“I have not come to bring peace”: On Embracing Theological and Political Conflict

by Isaac Horwedel

   Christianity is constituted by conflict. Like most of the world’s religions, it presupposes that things are not as they should be. The eschatological inversions proclaimed by Jesus in his most famous sermon, in which he announces that the first will be last and the last will be first, are the mirror image of a topsy-turvy world that needs to be set right. 

   The long history of attempts to grapple with what has gone wrong and how it might be made right has left a pile of books, bodies and burned bridges in its wake. As such, it is not difficult to understand why certain Christians long for the Church to be a place of unity amidst the ubiquity of political division and polarization. This desire is especially reasonable insofar as community cohesion seems so radically absent amidst the present realities of stress, pain and anxiety pressing in upon us in all directions with such momentous force. The need for pragmatic solutions that might inch us toward a better world takes on an air of common sense. Who could be against the unity and constructive proposals to get us there? 

   However understandable these hopes may be, there is an inherent risk in prioritizing practicality and constructiveness as a response to the kinds of substantive political and theological problems facing churches and other theological institutions today. What appears intuitive may only be so because we’ve gotten used to seeing things upside down.

   The desire for pragmatic responses to difficult problems can easily mask a desire for easy steps to stop the bleeding long enough that we can get back to business-as-usual. In the case of political conflict and polarization, bracketing concern for the truth or the right thing to do for the sake of doing what works often leads to unity via exclusion. After all, one of the most expedient and effective solutions to political divisiveness and polarization within a given community is to simply expel the troublemakers who seem intent on interrupting normalcy. 

   What is and is not considered practical depends on your perspective. Too often, we construe our problems according to the solutions that seem most feasible, affordable or even profitable. Institutional leaders typically do not want to hear proposals like sell all of your possessions and give the money to the poor; disavow all tangible financial and institutional associations with the American military, its police, and its hyper exploitative corporations; pool all your resources with other area churches and distribute them according to whose needs are greatest; call the bigoted and the hateful to repentance and then shake the dust from your feet and move on without them if they refuse. These are all more or less accomplishable options with solid biblical and theological precedent. 

   The fact that these sorts of proposals might threaten the existence of our theological institutions is further proof that their sustainability depends upon proper functioning in a dysfunctional world. It is no secret that the realities of capitalist society require us to pursue our personal and institutional projects as they are mediated by money and the ever-increasing accumulation of value. Churches, schools, and non-profits require money to operate. This is true regardless of whether we want it to be. As Marika Rose writes, “Even if we believe that the value of a human life is infinite, or that you can’t put a value on kindness, we are constantly forced to act as though that’s not true.” The work of the gospel appears to be limited to what is accomplishable by the work of the dollar. 

   The gospel, on the other hand, appears to call for more than feasibility, effectiveness and sustainability. It might not work at all according to these metrics. Jesus’ lonely bloody death on a cross at the hands of Imperial Rome was not pragmatic or effective in any recognizable sense; nor was the preaching and teaching that illuminated the shadowy path of his easy yoke. This is no path of self-preservation in a world in need of reform. It seems like a path of self-sacrifice in a world that must come to an end. 

   Following the gospel, then, may be irreducibly polarizing, divisive and unsustainable. Jesus seems to suggest as much in Matthew 10:34-39: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother…and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.” The gospel brings polarization in a polarizing world. We will all be judged. 

   Charting a way forward at the individual or institutional level in a way that is truly faithful to the Good News that divides like a sword may be impossible in such a situation. Any hope in the meantime would seem to require us to, at minimum, begin by reframing our conception of political conflict and division itself. Histories of prophetic witness and political struggle toward liberation suggest that conflict, divisiveness and polarization are not necessarily indicative of error. They often result from clashes with the imposition of a desired state of agreeableness that obscures voices of suffering. Our task, therefore, is not simply reducing conflict to harmony.

   The very discourse around political polarization and civility (or lack thereof) taking place in churches and other theological institutions is itself the site of political and theological struggle. As Ryan Newson writes, “what counts as civility is essentially contested and discursively constructed; one person’s civility is another person’s incivility, and vice versa.” The question is not whether or not it is ever appropriate to be civil or courteous in community life, but we must question whose interests are being served in these calls for togetherness and unity. There are many things about which we ought not be civil, to which we ought not allow ourselves to be well-adjusted, about which opposing sides cannot be reconciled. 

   Newson continues, “One cannot value ‘both sides’ on homophobia and LGBTQ inclusion, or white supremacy, or universal healthcare, or empowering women in ministry, or class struggle. One must choose.” There are no apolitical options on matters of importance, and, as such, there are no apolitical churches. Lukewarm attempts to cater to both bigots and the targets of bigots, exploiters and those they exploit, oppressors and those they oppress, is a political position that justifies and reproduces bigotry, exploitation and oppression. When theological institutions make such attempts, wittingly or unwittingly, they “(baptize) Jesus into a vision of neutrality that is most suited to life in the suburbs but less so elsewhere.” 

   Attempts to combat polarization tend to assume that its antidote is a kind of middle ground to be achieved by both sides accepting some shared responsibility and finally learning their respective lessons. There is no harm in wishing for peace and unity. Indeed, there is a kind of earth-shattering power in the image of the wolf and the lamb lying together in eternal kinship. But wolves and lambs do not have equal lessons to learn on this side of the horizon because lambs do not stalk and eat wolves. Put more straightforwardly, the victims of ICE raids do not have a lesson to learn; neither do the brave communities chasing the authoritarian menace out of their neighborhoods or those simply calling for an end to it all. Political division on such an issue is the direct result of one side’s attempts to justify unjustifiable political violence. 

   This is not unique to the situation of ICE, but remains true for ostensibly “divisive” issues like the full inclusion of LGBTQ persons, the genocide in Gaza, the ongoing realities of white supremacy and patriarchy, the stark realities of wealth inequality as a result of the private accumulation of wealth, and the remainder of politically significant issues that make up our social reality. We must all take stances that will necessarily alienate current or prospective members on the other side of the issue, regardless of the side. Choosing the middle, in these cases, is choosing the side of the oppressor’s knife against the neck of the oppressed. 

   Embracing such a self-consciously politicized orientation as one enters into conflicts for the sake of inverting the inverse world has practical implications beyond the contents of sermons and other kinds of institutional programming. This orientation might also encourage us to work toward a political and theological imagination at the level of our institutional structures. This means thinking critically and faithfully about whose labor goes into making a given church or institution operational and how those workers are compensated and protected in an increasingly precarious job market. It means questioning the types of people we might assume belong on boards of directors and the types of people we might assume must only relate to our organizations as recipients of charity. It means thinking faithfully and creatively about the use and purposes of our private properties, including the use of buildings and the land they’re on. It means paying close attention to the ongoing conflicts in the community and seeing them as opportunities for new lines of solidarity as more and more people face the stressors of economic insecurity and authoritarian aggression exacerbated by the ongoing hierarchies of race, gender, and sexual orientation. 

   The desire for solutions and proposals that are merely feasible within the logic of our inverted world risks dulling our senses to the catastrophes around us. The reality is that people are still sleeping outside our spacious heated homes and churches. Documented and undocumented immigrants are being hunted down, torn from the supportive wombs of communities and families. The people of Gaza are sleeping in tents amongst the rubble while the waters rise and the bombs continue to rain down from across the death camp walls. This is but a sliver of the normal hells we are facing today and the next day to which we cannot help but respond. 

   Most people preaching quiet caution or optimism in the face of the catastrophe have little to lose so long as it is maintained. Just the knowledge of such realities, to say nothing of experiencing them, justifies a glowing rage beyond comprehension. Churches have, at times, been a space for people to channel this rage toward change, however imperfectly, or at the very least to find a modicum of rest, solidarity, and strategic dialogue with fellow travelers in the long meantime. To the extent that the desire for unity and workability dulls our critical awareness of suffering or impels us to quiet the voices of those sounding the alarms of complacency, it must be disavowed. The hell of our present calls us to be self-consciously political, polarizing, and divisive for the sake of all whose suffering is taken for granted. 

Isaac Horwedel is a visiting assistant professor of Religion at Gustavus Adolphus College, living in St. Paul, MN. He writes on critical theory, theology, and addiction. 

References

1. Ellen Ott Marshall, Introduction to Christian Ethics: Conflict, Faith, and Human Life (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2018), 9.​

2. David P. Gushee, Moral Teachings of Jesus: Radical Instruction in the Will of God (Eugene: Cascade, 2024), 196–197.​
   https://wipfandstock.com/9781666770182/moral-teachings-of-jesus

3. Marika Rose, Theology for the End of the World (London: SCM Press, 2023), 120.​
   https://scmpress.hymnsam.co.uk/books/9780334060861/theology-for-the-end-of-the-world

4. Theodor W. Adorno, Problems of Moral Philosophy, ed. Thomas Schröder, trans. Rodney Livingstone (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2001), 144.​
   https://www.sup.org/books/title/?id=1745

5. Ryan Andrew Newson, The End of Civility: Christ and Prophetic Division (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2023), 5.​
   https://www.baylorpress.com/9781481319323/the-end-of-civility

6. Ryan Andrew Newson, The End of Civility, 10.​

7. Ryan Andrew Newson, The End of Civility, 28.​

8. Ryan Andrew Newson, The End of Civility, 50.​

9. Note on U.S. political parties and ICE: both Republican and Democratic parties have regularly justified and expanded the powers of ICE since its establishment in 2003.​

10. Ted A. Smith, The End of Theological Education (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2023), 189.​
    https://www.eerdmans.com/9780802878878/the-end-of-theological-education

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