For me, nonviolence requires faith

My faith gives me a chance to feel every bit of my anger and allows me to express it in nonviolent ways.

When I found out that Donald Trump was coming to Philadelphia and visiting my alma mater (Temple University) no less, I felt anger coursing through me. I was furious that the former president—now convicted felon—was visiting my home, a place where I have felt refuge. I actually said the words “I hate him” to a friend—then felt bad. I’m a pastor of a Mennonite church committed to peace and reconciliation. Nonetheless, that was the truth of my feeling.

I feel very angry these days. And not just at Trump, but also at the state of the world, at the war in Israel-Palestine, at the architect of the genocide in Gaza, Benjamin Netanyahu. I am incensed. And frankly, it fees like I have a right to be. The world is on fire and that fire blazes inside me.

I am outraged that fascism looms in the U.S. and genocide is happening in Gaza. I want the world to change and I ally with many others who have the same passion for justice. I am sympathetic with violent forms of resistance, but my faith offers me another path. I feel called by Jesus to turn the other cheek, to walk the second mile, to turn over my tunic as well. I want to follow in the nonviolent way Jesus highlighted for us when he prayed that his heavenly Parent, if willing, would take away the cup of the crucifixion. Jesus was asking the Parent to allow him not to move forward with the way of nonviolence, the one leading to his death, and to take up arms against his oppressors. 

I empathize with those who feel moved to engage with force against injustice. Unless we feel the fullness of our anger at injustice, the anger that results in violence, our nonviolence is cheap. It’s easy to be nonviolent when you don’t have any enemies, when your life is comfortable, when you are wealthy or at least live in the “nice” part of town. It’s easy to be nonviolent when you don't experience oppression. And unfortunately, the poster children for nonviolence are often those people. Nonviolence suits them; if the anger of those down-and-out is placated, what threat are they to the powerful?

In fact, too often, I think our elected officials aren’t angry enough. I think they too often think that simply voting for them is enough to pacify us. And while the choice for me is clear in November, my anger is not satisfied in that choice. If indeed democracy is on the line in November, then I would like the leaders of the party that is supposed to stop democracy from ending to have a little more resolve about the existential problem we face. 

If well-off people choose nonviolence as a matter of convenience and self-preservation, then why would people who aren’t well-off choose it? Well, first, I want to say that my commitment to nonviolence is rooted in my faith. It is not rooted in political strategy or expedience. Some people smarter than me speak about the efficacy of nonviolence politically. They may well be right, but my motivation to be nonviolent is not related to what is pragmatic. It is a spiritual matter of obedience to Christ. It is about loving enemies and not harming them, even in the face of justifiable reasons to do so.

Because I am committed to not expressing my anger through violence, I need to find other ways to express it. Burying it allows it to be misdirected, and trying to cope with it decreases my need to fight the injustice around us. Anger is a valid emotion and response to injustice, even if violence is not a good way to behave. 

My spiritual director offered me some suggestions. She said first, write down all of the things that enrage me, and put them into a mug. Then set the contents on fire (outside). Punching a pillow, she said, can help too. Go on a hike and break sticks. Throw rocks in a pond. Break bags of ice on concrete. 

I find it’s helpful for me to sing music loudly in my car. The more relevant the music, the better.

I also take a cue from the Psalmists and write and pray lamentations to God. I am angry at what is happening and sometimes that turns into anger toward God. God is often the Parent who can handle my tantrums, and I’m grateful for that containment. 

I believe God wants me to use my anger to do my part. God is faithful and God shares my anger. And so do other Christians, other people of faith, and other people of conscience. And so as I feel anger in my body, I am called to nonviolent ways of showing up, marching, chanting, writing letters. We need to build a movement that can change the world, and feeling our anger and learning how to hold it and allowing it to move us to action is a part of that.