Making peace is what the Gospel is all about. But there are difficult sayings of Jesus that may, on the surface, make it appear otherwise. In this series, I attempt to wrestle a blessing from those sayings, and today, I’d like to focus on a couple that are especially problematic for peacemakers. I’m referring to the verses in which Jesus mentions “swords.”
Two verses in particular, Matthew 10:34 and Luke 22:36, might be used to justify violence. Though the sayings are very different, as the former refers to a metaphorical sword and the latter refers to a literal one, they have some contextual connections, and both statements have been used to refute pacifism. However, through the lens of mimetic theory, both statements can also be used to show how Jesus’ peace subverts the human understanding of peace founded on the corpses of victims. Jesus’ rejection of the language of peace is ultimately his rejection of the premise on which human cultures build their peace; likewise, his invocation of the “sword” subverts our understanding of and reliance on violence.
“Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn ‘a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law—one’s enemies will be the members of one’s own household.” (Matthew 10:34-36)
I have already written about a similar statement of Jesus (Luke 14:26) when it comes to the division his call to discipleship brings among families. Two more points must be made. First of all, it must be noted that the divisions Jesus says he will create lie along mimetic fault lines. Man against father, mother against daughter, daughter-in-law against mother-in-law; each of these relationships has the potential for rivalry that is likely to erupt when the scapegoat mechanism is taken away. The false unity built on the foundation of an innocent victim disappears when the victim’s innocence is exposed and faith in the scapegoat mechanism is lost. Therefore, father and son will compete for power, wealth and status; mother and daughter will compete for influence and attention, and bonds built on anything weaker than love will unravel at the seams. Jesus will not be the cause of this destruction; the sword of which he speaks is already built into our desires. Our desires are not our own but are always shared, a double-edged blade cutting both us and our rivals when we attempt to hoard or acquire at the other’s expense. Jesus simply unsheathes this sword by removing the victim who once cushioned us from its blow, or, rather, by becoming that victim.
Secondly, it should be noted that Jesus speaks these words about a sword in a larger context of discipleship. He gives this speech when he sends out his followers to heal the sick, raise the dead, and drive out demons, with nothing for protection “as sheep among wolves.” He forbids them to bring money or extra clothing for their journey, or to receive any compensation beyond welcome and lodging (“Freely you have received; freely give.”) He warns them of dangers they will encounter, yet leaves them defenseless except for their wits (“be as wise as serpents and as innocent as doves”) and their faith, and tells them not to be afraid. (“You will be hated by everyone because of me… When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another.”) Thus, as Jesus speaks of the “sword” that he brings, he sends his own disciples out into the midst of persecutions without any weapons at all and forbids retaliation! The healing work he commands his disciples to do will cause them to be hated, because they will re-socialize the scapegoats and victims of the community. Removing the enmity aimed at those scapegoats will redirect it back onto them. With no literal sword for protection, the metaphoric sword that Jesus brings — wrath and rivalry unsheathed from within human hearts – will fall on the disciples just as it will fall on Jesus himself at Calvary.
Therefore the “sword” of which Jesus speaks is not a threat to humanity but a warning to the disciples as followers of Jesus of the fate that will befall them because it will befall Jesus first. The sword of which Jesus speaks is judgment that will fall first against himself. And in sending the disciples out into the midst of persecutions with the words “I did not come to bring peace, but a sword,” Jesus is warning that the sword you unsheathe is the sword that falls against you.
Lest there be any confusion about this, Jesus makes it very clear on the night of his arrest. This is the context he recalls at the last supper when he asks his disciples, “When I sent you out without a purse, bag, or sandals, did you lack anything?” When his disciples answer that they lacked nothing, Jesus’ bizarre reply is
“But now, the one who has a purse must take it, and likewise a bag. And the one who has no sword must sell his cloak and buy one. For I tell you, this scripture must be fulfilled in me, ‘And he was counted among the lawless’; and indeed what is written about me is being fulfilled.” (Luke 22: 35; 36-37)
By itself, this command would seem to contradict all of the nonviolence that has been Jesus’ modus operandi from the beginning. Indeed, nonviolence has been not only Jesus’ tactic, but his very nature. Yet in the context of this verse and Jesus’ larger ministry and mission, it is profoundly fitting with the subversive nature of Jesus’ language and teaching methods.
First, the scripture to which Jesus is referring is Isaiah 53:12, found in the Hymn of the Suffering Servant (Is 52:13 – 53:12), the greatest testament to non-retaliation in the Hebrew Bible and the most thorough foreshadowing of the crucifixion found therein. This hymn is an indictment of human judgment and violence, specifically telling us that what we consider to be God’s will is actually a “perversion of justice.” Our justice is a perversion. On a surface level, when Jesus tells his disciples to buy swords, he will be counted among the transgressors by the priests who arrest him. They will see the small band of disciples armed with weapons and arrest Jesus among them as their leader. Thus the scriptures will be fulfilled; he’ll be counted as an insurrectionist. But there is so much more beneath the surface.
As I have expressed elsewhere (see my comment to then-future colleague Adam Ericksen’s review of Reza Aslan’s Zealot), the allusion to the Hymn of the Suffering Servant was never enough for me. One could easily argue that Jesus did not need to tell his disciples to buy swords in order to be counted among the transgressors, seeing as how the plans to arrest him were going into effect that very night. And for what it is worth, what does it matter if Jesus is considered lawless by those who use their own swords to arrest him? When Empire arrests a band of guerrilla warriors for being “lawless” does that vindicate the Empire’s own violence? In our world, we like to think that the moral law is on the side of those who wield violence for good, whether it be the Empire or the rebels. But Jesus is turning our world upside-down.
Jesus is instead showing, in a very concrete, physical way, that the swords we use will fall against us. He refers back to the time he sent his disciples out with nothing, relying on only their faith to carry them from through the towns and spread the ministry of healing. That was also the time that he said he came not to bring peace, but a sword. If he had given his disciples the impression then that they would one day wield actual swords, he is now turning that idea on its head with a real sword rendered completely useless as a prop in his subversive drama. If the hope in a day of real uprising and violence against Rome had sustained them then, they were in for a rude awakening.
Over-eager Peter betrays his trust in violence when he jumps at Jesus’ command. “See, Lord, here are two swords,” he says. In other words, “Way ahead of you, Lord! Let’s do this!” Jesus’ answer, “It is enough,” is not satisfaction that his disciples are sufficiently prepared for violence; it is a cut-off to the conversation because Peter just doesn’t get it. None of the disciples do. Their eagerness to use violence is an abandonment of Jesus in his time of crisis. Jesus knows this must happen, for to be a scapegoat is to be left utterly alone. For him to assume his role as the victim of our perversion of justice, Jesus must be rejected not only by those who arrest and crucify him but also by the disciples who flee his way of nonviolence and then flee him.
In Matthew 10, Jesus sends the disciples out with no physical swords, but declares that he himself has come to bring a sword to the world. Now in Luke 22, the disciples are armed with swords but Jesus renders them useless, even undoing the little violence that is done with them. Upon Jesus’ arrest, one of his disciples severs the ear of the slave of the high priest. Jesus heals the ear of the slave and, according to Matthew 26, utters the famous words, “Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.” But healing the ear of the slave does not save Jesus. Indeed, it was healing that brought Jesus to this hour of crisis — healing in violation of the law, healing in order to rob society of its outcasts by bringing them into the fold. Healing, casting out demons and raising the dead — this is all Jesus has ever done, and it unsheathes the sword of which he speaks in Matthew 10:34. Jesus is dying on his own “sword.” But the death that he risks and endures to point out the double-edged sword of our own desires, rivalries, and vengeance, the death that comes from exposing the truth and rendering our deceitful safety-nets false, cannot hold his Life.
The physical sword is a perversion of human justice. Those who wield it in the name of Jesus unknowingly wield it against him. Those who project their violence onto others in the name of “taking up the cross” actually turn the cross upside-down and render it a sword (as Emmanuel McCarthy of the Center for Christian Nonviolence would say). This is trying to make peace as the world makes peace, over the dead bodies of victims.
But thanks to Jesus, the victims of human violence can no longer create peace. Jesus has exposed that rotten foundation for what it is and used his “sword” to cut it out from under us. From the cross, Jesus destroyed our fragile “peace” and laid a new foundation — the foundation of forgiveness and love. Only this foundation is everlasting. Peace built upon the sword will perish, but peace built upon forgiveness cannot be conquered by death, as the resurrection has shown. We build upon this foundation whenever we recognize our violence for what it is and ask for forgiveness, and whenever we forgive others. As Jesus and his disciples following after him have shown, this peace isn’t “safe”; it is risky and at times costly. It calls upon us to forgive and perhaps absorb violence without violence of our own, though we must speak and act for peace, welcoming and healing as the Spirit gives us the power to do so. There is no guarantee that it won’t also cost us our lives. But in Jesus Christ we know that building upon this peace will reconcile us and the world to the God of Love in whom there is life everlasting.
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Lindsey Paris-Lopez is the Editor in Chief of the Raven Foundation, a nonprofit educational organization dedicated to making "religion reasonable, violence unthinkable, and peace a possibility” using Rene Girard’s mimetic theory. You can follow Lindsey and the Raven Foundation on Facebook and subscribe for free to the Raven Foundation for regular articles on religion, politics, relationships, and peace activism. This article has been modified from its original publication on the Raven Foundation website.