In all those movies and in all those games, there were a few life lessons scattered in there for anyone, whether destined for the military or not. Think twice about attacking if you are outnumbered. Always try to defend the high ground, not the low ground. An army travels on its stomach. Offense is more costly and risky than defense if you are defending your home turf. Even: Never get a tattoo while drunk.
And of course, I grew up in churches that used war metaphors in their hymns, hymns like “Onward Christian Soldiers,” and “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” (which, while it is a patriotic song written during the Civil War, was also in the hymnals of most churches we attended when I was little). Then there were other hymns that glorified the topic of blood: “Because He Lives,” “Are You Washed in the Blood?” “Nothing But the Blood” “What Can Wash Away My Sin?”-- all drawing on the image in the Book of Revelations about the faithful being washed in the blood of the Lamb of God, and made white as snow.
So many words in that image right there that can be deeply problematic if not handled carefully. When I was really little, and trying to understand that last song particularly, I also used to wonder how my friends who were people of color felt about being turned white by Jesus—until I was old enough to read the verse and see that it was talking about garments, not skin. But still, the privileging of the color “white” and its association with some people can be very much misused in prejudiced persons’ hands.
And so, the readings this week brought back some memories—memories of being taught a pugnacious faith, a faith in which Christians were deemed to be persecuted by society and under assault by Satan in a place where every business still was forced under law to be closed until noon on Sunday, the Christian day of worship, and in which my sixth grade homeroom teacher in a public school forced each one of us to take a turn leading the class in prayer every morning, and in which the study of the Old Testament was in the Tulsa Public Schools’ English curriculum not once but TWICE between grades 9-12. And the kids we had in school who were NOT Christian—in particular, the Jewish kids and the Buddhist kids who were refugees from Vietnam and Cambodia—were left to understand that America was a Christian nation, and if they wanted to fit in, they needed to get with the program. Which isn’t exactly how Jesus would have put it.
And these verses from Ephesians were often a chosen text in urging Christians to be ready to violently respond in defense of their faith in Jesus. This section is sometimes referred to as “The Armor of God.” The voice used her is a voice of command—the imperative. That is admirably suited for a passage so filled with martial language. Christians are ordered to take up our positions, to pray (repeated three times) and be alert.
Let’s catalogue the military terms that are scattered like buckshot through this brief passage: “armor” (twice), “belt,” “breastplate,” “shield,” “arrows,” “helmet,” “sword.” Then notice the verbs: “stand” (as in military formation) is used four times; “take” is used three times; “put on” is used three times. The New Interpreters’ Study Bible notes that the word translated as “take” in v. 13 is used in military context for preparations before battle. The order in which the Christian puts each item on is the order used when putting on actual armor and at the end one puts on one’s helmet and places his sword in the sheath.
But then let’s remember who the Christians at Ephesus were: a tiny minority group who chose to follow Jesus in a huge port city that made its living on trade and pagan worship, especially dominated by a Temple of the Goddess Artemis—that also served as one of the biggest banks in the Mediterranean-- that was so big it was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. That is a VERY different context from ours today, even with fewer people attending church. Even now, for some, claiming the title of Christian is a means to social acceptance and upward mobility, a path to belonging rather than to a life of faithful witness.
The pressure was on these early Christians known as the Ephesians from two directions. First, many of them had converted from Judaism, and Jesus was NOT considered to be the messiah by mainstream Judaism. Second, those who were Gentiles had converted from the civic pagan faith, and their abandonment was feared to possibly bring about the wrath of the gods. They were a tiny, ragtag group of people living in a culture that could turn hostile should some calamity descend and should their neighbors need a convenient scapegoat. They were vulnerable in the worst meaning of that word.
Thus, St. Paul has to urge them to keep the faith. But he does NOT do it by urging them to take up arms against their neighbors. Almost every single piece of the armor mentioned in his metaphorical list is defensive, not offensive. He is also clear that this armor is put on for the gospel of PEACE. The world was already a violent enough place. Jesus spent his public ministry urging people to put down their hatreds, their violent tendencies, and instead to love their enemies and pray for them. Even in this week’s gospel, when people are offended by his blunt words, he doesn’t force them to listen or force them to stay—he lets them depart in peace.
Nowadays, many of us are rightfully uneasy with concepts of religious warfare, tainted as this imagery is with the evils of the crusades, forced conversion as in Spain in the 15thcentury, jihad throughout the ages, and so on. We continuously see Christians at war against even other Christians. Yet at the same time, the world is in need of people willing to put their entire being behind living out the gospel of peace, grace, and mercy, who ARE willing to stand up for and alongside the cause of the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized.
We see Muslim attacking Muslim in Afghanistan right now, with the Taliban attempting to use brutal, military force to impose their fundamentalist, rigid understanding of Islam on their neighbors who have thus far not been persuaded by their words and deeds. Their willingness to kill fellow Muslims in the name of a religion whose name means “Surrender” shows that Christianity is not alone in its tendency to misplace the peaceful heart of faith with the fist of war.
It is important, therefore, to treat these texts respectfully and also carefully. As we have seen repeatedly over the last many months, sometimes one has to physically put one’s body on the line in the cause of justice and creating a lasting PEACE within society. Our efforts are not in the cause of force and oppression, but must be in the service of the “peace of God,” which surpasses human understanding. Jesus’s gospel is one of vulnerability in the BEST sense: openness, the willingness to lay down one’s privileges for the service of the weakest members of society. Just as Jesus himself did, again and again. It’s a vulnerability that projects strength, not fear,because it is grounded in love and service to others.
Does Paul say this armor is to be used to attack others? NO. He says the armor of God will make Jesus’s disciples who put it on bold—bold in proclaiming the living, loving faith of Jesus, in word and deed—ESPECIALLY against the forces of anger, violence, and destruction. It calls for us to be made WISE, not murderous. The armor of God is the armor of love in the face of hatred.
We hear that kind of vulnerability in Jesus’s question to his closest disciples as some of the crowd drifts off in our gospel, shocked by his unflinching talk about blood and flesh. “Do you also want to go away?” he asked sadly, yet with understanding and compassion. Jesus’s love is a freeing love; Jesus’s path is a path NO ONE can be forced to walk. At the heart of this love is the great mystery: that Jesus doesn’t just come to save us from hell, but to show us the way of life as we are living it. It is a life lived for each other no matter how distant or different we are from each other.
We are called to fight for love over conquest, and to fight using our hearts and our honesty, not our fists. May we all choose the armor of truth, the armor of righteousness, the armor of love and light—the armor of vulnerability.
Preached at the 10:30 in-person and online service at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO.
Readings:
Oh, thank you for this! This is a passage that is always been difficult for me.
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