Not Peace, But a Sword! On the Warfare of the Orthodox Church of Christ Since Ancient Times as a Condition of Its Life #
Christian Life as Struggle
A.V. Muravyev
Christianity, from its very beginning, is revealed as a struggle. In a prefigurative way, the Old Testament prophet and king David repeatedly speaks of God’s struggle against enemies and of divine aid in battling foes: “Judge, O Lord, them that harm me; fight against them that fight against me” (Psalm 34:1), and again: “Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed: let them return and be ashamed suddenly” (Psalm 6:11). The enemies of God must become the enemies of the Christian: “I hated them with perfect hatred; I counted them mine enemies.” Saint David indicates that there is only one legitimate reason for a Christian to fight: warfare for the sake of God.
Christ the Savior, despite the seemingly peaceful character of His preaching (the necessity to love one’s enemies, to turn the other cheek to him who strikes thee), nevertheless speaks of how His truth divides people: “For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law” (Matthew 10:35). But the most formidable saying of Jesus is found in Luke 12:51: “Suppose ye that I am come to give peace on earth? I tell you, Nay; but rather division: for from henceforth there shall be five in one house divided, three against two, and two against three. The father shall be divided against the son, and the son against the father; the mother against the daughter, and the daughter against the mother; the mother in law against her daughter in law, and the daughter in law against her mother in law.” These words of Christ reveal the true meaning of Christian warfare, for as one hidden saying of Christ has it, “He who is near Me is near the fire.”
Let us turn to another saying of the Lord, preserved for us by the Evangelist Luke:
“And He said unto them, When I sent you without purse, and scrip, and shoes, lacked ye anything? And they said, Nothing. Then said He unto them, But now, he that hath a purse, let him take it, and likewise his scrip: and he that hath no sword, let him sell his garment, and buy one. For I say unto you, that this that is written must yet be accomplished in Me, And He was reckoned among the transgressors: for the things concerning Me have an end. And they said, Lord, behold, here are two swords. And He said unto them, It is enough.” (Luke 22:36)
Why does the Lord, immediately after the prophecy of Peter’s triple denial, say: sell thy garment (Greek: himation) and buy a sword (in the Synodal translation rendered as “sword”)? Why does He say this on the eve of Gethsemane, on the threshold of the terrible death on the Cross, on the eve of betrayal, fear, and blood—and the coming glory of His Resurrection? What does the Lord leave His disciples as His final instruction, knowing what is to come? How does He strengthen them for the battle ahead? He speaks of the necessity to go forth to war.
The word translated here as “sword” (makhaira in Greek, corresponding in the Bible to the Hebrew cherev) is used in Scripture as a symbol of violence—even killing (the Hebrew root hrb means “to kill, to fight”). The Apostle speaks of the saints who “were slain with the sword,” signifying the violence committed against them. This is not the prophetic sword (rhomphaia), such as the one “which proceeds out of the mouth”—this is a different concept. Christ calls the apostles—and us along with them—to warfare, clearly indicating that the time when one could freely walk without purse or scrip has passed. A new time is coming, when he who has a purse and a scrip must take them. But when a person is freed from the scrip (from the burden of struggle with passions, with hatred and sorrow), then he may and must give all in order to buy a sword—the instrument of battle.
The True Meaning of Warfare – Separation #
But should a disciple of Christ resort to violence? The sword, as Saint Paul says, belongs to one who is in authority. But is Christ speaking of authority, or of worldly dominion? In Western European medieval thought, these words gave rise to the entire theory of the “two swords,” justifying state-sponsored spiritual violence and the symbiosis of secular and ecclesiastical power. In Latin and Nikonian theology, a doctrine developed concerning the special cooperation of Church and state, wherein the Church uses the state and its machinery of repression to suppress internal opposition or to resolve issues which, strictly speaking, should be handled within the Church. Such was the case during the Inquisition in Spain and Flanders, and such was the case during the Romanov persecutions of those zealous for the ancient Orthodox piety in Russia.
However, in Orthodox Tradition, such a theory [of political-ecclesiastical violence] has never existed. The sword spoken of by the Savior, as necessary for this new ministry, is the sword of the Word of God—piercing and striking. The Lord says: “Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword.” (Matthew 10:34). The sword is that which divides, that which breaks the bonds of society, of nation, of family, that sunders a false unity not built upon the Cornerstone—that is, loyalty to Christ. As Saint John Chrysostom explains in his commentary on the Gospel according to Matthew: “Not every unity is good—for even robbers are united. For war is not the result of His intention, but of their own choice. He Himself desires that all be united in the word of piety. But if they divide (lit. fall apart), then war ensues. But He does not say this directly, but how does He put it? ‘I came not to bring peace,’ referring to them [that is, His disciples]… for war is not only among neighbors, but even among the most beloved and most necessary to each other…” To take up arms is to fulfill the law of love—the highest law, which demands, for the sake of Truth, even a sword against one’s own kin.
Yet even the disciples of Christ did not fully understand their Teacher. A little later, when the wicked Judas comes into the garden of Gethsemane, Peter rises up to defend his Master, according to his own understanding. Then Christ, stopping Peter who had drawn a literal sword, also halts anyone who would seek to interfere with the fulfillment of God’s providence, raising his hand against the feeble servant of the high priest (Matthew 26:51: “Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword”; or John 18:10: “Put up thy sword into the sheath: the cup which my Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it?”). The Lord Himself rejects a coarse, fleshly understanding of warfare. To fight as a Christian does not mean cutting off Malchus’ ear.
The Warfare of Love #
The sword of the Word, the sword of the Spirit, is raised with love and for the sake of love. So also says the wise Paul, exhorting us: “Taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” (Ephesians 6:15–17). Here he states directly that the sword proper to the Christian is the power of God, His Word. This spiritual sword is nevertheless a sword of compulsion—a sword that cleaves man’s inner constitution, cutting into his spiritual makeup. Again, let us turn to the Apostle: “For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.” (Hebrews 4:12)
Therefore, the sword strikes not only the enemies of the Truth, compelling them to come to the knowledge of it, but above all the very one who desires to battle the enemies of Christ. The divine Theologian Gregory asks: “What is the sword? The cutting of the Word, which separates the worse from the better, and divides the believer from the unbeliever, and stirs up the son and daughter and daughter-in-law against the father, mother, and mother-in-law.” Thus, there will be division, and multiplied sorrow, and sundering and strife among the closest of kin for the sake of the Truth, for the sake of Christ. Is this not how enmity with the world looks? Is this not what the Lord foretold to the reasoning soul—Eve—when He promised to place enmity between her and the serpent, understanding the serpent as the world which lies in evil?
But enmity with the world is, above all, enmity with the passions, which, according to the blessed Isaac, are the very world itself. Therefore the Lord says, “Buy a sword.” Another Gregory—Saint Gregory of Nyssa—teaches us: “When one is led by the Lord into such holiness [understanding this to refer to mystical sacred action], having slain the fleshly mind with the spiritual sword, which is the Word of God, then shall he appease God.” And the great Saint Basil the Great says: “If the spiritual sword is the Word of God, and the Holy Spirit is God, [then] it is His sword.”
At the same time, the Apostle Paul affirms the thought of King David: that struggle is only justified when it is not directed against people, but against blasphemy against God and heretical falsehoods. “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” (Ephesians 6:12). Flesh and blood are not enemies of God, since they are His creation; but the rulers of this world and the spirits of wickedness implant in the minds of men blasphemous thoughts and ideas, turning people into enemies of God.
Holy Struggle and the True Enemies of the Christian #
Thus, Christians must “contend for the faith,” and the lot of the Christian is sacred struggle. But what is this struggle? It is a struggle in which the enemy may even be the person himself—his own self—for the banner of battle is salvation, and the object of the struggle is the righteousness of God. Yet it is dangerous to direct this warfare wrongly.
For instance, the Mohammedans often use the term “holy war,” which, in their own interpretation, means “spiritual struggle”—a battle against sin and against those who teach sin and lies. It would be unfair to accuse the followers of Islam of inventing this concept; it is present in the Bible, as witnessed by the prophet David and many other prophets and sacred writers of the Old Testament. The tragedy is that the Hagarenes did not follow their own doctrine, and turned the sword against Christian nations—thus showing us an erroneous path, one fraught with danger for all. This example demonstrates how important it is to choose the right object of one’s warfare.
Inner Struggle and Ancient Piety #
One of the central images of patristic asceticism is contest, struggle, agōn. In other words, a Christian is called to labor, to do battle. “I beseech you, my children and brethren, that ye not be like me—a wicked and slothful servant—but that ye strive in a good contest, that ye may be found worthy to enter into the joy of our Lord,” says one ancient ascetic tract. It teaches Christians to engage in unceasing warfare not so much “against,” but rather “for”—for truth, for purity, for the ancient ways, for honesty and a good name. It is precisely this character of the struggle that defines its supra-personal nature. If the source of falsehood is one’s own thought, then that thought must be uprooted and resisted. Both these words—agōn and pale—refer us not to man-slaughtering rage, not to the fury with which the shaggy-haired heroes of ancient Homer slash and tear each other, but rather to something like athletic competition, to a contest (pale is cognate with palestra—the gymnasium).
Let us now turn to the struggle of those zealous for ancient piety, for which we are often reproached by adversaries of our faith. When the hieromartyr Archpriest Avvakum says that he would “cut into pieces” the Nikonians, how should we understand his words? Does the martyr mean the physical destruction of the patriarch and his supporters? It seems quite clear that Avvakum—who even pitied his torturers—harbored no lasting malice toward any man. So whom did the fiery archpriest truly seek to “cut down”? His Life as a whole testifies that his battle was directed against Satan and his servants, who are the true and primary “Nikonians”—the enemies of the Holy Church and the sacred ecclesiastical tradition. It was such demons who inspired both Nikon and the Tsar with their wild and senseless project of reforming the Russian Church in the spirit of Hellenophilia, which in reality was modeled on Western reforms—a project of struggle “against,” not “for.”
Indeed, if one reads attentively both the Life and the epistles of Saint Avvakum, it becomes clear that his heart burned with love and compassion even for those governors who beat and tormented him, who abused his family and mocked his faith.
Even the holy Solovki confessors defended the Orthodox faith from blasphemers who arrived with detachments of streltsy to mock the faith of Ancient Rus’. And this defense was carried out according to all the rules (with cannons and fortress walls), such that for seven years the tyrant’s troops attempted to seize the monastery of piety—but failed. Both the hieromartyr Avvakum and the Solovki sufferers, waging war with words and with arms against blasphemers and oppressors, did not fight against unfortunate people, but against falsehood. Even Christ Himself, in wrath, drove the moneychangers out of the temple and overturned their tables—thereby committing an act of “violence,” and yet surely none of us would dare to condemn such an act, for it was done in the name of truth and by Truth Himself.
In this sense, the struggle for ancient piety is a true struggle. It is not enough merely to “live”—one must stand firm for that which forms the foundation of faith and of life: the Truth. The battle has not ended; it continues.
A Peaceful Spirit and Christian Warfare #
One may ask: what then of the “peaceful spirit” and non-resistance? Here it must be said plainly: Christianity is not pacifism. The Lord calls us to fight—not against people, but against falsehood, heresy, and blasphemy, which may harm the Church’s flock, and indeed have harmed it many times. Therefore, we are called to fight—not to “acquire the spirit” along the paths of Count Tolstoy, merchant Motovilov, or Mahatma Gandhi. There is a time to gather, and a time to cast away, says Ecclesiastes.
Let us also remember that throughout its entire history, the Church of Christ has been in constant struggle. Dogmatic and canonical battles are symptoms of health, not of illness in the Church body. One may go further: when there is no struggle, heresies and false teachings flourish. Refusing to struggle, to engage in spiritual warfare, is like a deluded patient refusing treatment or prevention, in the hope that everything will “heal on its own.” Let the bacilli infect the body—while we “acquire the spirit”? No, this is not the path of Christ, but of antichrist—for even to the angel it is prophetically said in the Revelation of St. John the Theologian that the lukewarm will be spewed out of the Lord’s mouth.
Therefore, we must fight—but fight in a Christian way, with stillness (with peace of soul), casting off the garments of false and destructive indifference, and turning our sword against false teachings and heresies. We must go to battle, being ever cautious not to turn our sword against our neighbor or our brother, always remembering that even the most ruinous heretic bears within himself the image of Christ the Savior, and may “in that very hour” repent and turn to the truth. But for that to happen, we must contend for that truth—and crush the deceitful Belial and the spirits of indifference and bias within our own souls.
Aleksei Muravyev (Moscow)
Old Believer, 2007, No. 38
Editorial note: Aleksei Vladimirovich Muravyev is a Candidate of Historical Sciences, Senior Research Fellow at the Institute of World History of the Russian Academy of Sciences, and a Christian of the Tver community of the Russian Orthodox Old-Rite Church (RPSC).