(Re)inventing the Sacred

“Nonviolent resistance to tyrants, oppressors and brutal invaders is not for fools or cowards. It demands courage and daring of the highest order. It requires discipline, training and a willingness to face death. Are there tough, brave volunteers for that kind of costly, demanding battle? Would the nonviolent troops be available to be trained by the thousands and then tens of thousands to form disciplined Christian Peacemaker Teams ready to walk into the face of danger and death in loving confrontation of injustice and oppression?”

~Ron Sider

I don’t know exactly how I originally became a pacifist.  I only know that, to this day, I still have violent urges but I could never dream of harming another human being.  I know that I get angry when people ride my bumper in traffic (although I’m working on that) but I also know that, in my heart and my mind, even the strongest anger couldn’t force me to do harm to another human being.  Yes, this may sound idealistic and I expect to hear the parade of questions like, “What if your wife or kids were in danger and the only way to save them is to do violence to the one putting them in jeopardy” or (my personal favorite), “What if you’re attacked at random…can you resist the gut instinct to fight back?”  Of course, my answer to these questions is, “I have no idea.”  I do know, however, that these questions focus on a one-sided, narrow view of possibilities in a given situation.  The assumption that violence is ever the only option is exactly what I am resisting by declaring myself a pacifist. When I say that I know I could never harm another human being, no matter what, I mean that I could never - in good conscience - do harm to another person.  Certainly, I am capable of violence and oppression.  I know this because I have been violent and oppressive before in my life.  But my decision to be nonviolent was not my own.   I cannot say I have always been nurtured by a nonviolent Christian community, but I have read a great number of authors that formed, for me, a sort of “church of nonviolent personalities.”  Theologians like John Howard Yoder, Stanley Hauerwas, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer have guided me toward my theological decision that, as a Christian, I would rather die than do any other person harm.  In addition, writers like Thoreau and Emerson have helped me to recognize beauty in simplicity and in the face of another human being, in their soul.  Emerson, especially, has likely been the greatest influence on my personality when dealing with theological and ethical things.  The individualism that is expressed in his writings helped me, not to be self-centered or egotistical, rather it helped me to understand the worth of every person.   Emerson’s essay, “The Oversoul,” gave me the idea that all humans are, inevitably, on a path to wholeness and unity.  For Emerson, Buddhism and unitarian spirituality inspired this view.  For me, the gospels and Jesus’ words to his followers in the sermon on the mount have provided my inspiration for feeling that we are all connected - via a grand, yet simple, covenant with the God who created the universe and everything in it.  We are being reconciled to God with each passing moment.  My decision to be a pacifist springs directly from this reconciliation. How can I, a mere man who is not divine, even acquiesce to the position in life where I feel confident that my own feelings, emotions, familial connections, or whatever justify violent behavior on my part toward another subject of God’s reconciliation.  I welcome your critiques and reactions to this.  This is the first time I have really put into words what first informed and inspired my turn away from violence and toward pacifism.  I fully understand that I may have, in my naive and still learning position, misrepresented the ideas of any number of the writers to whose writings I alluded.  However, I simply had to put into words the conviction that has, until now, been solely in my heart and mind.

Grace and Peace,
Andrew Tatum