Who Is My Enemy?
Written by Ted Troxell : June 24, 2008
“Love your enemies” is the logical (if extreme) extension of “love your neighbor.” When asked, “Who is my neighbor?”, Jesus tells a story in which a Samaritan — not necessarily an enemy but certainly not your average Jew’s first choice for a cribbage partner — is the protagonist and moral exemplar of neighborly love.
By identifying a hated outgroup as the good neighbor and especially in mandating love for enemies, Jesus effectively divests us of any criteria for choosing whom to love. The circle of love becomes a sphere in which the center is everywhere and the circumference is nowhere. Heck, the Gentiles even get grafted into the people of God. How’s that for sharing the love?
Love of enemies, then, is a kind of shorthand for a universal and indiscriminate love of others. Often, however, our conversations about loving enemies presuppose (or at least fail to question) the right of the state to determine who our enemy is. This has the unfortunate effect of conflating the pacifist refusal to participate in armed conflict with war resistance in general, making it appear that the pacifist (or non-resistor) is opposed to a given war on the basis that the U.S. is a Christian nation that should love its enemies, or that the call to love enemies is one that can be universalized in a way that makes it applicable to nations.
Leaving aside the “Christian nation” business for now, suffice it to say that the modern state is not constituted such that it might love its enemies. There is a legitimate “realism” that recognizes this, and there is no reason to deny the ethical limits of statehood — but this realism does not call into question the practicality of the call of Jesus so much as it problematizes assumptions about our place in the state apparatus and claims of modern democracy to guarantee such things as freedom, justice, or liberty.
Allowing the state to define our enemies also means, for most of us, an abstract enemy whom we cannot meaningfully love. This is not to deny that there are real, flesh-and-blood people dying and being injured; my point is that the state-defined enemy is often neither someone who has personally done us harm or offense nor someone whom we might have the opportunity to offer aid and comfort. By allowing war to determine the boundaries of enemy and neighbor, friend and foe, we risk a tragic overidentification with the state and an uncritical acceptance of the claims of the state upon our identity. We risk as well confusing the call of Jesus with the laudable but Quixotic quest to end all war.
Peacemaking is an important part of the ministry of reconciliation with which the church is charged. But the end of all conflict is neither the point nor the goal of Christian ethics. Such an ethics is part of the “narrow path” that that few take, and not a universal moral imperative applicable to all people in all times and in all places. It happens to pass the “What would the world be like if everyone did this?” test, because the world would certainly be a better place if everyone loved their enemies (particularly if they defined such love so as to include not killing them). But not everyone will. The merits of a nonviolent ethics cannot be evaluated on the basis of its ability to put an end to violence or even its potential as an evangelism tool. It might, from time to time, end up being “effective” in one of these ways, but by its very nature cannot guarantee either of those outcomes.
Love of enemy can play a role in our response to war inasmuch as it should probably preclude our involvement in armed conflict. At the very least, it suggests a disconnect between Christian discipleship and such involvement that we need to take very seriously. But this does not mean we have nothing to say about war, or that all war is the same. Paul recognized a legitimate place for the sword in the way that God orders the powers, but this need not legitimize every use of the sword by every state in every time and place.
If we have the opportunity to speak meaningfully to the state — about which I’m skeptical, but it could happen — or to others about war and other artifacts of civilization, we don’t have to abandon discernment as to the different reasons war might be waged and the differing means by which armed conflict is prosecuted. There are biblical reasons to affirm the state’s use of force, a concession to realism that does not demand or even justify our involvement in such actions. And there are many reasons to decry particular abuses of that power as unjust, but the basis for this cannot be a nation’s failure to love its enemies.
I sometimes wish someone would have asked Jesus, “Who is my enemy?”, because at least we’d get an interesting story out of it. In the absence of such a story, we might do well to focus not on state-defined enemies (unless we should happen to meet one) but on those around us who may not be enemies so much as simply those who have wronged us, or whom we don’t like so much, or the outcast, or the merely odd. Enemy-love can be easy to affirm in lives where actually encountering an enemy — certainly an enemy combatant — is unlikely.
Infinitely more likely is the need to forgive a brother or sister, or to seek reconciliation when in need of forgiveness. This more quotidian love, difficult for many of us, is probably more important than claims to love people we don’t know simply on the basis of not signing up to kill them.
Author Bio:: Ted Troxell likes cats.
Image from The Plow


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