The Christian Witness in the Earthly
City:
John H. Yoder as Augustinian Interlocutor
Gerald W. Schlabach
University of St. Thomas
Presented at
conference on “Assessing the Theological Legacy of John Howard Yoder,”
University of Notre
Dame, 7-9 March 2002
Seek the peace
of the city -- its welfare, its prosperity, its shalom. This was Jeremiah’s last word to Israel’s
exiles in Babylon.[1] The social stance to which it called them
was supple and manifold, requiring them to stubbornly preserve their identity
yet sufferingly serve the common good they shared with their conquering enemy.
And so too,
both Augustine of Hippo and John Howard Yoder.
Intriguingly, each in his own way ended long reflections about the role
of the Church in the world at this same point, exhorting Christians to follow
the model of Jeremiah’s exiles in Babylon.
This, I will argue, is no mere coincidence. For Augustine’s last word on how the “heavenly city” of
Christians still on pilgrimage should live amid the “earthly city” has served
Christian traditions in the West not so much as a final answer to the question
of how they should order their politics within the passing societies of the
age, but rather as a definitive statement of that question. We can thus construe Yoder’s pacifist,
ecclesial social ethic as a late answer -- perhaps the best answer -- to the
very question that Augustine did so much to sharpen but ultimately left
hanging: Just how are we to seek
the peace of the city, without eroding our loyalty to that better one in whose
hope we move and live?
Converging upon Jeremiah
St. Augustine
of Hippo has exercised such an abiding influence upon political thought in the
West for a curious reason: intrinsic to his vision of human society is the
insight that we can never quite set our affairs in order and never quite get
our politics right. The world’s best
possible peace is a shadowy one; its most stable order is a tenuous one; its
fullest possible justice is always only somewhat more just than current
arrangements. In fact, the very effort
to forge a definitive political order lies at the root of many of humanity’s
gravest injustices, disorders and conflicts.
Inevitably if not explicitly, therefore, politics according to Augustine
must always be temporal, tentative, and revisable.[2] This leaves every generation with a
remainder to rework. And that makes
Augustinian political thought itself into an ongoing debate that no age, system
or ideology can definitively capture.[3]
If the politics
Augustine charted for the earthly city is necessarily and rightly
incomplete, however, the same cannot be said of Augustine’s ecclesiology. Given the rigor of Augustine’s critique of
the Roman Empire in City of God, and the depth of political insight that
his critique occasioned, one might have expected from him an ecclesiology at
least as thorough as his political theory.
If an adequate account of the life of the Church must include not just a
theological metaphysic but a practicable sociology, however, Augustine’s
ecclesiology is elusive -- suggestive at best.[4]
In contrast to
the proud earthly city of Rome he critiqued in City of God, the pilgrim
heavenly city which is the Church thrives by humbling itself and glorifying
God, not self, nor the collective self of nation. Its love is not for domination, but for God, neighbor and even
enemy. And though no one can mistake
Augustine for a pacifist, he recognized that the Church had in fact extended
itself through the faithfulness of the martyrs and the witness of a people who,
like the Hebrews, “was gathered and united in a kind of community designed to
perform [the] sacred function of revelation” through “signs and symbols
appropriate to the times.”[5] This witnessing presence in the world hints
at the affirmation of the Second Vatican Council that the Church itself is the
sacrament of the world’s salvation. It
also hints at the truthful power of what Yoder called the creative minority,
whose presence is the “original revolution” in the world.
But by now we
are only talking about hints.
What Augustine’s ecclesiology lacks is a politics or sociology to chart
out how Christians are to live simultaneously in the earthly and heavenly
cities, without confusing their loyalties or conflating their duties. A passage often assumed to provide normative
guidance for the Christian politician may illustrate.
How are we to
interpret book 19 of the City of God in general, and the identity of
“our wise man” the reluctant judge of City of God 19.6 in
particular? The chapter begins with
recognition that even in human cities that are relatively at peace, some must
pass judgments upon others. But anyone informed by the best wisdom of human
philosophy would recognize how imperfect was the Roman juridical process, with
its use of torture. Doing one’s duty to
preserve justice in the earthly city thus necessitated an array of tragic
choices: release the innocent only
after undeserved torture, execute the innocent upon false confession, or
execute an actual criminal without certainty of the grounds. Because “our wise man” recognized “this darkness
that attends the life of human society” without flinching, he would accept its
claims, do his duty, and sit on the bench without shirking. “Here we have what I call the wretchedness
of man’s situation,” wrote Augustine.
And if the wise man was not to be called wicked, that was only because
he hated the very “necessity of his own actions,” learned a further wisdom from
devotion to God, and cried out for deliverance from his necessities.
To most
interpreters, the lesson we should take from Augustine has seemed obvious. In the following chapter, City of God
19.7, “our wise man” now turned “wise judge” serves as template for explaining
why even the best and wisest philosopher officials will not only punish
wrong-doers but wage wars, however reluctantly. But though that much is straightforward in the text, the standard
interpretation goes farther than the text itself warrants. For when it makes
“our wise man” into the exemplar for any Christian politician it assumes that
Augustine’s purpose was to provide a normative argument rather than a
description of the human predicament apart from God.
In fact, most
of City of God 19 is about indictment not guidance. It is one of Augustine’s many and
characteristic endeavors to drive his readers to despair -- precisely in order
that they like he will look elsewhere for hope, recognize their need for God
and cry out for deliverance.[6] The first chapters of City of God 19
constitute the climax to the master argument of the tome: The Roman aristocrats who accuse
Christianity of weakening Roman virtue are the ones who have weakened the
empire by failing to match the virtues of the old Romans.[7] But even the virtues of the old and founding
Romans in fact had rested on vices -- love of glory, praise, domination, and
self.[8] Ancient philosophers offered somewhat better
counsel about where to lodge one’s hope and how to pursue the human good,
especially the Platonists.[9]
But even they fell short by seeking their good through pride in their own
efforts, rather than faith in God.[10] And if the one thing the philosophers all
agreed upon was that the human good must be social, the best that human society
had to offer was a “shadowy peace” still full of ills, enmity and tragic
choices.[11] Such is the panorama of misery Augustine has
just finished presenting in City of God 19.5.
“Our wise man”
of 19.6, then, was the one who had learned all these lessons -- the best that
Roman civic culture and antique philosophical eclecticism had to offer. He was Stoic in composure, Platonic in
aspiration, and perhaps somewhere upon the threshold of Christian devotion to
God, but no more than that was certain.
What he should do next in his official capacity simply was not the
driving point of Augustine’s argument.
Augustine knew
and counselled many such men, of course.
But the pastoral counsel he offered them often responded as much to
Augustine’s pragmatism as his principle.
Disjunctures between his systematic reflection and his occasional
letters are as much a sign that he himself was unsettled about what “our wise
man” and judge should do next, once devoted to God, as they are an
authoritative template for Christian political engagement.
The normative
guidance that Augustine did offer to worldly-wise Christians in City of God
19, was to look to God for hope, to look to the heavenly city for citizenship,
and to look at the earthly city as no better than a “captivity.” They should not cease to be “a society of
resident aliens” drawn from many languages and cultures (19.17) -- not abandon
therefore the status that Christians had embraced prior to Constantine.[12] The inadequate, shadowy peace of the earthly
city surely had value insofar as it gave the Church time and space to grow in
the worship of God, but Christians should merely use this earthly peace
not rest in it or identify with it as their own. If Jeremiah’s exiles were the template for Christian political
engagement then yes, one way to seek the peace of the city might be to work as
civil servants. But unlike the Roman
officials with whom Augustine corresponded, Diaspora Jews had had little
trouble remembering themselves to be captives.
They dare not forgot that they were in Babylon, that resistance
to imperial idolatry could never cease to be an option, and that they belonged
first to God and God’s people.[13]
For all
practical purposes, Jeremiah’s final exhortation was Augustine’s last word on
politics and Christian engagement in City of God. It does not solve but
rather leaves hanging the question of how exactly Christians are to seek
the peace of the earthly city. To take
the practices of Augustine’s wise judge as our final answer to the question of
how to seek the peace of the city, is to misread Augustine’s larger argument,
to ignore his rhetorical practices, and above all to beg the question Augustine
left hanging. The “wise man” of City
of God 19 then serves as a blank for later interpreters to fill in with
whatever they have already decided to be the best wisdom of their age; his
“necessities” become whatever they think they must do when they “do what they have
to do” on other grounds. And if
Augustine himself could only barely imagine a Christian politics that helped
answer the wise man’s cry for deliverance -- if he himself assumed that the
best his Christian friends in high places could do was act like “our wise man”
and carry out their “necessities” with purer intentions and authentic grief in
their hearts -- that only means that he too was begging the question that
Jeremiah put to him, even as he posed it definitively for later
Christian traditions.
Now, what if a
later interpreter accepted the contours of Augustine’s critique of the earthly
city but did more than he to explore the implications of Jeremiah’s guidance
for life in exile and Diaspora? What if
he did at least as much to help Christian “resident aliens” remain clear about
where their ultimate loyalties lie? And
what if he thus identified a more complete and creative politics for the
pilgriming heavenly city that is obliged to seek the peace of the earthly
city? It would hardly seem remarkable
for someone to describe that interpreter as deeply engaged in the Augustinian
project.
Except of
course that I refer to John Howard Yoder.
Diverging from Niebuhr
Reinhold
Niebuhr’s name appears only rarely in the last book that John Yoder prepared
for publication, For the Nations.[14] Yet as Yoder turned to Jeremiah and Diaspora
for models of constructive social engagement he was answering -- one more time,
in one more way -- the Niebuhrian charge that often seems to have shaped his
career.[15] That charge: Christians who embrace the
nonviolent ethic of Jesus might be getting Jesus right, but thus render
themselves politically irrelevant and socially irresponsible.
Diaspora
Judaism belied this charge. What
Jeremiah had made clear was that living in exile without political sovereignty
was an opportunity for mission and constructive contribution to the good of
other cultures. Though counter-cultural
in one sense it was pro-cultural in another.
Acting “for the nations” did not depend on the ability of Diaspora Jews
to gain access to reins of power, nor understanding from host cultures.[16] They had contributed more not less precisely
because they repeatedly became fluent in other peoples’ cultural “languages”
without losing the thought world of their own particular “language” or
identity.[17] While their social posture might be
sectarian in some technical sociological sense, it was that very posture that
gave them resources to be more rather than less socially engaged, responsible,
and efficacious -- in other words, to be anything but sectarian in the
pejorative ethical sense.[18]
So even though
Yoder did not set out intentionally to critique one strand of Augustinian
political thought by drawing upon another, closer attention to Jeremiah’s
exiles showed that “our wise man’s” necessities might not be quite so necessary
after all. Reinhold Niebuhr was nothing
if not a 20th century American version of that “wise man.” He was worldly-wise according to the best
wisdom of his age, claimed remorse for actions that fell short of God’s true peace,
yet was “tough-minded” enough to recognize his necessities and do what
apparently had to be done. As such,
having become a “wise judge” presiding over the court of public opinion in
mid-century Protestant America and among its Washington elite, Niebuhr like the
Stoic of City of God 19.6 provided a template for “wise” warriors to
follow.[19]
For Yoder to
move inadvertently closer to Augustine when he critiqued the putatively
Augustinian Niebuhr on eminently Augustinian grounds was nothing new,
however. Niebuhr sometimes portrayed
his own work as a recovery of Augustine’s orthodox doctrine of sin and human
limitation in the face of misguided liberal optimism about human
perfectability.[20] Yoder had pointed out how impoverished was
Niebuhr’s orthodoxy already in the early fifties.
“In spite of
the appearance of the label ‘neo-orthodox,’” wrote Yoder in his 1954 essay on Reinhold
Niebuhr and Christian Pacifism, he “is far from what a historian of
theology could call orthodox.”[21] Although Niebuhr’s recovery of an orthodox
doctrine of sin constituted a proper and largely biblical diagnosis of the
human predicament, according to Yoder, it “consistently slighted” all “those
Christian doctrines which relate to [God’s] redemption” and point to the
Bible’s answer to our deepest human need.
Yoder reminded Niebuhrians, therefore, of the resurrection and the “new
ethical possibilities” that it opens up through grace and regeneration. Anticipating themes in his later work, he
pointed out the absence of the church in Niebuhr’s thought and corrected this
omission by pointing towards ways that it breaks with the patterns of group egoism
that Niebuhr thought demonstrated the inevitability of war. Of course that break is not complete in the
human society of the church, but in 1954 Yoder was also preparing to counter
positions such as Niebuhr’s by stressing the need for an adequate eschatology.[22] Meanwhile, as Yoder observed in Reinhold
Niebuhr and Christian Pacifism, “the common denominator of the
above-mentioned doctrines of resurrection, the church, and regeneration is that
all are works of the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit is likewise neglected in
Niebuhr’s ethics.”[23]
Though Yoder
did not say so, however, a theology that took the reality of sin seriously yet
continued to chart the course of a multinational society of pilgrims being transformed truly if only partially in
this life through the love of God “poured into our hearts through the Holy
Spirit that has been given to us”[24]
-- well, this was a theology that became more not less Augustinian even as it
challenged Niebuhr. Ecclesiology,
eschatology, pneumatology, and grace were precisely the Augustinian doctrines
that Niebuhr had generally left out.
Yoder’s long
debate with Niebuhr, on terms that were surprisingly Augustinian both early and
late in his career, does not make Yoder himself him an “Augustinian,” of
course. Characteristic of his life-long
approach to ethical debate and ecumenical conversation alike was that very
willingness he associated with Diaspora Judaism to learn other people’s
languages and engage them on their own terms, without confusing linguistic systems
or endorsing his interlocutors’ ethics or worldviews.
And yet one
wonders. If nothing else, the length
and breadth of Yoder’s debate with Niebuhrianism makes it something more than
one conversation among Yoder’s many. In
any case, Augustinian assumptions surfaced even when Yoder moved from critique
of Niebuhrian politics to constructive proposals for political engagement
according to his own peace church tradition.
The primary
audience for Yoder’s The Christian Witness to the State was
“nonresistant Christians” (6) who doubted that they could or should address
policy deliberations by the state at all.
Where Yoder worked from assumptions that coincide with Augustine’s we
may safely suppose that they respond to his own desire to articulate a biblical
theology, rather than to respond to the more constraining rhetorical task of
meeting Niebuhr’s agenda.[25] A reader familiar with characteristic ways
of thought in both Augustine and Yoder will note that Yoder’s Christian witness
to the state corresponds with Augustine’s attitudes toward the earthly city in
numerous ways:
1. Both Augustine and Yoder shared a markedly
eschatological frame of reference, and a corresponding recognition that the
present challenge for God’s people is to live “between the times.”[26]
2. For Augustine and Yoder, however,
eschatology was not just a question of time, but a question of space, wherein the
two societies are presently inter-mixed, yet distinguished according to their
ends, loyalties and loves.[27]
3. For both Augustine and Yoder, the purpose
of history and the good of the social order are never knowable on their own
terms.[28]
4. To be sure, nations tend to think otherwise,
so in turn, Augustine and Yoder identified pride as the great problem for the
state and made thorough-going critiques of imperial presumption.[29]
5. Still, even though the capacity of the state
to effect true peace with justice is always limited -- and to think otherwise
is to invite the very pride that tends toward greater injustice -- Augustine
and Yoder both expect that Christians can always call the social order and
the state to do somewhat better.
Hence the Jeremianic injunction to seek the peace of the earthly city.[30]
6. Finally, Augustine and Yoder stated similar
motivations for seeking the peace of the earthly city: the aid it afforded
to the mission of the Church which is the true purpose of history, and love of
neighbor.[31]
Testing the Counter-Intuitive
Of course
Augustine and Yoder differed too -- most obviously in their respective
acceptance and rejection of Christian participation in war. If that difference is incommensurable, my
purpose is not to domesticate Augustine for pacifists but to make it all the
harder for non-pacifist Christians to marginalize Yoder’s witness. Stated modestly, my claim is that an
Augustinian can be a pacifist and a pacifist can be an Augustinian.[32] Stated strongly, my claim might be
that they must -- but I am not so foolish as to expect a single paper to
establish such a claim. The modest
claim that one can be both a pacifist and an Augustinian is
counter-intuitive and challenging enough.
To make it imaginable is therefore response enough. It is imaginable because John Howard Yoder
himself was a serious contender for, within, and not strictly over-against the
Augustinian legacy.
And yet this
claim will prove stronger still if the counter-intuitive intuits more than we
expected. Stanley Hauerwas, in the final
chapter of his Peaceable Kingdom,[33] has already tested
the counter-intuition by showing why pacifists need something of an Augustinian
spirituality in order to sustain their struggle and witness. And he has done so by drawing on that
Augustinian sensibility which Reinhold Niebuhr did properly share.
A “spirituality
of peaceableness” must sustain joy, thankfulness, and hope even while training
us to face the tragedy of our world -- nay, our own love of self-delusion --
with unblinking honesty. This was
Hauerwas’s conclusion as he surveyed the classic 1932 debate in the pages of The
Christian Century between H. Richard and Reinhold Niebuhr over Japan’s
invasion of Manchuria.[34]
The lesson to
learn from the brothers Niebuhr, according to Hauerwas, was not that we must
choose between them, but that we cannot sustain “the kind of [pacifist]
position [then being] represented by H. Richard Niebuhr ... without a
spirituality very much like that hinted at by Reinhold.” Whatever else he was up to, Reinhold Niebuhr
was training us in some of the very spiritual disciplines of patience and
honesty we need to sustain a struggle for justice -- one that is not surprised
by setbacks nor deceived by relative gains.
God’s peace is dangerous, Hauerwas noted. It exposes the lies upon which human beings to a greater or
lesser extent” have built all “social orders and institutions.” For on our own, we use our loves, our loved
ones, and our friends to create “a conspiracy of intimacy to protect each of
our illusions” and allow us a measure of false “peace.” We thus lash out against the stranger who
would challenge our illusions. Unless,
that is, we are hospitable to the God who is our ultimate stranger and
challenger of our self-images. “Joy is
thus finally a result of our being dispossessed of the illusion of security and
power that is the breading ground of our violence.”[35]
But all of this
is deeply Augustinian.[36] If we do not need to choose between the
brothers Niebuhr in every way, well, let’s put it this way: What H. Richard Niebuhr got right about the
hope we must live out through cells of that Christian international we call the
Church, Yoder would later explain at greater length and in finer detail. What Reinhold Niebuhr got right about facing
our illusions unblinkingly, Augustine was training us to do all along. Surely what matters most is that we choose
the way of Jeremiah and Jesus, the gift God gave us long before Augustine and
Yoder. Between these two witnesses,
though, we need not choose.
[1]. Jeremiah 29:7.
[2]. The broad interpretative
claims so far in this paragraph are substantiated in the references to
Augustine on pp. 11-20, along with corresponding footnotes.
[3]. For a fuller argument
that the Augustinian tradition has been such a resilient and living tradition
precisely because of its inherent capacity for self-correction, see Gerald W.
Schlabach, “The Correction of the Augustinians,” in The Early Church and the
Free Church: Bridging the Historical and Theological Divide, forthcoming,
edited by Daniel H. Williams (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2002).
[4]. H. Richard Niebuhr
suggested something similar when he noted in Christ and Culture that
Augustine’s City of God lacked an ecclesiology to match its philosophy
of history. See Christ and Culture,
Harper Torchbooks/Cloister Library (New York: Harper and Row, 1956), 215-16.
[5]. City of God 7.32 (quoted); 18.50.
[6]. On this characteristic,
see John Cavadini, “The Structure and Intention of Augustine’s De Trinitate,”
Augustinian Studies 23 (1992): 103-23; John C. Cavadini, “Time and
Ascent in Confessions XI,” in Augustine: Presbyter Factus Sum,
papers originally presented at a conference at Marquette University, November
1990, eds Joseph T. Lienhard, Earl C. Muller, and Roland J. Teske, Collectanea
Augustiniana (New York: Peter Lang Publishing, 1993), 171-85.
[7]. City of God 1.1, 1.33, 2.2.
[8]. City of God 5.12-20.
[9]. City of God 10.1, 19.1-4.
[10]. City of God 10.29.
[11]. City of God 19.5.
[12]. Epistle of Mathetes to
Diognetus
5-6; Shepherd of Hermas s. 1; Clement of Alexandria, Stromata
6.5-6; Tertullian, The Apology 38; Origen, Against Celsus 8.75; The
Life and Passion of Cyprian 11; Gregory of Nazianzen, Oration 43.49.
[13]. City of God 19.10,17,26
[14]. John Howard Yoder, For
the Nations: Essays Public and Evangelical (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Wm. B.
Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1997).
[15]. Long-time students of
Yoder will hardly need evidence that the debate with Niebuhr, Niebuhrianism,
and the assumptions that other non-pacifist Christians had held but that
Niebuhr definitively articulated, run like a thread throughout his career. Mennonite students of Yoder will also
recognize that the response to Niebuhr’s charge had already begun in the decade
or two before Yoder began writing. The
following references, therefore, are only a sample of the most forthright
statements recognizing the task of taking on Niebuhr, chosen because they
thread back a half a century: Guy
Franklin Hershberger, War, Peace, and Nonresistance, 3d ed., reprint,
1944, Christian Peace Shelf Selection (Scottdale, Pa.: Herald Press, 1969),
236-54; John H[oward] Yoder, Reinhold Niebuhr and Christian Pacifism,
reprint, 1955, A Concern Reprint (Scottdale, Pa.: Concern, n.d.); John Howard
Yoder, The Christian Witness to the State, Institute of Mennonite
Studies Series, no. 3 (Newton, Kan.: Faith and Life Press, 1964), 5-8, noting
n. 4 on p. 7; John H[oward] Yoder, The Politics of Jesus (Grand Rapids:
William B. Eerdmans, 1972), 11-25 (noting especially nn. 4, 7), 110-13; John
Howard Yoder, The Priestly Kingdom: Social Ethics as Gospel (Notre Dame,
Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 1984), 90-91, 100-01.
[16]. Yoder, For the
Nations, 33-34, 67-68.
[17]. Yoder, For the
Nations, 71. Cf. John Howard Yoder,
“On not Being Ashamed of the Gospel: Particularity, Pluralism, and Validation,”
Faith and Philosophy 9, no. 3 (July 1992): 290-91.
[18]. Yoder, For the
Nations, 3-5 Yoder prepared and
entitled For the Nations in part to clarify that is own position was
less contrarian than his former colleague Stanley Hauerwas’s often appeared to
be. Hauerwas, after all, had published Against
the Nations. (Cf. the hint of this
purpose in footnote 6 on p. 4 of For the Nations.) Long-time readers of Yoder, of course, know
that he had regularly drawn up lists of the ways that a prophetic minority,
creative minority, Abrahamic community, Jeremianic Diaspora community, or any
other preferred term for a putatively sectarian group provides
societies-at-large with the resources for constructive social change. See for example Christian Witness to the
State, 18-22; “Christ, the Hope of the World,” in The Original
Revolution: Essays on Christian Pacifism, Christian Peace Shelf (Scottdale,
Pa.: Herald Press, 1971), 203-07; “The Biblical Mandate for Evangelical Social
Action,” in For the Nations: Essays Public and Evangelical (Grand
Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1997), 184-89.
[19]. For a fresh account of
the role that Niebuhr played in the emerging managerial elite of mid-century
America, see Eugene McCarraher, Christian Critics: Religion and the Impasse
in Modern American Social Thought (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press,
2000), 64-70, 91-97.
[20]. Reinhold Niebuhr, “Reply
to Interpretation and Criticism,” in Reinhold Niebuhr: His Religious,
Social, and Political Thought, edited by Charles W. Kegley and Robert W.
Bretall, The Library of Living Theology, vol. 11 (New York: The Macmillan
Company, 1956), 436; Reinhold Niebuhr, “Intellectual Autobiography,” in Reinhold
Niebuhr: His Religious, Social, and Political Thought, edited by Charles W.
Kegley and Robert W. Bretall, The Library of Living Theology, vol. 11 (New
York: The Macmillan Company, 1956), 9; Reinhold Niebuhr, Human Nature,
vol. 1 of The Nature and Destiny of Man, reprint, 1941, The Scribner
Lyceum Editions Library (New York: Scribner’s, 1964), 49; Reinhold Niebuhr, The
Irony of American History, The Scribner Lyceum Editions Library (New York:
Scribner’s, 1952), 17.
[21]. Yoder, Reinhold
Niebuhr and Christian Pacifism, 4.
[22]. See Yoder’s essay “Peace
Without Eschatology?”, published in various versions: “If Christ is Truly
Lord,” in The Original Revolution: Essays on Christian Pacifism,
Christian Peace Shelf (Scottdale, Pa.: Herald Press, 1971), 64; “Peace Without
Eschatology?” in The Royal Priesthood: Essays Ecclesiological and Ecumenical,
edited by Michael G. Cartwright (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1994), 152-53.
[23]. Unless otherwise
indicated, all quotations from this paragraph are from Yoder, Reinhold
Niebuhr and Christian Pacifism, 17-19.
For an explicit statement of Yoder’s acceptance of “Niebuhr’s real
service to theology, and to pacifism, in making real the omnipresence of sin,”
see p. 19.
[24]. The quotation from
Romans 5:5 is one often Augustine often cited in explicating his conception of
Christian love.
[25]. Cf. previous note.
[26]. City of God 10.7, 11.1, 15.2, 18.1,
with Augustine’s entire march through history closing in upon the final
judgement (book 20), eternal punishment (book 21), and “the eternal bliss of
the City of God” (book 22, as introduced in 22.1). Yoder, Christian Witness to the State, 8-11, 13, 17.
[27]. City of God 1.35; 10.32, 14.1,
14.4, 14. Yoder, Christian Witness
to the State, 17, 28-31, 42, 72-73.
Among the Augustine passages, note that in 1.35 Augustine’s discussion
of co- or inter-mixture imply an “invisible church” in which pacifism is
scarcely imagineable because Christians look so much like non-Christians, but
rather leads to pacifist possibilities, because among the enemies of the
heavenly city are hidden its future citizens, who must therefore be treated
patiently, until they convert.
[28]. City of God 5-11-21, but especially
5.16 and 21, and cf. 19.17. Christian
Witness to the State, 10-11, 13, 16, 17, 36, 40.
[29]. City of God 4.3-6, 11.1, 12.1,
14.3-4,13,14.28, 15.7. Christian
Witness to the State, 37-38.
[30]. City of God 5.12-15, 19.10-14,
19.17, 19.21, 19.26-27. Yoder, Christian Witness to the State, 6, 7, 13,
25, 32-33, 38-39, 42, 71-73. Key to
Yoder’s approach was the notion of “middle axioms,” which he mentions on p. 32
and treats at greater length on pp. 71-73.
[31]. City of God 19.7. Christian Witness to the State,
10-11, 14, 41-42
[32]. Though the purpose of
this paper was not to reply to James Turner Johnson’s somewhat haughty claim in
the pages of the Journal of Religious Ethics that a pacifist can hardly
begin to understand much less interpret Augustine, it obviously does constitute
a reply. See “Can A Pacifist Have A
Conversation with Augustine? A Response to Alain Epp Weaver,” Journal of
Religious Ethics 29, no. 1 (Spring 2001): 87-93.
[33]. Stanley Hauerwas,
“Tragedy and Joy: The Spirituality of Peaceableness,” chapt. 8 in The
Peaceable Kingdom: A Primer in Christian Ethics (Notre Dame, Ind.:
University of Notre Dame Press, 1983), 135-51.
[34]. H. Richard Niebuhr, “The
Grace of Doing Nothing,” Christian Century 49 (23 March 1932): 378-80;
Reinhold Niebuhr, “Must we Do Nothing?” Christian Century 49 (30 March
1932): 415-17; Hauerwas, “Tragedy and Joy,” 135-40.
[35]. Hauerwas, “Tragedy and
Joy,” 141-48.
[36]. For an exposition of
Augustine’s analysis of friendship and the illusions by which we subtly but
wrongly use our friends, see Gerald W. Schlabach, “Friendship as Adultery:
Social Reality and Sexual Metaphor in Augustine’s Doctrine of Original Sin,” Augustinian
Studies 23 (1992): 125-47. The
current paper has demonstrated his unblinking social critique as practiced in The
City of God and his practices of thorough-going self-examination are famous
from his own Confessions.