A New Kind of Christianity - Brian McLaren [61]
In the Apocalypse, or Revelation, early followers of Jesus are in a similar moment of creative possibility. They must deal with the fact that they believe Jesus was right and his kingdom was true, yet they are being vilified and persecuted brutally. The emperor of Rome (maybe the sociopath Nero, maybe the ruthless dictator Domitian, depending on when we date the text) seems firmly in control, and nothing seems to be moving in the direction of the kingdom of God. In that light, what message do they need? Do they need to hear that soon they can forget about all that naive peace and forgiveness stuff that Jesus taught, because soon they’ll be allowed to pull out their swords, mount their warhorses, and kick some persecutors’ hindquarters? Or do they need a message of reassurance, encouragement, and confidence that the way of peace that Jesus modeled is indeed the good and right way, that it will triumph in the end, and so they shouldn’t give up on it?
Apparently, the passage in question can be interpreted either way—one way that subverts the reconciling messages of Jesus’s gospel and life, and another way that reinforces them. For me, the latter approach is the only acceptable one. The passage in question isn’t telling us Jesus is a prize-fighter with a commitment to make somebody bleed. Nor is it claiming that the Jesus of the gospels was a fake-me-out Jesus pretending to be a peace-and-love guy, when really he was planning to come back and act like a proper Caesar, more of a slash-and-burn guy, brutal, willing to torture, and determined to conquer with crushing violence.4 Nor is it informing us that even God has to use violence to impose the divine will in the end.
Instead, this image of Jesus as a conqueror reassures believers that the peaceful Jesus who entered Jerusalem on a donkey that day wasn’t actually weak and defeated; he was in fact every bit as powerful as a Caesar on a steed. His message of forgiveness and reconciliation—conveyed as a sword coming out of his mouth (not in his hand, as my loyal critic asserted—quite an important detail)—will in the end prove far more powerful than Caesar’s handheld swords and spears. And the blood on his robe—that’s not the blood of his enemies. It’s his own blood, because the battle hasn’t even begun yet, and Revelation has already shown us Jesus “as a Lamb standing as if it had been slaughtered” (5:6). And it may also recall the blood of the peaceful martyrs (6:9–11), since in attacking them, violent forces were also attacking Jesus, the Prince of Peace, who taught them the way of peace.
To repeat, Revelation is not portraying Jesus returning to earth in the future, having repented of his naive gospel ways and having converted to Caesar’s “realistic” Greco-Roman methods instead. He hasn’t gotten discouraged about Caesar seeming to get the upper hand after his resurrection and on that basis concluded that it’s best to live by the sword after all (Matt. 26:52). Jesus hasn’t abandoned the way of peace (Luke 19:42) and concluded the way of Pilate is better, mandating that his disciples should fight after all (John 18:36). He hasn’t had second thoughts about all that talk about forgiveness (Matt. 18:21–22) and concluded that on the 78th offense (or 491st, depending on interpretation), you should pull out your sword and hack off your offender’s head rather than turn the other cheek (Matt. 5:39).
He hasn’t given up on that “love your enemies” stuff (Matt. 5:44) and judged it naive