Violence

Throughout the centuries Christians experiencing suffering and oppression have instinctively viewed their own pain as in some way fused with the passion of Jesus. This view of the passion has a firm biblical foundation. The passion of Jesus narrated in the four Gospels is not presented simply as a unique and powerful event of the past. In the very manner of their narration, the evangelists make it clear that the passion of Jesus is also the passion of the community.

I would like to illustrate the "contemporary" dimension present in the passion narratives by a closer look at the arrest of Jesus. It is significant how much attention the arrest scene holds in the Gospels. Each evangelist uses this moment to draw a pointed contrast between the spirit of Jesus and that of his captors. The reason for this attention becomes clear when we reflect on modern experiences of brutal oppression. In many instances modern martyrdom accounts focus on the arrest, too. Often only the arrest has been publicly witnessed. The hammering on the door at night; the dragging away of the victim in a car or van. After this there is silence--no trace is ever found of the victim, or of the captors. Thousands of cases such as these have been documented in Argentina, El Salvador, Guatamala, Eastern Europe and in many other places around the globe.

Witnesses who escape the violence remember those final moments of terror when people committed to peace and justice are seemingly engulfed by the force of evil. Last words spoken to captors or companions, the comportment of the victims as they face the brutality and deceit of their enemies: these linger as the source for later story- telling. In a sense the moment of arrest is enough, for in that arena of terror the values of both martyr and oppressor are dramatically displayed.

Even though the passion of Jesus includes the events of interrogation, torture, trial and execution, the dramatic force of the arrest stands out. Here is the last moment of Jesus' freedom. Here the false values of his opponents and the weakness of his disciples will be revealed. Above all, here the integrity of Jesus will be confirmed.

Mark 14:43-52 Mark presents the arrest as a stark contrast between Judas and the armed mob, on the one hand, and Jesus on the other. The disciples serve as baffled witnesses--at first confused and then consumed by terror.

The arrest is clearly an act of treachery; Judas (whom Mark poignantly introduces as "one of the Twelve," 14:43) leads a "crowd with swords and clubs" mustered by the Jewish leaders. The reference to "swords and clubs" is important because this kind of oppressive power serves throughout the scene as the point of contrast with the power of Jesus. The air of tragedy is thick as Judas' friendship kiss becomes the ironic signal for the mob to seize Jesus.

It is at this point that Mark introduces a further note of mayhem in the scene. In the confusion "one of those who stood by" (14:47) draws a sword and slashes the ear of the High Priest's slave. Many commentators have assumed that the one who drew the sword was a disciple. But this is to read Mark in the light of other, later Gospels. As several recent interpreters have suggested there is no good reason for supposing that the "bystanders" were disciples. In fact Mark's scene is much more cogent and powerful when the swordbearer is seen as a member of the mob, not a friend of Jesus. His drawing of the sword is not in Jesus' defense but is an act of aggression. Note that Mark has Jesus address "them" (i.e., the crowd and the one inflicting violence) in verse 48: "Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs to capture me? Day after day I was with you in the temple teaching, and you did not seize me..."

This verse is the key to the arrest scene in Mark. The evangelist sees it as a dramatic confrontation between two types of power. On the one side are those with "swords and clubs." They are motivated by treachery. They work in the nighttime and their violence leads to wanton destruction, even to one of their own as in the confusion a sword is drawn and one of the mob is injured. On the other side is Jesus whose fearless public teaching in the Temple did not need weapons or the cover of darkness for its validation.

There a clear line is drawn between oppressive power and the power of Jesus. Earlier in the Gospel, the Sons of Zebedee had hungered for control, asking to be placed in positions of honor when Jesus came into his kingdom (10:37). In response Jesus sharply rebuked them. The leaders of the "Gentiles" (i.e., the non-believers) exhibited that kind of power towards their subjects. The words used here are very graphic in their description of oppressive power. These despots literally "lord it down upon" their people and exert power down upon them" (the literal meaning of the Greek verbs Mark uses).

That kind of power is diametrically opposed to the power of the Son of Man "who came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (10:45). Mark has no doubt that Jesus is endowed with genuine power but it is not the power of oppression or coercive violence. It is the power that comes from authentic love and self--transcendence, a brand of power symbolized by the cross.

The two exponents of these contrasting powers stand in dramatic confrontation in the Garden. The power of violence and oppression seems to be victorious; Jesus is seized and led away to his death. But the reader of the Gospel knows that this is not the last word; the power of the cross will ultimately triumph over the power of death. That seems to be the message of Jesus' final words: "Let the Scriptures be fulfilled!" (14:-49).

Mark's arrest scene ends on a poignant note. The disciples who had accompanied Jesus to the Garden demonstrate that they have not yet grasped the meaning of all this. As Jesus had predicted (14:27), their weakness and fear leads them to be overwhelmed by the threat of violence. They flee in terror, casting aside their discipleship. A curious incident found only in Mark punctuates the scene and adds a further note of confusion and defeat to Mark's portrayal of the disciples- a young man who had followed Jesus is so afraid that he runs naked from the clutches of the mob, leaving his cloak and his discipleship behind.

Matthew 26:47:56 Matthew incorporates all of Mark's account (with the exception of the naked disciple) but adds some important new features to the arrest scene.

As in Mark the entire arrest is a furtive, violent act against Jesus. The atmosphere of treachery is heightened by Matthew's attention to the figure of Judas. As he does on other occasions Matthew adds dialogue to the scenes in which Judas appears (cf. 26:15; 26:25) and this Gospel alone narrates Judas' tragic death (27:3-10). As Judas comes forward with the mob he kisses and greets his Master--"Hail, rabbi!"--but before the mob can seize Jesus, Matthew has Jesus himself show that he knows the heart of Judas: "Friend, for this (the kiss of treachery) you have come." (26:50).

Next comes the moment of violence. Matthew adds new drama to this scene by changing Mark's account: it is no longer simply a "bystander" who draws a sword but "one of those who were with Jesus. (26:51). A disciple has chosen to respond in kind to the mob's violence. This provokes a strong reaction from the Matthean Jesus:

"Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword. Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then should the scriptures be fulfilled, that it must be so?"(26--52--54).

Matthew has clearly used the dramatic moment of the arrest to reinforce Jesus' teaching on non-retaliation. The words in the garden echo those of the Sermon on the Mount:

"You have heard that it was said, 'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' but I say to you, do not resist one who is evil. But if any one strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also..." (5:38-39).

"You have heard that it was said, 'you shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' but I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you..." (5:43-44).

Throughout the Gospel Matthew emphasizes the "integrity" of Jesus. Unlike some of the Pharisees who "preach but do not practice" (23:3) Jesus teaches and does the will of God. One of the most profound expressions of God's will is, according to Matthew's Gospel, the refusal to meet violence with violence. We demonstrate that we are children of God when we overcome violence with active love (5:45-48). This is what "fulfills" the Scriptures. Jesus' reinforcement of his teaching at the very moment of his arrest is a powerful reminder to Matthew's church. Jesus could have summoned "twelve legions of angels" to wreak vengeance on that sword--bearing crowd, but he did not do so--in obedience to the Scriptures.

Luke 22:47:53 It is fascinating to see how Luke picks up the threads of Mark's arrest scene and works them carefully into his own portrayal of Jesus.

Once again the issue of violent retaliation becomes the center of focus. Luke uses his considerable narrative skills to present the issue in very vivid tones. Similar to Matthew, Luke changes the identity of the sword bearer from a member of the crowd to a follower of Jesus (Luke 22:49). But he also alters the sequence of events. After Judas' treacherous kiss and before the crowd can arrest Jesus, the disciple with the sword "saw what would follow" and decides to take action. Luke has the disciple ask Jesus the key question: "Lord, shall we strike with the sword?" (22:49). But without waiting for Jesus' answer he lashes out at the high priest's slave and severs his right ear (Luke adds this bit of precision about which ear!). The force of Luke's narrative is that the disciple asks a leading question about violent retaliation--the very question that may have been asked many times in Luke's community and one continually asked today. Should we strike with the sword (or the bomb or the uzi submachine gun or with the delta strike force)?

The question and the act of violence stand in glaring contrast with Jesus' response: "'No more of this!' And he touched his ear and healed him" (22:51). The healing touch and not an angry, destructive blade is the authentic expression of Christian power. Throughout his passion narrative Luke presents Jesus as the Spirit-filled martyr, who gives testimony to God's compassion: forgiving his executioners, consoling the women of Jerusalem, saving the Good thief. And here in the Garden, Jesus once again allows his actions to teach.

There is one final element of Luke's arrest scene to be noted. Luke adds these words to Jesus' address to the crowd: "This is your hour, and the power of darkness" (22:53). Behind this terrible moment when Jesus loses his freedom and is unjustly seized by violent captors stands the "power of darkness." More than the other evangelists, Luke points to the demonic element in the passion drama. When Jesus had been tempted in the desert, Satan had left him alone "until an opportune time" (4:13). Luke clearly indicates now--in the struggle of the passion--was that opportune time. As Judas puts into motion the plot against Jesus, Luke observes that the ultimate agent of death comes back into the gospel drama: "then Satan entered into Judas called Iscariot, who was of the number of the twelve..." (22:3).

There is a chilling sobriety in this motif of Luke. Evil and violence have Satan as their origin. The biblical assessment should be respected, even (or especially) in our modern empirically minded western world. The systemic patterns of violence that are so much a part of our modern world seem out of our control: the arms race, the weapons industry, the almost casual violence of our American cities, the bitter heritage of child abuse, the brutalities of national security states, the documented torture of so many dictatorships of right and left. Who is the parent of this evil in our world? For Luke's Gospel Jesus did not struggle merely with misguided religious leaders of a political system intent on subjection. Behind their violence and injustice stood the demonic power of death. And only the power of God coursing through Jesus could break evil's grip on humanity.

The varied and careful enhancements of the arrest scene in the three Gospels we have considered (the same could be illustrated in John's Gospel) show that the early church had reflected long and hard on this fateful moment. At his arrest Jesus acted with integrity, displaying the core values of his entire mission. At the arrest was revealed the ultimate nature of violence. And here, too, the weakness of the disciples had been poignantly exposed.

The Christians who remembered these stories knew that the passion was being lived out in their own time, as they faced harassment, persecution and even death in the cause of justice. They retold Jesus' story, too, because they knew that the violence inflicted on them was also a seduction to take up the same means in redressing their injuries. But they also remembered that death, however fearsome, ultimately could not control them. In John's Gospel Jesus had looked in the eye of death and declared: "No one takes my life from me, but I lay it down of my own accord..." (10:18). Such courage may seem unreal to many of us but it is echoed in the testimony of contemporary martyr churches. Those who work for justice freely choose to be where they are, in spite of the threats of violence. The recently published diaries and letters of Jean Donovan, the young American lay missionary and martyr (see Ann Carrigan, Salvador Witness, New York: Simon and Schuster, 1985), confirm that she was well aware of the possibility of death before her final return to El Salvador. But she went freely into that risk. No threat had power over her faith.

For her and thousands like her the memory of Jesus' response to violence was a constant sign that the power of the Gospel was different from the power of the world.