What the Church Always Knew: Two Thousand Years of Christian Voices Against War

My nine-year-old son Ezra was talking today about the Greek gods — Zeus, Ares, Loki and the rest — and how they were famous for killing people, even each other. Gods of power. Gods of war. Gods who took what they wanted and destroyed what stood in their way.

Then he stopped and said something that I haven't been able to shake: Jesus was different. He chose to die for love instead of kill for it.

Nine years old.

Isaiah wrote that "a little child shall lead them," and I think he was onto something. Because in one quiet observation, Ezra put his finger on what makes Christ unlike every other figure in the history of religion. The gods of every empire have always looked like the empires that worshipped them — powerful, armed, triumphant in battle. Jesus looked like a man on a cross, forgiving the people who put him there.

That difference is not incidental. It is the whole point. And it turns out that an enormous number of Christians — across two thousand years, from the earliest church fathers to modern popes — understood it exactly the way a nine-year-old boy does.

There is a strand of Christian thought so old, so consistent, and so wide that it is remarkable how often it goes unmentioned. It runs not from the second century but from the prophets themselves — through the Gospels, through the letters of Paul, through martyrs and monks and mystics, all the way to our own time. It crosses Catholic and Protestant, East and West, martyr and pope. It is not the whole of the tradition, but it is a thread that has never been cut.

These are their words.

The Prophets

The vision did not begin with the church. It began with Israel's poets and prophets, who caught a glimpse of a world without war and held it out as the ultimate destination of human history.

Isaiah saw the nations streaming toward a mountain where something unprecedented would occur:

"He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore."

— Isaiah 2:4 (NIV)

Micah repeated the same vision almost word for word, adding a quiet image of ordinary safety:

"They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore. Everyone will sit under their own vine and under their own fig tree, and no one will make them afraid."

— Micah 4:3–4 (NIV)

Hosea described the covenant God longed to make — one in which even the instruments of war would be abolished:

"I will make a covenant for them with the beasts of the field, the birds in the sky and the creatures that move along the ground. Bow and sword and battle I will abolish from the land, so that all may lie down in safety."

— Hosea 2:18 (NIV)

Isaiah again, describing the peaceable character of the coming servant-king:

"He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out."

— Isaiah 42:2–3 (NIV)

And in one of the most disorienting images in all of scripture, the prophet described the coming ruler arriving not on a warhorse but on a donkey — an animal of peace and labor:

"Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. I will take away the chariots from Ephraim and the warhorses from Jerusalem, and the battle bow will be broken. He will proclaim peace to the nations."

— Zechariah 9:9–10 (NIV)

Jesus

The one the prophets described arrived, and he did not disappoint those expectations — at least not the peaceable ones. Everything he taught and embodied cut against the logic of violence and domination.

In the Sermon on the Mount, he reoriented the entire moral imagination of his followers:

"You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.' But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also."

— Matthew 5:38–39 (NIV)

And then, the line that his followers would quote for centuries:

"You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven."

— Matthew 5:43–45 (NIV)

He pronounced a blessing that would have sounded strange in any empire:

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God."

— Matthew 5:9 (NIV)

And promised that the meek — not the militarily dominant — held the future:

"Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth."

— Matthew 5:5 (NIV)

When Peter drew his sword in the garden to defend Jesus from arrest, Jesus stopped him with words Tertullian and many others would never forget:

"Put your sword back in its place, for all who draw the sword will die by the sword."

— Matthew 26:52 (NIV)

Before Pilate, Jesus distinguished his kingdom from every political order that relies on coercion:

"My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place."

— John 18:36 (NIV)

He left his followers not a battle plan but a gift:

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives."

— John 14:27 (NIV)

And his final commandment, given at the last meal before his arrest, was this:

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another."

— John 13:34 (NIV)

The New Testament Letters

The apostles who followed Jesus understood the implications. Paul, writing to the Romans, explicitly applied them:

"Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God's wrath."

— Romans 12:17–19 (NIV)

And more directly:

"Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

— Romans 12:21 (NIV)

To the Corinthians, Paul described the weapons of his own ministry in a way that excluded all violence:

"For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world."

— 2 Corinthians 10:3–4 (NIV)

To the Ephesians, he named the real enemy — and it was not flesh and blood:

"For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."

— Ephesians 6:12 (NIV)

James traced the violence in the world to its root:

"What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don't they come from your desires that battle within you? You desire but do not have, so you kill."

— James 4:1–2 (NIV)

Peter, writing to scattered and persecuted believers, held out a different way of engaging with hostility:

"Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing."

— 1 Peter 3:9 (NIV)

And John, near the end of his long life, distilled the gospel to this:

"This is the message you heard from the beginning: We should love one another. Do not be like Cain, who belonged to the evil one and murdered his brother."

— 1 John 3:11–12 (NIV)

The Early Church

The first Christians lived under empire and regularly faced the question of whether a follower of Jesus could kill. They had inherited the prophets' vision of a world without war, and they had received the teaching of Jesus directly. Their answers were, with striking consistency, no.

Justin Martyr, writing around 155 AD, pointed to the transformation he saw in converts around him:

"We who formerly used to murder one another not only do not make war upon our enemies, but … willingly die confessing Christ."

— First Apology, 39

Athenagoras of Athens, defending Christians to the emperor, made the claim without hedging:

"We cannot endure to see a man put to death, even justly."

— A Plea for the Christians, 35

Irenaeus of Lyons connected the peace of the new covenant to a literal laying down of arms:

"The new covenant converts swords and lances into instruments of peace, and they know not how to fight."

— Against Heresies, IV.34

Tertullian drew his conclusion from the moment Jesus told Peter to sheathe his sword in the garden:

"The Lord, in disarming Peter, disarmed every soldier."

— On Idolatry, 19

Hippolytus of Rome was direct in his pastoral instruction:

"A soldier of the civil authority must be taught not to kill men and to refuse to do so if he is ordered."

— Apostolic Tradition, 16

Origen, perhaps the most prolific theologian of the early church, wrote in defense of Christianity against the pagan philosopher Celsus — who had accused Christians of being useless to the empire because they wouldn't fight:

"We no longer take up sword against nation, nor do we learn war anymore, having become sons of peace for the sake of Jesus."

— Against Celsus, V

And in the same work:

"Christians could slay their enemies, but they prefer to die rather than to kill."

— Against Celsus, VIII

Cyprian of Carthage identified what he saw as the great moral contradiction at the heart of every civilization that glorified war:

"The world is wet with mutual blood; and murder, which is admitted to be a crime in the case of an individual, is called a virtue when committed wholesale."

— To Donatus, 6

Arnobius echoed the same ethic:

"We have learned from Him not to return blow for blow, nor to repay injury with injury."

— Against the Nations, I.6

Lactantius sharpened the point:

"When men commit homicide singly, it is a crime; but when they do it collectively, it is called virtue."

— Divine Institutes, VI.6

The Martyrs

Some early Christians didn't just write against war — they died refusing it. Their acts, recorded in early Christian documents, are brief and stunning.

Marcellus of Tangier, a Roman soldier, threw down his belt and weapons before his legion's standards and declared:

"I am a Christian and may not serve in the armies of this world."

— Acts of Marcellus

Maximilian of Tebessa, brought before a magistrate for refusing conscription, said simply:

"I cannot serve as a soldier; I cannot do evil."

— Acts of Maximilian

Martin of Tours, before he became a celebrated bishop, spoke to his general on the eve of battle:

"I am a soldier of Christ: I cannot fight."

— Sulpicius Severus, Life of Martin, 4

The Fathers of the Later Church

Even as Christianity became the religion of empire — a development that complicated everything — voices continued to speak against the sacralization of violence.

Gregory of Nazianzus, one of the great Cappadocian theologians:

"I cannot persuade myself that the shedding of blood is a pious act."

— Oration 2

John Chrysostom, the golden-tongued preacher of Antioch and Constantinople:

"To destroy one's enemies is not the act of a Christian but of a barbarian."

— Homily on Romans

Gregory of Nyssa drew no distinction between killing in war and killing in peace:

"The murderer's hands are defiled, even if he kills in war."

— On the Beatitudes

Jerome, who translated the Bible into Latin:

"To die in battle is not glorious when it is for the sake of worldly power."

— Letter 60

Isidore of Seville cut through the usual justifications:

"War is waged not for peace but for domination."

— Etymologies, XVIII

Bede, the monk and historian of England, offered a quiet indictment:

"The more a man delights in war, the less he delights in Christ."

— Commentary on Luke

Medieval Voices

Peter Damian, the eleventh-century reformer:

"Nothing is gained by violence, but much is lost."

— Letters

Peter Waldo, founder of the Waldensians, a movement persecuted for its simplicity and nonviolence:

"It is not lawful for a Christian to shed blood."

— Waldensian Confession

Arnold of Brescia, whose challenge to church power led to his execution:

"The Church must not wield the sword."

— Otto of Freising, Chronica

Peter Chelčický, the Bohemian radical who influenced the later Anabaptists:

"All warfare is against the law of Christ."

— The Net of Faith

The Reformation and the Radical Reformation

The Protestant Reformation opened old questions again. For some, the answers were unchanged.

Ulrich Zwingli — who would himself die on a battlefield, one of history's more painful ironies — preached in 1522:

"Nothing is more contrary to God than war."

— Sermon, 1522

Sebastian Castellio, the humanist who dared oppose Calvin's execution of Servetus:

"To kill a man is not to defend a doctrine, but to kill a man."

— Contra Libellum Calvini

The Anabaptists — the most consistently pacifist wing of the Reformation — were unequivocal.

Conrad Grebel:

"True Christians use neither worldly sword nor war."

— Letter to Thomas Müntzer

Michael Sattler, martyred months after writing the Schleitheim Confession:

"The Gospel and its adherents are not to be protected by the sword."

— Schleitheim Confession

Menno Simons, whose name gave us the Mennonites:

"The regenerated do not go to war, nor engage in strife."

— Foundation of Christian Doctrine

Pilgram Marpeck:

"Christ did not teach us to kill but to suffer."

— Testament Explanation

Peter Riedemann:

"Christ's kingdom is not maintained by the sword."

— Confession of Faith

Caspar Schwenckfeld:

"Christ has not instituted a kingdom of blood."

— Great Confession

The Quakers and Their Heirs

George Fox, founder of the Society of Friends:

"I lived in the virtue of that life and power that took away the occasion of all wars."

— Journal

William Penn, who would go on to found a colony attempting to live by these words:

"Force may subdue, but love gains."

— Some Fruits of Solitude

Robert Barclay:

"We cannot learn war any more."

— Apology for the True Christian Divinity

Modern Voices

The tradition did not end with the premodern church. It continued, across denominations and centuries, into our own time.

François Fénelon:

"All wars are civil wars, because all men are brothers."

— Dialogues of the Dead

William Law, the Anglican mystic:

"There is but one way of destroying an enemy, and that is by loving him."

— A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life

John Woolman, the Quaker abolitionist:

"Wars and fightings proceed from the spirit of this world."

— Journal

Alexander Campbell, founder of the Restoration Movement:

"Christians cannot, consistently with their profession, engage in war."

— The Christian System

Adin Ballou:

"War is the abolition of justice."

— Christian Non-Resistance

William Ellery Channing:

"War is the concentration of all human crimes."

— Discourse on War

Søren Kierkegaard:

"The tyrant dies and his rule ends; the martyr dies and his rule begins."

— Journals

Leo Tolstoy, with his characteristic refusal to stop at implication:

"The most terrible of all the sins is murder; and war is nothing but murder on a large scale. … As soon as Christ's teaching is understood, war becomes impossible."

— The Kingdom of God Is Within You

David Lipscomb, the American churches of Christ pacifist:

"The Christian cannot fight with carnal weapons."

— Civil Government

Karl Barth, speaking in the shadow of the First World War:

"War always means a defeat for humanity."

— Lecture, 1930s

Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk whose antiwar writings were suppressed by his superiors:

"War is totally incompatible with the teaching of Jesus Christ."

— Peace in the Post-Christian Era

Jacques Ellul:

"War is the ultimate idolatry of the state."

— Violence: Reflections from a Christian Perspective

Nikolai Berdyaev:

"War is a spiritual disease."

— The Meaning of History

Alexander Schmemann:

"War is the triumph of evil."

— Sermon, 1960s

Stanley Hauerwas:

"Jesus' refusal of violence is not incidental to his message; it is the message."

— The Peaceable Kingdom

Pope John Paul II, speaking in 2003 on the eve of the Iraq War:

"War is always a defeat for humanity."

— Angelus Address, 2003

Pope Benedict XVI:

"Violence is incompatible with the nature of God…"

— World Day of Peace Message, 2007

A Closing Thought

This is not an exhaustive list. These voices span nearly three thousand years — from Isaiah's vision of beaten swords to a pope's address in 2003. They include prophets and apostles, theologians and peasants, bishops and martyrs, Catholics and Anabaptists, Eastern Orthodox and Protestant, those who died for their convictions and those who lived quietly by them.

They did not all agree on everything. Some drew sharper lines than others. Some were more consistent than others. But on this, they returned again and again to the same place: that the teaching of Jesus — the willingness to suffer rather than inflict suffering, to die rather than kill, to love enemies rather than destroy them — was not a metaphor or a suggestion. It was the fulfillment of what the prophets had foreseen. It was the shape of the Christian life.

The tradition exists. It has always existed. The question, as it has always been, is what we do with it.