O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth; deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen
Two summers ago I spent five weeks in
These images and stories will haunt me for the rest of my life. They have left their mark on me. I have seen the true face of violence and war: it is a face marked by the very fire and suffering of hell. Here in the
God, however, is not removed from these realities. He is not a stranger to violence, war and suffering.
When Christ came to earth, he entered a nation under siege, an
Christ in his life and death, modeled for us the path of nonviolence, of non-retaliatory love of the enemy. When we celebrate the Eucharist, the breaking of his body and the spilling of his blood, we remember the one who took our violence upon himself and freed us from its dominion.
In the gospels we see Christ, proclaim his message in word and deed. The message he preaches in the Sermon on the Mount: “Do not resist an evil person” he lives out in
The disciple Matthew, as he enfolds the drama of the passion, continues to present Christ as a model of non-violence. We see this further, with the contrast between Barabbas and Christ. Barabbas, a known insurrectionist and murderer, was released instead of Christ. The people clamor for the release of a murderer and the murder of Christ. The one who deserved the cross, is replaced by the innocent, non-violent Christ.
This is what we celebrate in the Eucharist, this is part of what we proclaim: Christ’s death, and our freedom from the way of violence, the breaking of his body, so that we are freed to no longer break the body of others. We are freed to take the path where giving is receiving. Christ’s sacrifice is the once and for all sacrifice. No more blood is needed.
The relationship between violence and the Eucharist is illustrated well by Schlabach. It is worth quoting at length:
What most regularly and quite literally prompts Christians to pause and to keep rethinking the question of war, however, is the proclamation of the gospel and its celebration in the Eucharist. The Eucharist and the Jesus whose “real presence” it invites into the gathering of believers are not just one reason among many for staying unsettled about Christian participation in warfare. It is the core reason, and the one that simply refuses to go away. The Eucharist is an offer of life, a promise of hospitality to strangers, a sharing of peace, a taste of God’s generosity, a breaking that opens space for healing. It commemorates God’s victory over every cosmic and historical force of evil by a lion-no, of all things! – by a lamb who was slain and by the blood of the martyrs who follow this lamb (Revelation 5 and