The horror of terrorism reminds us anew of how impossible it feels to love our enemies.
Violence, we are told, followed so closely the origin of human evil as to be almost indistinguishable. For soon after Adam’s sin, violence appears—first in the skin taken from animals (Gen. 3:21), then in the murder of a brother (4:8), and finally over the whole of the earth (6:11). Violence follows humanity through the Flood and into the world beyond it, taking root in generational fights of the tribes of Isaac versus Ishmael and Jacob versus Esau. Nations that bear so much in common, divided by that very common history: This is the story of Scripture and of our own world.
It is into this violent world, not some easier one, that Christ gave his disciples the instruction to turn the other cheek, to pray for their persecutors, and to give to those that ask without expecting things to be returned (Matt. 5:38–48). These teachings have been contentious wisdom ever since, especially when we are confronted with horrors like the terrorist attacks by Hamas in Israel this month. Following Jesus here feels so impossible. Who could live that way in a world like this?
But that is what Jesus commanded, and it is this violent world for which he died and in which he was resurrected. It is into this violent world that the Holy Spirit was sent, and fruits of that Spirit are peace, humility, gentleness, and goodness (Gal. 5:22–23). Perhaps we think such gifts and teachings are unfit for a violent world, but Jesus thought otherwise.
Perhaps such an approach to great violence—to turn the other cheek and to seek the good of one’s enemy—seems nonsensical. And indeed, many in church history rendered exactly that verdict on Christian pacifism.
Perhaps, as one objection goes, these …