularly those that no one else was particularly concerned for. He was passionately concerned about the plight of the poor, the victims of the imperial system. He was passionately concerned about the predicament of the prisoners, the disabled and disadvantaged, excluded from all meaningful participation in society by bars of steel and stigma. He was passionately concerned about the condition of the lepers, not only because of the pain of their ulcers, but also because of the pain of their untouchability. And he was passionately concerned about the situation of ordinary people whose hope had all but been destroyed by their soul-destroying circumstances, and who consequently felt consigned forever to long days, and even longer nights, of utter despair.

For Jesus, a passionate concern for people meant nothing less than a passionate commitment to people. He became forgetful of himself, living instead in constant remembrance of those around him who were themselves forgotten. He desperately wanted them to feel fully alive again, to revel in the joy of being loved, and being able to love, once more. He worked tirelessly to set them free from all that might debilitate them, breaking the bonds of exclusivity, poverty, misery, and guilt. He welcomed the outcast, helped the weak, healed the sick, and forgave the sinner, giving them all another chance at a new beginning. He didn’t write anyone off himself, and he encouraged everyone that he met not to write one another off either. He challenged everyone to tear up their prejudices, trash their stereotypes, and just get their act together — the ‘in’ crowd with the outcast; the strong with the weak; the rich with the poor; the saint with the sinner — to support one another in their common quest for their own humanity.

Jesus was painfully aware of the captivity of the political economy in which he lived. He recognized that this captivity was perpetuated by preoccupation with power, position, and property, at the expense of people’s lives. “What the world esteems,” Jesus said, “is disgusting to God!” (Luke 16:15). His critique was universal, but Jesus actually chose to confront this captivity at a national level, rather than an international level. Jesus was concerned more with the mechanisms of control perpetuated by his own people, than with the mechanisms of control perpetuated by others, for unless these domestic mechanisms of control were dealt with, the foreign yoke might be thrown off, but the captivity would continue. So Jesus confronted the people in his own country — the people of his own culture, tradition and religion — with their responsibility for their own captivity, and for their own liberation. “Don’t judge others,” Jesus said. “Judge yourself” (see Matt. 7:1–3). “How sad it is,” he said to them, that “you neglect to do justice!” (see Luke 11:42). “What will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life?” (Matt. 16:26).

In the first phase of his nonviolent jihad for love and justice Jesus followed on from John the Baptist in denouncing the exploitation of the poor by the rich. John told the armed forces: “Don't extort money and don't accuse people falsely — be content with your pay.” And he told the tax collectors: “Don't collect any more than you are required to”. He said: “The man with two tunics should share with him who has none, and the one who has food should do the same,” (Luke 3:11–14). Jesus confronted Zacchaeus, an infamous tax collector, personally about his extortion. As a result of this encounter, Zacchaeus promised Jesus to give “half of my possessions to the poor”, and “if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount,” (Luke 19:8).

In the second phase of his nonviolent jihad for love and justice Jesus not only consistently denounced the oppression of the powerless by the powerful, he also actively advocated liberation of disempowered groups of people through the empowerment of the Spirit. Jesus attacked the key religious leaders of the day, as ‘lovers of money’ (Luke 16:14–15), who would maintain a façade of sanctity, by saying long prayers in public, but would “devour widows’ houses”. When he saw a widow “put everything — all she had to live on” into the collection box, Jesus condemned the temple for extorting the last coin from the kind of person it was set up to protect (Mark 12:38–44). Jesus broke the monopoly on forgiveness that the temple had developed through the sacrificial system it controlled. He did this by baptising people in the Spirit and giving them the authority to forgive sins. “Receive the Holy Spirit,” and “if you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven.” (John 20:22–23).

In the third phase of his nonviolent jihad for love and justice Jesus advocated communities with leadership that would serve the people rather than oppress them. In his countercultural communities, Jesus encouraged people to liberate themselves from captivity to the political economy, by developing compassion for people that transcended the sick, obsessive, compulsive preoccupation with power, position, and property that characterised society. “God is compassionate,” Jesus said. “Be as compassionate as God” (Luke 6:35–36).

All oppressive forms of politics were denounced. Charismatic leadership, based on experience, was expected to be exercised within a decision-making framework that functioned according to group consensus. “We all know the bosses call the shots, and the heavies throw their weight around,” said Jesus. “But that is not the way we are going to operate. Whoever wants to be the leader of a group, should be the servant of the group,” (Matt. 20:25–26).

All exploitative forms of economics were renounced. Generosity was expected to be exercised, and wealth freely shared by the rich with the poor, in an earnest quest for genuine equality. “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed,” Jesus said (Luke 12:15); “Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you,” (Matt. 5:42); “Lend, expecting nothing in return,” (Luke 6:35).

In the fourth phase of his nonviolent jihad for love and justice Jesus created communities that were committed to doing justice to the marginalised and disadvantaged. The dominant value of much of Jewish society at the time of Jesus was purity — but the dominant value of Jesus was inclusivity. While the Jews despised Gentiles, Jesus declared “my house shall be called a house … for all nations” (Mark 11:17). While the Pharisees ostracised sinners, Jesus invited outcasts to his parties (Mark 2:16).

In his countercultural communities, Jesus encouraged people to consider other people to be of enormous importance — not just as producers or consumers, but as people in their own right. The people that were usually considered least important, and consequently pushed to the side, were treated as most important and given a place of respect in these countercultural communities. Jesus said: “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers (sisters, or relatives, or your rich neighbors); if you do, they may invite you back and you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous,” (Luke 14:12–14).

The counter-cultural communities Jesus developed never smashed the political economy to which their society was captive. They never completely reconstructed the political economy in terms of the total liberation that they prayed for. However, they did break some of the mechanisms of control to which they were captive. They managed to reconstruct such a substantial degree of liberated — and liberating — alternative political and economic reality, that their experience has served as an example of true love and true justice ever since. According to eyewitnesses, they all met together, breaking bread in their homes and eating together with glad and jubilant hearts. They had everything in common, selling their possessions and giving support to anyone who asked for help. There wasn’t a single person with an unmet need among them, and all the people spoke well of them (see Acts 2:44–47; 4:32–35).

In the fifth phase of his nonviolent jihad for love and justice Jesus demonstrated active, radical, sacrificial nonviolence that would free people from the cycles of violence and counter violence. He said: “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand is not the shepherd who owns the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it. The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. I am the good shepherd … and I lay down my life for the sheep. … All who ever came before me were thieves and robbers. I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. He will come in and go out, and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full (John 10:11–14, 15, 8–10). Jesus turned to his friends and said: ‘Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends,” (John 15:13).

Under his guidance the Jesus movement became an active, radical, sacrificial peace movement.[i] And for three centuries, Christianity was more or less a pacifist movement. The Apostles taught Christians the pacifist principle: “Love does no harm to its neighbour” (Rom. 13:10). Paul said to: “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge. On the contrary: ‘If your enem(ies).are hungry, feed (them); if (they) are thirsty, give (them) something to drink.’ Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good,” (Rom. 12:14–21).

Jesus is the Supreme Example of Jihad as a ‘Whole-Hearted Strong-But-Gentle Struggle’.

The choice Christians and Muslims need to make is: will we continue to commit to a ‘clash of civilizations’ — or join Jesus and the Nonviolent Jihad for love and justice.

[i] Glen Stassen & David Gushee, Kingdom Ethics (Downers Grove: IVP, 2003), 152.

Dave Andrews and his wife Ange have lived and worked in intentional communities with marginalised groups of people in Australia, Afghanistan and India for forty years.  Dave is a founder of the Waiters Union; an educator for TEAR Australia; a teacher at Christian Heritage College; an elder emeritus for Servants To Asia’s Urban Poor; and a member of AMARAH (Australian Muslim Advocates for the Rights of All Humanity).

The Jihad of Jesus (Part 3): Jesus as the Supreme Example

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Dave Andrews | Monday, 4 May 2015

This series of articles is based on Dave's upcoming book release, The Jihad of Jesus, which is being published by Wipf & Stock. Read Part 1 and Part 2 of this series.

Jesus of Nazareth, whom we know as Jesus the Masih, ‘Messiah’ or the ‘Christ’ demonstrates a life of radical non-violent sacrificial compassion as the only way of life that can save us from destroying ourselves and our societies.[i]

As Ahmad Shawqi says: “Kindness, chivalry and humility were born the day Jesus was born. Like the light of the dawn flowing through the universe, so did the sign of Jesus flow. He filled the world with light, making the earthshine with its brightness. No threat, no tyranny, no revenge, no sword, no raids, no bloodshed did he use to call to the new faith.”[ii]

Many Christians, Muslims and Jews use the retaliation advocated in the Hebrew Bible to justify their eye-for-an-eye reactive violence. After all Moses himself said, “if there is serious injury, you are to take life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth.” (Exod. 21:23–4). But as Mahatma Gandhi has been often reported to have famously said: “An eye-for-eye and tooth-for-tooth would lead to a world of the blind and toothless.”

Jesus argued for a totally different approach to that taken in the Mosaic Law. Jesus explicitly, specifically and repeatedly contradicted the Mosaic Law that legitimated retaliation. He said: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, Do not resist (or retaliate against) an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.” (Matt. 5:38–9). Jesus told his disciples you should always be ready to die for your faith, but never kill for your faith (Matt. 16: 24).

When I asked my dear friend and Jewish Rabbi, Zalman Kastel, what he personally found most confronting in the teaching of Jesus, he quickly replied, without any hesitation, that it was his commitment to unflinching nonviolence in the face of violence, which was based on his commitment to love everyone — friend and foe alike — with no exceptions.

Jesus said,

But to you who are listening I say, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who ill-use you. To him who strikes you on one cheek offer the other cheek also. If anyone takes away your cloak, do not stop him taking your tunic, too. Give to everyone who asks you; if anyone takes away your belongings, do not demand them back again. As you would like men to act towards you, so do you act towards them. If you love those who love you, what special grace is there in that? Even sinners love those who love them. If you are kind to those who are kind to you, what special grace is there in that? Even sinners love those who love them. If you are kind to those who are kind to you, what special grace is there in that? Even sinners do that. If you lend to those from whom you wish to get, what special grace is in that? Even sinners lend to sinners in order to get as much back again. But you must love your enemies; and do good to them; and lend with no hope of getting anything in return. Your reward will be great and you will be the sons of the Most High, because he is kind both to the thankless and to the wicked. Be merciful as your Father in heaven is merciful. (Luke 6:27–38)

John the Baptist introduced Jesus at the beginning of his ministry as the “Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” (John 1:29). We know the word 'Lamb' is not meant to be taken literally. After all, Jesus was a man not a lamb. However, the word 'Lamb' is used to describe the kind of 'Man' he was. He was a 'Lamb' of a 'Man' — pure, simple and peaceable — not deceitful, duplicitous and dangerous like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Jesus, the ‘Lamb of God,’ sought to develop grassroots communities of ‘flocks of sheep’. (John 10:11–16). ‘Sheep’ was a seemingly innocuous but essentially counter-cultural term that Jesus used to describe people who lived with ‘wolves’ (those who preyed on other people) but, who refused to become wolves themselves, even if it meant that the wolves might rip the flock to pieces because of their refusal to join the pack and prey on others.

Jesus said: “I want you to live your lives as sheep, even in the midst of wolves. Be shrewd. But always be harmless,” (Matt. 10:16). “Always treat other people as you would like them to treat you,” he said (Matt. 7:12). “Even do good to those who do evil to you. Love those who hate you and bless those who curse you.” (Matt. 5:44). “Don’t ever be afraid,” he said to his flocks, “of those who can kill the body, but can’t kill your soul,” (Matt. 10:28).

And Jesus, ‘the Lamb of God’, practiced what he preached. He may have been 'the light of the world'. But the world didn't want him. “The people loved the darkness rather than the light; because their deeds were evil, and didn't want anybody to expose them,” (John 3:19–20). So the people decided to scapegoat him. And, as Jesus predicted, they eventually seized him, and he allowed them to lead him away like a sacrificial lamb and slaughter him.[iii]

Jesus said: “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). The idea of someone being willing to sacrifice himself on behalf of his friends can be as powerful a metaphor in the twenty-first century as it was in the first century. There is much about the way the Jews might understand this metaphor that non-Jews find difficult to understand. But the idea that Jesus was willing to sacrifice his life for his friends is a powerful story. That, even now, touches people with love, in the deep, dark, hidden recesses of their soul, where they feel most abandoned and most alone.

Gale Webbe, in The Night and Nothing, said, “There are many ways to deal with evil. All of them are facets of the truth that the only ultimate way to conquer evil is to let it be smothered within a willing, living, human being. When it is absorbed there, like a spear into one's heart, it loses its power and goes no further.”[iv] As M. Scott Peck says in The People Of The Lie, “The healing of evil can only be accomplished by love. A willing sacrifice is required. The healer must sacrificially absorb the evil.”[v]

On the cross Jesus absorbed the evil. He took it into his heart as assuredly as the spear that was thrust into his side. And, it went no further. He cried out “Father. Forgive them. For they know not what they do," (Luke 23:24). There was no reaction. No demand for revenge or retaliation. There was only grace. And so the cycle of violence stopped right there and then, with him, forever.

According to Khalid Muhammad Khalid, Jesus was the supreme example. He said Jesus “was his message. He was the supreme example he left. He was the love which knows no hatred, the peace which knows no restlessness, the salvation which knows no perishing.”[vi]

[i] It was never Jesus’ intention to start a religion — still less a monopolistic religion that saw itself in competition with other religions for people’s allegiance. Jesus said he simply came ‘to bring life and life in all its fullness’ (see John 10:10). Thus he would affirm all that is life-affirming and confront all that is life-negating in the world’s religions — especially in the religion that now bears his name.

Jesus criticised people of all religions — including his own — for promoting domineering leadership (Mark 10:42-43); acting as closed groups that are not open to others (Matt. 5:47); and practising empty rituals which embody no practical compassion. (Matt.6:7)

Jesus appreciated God was bigger than his religion, and worked in the lives of people of other religions — like Naaman the Syrian, who was healed of leprosy, when many Jews weren’t (Luke 4.16–30). Jesus appreciated that people of other religions could not only have great faith, but could also have greater faith than many people of his own religion — like the Syrophoenician Woman, whose feisty faith he was confronted with (Mark 7:24–30). And Jesus appreciated that people of other religions could be better examples of true religion than even the leaders of his own religion — like the ‘Good Samaritan’ (Luke 10.29–37).

The way Jesus related as a Jew to a Samaritan woman at the well (Jn. 4:4-42) is the way people of different religions, like Christians and Muslims, should relate to each other:

  1. Recognise how much we owe to Jews who came before us. (Jn. 4:22)
  2. Acknowledge particularities — distinct rituals of worship (Jn. 4;19–21)
  3. Affirm universalities — all true believers worship in truth (Jn. 4:23)
  4. Never denigrate others — ‘don’t call down fire’ on them (Lk. 9:54–5)
  5. Take a conciliatory approach — ‘if not against you, for you’ (Lk. 9:50)
  6. Always accept hospitality — share food and drink together (Jn. 4:7)
  7. Practice respectful dialogue — explore the significance of Isa/Jesus as the Masih/Messiah — but not necessarily expect others to change religion (Jn. 4)

Jesus didn’t call his followers to convert others, but to witness to others. Jesus said ‘you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.’ (Acts 1:8) And he suggested that the best way for anyone to witness was by working whole-heartedly for the common good. Jesus said: ‘let your light shine before others, that they may see your good works and praise your Father in heaven.’ (Matt. 5:16)

[ii] Ahmad Shawqi, Al Shawqiyyat (vol. 2; Cairo: Matba'ah Misr / Matba'ah Lajnah Al Ta'lif Wal Tarjamah, 1939), 12.

[iii] Matt 20:17–19

[iv] G. Webbe, The Night and Nothing (New York: Seabury Press, 1964), 109.

[v] M. Scott Peck, The People Of The Lie (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1983), 269.

[vi] Khalid Muhammad Khalid, Ma’an ‘ala-l-Tariq: Muhammad wa-i-Masih (Cairo: Dar al-Kutub al-Haditha, 1958), 188–9.

Dave Andrews and his wife Ange have lived and worked in intentional communities with marginalised groups of people in Australia, Afghanistan and India for forty years.  Dave is a founder of the Waiters Union; an educator for TEAR Australia; a teacher at Christian Heritage College; an elder emeritus for Servants To Asia’s Urban Poor; and a member of AMARAH (Australian Muslim Advocates for the Rights of All Humanity).

The Jihad of Jesus (Part 2): Jihad as Nonviolent Struggle

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Dave Andrews | Monday, 4 May 2015

This series of articles is based on Dave's upcoming book release, The Jihad of Jesus, which is being published by Wipf & Stock. Read Part 1 of this series.

Maulana Wahiduddin Khan says, “God is Peace”. He says “the very word Islam (from the Arabic silm) means peace.” So, “according to the Prophet, peace is a prerequisite of Islam”. He says “a Muslim is one from whose hands people are safe”.[i] And this could be true, for all Muslims and Christians and Jews, if all Muslims and Christians and Jews would only allow ourselves to be born again in the spirit of the Bismillah.

The Bismillah stands for the Arabic phrase Bismillah ir-Rahman ir-Rahim, commonly translated, "In the name of God, most Gracious, most Compassionate". According to Ibn Qayyum, rahman describes the quality of limitless grace with which God embraces the whole of the world and all of those who dwell in it, while rahim describes the general embracing grace of God as it interacts with us in the particular circumstances of our lives, always proactive, always prevenient, always responsive.[ii]

In the light of the Bismillah, Abdul Ghaffar Khan says, we need to remember that if we do have conflict with one another, the ‘weapon of the Prophet’ we should use is sabr or ‘patience’. “If you exercise patience, victory will be yours. No power on earth can stand against it.” He says we need to be mindful that the Qur’an says, “there is no compulsion in religion”; “forgive and be indulgent”; “render not vain your almsgiving by injury;” “whoso-ever kills one — for other than manslaughter — it shall be as if he had killed all mankind, and whoso saves the life of one, it shall be as if he had saved the life of all mankind.”[iii]

This is completely contrary to the extremist’s idea that for Muslims to be ‘true’ Muslims they need to conduct a jihad, characterised as a ‘resolute, offensive, violent struggle’[iv] by ‘suicide bombing’[v] to eliminate everything non-Muslim from society.[vi]

In his classic book Reconstructing Jihad Amid Competing International Norms, Halim Rane argues we need to wrest the concept of jihad from the control of the extremists and deconstruct and reconstruct our interpretation of jihad in the light of the Qur’an. Rane says if we are to interpret the Qur’an correctly, each verse needs to be interpreted in terms of the text, the language, the meaning it had for the people at the time it was written, and the meaning it has for people reading it in today’s world, in the light of the Bismillah, in the context of the maqasid or ‘overall general objective’ of Islam.[vii]

Quoting Kamali, Rane says the ‘overall general objective’ of Islam is based “in textual injunctions of the Qur’an and the Sunnah” which, he says, are focused on “wisdom, mercy, justice and equity” and directed to “the benefit of mankind”, which, he says, includes “welfare, freedom, dignity and fraternity”.[viii]

One verse which needs to be carefully (re)interpreted in terms of the text, the language, the meaning it had for the people at the time it was written, and the meaning it has for people reading it in today’s world, in the light of the Bismillah, in the context of the ‘general objective’ of ‘wisdom, mercy, justice and equity’ of Islam, is the (in)famous ‘sword verse’ which instructs Muslims to ‘slay’ Christians: ordering them “to slay those who ascribe divinity to aught but God, wherever you may come upon them”, (9:5).[ix]

Rane says “this verse along with Quran 9:29 (which says ‘fight those from among the People of the Book who believe neither in God, nor in the Last Day, nor hold as unlawful what God and his Messenger have declared to be unlawful, nor follow the true religion, until they… agree to submit’) has been quoted throughout Muslim history to justify aggression and aggressive wars against non-Muslims because of their ‘unbelief’’.” Rane says “these verses are among those most commonly quoted by al Qaeda leaders and published on the Internet for recruitment.”[x]

Asad … explains that this verse should be read in conjunction with those that precede it. [In 9:5 it says “As for those who have honoured the treaty you made with them, and have not supported anyone against you: fulfill your agreement with them to the end of their term. God loves those who are righteous.”] Of central importance is that these verses were revealed in the context of ‘warfare already in progress with people who (had) become guilty of a breach of treaty obligation and of aggression.’ … That non-Muslims are to be fought because of their unbelief rather than their act of aggression is doubtful given that [verse 9:5 continues, ‘if they repent, and take to prayer regularly and pay alms, then let them go their way. God is forgiving and merciful,’ and] verse 9:6 commands the Muslims to give protection and security to those among the enemy who seek it. If their unbelief was the basis of fighting against them, this provision would be nonsensical.[xi]

Rane says, “In the context of conflict, the pursuit of peace is paramount to the extent that the Qur’an instructs Muslims; ‘Do not allow your oaths in the name of God to become an obstacle to virtue and God-consciousness and the promotion of peace between people’ (2: 224) … peace should not be rejected, even from a non-Muslim encountered in war (4:94).”[xii]

Rane insists peace not war is the purpose of Islam, and jihad is the path to peace. Rane asserts that in the Qur’an the word for ‘war’ is not jihad but qital, and that the word jihad means ‘struggle’ not ‘war’. He says that there 6,000 verses in the Qur’an, and out of those 6,000 verses, only 35 verses refer to jihad; and out of those 35 verses, 20 times jihad is used ambiguously, 11 times jihad is used unambiguously in terms of peace, and 4 times jihad is used unambiguously in terms of war.[xiii]

Where the word jihad is used ambiguously or unambiguously in the context of war, Rane says, the Qur’an imposes strict ‘rules of engagement’ to temper the use of violence with “wisdom, mercy, justice and equity” in the hope of minimizing “force, suffering, ignominy and enmity” and maximizing “welfare, freedom, dignity and fraternity”. Rane says that according to the Qur’an, the conduct of jihad in war would need to take eight ‘rules for engagement’ into account.

  1. Killing — except in self-defense — is considered a grievous sin.[xiv]
  2. War is only permitted for self-defense and self-determination.[xv]
  3. All wars of aggression are forbidden.[xvi]
  4. If you are not specifically attacked by enemies you should not to attack them, even if they are your enemies.[xvii]
  5. Muslims should never, ever use difference of religion with non-Muslims as an excuse for a war of aggression.[xviii]
  6. In war, Muslims should protect all places of worship, not only mosques, but also churches and synagogues.[xix]
  7. In war, Muslims should protect “helpless men, women and children”,[xx] “even the accidental harm of the innocent is a ‘grievous wrong’ for which those responsible are ‘guilty’.”[xxi]
  8. If peace is offered by your attacker, it should not be rejected, even if the sincerity of the offer is dubious, as God always wants his people to ‘give peace a chance’.[xxii]

Similarly, in Christianity, Ambrose and Augustine developed a set of criteria to call those in power — who make war — to temper the use of violence with ‘wisdom, mercy, justice and equity’. They argued that in order for a war to be conducted according to the principles of justice it would need to meet eight specific conditions.

  1. It would need to be motivated by a ‘just’ cause — and the only cause considered to be ‘just’ was to stop the killing of large numbers of people.
  2. It would need to be administered by a ‘just’ authority — duly constituted authorities had to proceed carefully according to due process before taking action.
  3. It would always need to be a last resort — after all means of negotiation, mediation, arbitration and nonviolent sanctions had been exhausted.
  4. It would need to be for a ‘just’ purpose — to secure the welfare, safety and security of all parties in the dispute, including the enemy.
  5. It would need to be a reasonable risk — not a futile gesture, but a realistic venture, with a reasonable hope of success.
  6. It would need to be cost effective — the outcomes of victory would outweigh the human costs of battle.
  7. That any government intending to go to war should announce their intentions, articulating the conditions that would need to be met to avert it, in order to avoid going to war if at all possible.
  8. That, if the war were to go ahead, that not only the ends, but also the means would need to be ‘just’ — noncombatants must be protected; once combatants surrender, they too must be protected from slaughter; and all prisoners must be protected from torture.

According to these criteria, none of our current wars are ‘just wars’, they are just ‘wars’.

If we are to struggle for justice with integrity, dignity and grace we need to reject all the calls to a violent jihad of Not-So-Holy so-called ‘Holy Wars’ and embrace the nonviolent jihad of the whole-hearted strong-but-gentle struggle for justice against injustice.

Qader Muheideen says “the purpose of jihad ultimately is to put an end to ‘structural violence’,”[xxiii] and we must choose means consistent with that end. Muheideen says for jihadists to end violence we have to choose nonviolent means.[xxiv] He says there are eight cogent Islamic reasons to reframe jihad as a nonviolent struggle:

  1. For Islam, the problem of violence is an integral part of the Islamic moral sphere.
  2. Any violence used must be governed by the ‘rules of engagement’ in the Qur’an.
  3. If any violence used in modern warfare and/or terror campaigns cannot discriminate between combatants and noncombatants, it is quite unacceptable to Islam.
  4. Modern technologies of destruction used in modern warfare and/or terror campaigns, like drones and bombs, render discrimination virtually impossible.
  5. So in the modern world, fighting today’s battles, Muslims cannot use violence.
  6. Islam teaches Muslims to fight for justice against injustice in the light of the truth that human lives are genuinely sacred and taking human lives is a grievous sin.
  7. In order to be true to Islam, Muslims must use nonviolent strategies and tactics in the struggle, such as submission to the will of Allah and civil disobedience.
  8. Islam is a strong resource for a nonviolent struggle because of its tradition of personal discipline, social responsibility, robust perseverance and self-sacrifice.[xxv]

Added to these philosophical/theological reasons are two practical/historical reasons:

  1. The use of nonviolent means is more likely to bring about nonviolent ends, like a democratic society with accountable administration and unarmed opposition.[xxvi]
  2. And the use of nonviolent means and ends are more likely to get the support and approval of the international community ‘amid competing international norms’.[xxvii]

[i] Maulana Wahiduddin Khan, The Prophet of Peace (New Delhi: Penguin, 2009), xi.

[ii] Bismillah al rahman al Rahim, http://wahiduddin.net/words/bismillah.htm.

[iii] Eknath Easwaren, A Man To Match His Mountains (Petuluma: Nilgiri Press, 1984), 117, 209.

[iv] Sayyid Qutb, Milestones (Chicago: Kazi Publications, 2003), 63–9.

[v] http://www.rrg.sg/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=15%3Aour-message&catid=2%3Aour-message&Itemid=6&limitstart=2

[vi] Qutb, Milestones, 130, 134.

[vii] Halim Rane, Reconstructing Jihad Amid Competing International Norms (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009), 165.

[viii] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 168–170.

[ix] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 186.

[x] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 186.

[xi] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 186–7.

[xii] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 193.

[xiii] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 141–2.

[xiv] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 178.

[xv] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 178.

[xvi] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 181.

[xvii] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 190.

[xviii] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 184.

[xix] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 179.

[xx] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 183.

[xxi] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 189.

[xxii] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 193.

[xxiii] Chaiwat Satha-Anand (Qader Muheideen), “The Nonviolent Crescent” in Islam And Nonviolence (ed. Glenn Paige, Chaiwat Satha-Anand and Sarah Gilliatt; Honolulu: Center For Global Nonviolence Planning Project, 1993), 10.

[xxiv] Satha-Anand (Muheideen) “The Nonviolent Crescent,” 11.

[xxv] Satha-Anand (Muheideen) “The Nonviolent Crescent,” 23.

[xxvi] Erica Chenoweth and Maria J. Stephan, Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict (Columbia Studies in Terrorism and Irregular Warfare; New York: Columbia University Press, 2011).

[xxvii] Rane, Reconstructing Jihad, 114–126.

Dave Andrews and his wife Ange have lived and worked in intentional communities with marginalised groups of people in Australia, Afghanistan and India for forty years.  Dave is a founder of the Waiters Union; an educator for TEAR Australia; a teacher at Christian Heritage College; an elder emeritus for Servants To Asia’s Urban Poor; and a member of AMARAH (Australian Muslim Advocates for the Rights of All Humanity).

The Jihad of Jesus (Part 1): A Reflection for Christians and Muslims to Consider

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Dave Andrews | Monday, 4 May 2015

This series of articles is based on Dave's upcoming book release, The Jihad of Jesus, which is being published by Wipf & Stock.

Over the last few years I've been involved in some really meaningful Christian-Muslim dialogue. We have talked about there being one God, not many; that God being the God of Abraham; the God of Abraham being a God of compassion; and Jesus — or Isa — as Muslims call him — being the one who embodies that Spirit of compassion best.

My approach to talking with my friends about Jesus has been based on Jesus’ own approach to talking with his friends, whom he called to be with him, without imposing any theological prerequisites, creating a safe space for dialogue and debate about his identity as a prophet, trusting that the ‘Spirit’ could and would lead them into all truth.

Many conversations between Christians and Muslims about Jesus deteriorate from dialogue into debate and from debate into dispute, generating more heat than light on the subject. Often this occurs because both sides want to impose their own particular view of Jesus on the other and are unable and/or unwilling to respect the other person’s particular point of view.

In order to avoid such unproductive disputations, I have conducted my conversations with Muslims and written the following reflections based on those views of Jesus that both the Qur’an and the Injil or the Gospel, as recorded in the Gospels in the New Testament, according to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, have in common.

While I acknowledge the significant differences Christians and Muslims have about Jesus, I have intentionally tried to focus on those beliefs about Jesus that Christians and Muslims have in common as the place for us to start our conversations, treating ‘common ground’ — not as suspect compromise — but as ‘sacred ground’ — on which we can stand and speak to one another.

Given the significance of jihad as a focus of conflict between Christians and Muslims, my Muslim friends suggested I write a book about Jesus and jihad and what Jesus’ approach to jihad might be. It was suggested I call the book The Jihad of Jesus. It was hoped the provocative title would get a lot of attention, and we could introduce Christians and Muslims to a deconstruction of the extremist’s concept of jihad as a holy war and a reconstruction of the Qur’anic concept of jihad as a sacred nonviolent struggle for justice — in the light of the radical practical peaceful example of Jesus.

In The Jihad Of Jesus I argue that we are caught up in a cycle of so-called ‘holy wars’, but though this inter-communal conflict is endemic, it is not inevitable. Depending on our understanding, our religions can be either a source of escalating conflict, or a resource for overcoming inter-communal conflict; and for our religions to be a resource for overcoming conflict, we need to understand the heart of all true religion as open-hearted compassionate spirituality. In the light of an open-hearted compassionate spirituality, we can reclaim ‘jihad’ from extremists who have (mis)appropriated it as call to ‘holy war’, and reframe it, in truly Qur’anic terms, as a ‘sacred nonviolent struggle for justice’; and we can reconsider Jesus, as he is in the Gospels, not as a poster boy for Christians fighting crusades against Muslims, but as ‘a strong-but-gentle Messianic figure’ who can bring Christians and Muslims together. And, as the book shows, many Christians and Muslims have found Isa (Jesus) and the Bismillah (celebrating the mercy, and grace of God) as common ground on which to base their work for the common good.

The choice Christians and Muslims need to make is: will we continue to commit to a ‘clash of civilizations’ — or join ‘Jesus And The Nonviolent Jihad For Love And Justice'?

Dave Andrews and his wife Ange have lived and worked in intentional communities with marginalised groups of people in Australia, Afghanistan and India for forty years.  Dave is a founder of the Waiters Union; an educator for TEAR Australia; a teacher at Christian Heritage College; an elder emeritus for Servants To Asia’s Urban Poor; and a member of AMARAH (Australian Muslim Advocates for the Rights of All Humanity).

Anabaptist Ethics and Same-Sex Marriage (Part 2)

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Bruce Hamill | Monday, 13th July 2015

Read Part 1 of this series

In the first half of this article, Bruce discussed that New Testament ethics is apocalyptic in nature, characterised by the newness of creation established by the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Here he moves to apply this approach to ethics to the topic of marriage.

MARRIAGE IN AN APOCALYPTIC PERSPECTIVE
How then might an apocalyptic and Anabaptist Christian ethic affect our thinking about marriage?

My case for a rethinking of the definition of marriage to permit same-sex marriage comes under four headings: (1) institutional reform, (2) the normativity of eschatology for Christian ethics, (3) embodied salvation: the relevance of biology and psychology, and (4) the role of marriage in sanctification.

The "good newness" of the apocalypse that is the Messiah Jesus had a significant destabilising impact on the social world of Jesus own time. It is a theme of the gospels that Jesus is constantly in conflict with the moral authorities of his Jewish world and ultimately with the Roman world as well. At the heart of this moral revolution lie two ethical moves embedded in both his practice and his teaching: i) his extension of neighbour-love to include enemy-love, epitomised in the parable of the Good Samaritan, and ii) his ethic of non-violent resistance — “You have heard it said 'an eye for an eye…' but I say to you do not (violently) resist the evil doer”. In both cases Jesus is confronting ethical and religious orthodoxy head on. The long-term impact of this moral revolution is difficult to overstate.

For the purpose of this argument, what is important to notice, is that this new 'way' leads and cannot help but lead to serious institutional reform for those apocalyptic Jews for whom Jesus was Messiah.

1. Institutional Reform
We have noted Jesus’ critical engagement with that most sacred of institutions — Torah. The creative use of Torah in service of the gospel became a feature of New Testament writings. Similarly other institutions did not come off unscathed in their encounters with Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus’ willingness to run-roughshod over purity codes is well known. This in turn was taken up in Peter's vision in Acts leading to a radical revision of the way ethnic identity was related to the institution of the 'people of God'. In forming his small community of disciples, Jesus’ approach to the institution of the family could be regarded as subversive. Perhaps most obviously Jesus was an intrepid reformer of the Sabbath and its associated practices.

The question thus arises whether Jesus’ motto ‘the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath’ (Mk 2:27) might well apply to marriage.

It is consistent with all of this that the protest wing of the Catholic Church, which calls itself the Reformed tradition, understands itself to be committed to the constant reform of the institutions within which disciples of Jesus seek to live their lives — ecclesia reformata semper reformanda [“the reformed church (is) always to be reformed”]. For them it is first of all a refusal to make idols of our institutions. This is certainly not a license for arbitrary social novelty. But the institutions within which the people of God live their lives are not platonic forms; they are not eternal and immutable simply by virtue of an idea or definition. There is constant pressure from the Triune God for their reform. The working out of the gospel means that the church is always learning how to be the church in ordered and structured ways.

Should we exempt marriage from such reforming processes? It seems to me that the onus is clearly on the traditionalists to come up with a reason.

However before moving too quickly we need to note that the rejection of a platonic view of the institution of marriage is not the same as the abandonment of all definition. We still need to address the question of when a marriage is not a marriage. To put it another way: we need to distinguish between reform and merely changing the subject. To reform an institution is not to reject it but to affirm some purpose for which that institution exists, even if that purpose is itself being rethought in the light of something new.

If, for example, the primary purpose of marriage were procreation there would hardly be a case for reforming marriage to allow same-sex marriage. However as many have observed,[1] in the second creation narrative in Genesis 2 procreation is secondary to a more primary purpose, namely companionship (Gen 2:18–25) and indeed the latter is the explicit reason given for the creation of a complementary partner for 'adam'. It is this purpose which is developed and redefined in the New Testament in terms of communion, especially the eschatological communion of which the ecclesia, the community of the Messiah, is a foretaste.[2]

2. The Priority of Eschatology
If the institutional reform which so characterised the advent of the new aeon is the outer frame and mandate for an ongoing process of organising all of life under Christ, then the inner frame which guides the logic of Christian ethics is Jesus Christ and his mission.

Here we return to the methodological implications of apocalyptic theology for ethics. Since the 'good newness' of this apocalypse is not an evolution of something already immanent within the old aeon, or a logical progression from its premises, it follows that life in Christ, in the 'time between the times' cannot be defined by anything other than Christ. The old aeon is the context to which Christ comes but it cannot provide the norm for life in the new aeon. Ethically speaking, this is indeed 'the year of our Lord', a time in which eschatology (apocalypsed in Jesus Christ) has a certain logical priority for Christian ethics. The defining moment for history becomes also the defining moment for Christian ethics (its norm).

Thus in Christian ethics, nature and the structures of creation play a subordinate role to the ‘new creation’ in Christ. This is a complex claim, and though it seems a clear outcome of Paul's gospel it is expressed in mixed and ambiguous ways in his ethics.[3] Eugene Rogers argues that that at least two things are clear for Paul: God can and does, on occasions, work counter to 'nature',[4] and, secondly, since grace transforms nature, nature is not normative.

Jeffrey Stout summarises Rogers’ argument well:

Natural Law is an important Christian idea... but an ethic of natural law always runs the risk of treating untransformed nature as normative for Christians whereas the whole point of the body of Christ is to transform the natural. The Christian norm for sexuality is not natural law, it is rather human nature transformed, eros swept up into agape.[5]

This latter point finds its clearest expression in Galatians 3:28 when Paul claims not only that oppositional pairs Jew/Gentile and slave/free (with their correlative institutions, nationhood and slavery) are not determinative of life 'in Christ', but also that the complementarity of male/female is similarly subordinated to life ‘in Christ’. His switch of conjunctions from 'or' (Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free) to 'and' (male and female) is a clear reference to the Genesis narrative (‘male and female created he them’ Gen 1:27). This is worth pausing with. Paul is not merely claiming that, for the purposes of Christianity, it doesn’t matter whether you are male or female. His claim is much broader. The ‘male and female’ structure of creation no longer matters. Clearly Paul is not claiming that either slavery, ethnicity or marriage no longer exist for the people of God, but rather that they are all relativised in the light of their ‘end’ (eschatologically). The great complementarity of 'male and female' may still exist, but it does not normatively define life in Christ. Jesus Christ, the one 'in whom and for whom' (Col 1:16) we are created provides not merely momentum for change, but a new norm towards which all our practices and institutions ought to be redirected. His form of life defines the forms of life in which we live. The good life is an embodiment of his future made possible now.

Paul understands marriage in precisely this context when, in Eph 5:31–32, he sees the marriage relationship as a sign referring to Christ's relationship to the church — “’and the two will become one flesh’. This is a profound mystery — but I am talking about Christ and the church.” It is the way in which Paul, on the one hand, talks about marriage in male/female terms (Eph 5:32) as a sign, or perhaps icon, of the mystery of the love of Christ, and on the other hand declares those same male/female terms to be non-determinative of our life in Christ (Gal 3:28) that leads Rogers to argue that other terms and relationships could bear witness to the same reality (Christ's relation to the church).

What Rogers and Rowan Williams[6] before him are arguing is that the point of marriage, as the church is learning to practice it in the light of the eschaton, lies in our human expression of the divine love, the love of Christ for the church. In becoming 'one flesh' we learn in the most bodily way possible what it means to share the love of Christ and thus be his body as we give our bodies to one another, imaging the one who gave his body for us. I will say more on this in a moment.

3. Embodied Salvation: The Relevance of Biology and Psychology
The apocalyptic context and eschatological norm in no way suggests that the Christian life is somehow divorced from the 'old creation' or from biology and history after the manner of gnostic ontology. It is for the reorientation and reconstruction of this creation that Christ comes. In seeking to take seriously the biological and psychological context in which marriage is practised, we will rely on relevant scientific disciplines. In the ancient world of the biblical writers there was little understanding that the dynamic processes of human desire might be constrained and structured according to a same-sex orientation as well as a heterosexual one. Inasmuch as science has deepened our understanding of these matters it provides a significant mandate for reconsidering the modes of marital expression that the kingdom of God might take among the people of God.

When Paul in Romans 1 (assuming it is Paul and not the words of a protagonist as Douglas Campbell argues[7]) considers same-sex desire and practices as impure he does not consider them in the context of a Christian couple seeking to discipline their sexual orientation in practices of love. In stark contrast he is thinking about same-sex desire and practice in the context of idolatry and the pagan temple. However, what is most difficult about Romans 1 is that rather than appeal to the gospel of the new creation he reverts to the language of nature and purity in his comments regarding same-sex relations. This and his judgements about men with long hair stand out as exceptions to his normal approach to Christian life and ethics (1 Cor 11:14-15).

In the final section we will do what Paul does not do in Romans 1, namely consider the possibility of same-sex marriage as a practice within the context of the Christian life.

4. Marriage as Sanctification
According to Rogers the biological and psychological context of the Christian life is such that, for some of us, there are some partners who are "apposite without being opposite". Assuming then that this kind of institutional extension for the sake of such biologically apposite partnerships were possible, does it matter whether the church marries them or not? What matters here, says Rogers, is sanctification (rather than say mere satisfaction). Indeed, what matters are communities of sanctification which are structured as institutions of discipleship. Rogers talks of marriage as a sacrament, rather than an institution of discipleship, as I do, though I think the differences fade provided one's account of discipleship is communal and participatory. For Rogers the sacramental marriage is a community within the community of the body of Christ, which in turn exists within the communal Trinitarian life of God[8].

Indeed the same passage in Ephesians where Paul talks of the one-fleshness of marriage as a kind of icon of the love of Christ — a living symbol of God's salvation — he also talks of it in terms of neighbour-love intrinsic to the body of Christ. “He who loves his wife loves himself, for no man ever hates his own flesh…” (Eph 5:28–29). This two-fold aspect of marriage — both as symbolic witness and as formative discipleship — is expressed the 2010 report of the bishops of the Episcopal Church:

Marriage bears witness to both of the great commandments: it signifies the love of God and it teaches the love of neighbour.[9]

This latter aspect treats marriage as the ascetic discipline of learning to love our nearest neighbour as our self. This point is important because, as Rogers stresses,[10] bodies matter in salvation. Because we are being saved as embodied creatures in all the particularity of our limitation, then we should seriously consider revising the limits of our doctrine of marriage.

Rogers describes same-sex marriage as a species of complementarity — not the 'rigid complementarity'[11] defined by procreative biological pragmatism alone — but ‘Christologically disciplined complementarity’ defined by the process of learning in all the particularity of one's bodiliness both 'the love of God and God's people'.[12]

CONCLUSION
Let me summarise the argument as a whole. Marriage — that ancient institution serving the nurture of companionship and human flourishing in love — has for most of Christian history been assumed to be defined by the biological complementarity of 'male and female', although not necessarily by procreation. In Jesus and the apocalyptic Christian writers not only does the coming kingdom relativise the institution of marriage to this 'time between the times', it sets it, and all the other institutions within which we live, under the authority and judgement of Christ. In doing this it re-establishes marriage in terms of a new purpose for disciples of Christ — indeed a two-fold purpose — to bear witness to the new creation seen in the love of Christ for the church and to practise the life of that new creation in intimate acts of mutual and bodily self-donation. This ethical revolution reaches its clearest expression when Paul concludes that even creational structures like 'male and female' do not define life in Christ. It is thus a small step with the benefit of biological and psychological science to conclude that other creational structures such as same-sex orientation might, for some, provide a more appropriate vehicle for the discipline of marriage.

God, grant us the serenity
To accept the things we cannot change
The courage to change the things we can
and the wisdom to know that we probably don't know the difference
And that you, our God, are, nevertheless, not limited by our incapacity.
— Modified ‘Serenity Prayer’

[1] Christian Perspectives on Marriage: A Discussion Document (PCANZ: May 2014), edited by the Doctrine Core Group of the Presbyterian Church of Aotearoa New Zealand. In this document two of the anonymous contributors make this point. c.f. contribution 2, especially p. 11, and contribution 7.

[2] Procreation certainly features in the first creation narrative in association with the creation of male and female, however as the scriptural narrative progresses it plays a minor role, especially in the New Testament. Arguably the task of 'filling the earth' as a species’ responsibility is a completed one.

[3] In this respect I am thinking particularly of the role of nature in Romans 1:26-7 on ‘unnatural’ intercourse and 1 Corinthians 11:14-15 on ‘unnatural’ hairstyles for men.

[4] Later in Romans Paul characteris

es the process of grafting Gentiles into Israel as an ‘unnatural’ act of God (Romans 11:21–24).

[5] Jeffrey Stout, “How Christianity Transcends the Culture Wars: Eugene Rogers and Others on Same-Sex Marriage,” Journal of Religious Ethics 31/2 (2003): 175.

[6] Rowan Williams, “The Body’s Grace”, in Theology and Sexuality (ed. Eugene Rogers; Malden: Blackwell: 2002), pp. 309–321.

[7] Douglas A. Campbell, The Deliverance of God: An Apocalyptic Rereading of Justification in Paul (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 313–593.

[8] Stout, “How Christianity transcends the culture wars” p. 175

[9] I refer to the 95 page ‘Theology of Same-Sex Relationship’ published in the Anglican Theological Review (Winter, 2011) and cited by Eugene F. Rogers Jr in “Same-Sex Complementarity: A Theology of Marriage” in The Christian Century (May, 2011).

[10] Rogers, “Same-Sex Complimentarity.”

[11] Rogers, “Same-Sex Complimentarity.”

[12] Rogers, “Same-Sex Complimentarity,” writes, “Christ trains — or orients — all desire to God. Saying there is ‘no “male and female”’ denies, therefore, strong forms of the complementarity theory, according to which a woman remains incomplete without a man or a man incomplete without a woman. Taking that theory to its logical conclusion, effectively denies the Christ in whom all things are “summed up” (Eph 1:10)”

Rev Dr Bruce Hamill is the Minister at Coastal Unity Parish, a Presbyterian Church in Dunedin, New Zealand. He has a PhD in Systematic Theology from the University of Otago.