Admiration of Violence?

We can’t stop the trends of this world. But getting angry about our powerlessness leads to violent thoughts. We can do something to counter violence in our own little worlds, in our own spheres. An appeal and an encouragement.

Right now, I’m considering whether I should avoid talking about what’s going on in the world, and the things that sometimes worry me. We understand that some readers don’t want to have to deal with negative thoughts; I can relate.

It’s depressing to read about terrorism and war, attacks and injuries, kidnappings, exploitation, and abuse. Violence rears its ugly head through all these things, and it’s not getting any better. Oppressive conditions just won’t go away; they remain “sustainable.” Is there anyone who hasn’t yet been impacted by all these images? People around us are also suffering; at minimum, from being unable to process all these headlines. Just the same, I want to recognize the negative for what it is, rather than turning a blind eye.

When the Hamas attack became known last October, a good friend told me that he was wrestling with his own very aggressive thoughts. He felt an urge to react with violence against newscasters who reported on the event without the least bit of sympathy for Israel. Who wouldn’t feel unbearably powerless in the face of so much suffering around the world? People are having to endure it regardless of their nationality or region, be it the Russia-Ukraine war, oppression in Afghanistan, or suffering in Israel or the Gaza Strip.

Although we try to put ourselves in their shoes, we’re scarcely able to empathize from our position of safety. And yet, even here, we’re preoccupied by images of war all over the world. The same is true of the powerlessness we feel in the face of leaders who don’t value human life, and who seem accountable to no one ... not even God.

The televised violence I’ve seen in world news may have lowered my tolerance for it somewhat. Who wouldn’t want to intervene, to “drive a spoke into the wheel itself” (Bonhoeffer) and put a stop to the violence?

The oppressors and tormentors, the human traffickers and unscrupulous exploiters, deserve to feel what pain is really like! Someone ought to … I’m almost frightened by the aggressive fantasies that I’m imagining.

But, isn’t it also about feelings of vengeance? From a human perspective, we can completely understand and account for revenge fantasies. But from a Christian perspective, they’re simply unjustifiable. Taking revenge isn’t our role. Violence is contagious, and has a ripple effect. It’s been this way for as long as humans have existed.

We’re not living in an ideal world. In our sometimes hostile environment, people and nations have the right to protect and defend their own lives and the lives of others. In Scripture, the use of violence was justified in certain situations, to maintain order or establish a right to even exist. But the right to self-defense doesn’t absolve us of making an effort to uphold peace, to seek it or even strive for it. “Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord” (Heb 12:14).

“Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’ To the contrary, ‘if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.’ Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Rom 12:19-21).

Dietrich Bonhoeffer didn’t go easy on himself, when he considered whether there were circumstances under which it is permissible to kill a tyrant. He didn’t find any moral justification for doing so. And thus, he surrendered himself to God’s judgment alone. God’s final word is the justification of the sinner by grace. Bonhoeffer expounds upon this over many pages in his work Ethics. There’s such a distinction between his sensitive thoughts and questions in this book, and our current legalization of and desensitization to violence.

Becoming Accustomed to Violence
Our willingness to fight tooth and nail to assert our own opinion is growing.

We shouldn’t underestimate the verbal violence online. The first place violence is legalized is in our own minds. Hateful comments do away with our remaining inhibitions. And then, people feel progressively more compelled to move away from mere words toward stronger weapons. In the belief that they are waging a sort of holy war, their wrongdoings are gradually legitimized, either religiously or morally.

I wonder whether society isn’t gaining an appreciation for violence. Violent people are even secretly admired, because of their apparent success in life. Politicians are rewarded by voters for their brutal attacks on their opposition, and yet efforts to promote peace or prudence are ridiculed. Has violence become desirable?

It almost seems as if forces are at work to eliminate our sensitivity. We’re being led to tolerate violence more and more. But it hasn’t always been like this; isn’t it more of a recent development?

When I had to register for military service years ago (it’s mandatory in Switzerland), other Christians told me that some young men preferred to serve a prison sentence rather than serve in the armed forces. It was a topic of some debate among religious friends at the time. We wondered, what would Jesus do? It was a matter of conscience, and many people genuinely struggled to decide the right course of action. How much weight does conscientious objection carry today?

My father, Erich Dentler, was called up for military service in World War II, because the Führer needed soldiers on the Eastern Front. He was only 17. It was during the cold winter of 1941/42. My father had a Christian friend who abandoned his gun during an advance—refusing to attack the enemy because of his religious convictions. He was lined up against the wall for “cowardice in the face of the enemy.” Before being executed, he was asked for his last words. A few kilometers from Moscow, he called out into the bitter cold, “I know my Savior lives.” Then he was shot.

The way this comrade renounced violence from a deep conviction, while simultaneously testifying to his faith, deeply moved my father. It was one of the things that helped him find his own way to the Savior not long afterward. Isn’t it moving how a person will relinquish his own life for reasons of faith and conscience?

I wonder whether we’ve lost our sensitivity to killing today. It may be necessary to defend ourselves with violence under some circumstances, but how can we justify brutality?

A Completely Different Way
We certainly can’t stop the trends of this world. We’re usually powerless in the face of rulers and authorities. But getting angry about our powerlessness can lead us to violent thoughts. We can oppose violence in our own little worlds, in our own spheres. There is much good that we can do, and it may impact others and make a mark. Let’s remember the words of Scripture: “Let all that you do be done in love” (1 Cor 16:14).

Jesus doesn’t preach non-violence in a political sense. He was amazed at the faith of a Roman captain—even someone like that, a man of war, can have faith! 

But Jesus’ attitude isn’t based in power and violence. Christ teaches us that the path to the kingdom of God cannot be forced through human power, and definitely not at the expense of others. Jesus doesn’t call for violence, but allows Himself to be overpowered. He doesn’t call for others to sacrifice themselves so He can gain an advantage, but sacrifices Himself and gives His life for others. His path begins at the very bottom, because he’s not concerned with power but with love. “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). Jesus had enemies, yet He commanded us to love them. And He loved them as well. He pleaded for the forgiveness of His persecutors. When He was forced to suffer, He didn’t make threats. He was reviled, and yet He didn’t insult or curse anyone.

“When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly. He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed” (1 Pet 2:23-24).

Author Markus Baum wrote on the topic of non-violence: “[Jesus’] command to love our enemies could be read this way: Love your enemies. Be clear and implacable in the face of evil, injustice, half-truths, and falsehoods. Endure evil when it affects you alone. Prevent and combat evil when it threatens to affect others…” Do we sometimes become unsettled when we’re unable to assert ourselves, while others use any means necessary to achieve their goals? When we don’t have the luxury of taking things lightly, having to think deeply about our choices? When we shy away from using all our strength to gain an advantage, when it would come at the expense of others?

We sometimes think it’s a weakness to have a sensibility that causes us to shy away from coarseness. But that’s precisely where our difference in disposition should be visible. I have to admire people who don’t rely on power and violence, even if that means they’re at a disadvantage. I’d like to again encourage myself (and you as well) to not be frightened, or even captivated by the allure human violence holds for us. 

Instead, let’s remain true to our “weakness,” trusting not in human power but in God’s power and love.

There are still many ways to alleviate suffering—without violence. I believe that the path of the Good Samaritan leads us very close to Jesus.

(First published at dieboten.ch; translated and reprinted with kind permission.)

Midnight Call - 09/2024