#nonviolence — Public Fediverse posts

Why Do You Boast, Great Warrior?

A Peace Reflection on Psalm 52

“Why do you boast about your crimes, great warrior?
Don’t you realize God’s justice continues forever?”
—Psalm 52:1

There is something startlingly contemporary about that question.

Why do you boast, great warrior?

The psalm does not merely condemn violence. It confronts the strange human tendency to celebrate it.

We make monuments to conquerors.
We name weapons after predators.
We decorate generals.
We create highlight reels of explosions.
We speak of “dominance,” “strength,” “shock and awe,” “victory,” and “crushing the enemy.”

And sometimes the destruction itself becomes evidence of greatness.

Look what we can do.

Look how powerful we are.

Look how afraid others are of us.

Psalm 52 interrupts that boasting with an uncomfortable question:

Why?

Why boast about something that destroys what God loves?

Why brag about the ability to kill?

Why measure greatness by the number of enemies defeated rather than the number of enemies reconciled?

Why are nations proud of weapons capable of destroying cities but embarrassed by diplomacy, compromise, mercy, and restraint?

The psalm was written in a world in which rulers demonstrated their greatness through military power. Kings conquered territory, displayed captives, erected monuments, and told stories about their victories.

In many ways, we have not changed very much.

Our monuments are sometimes digital now.

Missile footage.

Drone-camera images.

Maps showing territory captured.

Military parades.

Defense budgets.

Weapons demonstrations.

Politicians promising to be “tough.”

Commentators speaking casually about bombing places most of us will never visit and people we will never meet.

War becomes abstract.

The enemy becomes a category.

And human beings disappear behind words like targets, assets, combatants, collateral damage, and acceptable losses.

Psalm 52 insists that God sees through all of that language.

Behind every map is somebody’s home.

Behind every casualty figure is a name.

Behind every destroyed building was a room where someone ate breakfast, tucked a child into bed, argued with a spouse, celebrated a birthday, prayed, laughed, worried, and dreamed.

This is one of the essential tasks of peacemaking:

to restore the human face to those whom violence has reduced to categories.

Psalm 52 contrasts two different understandings of power.

One is the power of the “great warrior”—the power to threaten, manipulate, deceive, dominate, and destroy.

The other is far quieter:

the steadfast love of God.

The psalmist eventually says:

“But I am like an olive tree, thriving in the house of God.
I will always trust in God’s unfailing love.”

What an extraordinary alternative image.

Not a sword.

Not a fortress.

Not a chariot.

Not an army.

A tree.

A living thing.

Rooted.

Growing.

Providing shade.

Bearing fruit.

An olive tree, of all things—the source of the olive branch that would eventually become one of humanity’s great symbols of peace.

Perhaps there are two ways to imagine greatness.

One asks:

How much power can I accumulate?

The other asks:

How much life can I nurture?

One asks:

How many enemies can I defeat?

The other asks:

How many enemies can become neighbors?

One builds walls.

The other builds tables.

One produces fear.

The other produces trust.

One leaves ruins.

The other plants trees.

And Psalm 52 makes another important claim:

Violence does not get the final word.

“God’s justice continues forever.”

Empires rarely believe this.

Every empire imagines itself permanent.

Every dictator thinks the palace will remain standing.

Every warlord believes fear will preserve power.

Every weapons system promises security.

But history is littered with the ruins of people who once believed they were invincible.

The psalm reminds us that brute force is spectacular but temporary.

Love is quieter and much more stubborn.

A bomb can destroy a house in seconds.

It takes years to build a community.

A bullet can end a life instantly.

It can take generations to heal the hatred that produced it.

Violence is fast.

Peace is patient.

Which may be one reason humanity so often chooses violence.

Violence gives the illusion of immediate results.

Peace requires imagination.

Negotiation.

Listening.

Justice.

Reconciliation.

Repentance.

Forgiveness.

Courage.

And time.

Yet Jesus places himself squarely within this alternative understanding of power.

Blessed are the peacemakers.

Love your enemies.

Pray for those who persecute you.

Put away your sword.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

The first shall be last.

The greatest shall be servant of all.

Again and again, Jesus overturns our normal measurements of strength.

The cross itself becomes Christianity’s ultimate critique of domination.

Rome believed the cross demonstrated imperial power.

Jesus transformed it into a revelation of self-giving love.

The empire said:

This is what we can do to you.

God answered:

And still I will love you.

That is a very different kind of power.

For those of us committed to peace, Psalm 52 therefore asks more than whether we personally commit acts of violence.

It asks what we admire.

What do we cheer?

What language do we tolerate?

What stories do we tell our children?

Who receives our monuments?

Whose courage do we celebrate?

Do we know the names of our generals better than the names of our peacemakers?

Perhaps part of building a culture of peace is learning to boast about different things.

Boast about the person who stopped a fight.

Boast about the diplomat who kept talking when everyone else wanted to walk away.

Boast about the conscientious objector who refused to kill.

Boast about the victim who chose restorative justice over revenge.

Boast about the community that welcomed refugees.

Boast about the activists who stood between opposing groups.

Boast about the teacher who taught children how to resolve conflict.

Boast about the soldier who refused an unlawful order.

Boast about the neighbor who crossed a political, racial, religious, or cultural boundary and made a friend.

Boast about the people planting olive trees in places where others would plant land mines.

Maybe that is one way we begin dismantling the myth of redemptive violence.

We change what we call heroic.

Psalm 52 asks:

“Why do you boast about your crimes, great warrior?”

Perhaps followers of Jesus should answer with another question:

What if greatness is not measured by our ability to destroy an enemy, but by our courage to make peace with one?

The warrior may have the louder story.

The missile may make the larger explosion.

The empire may dominate the headlines.

But somewhere beneath all that noise, God continues planting olive trees.

And God’s justice continues forever.

May we be found among those planting them.

It’s in the Blood

In 1539, a fugitive former-priest-turned-Anabaptist, in his seminal work “The Foundation,” penned the following words:

“Christ is our fortress; patience our weapon of defense; the Word of God our sword. …Iron and metal spears and swords we leave to those who, alas, regard human blood and swine’s blood of well-nigh equal value.”

So said Menno Simons, principal leader of the Protestant sect which then became known as the Mennonites.

More than 500 years later, his words still resound with a mighty truth.

At the risk of sounding morbid, it has to do with blood.

While Menno specifically refers to the difference between human blood and that of an animal, his larger point is the “value” we place on the blood of another.

My point is quite simple.

Killing will not end through education, conflict resolution, or disarmament, though all of these are important and can help. Killing will end only when there is a fundamental shift in the mind and heart of those who kill.

For how can you kill someone if you believe that their blood is just as valuable as your own?

Let’s call it – for lack of a better term – bloodism.

The other – their humanity, life, blood – is somehow less than I, and therefore, their humanity, life, blood, is not as valuable as my own. It becomes quite easy then to justify killing the other, ie. spilling his/her blood.

The directors of death throughout history from every nation, tribe and religion have understood and disseminated this concept quite well. A person (and those like him/her) is described as having the wrong beliefs, the wrong skin color, the wrong gender, the wrong age, the wrong station in life, the wrong land, the wrong possessions, the wrong clothing, the wrong language —- the wrong blood. These others are not as valued as you are, the leaders of the macabre scream, though they couch their speech in terms such as vigilance, freedom, history, security, and truth.

Then the killing begins.

The Nazis did it to the Jews. Israelis do it to the Palestinians. Hutus did it to the Tutsis. Shiite do it to the Sunni. Palestinians do it to the Israelis. Sunni do it to the Shiite. Muslims do it to the Christians. Christians do it to the Muslims. This country does it to that country. That neighborhood does it to this neighborhood. This race does it to that race. That religion does it to this religion.

And any one of a million other combinations.

STOP!

Do not allow your mind and heart to be filled with bloodism.

We are made in the image of God.

ALL of us.

And that divine DNA resides in the very marrow of our bones and flows through our veins.

It’s in the blood.

July 28, 2014

KARMA-FREE TRUMP 💎

Donald Trump does not need to be hated in order to be seen clearly.

There is no need to imagine that #karma will #punish him.

No need to turn him into the #supernatural embodiment of #evil
No need to diagnose his soul.

His vanity, grievance, cruelty, #fear ,appetite, and enormous need for #attention are serious enough.

#Hatred does not improve our #perception.

It distorts it.

It makes the hated person larger, darker, and more #powerful in the #mind than they already are.

It also gives them permanent residence in the #nervous #system.

Trump should be opposed when he lies, harms, corrupts, intimidates, degrades institutions, or participates in or encourages cruelty.

That opposition can be #firm.

It should be relentless.

It can name exactly what is happening.

But hatred is not required.

Nor is #spiritual #fantasy.

No one knows what happens to Donald Trump after #death.

No one knows whether the #universe keeps a #punishment #ledger.

What is known, though, is that actions have consequences here.

People are harmed.

Truth is weakened.

Fear spreads.

#Cowardice becomes #contagious.

But cruelty does not have to set the terms.

#Kindness as strength can be encouraged in the face of cruelty.

#Courage in the face of intimidation.

#Truth in the face of deception.

#Decency in the face of degradation.

Restraint in the face of vengeance.

#Clarity in the face of confusion.

The task is not to hate the man.

The task is to see clearly, speak plainly, protect those being harmed, and refuse to let cruelty decide who we become.

#DonaldTrump #Trump #USPolitics #PoliticalClarity #Cruelty #Kindness #Courage #Truth #Decency #Restraint #Clarity #Nonviolence #NoHatred #MoralClarity #Humanity

Gods in Disguise: Gospel Echoes in The Odyssey

While I shouldn’t have to give a spoiler alert for a book as old as The Odyssey, I haven’t read it since high school and couldn’t tell you what of the recent movie is Nolan’s interpretation versus what the book’s interpretation is. That being said… spoilers ahead, I guess? Here are three gospel undertones I encountered while watching it twice in theaters this past week.

1. “Treat others as you would be treated…”

This phrase, otherwise referred to as Zeus’ law in the movie, connects easily with Jesus’ own teaching: “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.” Jesus rephrases this elsewhere, saying that the two great commandments are to love God and neighbor.

This teaching is the crux of the entire movie. When Odysseus uses the peace offering of a Trojan horse as a trick to destroy his enemies, he breaks the very rule upon which the universe is constructed. In doing so, the world around him begins to break apart, as though his moral violation has become spiritually infectious. One might recall Adam and Eve’s disobedience and its effects on the world around them.

It also brings to mind Walter Wink’s theology of the domination system and his critique of the myth of redemptive violence. Wink’s many theological works remind us that whenever we dominate our enemies, we set in place a new system of domination that will commit the same sins.

2. “…because they might be gods in disguise”

Zeus’ law continues, saying that part of the reason you should treat others well is that they might be gods in disguise. This line echoes Hebrews 13:2, which says, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

This line is likely a callback to the story of Abraham and Lot. Abraham bumps into God in the woods near his home, recognizes him, and feeds him and his angelic companions. When these angels visit Sodom and Gomorrah, it’s a bit ambiguous whether Lot recognizes he’s showing hospitality to angels.

But Hebrews takes this story as a reminder to us all. Be sure to help the person who stops by your door. You never know when the stranger you’re treating might actually be a divine being.

3. Prophetic Responsibility

At one point in the movie, Odysseus tells his remaining crew that it has been prophesied that they will eat the sun god’s cattle and die for it. The crew takes this word seriously, swears not to do so, and then circumstances lead them to do just that. Odysseus takes responsibility for their decision and considers himself a failure. Although he had warned them, he blames himself for leading them to the island where they made the wrong decision.

“And who led you?” Athena fires back at him. “Why do you put yourself above the gods? Why do you claim responsibility?”

Prophets often spend their time warning people about the consequences that will follow if they don’t start aligning their actions with the love of God and neighbor. Any outcome for the prophet isn’t great. They either (1) convince everyone to change their ways, causing the consequences to never happen, making everyone think their predictions were false; or (2) nobody listens to them, the consequences come about, and the prophet feels like a failure. The successful prophet looks like a false prophet, and the unsuccessful prophet looks like a failure.

Odysseus feels this prophetic weight on his shoulders, and Athena frames it as pride. If there was a job he could have had in the matter, it was to give them the prophetic warning as often as necessary. If they did not change, the consequences belong with supernatural judgment, not with the prophet. (One might recall God’s deal with the prophet Ezekiel in Ezekiel 3:16-21.)

Conclusion

The Odyssey is a very well-done movie, and I may very well catch it a third time before it leaves theaters. Nolan has done a good job presenting the Odyssey’s narrative for viewers to reflect on seriously. It’s not mythology just for the sake of a good adventure, but mythology with a poignant message.

Of course, like all adventure movies and books, many of the poignant messages are contradicted by an epic final scene of celebrated violence and vengeance. I suppose such stories are like sitcoms in that way: whatever happened in the episode has to be reset to the status quo of the show before the credits roll.

But perhaps this might leave us with something to ponder. Now that we’ve discussed some overlapping gospel themes in The Odyssey, how might we imagine the tale ending differently if Odysseus had Jesus’ nonviolent ways in mind?

La paix du bouddhisme

Pour les bouddhistes, la paix n’est pas un simple état émotionnel agréable, c’est la conséquence directe d’une compréhension juste de la réalité.

Ainsi, le nirvāṇa est un état découlant de l’extinction des trois feux que sont l’avidité, l’aversion et l’illusion. La paix bouddhiste n’est donc pas l’absence temporaire de trouble, mais l’épuisement définitif des causes mêmes de l’agitation intérieure. Tant que ces trois racines brûlent, dit-on, aucune paix n’est stable, seulement des accalmies. La paix n’est donc pas un événement, elle est la conséquence d’un diagnostic lucide, presque clinique, de la souffrance.

Une grande part du conflit humain naît, pour le bouddhisme, de la défense d’un moi que l’on croit substantiel et séparé. Le bouddhisme dissout l’ego dans la vacuité, il n’y a rien de substantiel à défendre, donc rien qui justifie ultimement la peur, la possessivité ou l’hostilité. La paix naît ici d’un dévoilement métaphysique plus que d’une fusion.

Sur le plan éthique et relationnel, l’idéal de paix se manifeste dans les quatre qualités cultivées activement que sont la bienveillance aimante, ce vœu du bien-être de tous les êtres, sans exception ni préférence, la compassion qui est la capacité à ressentir et alléger la souffrance d’autrui, la joie sympathique qui est la capacité de se réjouir du bonheur d’autrui sans envie et l’équanimité, cette stabilité qui n’est ni indifférence ni détachement froid, mais paix devant ce qui échappe à notre contrôle.

Ces quatre qualités, souvent pratiquées par méditation formelle. Elles forment un pont entre paix intérieure et paix relationnelle, car on ne peut pas cultiver l’une sans l’autre.

Comme dans le jaïnisme et l’hindouisme, la non-violence est le socle éthique concret de cette paix. Le premier précepte bouddhiste, s’abstenir de tuer ou de nuire à tout être sensible n’est pas une simple règle morale, mais l’expression extérieure d’un esprit déjà pacifié. On ne nuit plus quand on ne se sent plus séparé ni menacé.

Ainsi, la paix bouddhiste suit un mouvement inverse, à certains égards, de celui du soufisme que nous venons de voir cette semaine. Là où le soufi descend vers la paix par la soumission amoureuse à un Dieu personnel, le bouddhiste y accède par le dévoilement de la vacuité et l’extinction des attachements, soit une paix qui n’a pas besoin d’un Autre transcendant pour se réaliser, mais qui rejoint néanmoins, dans ses fruits éthiques (compassion, non-nuisance, service), une parenté frappante avec l’approche soufie.

Dans un monde où tout le monde parle de paix, est-ce que nous avons la même conception de celle-ci? Est-ce que les écarts expliqueraient en partie les conflits qui perdurent?

Une chanson de Renée Claude interprétée par Isabelle Boulay, Céline Dion, Luce Dufault, Diane Dufresne, Louise Forestier, Laurence Jalbert, Catherine Major, Ariane Moffatt, Marie Denise Pelletier, Ginette Reno et Marie-Élaine Thibert – Tu trouveras la paix

Les paroles sur https://www.musixmatch.com/fr/paroles/Ren%C3%A9e-Claude/Tu-Trouveras-La-Paix-Dans-Ton-coeur

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctwvvoX8BaM

Par Daniel Jean dans Voies (x) de passage

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Albania: The Gentle Revolution

https://web.brid.gy/r/https://www.pressenza.com/2026/06/albania-the-gentle-revolution/

Fairy Tales for Peace – ProMosaik Children interviews editor Mariya Traore from Ukraine

https://web.brid.gy/r/https://www.pressenza.com/2026/06/fairy-tales-for-peace-promosaik-children-interviews-editor-mariya-traore-from-ukraine/

The Sabbath Sabotage

They told us
holiness was neat,
pressed flat like Sunday clothes,
folded into bulletins,
spoken in indoor voices,
kept safely between hymns
and handshakes.

They told us
Sabbath was a soft thing,
a nap for the soul,
a gentle pause
before returning
to the holy machinery
of earning, buying, proving, becoming.

But Sabbath was never safe.

Sabbath is a wrench
thrown into Pharaoh’s gears.
A door barred against the market.
A candle lit
in defiance of the floodlights.
A refusal
to kneel before the stopwatch.
A holy no
rising like thunder
from tired bones.

Six days, they say,
you shall labor.
And the seventh?
The seventh is mutiny.

The seventh day
the fields are not your masters.
The ledgers do not own your name.
The inbox may howl
like a beast outside the gate,
but you will not feed it.
The empire counts bricks.
Sabbath counts blessings.
The empire demands output.
Sabbath gathers manna
and says, enough.

Enough for today.
Enough for this body.
Enough for this earth.
Enough for a life
that was never meant
to be fed into furnaces
just to keep the towers warm.

Sabbath is not laziness.
It is revolt
with bread on the table.
It is trust
with dirt under the fingernails.
It is the slave
remembering he is human.
The widow
remembering she is seen.
The ox
remembering grass.
The land
remembering how to breathe.

And maybe that is why
they sabotage Sabbath.

Because rest breaks rank.
Because silence interrupts slogans.
Because delight cannot be monetized forever.
Because a people
who learn to stop
may also learn
they can refuse.

Refuse the lie
that worth is measured in production.
Refuse the sermon
of profit without mercy.
Refuse the fear
that if we cease for one day
the world will fall apart—
as though we were the ones
holding up the stars.

No.
Sabbath is the admission
that we are not God,
and the miracle
that God is still good.

So let the engines choke.
Let the schedules stutter.
Let the tyrants call it weakness.
Let the anxious call it waste.
Let the merchants stand bewildered
before shuttered stalls
and unhurried hearts.

For this is the sabotage:
to rest in a restless world,
to feast in a famine of joy,
to loosen your fist
when all of history
has trained it to clench.

To stop.
To breathe.
To bless.
To remember
that we were not made
for endless extraction,
but for communion—
with God,
with neighbor,
with creature,
with soil,
with our own forgotten souls.

And so, on the seventh day,
we commit our small rebellion:
we light candles against consumption,
set tables against despair,
sing psalms against the grind,
and call this shattered life
still sacred.

This is no small thing.
This is how the kingdom enters:
not always with trumpets,
but with napping children,
unbought hours,
shared bread,
and a people audacious enough
to believe
that the world can turn
without their frantic striving.

Blessed are the saboteurs of empire.
Blessed are the keepers of Sabbath.
Blessed are the tired
who lay their burden down
and find, beneath the weight of all they carried,
a joy the masters could not confiscate.

For every Sabbath kept
is a crack in the idol.
Every prayer whispered at rest
is a seed beneath the pavement.
Every holy pause
is a hammer blow
against the myth
that Caesar owns time.

He does not.
The clock does not.
The market does not.

Time belongs to God.
And God,
in mercy,
has given some of it back to us.

The Maranatha Empire

There is a prayer so holy that it should burn the tongue of every empire that tries to speak it.

Maranatha.

Come, Lord.

It is the cry of the small church under pressure. The cry of the persecuted and the patient. The cry of those who have no armies to summon, no throne to defend, no voting bloc sufficient to save them, no market share large enough to secure their future. It is the cry of those who wait because they know they are not God.

But in every age, there are those who take this prayer of waiting and turn it into a banner of possession.

They say, “Come, Lord,” but what they mean is, “Give us control.”

They say, “Thy kingdom come,” but what they mean is, “Let our faction rule.”

They say, “Prepare the way of the Lord,” but what they build are prisons, borders, propaganda machines, religious celebrity platforms, and monuments to their own fear.

This is the Maranatha Empire.

It is not one nation only, though nations may become its servants. It is not one denomination only, though denominations may become its chapels. It is not merely Rome, nor Geneva, nor Washington, nor Moscow, nor any other city that has mistaken power for providence. The Maranatha Empire is the recurring temptation of the religious heart: to stop waiting for Christ and begin replacing him.

It begins quietly.

It begins with concern.

The world is dangerous. The children are vulnerable. The church is shrinking. The enemies are multiplying. The culture is changing. The old certainties are crumbling. The people are afraid.

Fear, when baptized, often calls itself faithfulness.

So the frightened church begins to reach for tools Jesus refused.

A throne.

A sword.

A spectacle.

A scapegoat.

A strongman.

A law that can accomplish what love has not yet persuaded.

A state that can enforce what the Spirit has not yet formed.

A leader who promises to defend Christ, as though Christ ever asked Peter to keep swinging after Gethsemane.

This is how the prayer becomes an empire.

The early church cried, “Come, Lord Jesus,” because it knew that Caesar was not Lord. The Maranatha Empire cries, “Come, Lord Jesus,” because it wants Caesar to become useful.

The early church broke bread in homes. The Maranatha Empire builds platforms and calls them altars.

The early church welcomed the stranger. The Maranatha Empire sees the stranger as a threat.

The early church died rather than kill. The Maranatha Empire kills and calls the dead collateral damage in the defense of righteousness.

The early church believed the Lamb had conquered. The Maranatha Empire keeps looking for a beast strong enough to protect the Lamb.

And there is the blasphemy.

Not that empire rejects Christ outright. That would be too honest. The Maranatha Empire does something more dangerous. It uses Christ as decoration for a power that is fundamentally afraid of the cross.

It sings of the Lamb while trusting the dragon.

It preaches resurrection while organizing itself around survival.

It displays the cross while despising weakness.

It quotes Jesus while ignoring the people Jesus told us to notice: the poor, the imprisoned, the hungry, the foreigner, the enemy, the child, the wounded man beside the road.

The Maranatha Empire is not built by atheists. It is built by believers who have lost patience with the way of Jesus.

For the way of Jesus is slow.

It is seed, yeast, salt, light.

It is foot-washing.

It is forgiveness seventy times seven.

It is refusing the shortcut of domination even when domination appears efficient.

It is telling Peter to put away the sword when everything in Peter’s body screams that this is the moment for holy violence.

It is standing before Pilate and saying, “My kingdom is not from this world,” not because the kingdom has nothing to do with the world, but because it does not come by the world’s methods.

The Maranatha Empire cannot tolerate this.

It cannot tolerate a Messiah who will not seize power.

It cannot tolerate a church that would rather be faithful than influential.

It cannot tolerate a people whose politics begin at the basin and towel.

It cannot tolerate enemy-love, because enemy-love ruins the machinery. Empire requires enemies. It needs them. It feeds on them. Without enemies, the crowd might look too closely at the throne.

So, the Maranatha Empire manufactures urgency.

There is no time to love.

No time to listen.

No time to discern.

No time for reconciliation.

No time for peacemaking.

No time to ask whether the means resemble the Christ we claim to serve.

The hour is late, they say. The danger is great. The stakes are too high. We must act now. We must take control now. We must win now.

And somewhere beneath all that urgency is a terrible confession:

They do not actually believe the Lord is coming.

Or, if he is coming, they do not trust him to arrive in the right way.

So they build him an empire to inherit.

But Christ does not inherit empires.

He judges them.

He walks in alleyways, not palaces. He asks whether the churches have kept their first love. He warns those who are rich and comfortable and self-satisfied that they may be poor, blind, and naked. He stands at the door and knocks, not because he has been defeated by secularism, but because religious people have locked him outside while holding meetings in his name.

The Maranatha Empire is always shocked when Jesus is found outside the gate.

Outside the camp.

Outside respectability.

Outside the approved narrative.

Outside the walls with the crucified, the excluded, the unclean, the inconvenient, and the condemned.

The empire expected him in the capital.

But he is with the refugees.

The empire expected him in the cathedral of victory.

But he is with the mother of the disappeared.

The empire expected him on the reviewing stand.

But he is washing feet in the basement.

The empire expected him to bless the troops.

But he is asking why his followers are still carrying swords.

This is why Maranatha must remain a dangerous prayer.

It must never be allowed to become a slogan for conquest. It must never be printed on the banners of those who are unwilling to be converted by the One they summon. To pray “Come, Lord” is not to invite divine endorsement of our projects. It is to invite judgment upon them.

Come, Lord, and judge our churches.

Come, Lord, and judge our flags.

Come, Lord, and judge our markets.

Come, Lord, and judge our weapons.

Come, Lord, and judge our sermons.

Come, Lord, and judge our secret hatreds.

Come, Lord, and judge the ways we have used your name to avoid your way.

This is the prayer empire cannot honestly pray.

Because if the Lord comes, the first thing to fall may not be our enemies.

It may be our idols.

The algorithm.

The nation.

The party.

The brand.

The gun.

The strongman.

The myth of innocence.

The lie that we can harm others for a righteous cause and remain untouched by the harm.

The Maranatha Empire teaches us to fear the collapse of Christian influence.

Jesus teaches us to fear gaining the world and losing our soul.

The Maranatha Empire asks, “How do we take back the culture?”

Jesus asks, “Can you drink the cup that I drink?”

The Maranatha Empire says, “Blessed are the winners.”

Jesus says, “Blessed are the meek.”

The Maranatha Empire says, “Blessed are the forceful, for they shall secure the future.”

Jesus says, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.”

And perhaps this is the word for us now:

The church does not need to become more powerful.

The church needs to become more faithful.

Not passive. Not silent. Not withdrawn into pious irrelevance. But faithful in the particular, cruciform, stubborn way of Jesus. Faithful enough to resist evil without becoming its mirror. Faithful enough to tell the truth without hatred. Faithful enough to protect the vulnerable without worshiping violence. Faithful enough to build communities of economic sharing, hospitality, forgiveness, courage, and joy. Faithful enough to be a people who can live without controlling the outcome.

That is the hard part.

Empire is attractive because it promises control.

Jesus offers communion.

Empire promises security.

Jesus offers peace.

Empire promises victory over enemies.

Jesus offers reconciliation that may begin with our repentance.

Empire promises to make us great.

Jesus invites us to become small enough to enter the kingdom.

So, let the Maranatha Empire fall.

Let it fall first in us.

Let it fall in every place where we have confused anxiety with zeal. Let it fall where we have preferred dominance to witness. Let it fall where we have wanted laws to do what discipleship would not. Let it fall where we have used the suffering of others as fuel for our own righteousness. Let it fall where we have asked Jesus to come only after we have arranged the throne to our liking.

And when it falls, may something older and more beautiful remain.

A table.

A basin.

A towel.

A loaf.

A cup.

A people gathered without illusion, without empire, without the need to be impressive, whispering the ancient prayer not as conquerors but as witnesses:

Maranatha.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Come not to crown our domination, but to free us from it.

Come not to baptize our fear, but to cast it out.

Come not to make our empire holy, but to teach us again that your kingdom comes like a seed, like yeast, like mercy, like a Lamb who was slain and yet lives.

And until you come, make us faithful.

Not imperial.

Not triumphant.

Not afraid.

Faithful.

Underground – RIP MLK 4/4

A Holy Saturday Illustration

Radical Compassion Doesn’t Mean Forgiving the Irredeemable

https://theinterfaithintrepidart.com/2025/11/29/radical-compassion-doesnt-mean-forgiving-the-irredeemable/

#Peace, #NonViolence & purely legal #Protest has never ended #DeathCamps, #Slavery, #InternmentCamps. Only #Violence has worked. Only #Rioting has worked. Don't be fooled by #Trump / #MAGA / #GOP / #4thReich they'll invoke #MartialLaw even if you don't fight back. #Us #Uspoli #Politics#Project2025

> Conspirituality: Brief: Antifascist Woodshed 2 (Punching Nazis?)

Episode webpage: https://conspirituality.net/
#Violence #Nonviolence #Oppression #USPol #Dharma #Interbeing #Mindfulness #Meditation #PlumVillage #BuddhaGang #EngagedBuddhism #RecoveryDharma #SanghaInTheStreets @dharma @engagedbuddhism @bodhisattvaway @buddhagang @recoverydharma @plumvillage
@sanghainthestreets

New instance, new #introduction! (Also boosts will help federate the garden ^-^)

I'm a #Quaker #seminary student in #Pittsburgh. I love #DND and #TTRPG, and get up to #crochet, #hiking, and #naturephotography in my spare time.

Here's a motley list of things I like/post about!

#AcademicBible #Linux #FOSS #tea #greentea #retrocomputing #shorthand #ShapeNote #SacredHarp #Quakerism #nonviolence #Mandarin #trans #AuDHD #Futurama #CloudAtlas #JacobCollier #Björk #StVincent #minimalism

New instance, new #introduction! (Also boosts will help federate the garden ^-^)

I'm a #Quaker #seminary student in #Pittsburgh. I love #DND and #TTRPG, and get up to #crochet, #hiking, and #naturephotography in my spare time.

Here's a motley list of things I like/post about!

#AcademicBible #Linux #FOSS #tea #greentea #retrocomputing #shorthand #ShapeNote #SacredHarp #Quakerism #nonviolence #Mandarin #trans #AuDHD #Futurama #CloudAtlas #JacobCollier #Björk #StVincent #minimalism

New instance, new #introduction! (Also boosts will help federate the garden ^-^)

I'm a #Quaker #seminary student in #Pittsburgh. I love #DND and #TTRPG, and get up to #crochet, #hiking, and #naturephotography in my spare time.

Here's a motley list of things I like/post about!

#AcademicBible #Linux #FOSS #tea #greentea #retrocomputing #shorthand #ShapeNote #SacredHarp #Quakerism #nonviolence #Mandarin #trans #AuDHD #Futurama #CloudAtlas #JacobCollier #Björk #StVincent #minimalism

New instance, new #introduction! (Also boosts will help federate the garden ^-^)

I'm a #Quaker #seminary student in #Pittsburgh. I love #DND and #TTRPG, and get up to #crochet, #hiking, and #naturephotography in my spare time.

Here's a motley list of things I like/post about!

#AcademicBible #Linux #FOSS #tea #greentea #retrocomputing #shorthand #ShapeNote #SacredHarp #Quakerism #nonviolence #Mandarin #trans #AuDHD #Futurama #CloudAtlas #JacobCollier #Björk #StVincent #minimalism

New instance, new #introduction! (Also boosts will help federate the garden ^-^)

I'm a #Quaker #seminary student in #Pittsburgh. I love #DND and #TTRPG, and get up to #crochet, #hiking, and #naturephotography in my spare time.

Here's a motley list of things I like/post about!

#AcademicBible #Linux #FOSS #tea #greentea #retrocomputing #shorthand #ShapeNote #SacredHarp #Quakerism #nonviolence #Mandarin #trans #AuDHD #Futurama #CloudAtlas #JacobCollier #Björk #StVincent #minimalism

From some reading I was doing today:

"Very often, [women] . . . were ridiculed or accused when they spoke of God being present. I sense a similar difficulty in the most important religious movement of our time, the movement for peace, justice, and integrity of creation. . . . God without weapons is a laughingstock."

The Silent Cry, Dorothee Sölle, pg 76

#nonviolence #peace #justice #Earth #NonviolentGod #NonviolenceInReligion
#DorotheeSolle #quotes #religion

From some reading I was doing today:

"Very often, [women] . . . were ridiculed or accused when they spoke of God being present. I sense a similar difficulty in the most important religious movement of our time, the movement for peace, justice, and integrity of creation. . . . God without weapons is a laughingstock."

The Silent Cry, Dorothee Sölle, pg 76

#nonviolence #peace #justice #Earth #NonviolentGod #NonviolenceInReligion
#DorotheeSolle #quotes #religion

From some reading I was doing today:

"Very often, [women] . . . were ridiculed or accused when they spoke of God being present. I sense a similar difficulty in the most important religious movement of our time, the movement for peace, justice, and integrity of creation. . . . God without weapons is a laughingstock."

The Silent Cry, Dorothee Sölle, pg 76

#nonviolence #peace #justice #Earth #NonviolentGod #NonviolenceInReligion
#DorotheeSolle #quotes #religion

From some reading I was doing today:

"Very often, [women] . . . were ridiculed or accused when they spoke of God being present. I sense a similar difficulty in the most important religious movement of our time, the movement for peace, justice, and integrity of creation. . . . God without weapons is a laughingstock."

The Silent Cry, Dorothee Sölle, pg 76

#nonviolence #peace #justice #Earth #NonviolentGod #NonviolenceInReligion
#DorotheeSolle #quotes #religion

From some reading I was doing today:

"Very often, [women] . . . were ridiculed or accused when they spoke of God being present. I sense a similar difficulty in the most important religious movement of our time, the movement for peace, justice, and integrity of creation. . . . God without weapons is a laughingstock."

The Silent Cry, Dorothee Sölle, pg 76

#nonviolence #peace #justice #Earth #NonviolentGod #NonviolenceInReligion
#DorotheeSolle #quotes #religion

@bifouba @oatmeal So a lot of it comes down to "Is there a point to the cruelty? Or might the cruelty be the point?"

And my impression is, the closer you look, the more the second seems to be the case.

Having a unified message and clear goals is imho crucial to #NonviolentResistance. #BDSCampaign imho fails at that.

Heck, given how sympathetic people in Germany are towards the Palestinian struggle, and how opposed to Jewish settlers in the West Bank, BDS imho is a liability.

#nonviolence

Only Tuesday & I’m already back on apple pie for breakfast. Needs must 🌱

#ApplePie #Pie #SquirtyCream #Fall #Autumn #Food #FoodPorn #Vegan #Dessert #VeganFood #Veggie #Vegetarian #EcoFriendly #Eco #LowCarbon #WhatVegansEat #Veganism #PlantBased #NonViolence #Ahimsa