The Myth of Redemptive Violence: Why War, Punishment, and Revenge Will Never Bring Justice

I grew up believing in the power of a good punch. Not literally — I wasn’t a fighter, unless you count the time I swung my lunchbox at Davey Pontu for dropping a cricket down my shirt in third grade. But metaphorically, I absolutely believed in the narrative that bad guys get what’s coming to them.

This is the plot of every movie I ever loved as a child. A hero emerges from suffering, and in the final act, they rise — fists flying, explosions behind them, justice served. Bad guys are either obliterated or, if it’s a family-friendly film, publicly humiliated. Either way, peace is restored because somebody with the right moral compass had the guts to use force.

And then, along comes Jesus, messing with my worldview—as he often does.

Jesus, who refuses to swing back. Jesus, who tells Peter to put away his sword when soldiers come for him. Jesus, who says things like, “Turn the other cheek” and “Love your enemies,” and who walks straight into state-sanctioned execution without so much as a raised fist. If you didn’t know better, you might mistake him for a sucker.

But that’s not it.

Jesus wasn’t passive. His resistance was deeply, infuriatingly active.

The Lie of Redemptive Violence

There’s this idea that’s been humming through history since before any of us got here, and it goes something like this: Violence, when used by the right people for the right reasons, saves us.

It’s why so many believe the best way to stop school shootings is to arm teachers. It’s why some insist the death penalty somehow balances the scales. It’s why, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, there remains a stubborn faith in the idea that war is sometimes necessary to bring lasting peace.

Theologian Walter Wink calls this the myth of redemptive violence. It’s the idea that if we just fight back hard enough, hit the right people in the right places, things will be okay. But that’s never how it works. It didn’t work in the 20th century when we had two world wars back-to-back. It hasn’t worked in Israel and Palestine. It hasn’t worked in any country where oppression was met with more bloodshed.

Violence begets violence. All the time. Every time.

Peter’s Messy Mistake

Peter, Jesus’ right hand man, was a lot like us. He was ready for a fight. When Jesus asked, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter was first in line with the correct answer. You are the Messiah.

Good answer. Gold star.

But then Jesus starts talking about suffering and death. He explains, quite openly, that he will not conquer with force but will be handed over to the powerful and executed. And Peter, bless his heart, pulls Jesus aside and says, essentially, Dude, that’s a terrible idea.

Jesus shuts him down with a phrase we have misread for centuries: “Get behind me, Satan.” It sounds like a rebuke, but in Greek, the phrase opisou mou is the same one Jesus used when he first called Peter to follow him. It’s an invitation back into alignment.

Jesus is saying, Peter, do not tempt me with the lie of power. Do not make it harder for me to do this the way it must be done.

I don’t think Jesus wanted to die. But I do think he saw what would happen if he played by Empire’s rules. And so he refused. He let himself be crucified, and in doing so, he exposed the entire machine for what it was: a sham built on fear, control, and the never-ending cycle of violence.

Non-Violence is Not Passive

This is important: Jesus’ resistance was not passive. Non-violence is not standing by while injustice happens. It is standing in the way of injustice and refusing to play by its rules.

Martin Luther King Jr. understood this. He led non-violent movements that shut down racist systems, not by appeasing them, but by exposing them. He knew non-violence would be met with violence — it always is — but he also knew that fighting back with force would only justify more of the same.

Mahatma Gandhi exemplified this truth. He led India’s independence movement through non-violent civil disobedience, resisting British rule without ever lifting a weapon. He was imprisoned, ridiculed, and ultimately assassinated for his unwavering commitment to peace. Yet, his movement changed the world, proving that courage and moral fortitude could dismantle an empire.

Dorothy Day lived this resistance daily. As the founder of the Catholic Worker Movement, she believed in radical love and hospitality as tools of defiance against systemic oppression. She was arrested multiple times for advocating for workers’ rights, opposing war, and standing with the marginalized. Her life was a testament to the idea that non-violent action is not passive — it is revolutionary.

Jewish and Palestinian peace activists grasp this on a profound level. Before October 7th, there were long-standing movements of Jewish and Palestinian citizens working together against violence. They were — and still are — mostly ignored by the media because peace doesn’t sell like war does. But they exist. And they are the ones who will change things in the long run.

Research by Erica Chenoweth and Maria J. Stephan shows that nonviolent movements are twice as likely to succeed as violent ones. Broad participation and loyalty shifts among security forces make suppression harder, leading to more sustainable change.

The Cost of Choosing Non-Violence

Choosing non-violence does not mean avoiding conflict. It means facing down power and knowing you might lose everything but believing, somehow, that losing everything is worth it.

History is filled with those who have paid the price for non-violent resistance. Gandhi was assassinated. Martin Luther King Jr. was shot. Oscar Romero, the Salvadoran archbishop who spoke out against oppression, was murdered while saying Mass. Jesus himself was nailed to a cross.

And yet — non-violence remains the only way to actually change the world.

The Resurrection is the Final Word

If Jesus’ entire mission was to die for our sins, then resurrection is kind of an afterthought. But if his mission was to expose the lie of violence, to resist oppression with radical grace, then resurrection is the final word on the matter. It’s God saying, You cannot kill Truth.

This is what keeps resistance movements going. The belief that despite everything — the state, the empire, the corrupt leaders of the world — Truth and Goodness and Justice will rise again.

This is not a comforting thought. It means there is no shortcut to justice. We will have to keep showing up, keep pushing forward, keep refusing to meet violence with more of the same.

But this is the way of Jesus. It is a scandal. It is a revolution.

And it is the only thing that will save us. 🦢

Hi! 👋🏼 I’m Rev. Bri-anne. You can also find me on BlueSky🦋, serving the fine folks of East End United Regional Ministry in Toronto, or leading the Resistance Church digital community.

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