The Heretics of St. Possenti Read online

  “Similarly, if you pick up a sword from time to time or learn a bit about how to use it to defend yourself, that doesn’t make you a swordsman; it makes you armed and able to defend yourself.”

  “So, you are saying…?”

  “If he had meant swordsman as a lifestyle, it would not have been written in the aorist aspect. It wasn’t. It’s a distinction that Latin and English don’t make but is clear in the Greek. If he meant it as a literal absolute, he was wrong. Well, unless it’s meant as a warning to not go down that path as a full-time gig or primary fallback position when things don’t go his way. Or else it’s a human transcriber error, which opens a rather large can of worms that I’m assuming you’d rather not open.”

  “But that can’t be right. He talked about soldiers elsewhere, and–”

  “And he didn’t use a word that means soldier in 26:52. Not in Greek, Latin, Hebrew, or Aramaic. There are a number of those, and none are used here. He’s warning about taking up the sword and using it frequently as a first choice or lifestyle, becoming a habitual or routine user of the sword to enforce one’s will, becoming a swordsman, duelist, brigand, or tyrant. It’s a much more nuanced understanding of the phrase. But at that moment, the literal is just telling Peter and the other unnamed and armed apostle—and maybe the rabble, too—to stand down.”

  “To do what?” Thomas looked at Mickey blankly.

  “Stand down.” Cranberry shook his head, not familiar with the expression. “Hold tight. Hang on. Wait a minute. ‘Stand down’ is a military term, really. In this context it means the commander—Jesus—is ordering his men not to take offensive action that would normally be okay or even an expected duty. Like a guard getting ready to plug someone trying to jump a perimeter fence, but the jumper is recognized by a superior as a friendly. The guard taking aim is just doing his duty. The CO knows that at this time, in this instance, for reasons he might not be able to explain, doing the ‘normal’ thing isn’t appropriate. It’s not a rebuke; it’s simply telling him to hold his fire. In this case, Jesus knew he must be taken, tried, and made to suffer, and killing the guards would not help the plan of Him dying at Calvary. He needed to demonstrate respect for legitimate earthly authority. He knew there was a time and place for weapons, but that wasn’t it.”

  Cranberry objected. “He is clearly saying that if you live with a sword, you’ll die with it. Or by it. It may be a modest technical distinction, but one without much difference.”

  “Like I said, it’s a misleading English—and Latin—translation because of the participle. With versus by, combine with looking at ‘take’ in a literal versus metaphorical and incomplete future tense sense, it does. qui acceperint gladium, gladio peribunt. ‘Acceperint’ is plural subjunctive perfect, an action in the past that was completed and applies to more than a single person, meaning ‘to take.’ I can physically ‘take up’ a pen to scribble a letter to a friend or to write a screed of lies against a man I hate. But I could metaphorically ‘take up’ the pen in the profession of writing. I’d be a writer even on the days I don’t scribble a single letter on paper. But that is a poor translation of the Greek. In this context, and given the Greek, it sounds like he’s saying those who have taken it up to use criminally, or in anger contrary to law and the Lord’s justice, or on a regular and routine basis without just cause, will meet a bad end.

  “Of course, being a professional soldier raises the chance of dying by the sword in battle, too, but that has different connotations.

  “In Mark 3:25 and 27, he appears to be warning against weakness and division against evil as evil will try to bind the strong man and make him weak, so they can plunder his house. He recognizes that evil can be both criminals—Matthew 26:55—and also kings and their minions. Binding a moral man can be physical with chains, or more tenuous with arbitrary laws and rules and lawyers. He knows that good men will not always succeed—Mark 14:38. An unarmed man is weak. An armed man without self control will fall to temptation of the easy way out, the dark side of force, as it were.

  “Swords, used with restraint and lawfully, for a just purpose, are fine. But not in anger or to convert people at sword-point, like the sword of Islam.”

  “Islam was not even around then, Mickey.”

  “Oh, sure. But you don’t think he knew it was headed our way? He’s God. Remember? He knows what’s coming, not just in the next few hours with Judas but in the following centuries as well. Back to the text though. There is no conditional against righteous violence to defend yourself or family or to justly punish evil-doers. Heck, the Old Testament is chock-full of smiting for justice. Defending your life and family is one of the most fundamental human rights. No right to life, no free will. No free will, no freedom to choose to be saved. And there is some ambiguity on ‘perish with it’ meaning it’s in your hand, versus ‘perish by it,’ meaning it will be used upon you. The Greek seems to say the latter. Makes a difference—possibly a large one. It makes no sense after the Maccabees and slavery and risk taking and wandering the desert for 40 years and all to be totally okay with laying down for the next genocidal maniac to pass through and just praying while you watch your family enslaved and yourself impaled.

  “Compare the last stand of the 300 Spartans dying ‘with’ swords in their hands to a robber being beheaded after a trial and dying ‘by’ it. Rather different, yes?”

  Thomas sniffed, thought hard, and said nothing.

  “Metaphorically, it can also be a warning that once you turn to violence to solve your problems, it can be very hard to turn away from it, so if you keep returning to that method, it will be your undoing. The power of the easy way—simply killing a problem person—can be addictive. Power corrupts and all that. The Latin and English are a little ambiguous, but the Greek is pretty clear: it means if you are a swordsman, eventually, you’ll pick a fight with a better duelist or tougher mob or whatever and get run through, dying from violence-related injuries.

  “There are also subtle differences in the word used to tell him to put it away: ‘turn it away’ is a good translation, which is really strange way of saying it. ‘Put up again thy sword into its place,’ he says. Not ‘destroy it’ or ‘get rid of it;’’ that means it must have a place. A sword’s place is a scabbard. And a scabbard is meant to be worn, meaning the sword is ready for use. Which means it must be okay to use it in some circumstances. It’s absolutely clear it is not an order to dispose of it completely. It’s merely an odd way to tell him to sheath it. So the first part, about putting it away, has an obvious literal meaning—stand down, you made your point at sword point. Now put away the weapons. But it also implies much. And the second part has to be almost entirely rhetorical, aimed to calm a hothead who just got choppy on some slave-dude, or else metaphorical. It makes no sense for it to be a literal blanket prohibition because Peter didn’t die with a sword in his hand, or stabbed with one. God can’t be wrong.”

  Bishop Cranberry tiredly rubbed his chin. “I suppose.”

  “Further, the Latin translation qui acceperint gladium, gladio peribunt and its English approximations can’t be literal because Jesus knows a thing or two about smiting with sling-stones and ass jawbones and more. There are righteous and evil killings, and it’s usually the intent that makes the difference, regardless of the tool used. Unjust violence and rage are unjust actions and mind-states no matter the thing in your hand. The passage must be largely metaphorical unless he’s only using it to refer narrowly just to warn the apostles there, at that moment, them in particular to not resist, but even that’s suspect, given what Peter did and how he died. But then, a lot of what he said meant things both in the literal then-and-there as well as the metaphorical. Too, that’s not the only place where there is a small but significant difference between the Vulgate, King James, Douay-Rheims, NIV, NASV, and the rest. Or the Byzantine Greek versus the Alexandrian Greek version controversy. And don’t even get me started on the linguistic liberties taken in The Message. That one is almost as bad as the Ol
d Saxon Heliand version.”[^1]

  “You know about all that?” Bishop Cranberry asked, surprised. Mickey shrugged. “It still sounds like a substantial and unwarranted leap.”

  “Not really. He wanted humility and meekness before God, not servile grovelers who are nothing but prey for every unenlightened bipedal savage who wanders by. Matthew 5:5 and 5:8 are not about being so weak you are a constant victim, nor about passively accepting conquest and subjugation. A peacekeeper cannot do so without the ability or desire to fight the unjust. I mean, Mat 5:7 appears to actually require a position of strength because only the strong can show mercy; the weak must beg for it. Being unwilling to fight doesn’t make for peace; it invites attack from every other culture in existence because it’s no different than weakness.”

  Cranberry looked at Mickey for a brief time in silent awe. “How did you get to be such a biblical scholar?”

  “Finnegan. Dad was Catholic, but the Irish have never been particularly well known for their pacifist and submissive ways. He had problems with authority. Drilled it into us pretty hard. These few passages are rather well-worn in my house. Not the first time I’ve had the debate.”

  “What about the equally clear Sixth Commandment, ‘Thou shall not kill’? Do you have new interpretations for that as well? Or only the usual ‘kill’ versus ‘murder’ argument?”

  “Wondered when you’d get around to it. Nothing new, of course, in a three-thousand-year-old passage. Mistranslated for various purposes, intentional or not… But from a practical standpoint: you a vegan?” Cranberry shook his head. “Then you are killing by proxy every time you pick up a pound of burger.”

  “Killing a human is obviously different from killing an animal!”

  “Not if you aren’t going to distinguish degrees or types of killing. So you agree there are different degrees and types of killing then?”

  “Ah, well, certainly in that case–”

  “Did Jesus issue an Errata and Corrections Notice on the Big Ten when he was paying a visit to Earth?”

  “Of course not.”

  “No? So are all the quotes cited in more than one place identical?”

  “No. But then, even modern people are often misquoted in different sources.”

  “Certainly. Then we can agree that the Bible is, because of the potentially conflicted and imperfect involvement of the hand and language of man, not completely inerrant, but pretty close: close enough that we have to apply common sense when dealing with translations across multiple languages, cultures, and millennia.” Cranberry wrinkled his nose at the thought but didn’t have a snappy comeback at the thought placed before him.

  Finnegan continued, “He was very clear you shouldn’t kill in anger, or hatred, or with malice… but the mental state is often the difference between a first-degree murder charge and walking away. Exodus 20:13, the verb ratsah is much better said in English as ‘murder’. The New and Old Testament are pretty clear there were an abundance of righteous killings, like David slaying Goliath, and bad like Cain and Abel. But it also makes very clear that there are degrees of killing. In the original Hebrew there are three root words that are used in reference to killing. The more general one, harag, is used for when Cain killed Abel. It’s different than in the Sixth Commandment and makes it clear because of the modifier that Abel’s death was essentially an accident. Cain didn’t even know Abel could die. It was the first time it had ever happened. How would he know?

  “That root word use for killing in the Sixth Commandments is used exclusively when it’s clearly a premeditated murder or with malice, like in Deuteronomy 22, Judges 20, and Job 24, and it’s used without modifier. It would have to be modified like when describing an accidental killing or negligent killing, which the other words have if it’s ambiguous or not yet tried. The Vulgate uses non occides for the commandment but occidat in Psalm 37:32. Just different inflection of the same word, but that was in translation centuries after Christ died.

  “In the Hebrew, though, the original language is pretty unambiguous. Numbers 35:16 is a marvelous verse to look at for the language in this case. But if he smote him with an instrument of iron, so that he died, he is a murderer: the murderer shall surely be put to death. A single sentence, two different words for killing, and two different types of killing: one a crime, the other an acceptable punishment for same. In the Latin they use homicidii for the murderer and morietur for execution, or putting to death by the legitimate authorities as a just punishment, but that was a much less central passage in translation. In the Hebrew it was harag or tirtzach and nakah. Nearly every culture in history has made a clear distinction between the two. You don’t have to be a deeply read scholar to see it in classical Greek tragedies.”

  “I will have to look that up in the Septuagint and Hebrew exegesis when I get home.”

  Mickey nodded. “Not easy reading, but worth the work. Sticking with the OT, in First Samuel 13:19, one of the things the Philistines did to oppress the Jewish people was deny them weapons. It’s been done by rulers to the oppressed ever since. Only a fool would disarm unilaterally. Returning to Exodus, in 22:2 it says If, while breaking in, the thief is discovered, and he is struck and dies, [it is as if] he has no blood. ‘Has no blood,’ meaning he was dead from the start, so it’s not murder, it’s just a justifiable killing like a cop taking down a bad guy during the commission of a crime. Unfortunate, perhaps, but not a crime or sin. Just about every culture, even the American natives, have the same concept. It’s darn close to universal.”

  “I suppose. I will have to think about that view before I can really agree, though. And turning the other cheek?”

  “For an insult, sure. In the Sermon on the Mount, the slap of Matthew 5:39 is about insults, not assault. Turning the other cheek so they can slap the other side is about forcing them recognize you as an equal—part of that whole left hand is unclean thing and slapping both sides requiring both hands. Turning your cheek is about ignoring taunts callin’ yo’ mama fat, not about offering Satan’s minions another chance to stick a shiv in your ribs. It’s about getting in their heads and not simply rising in anger to bait. It pairs well with describing the old way of justice, ‘an eye for an eye,’ which is not about brutality but is about limiting the potential for escalating violence to no more than tit-for-tat retaliation. It’s about deescalating mere insults. Back in those days, a stolen sheep could escalate to a stolen cow, to a raped daughter, to a murdered son.

  “Pray for them in Mat 5:44, not surrender to them. Again, context. Killing ranges from premeditated murder with malice like the trio of drugged-up jihadis trying to go for a new shopping-mall mass-murder record last month, through negligent manslaughter, to the downright praiseworthy.”

  “No killing could possibly be praiseworthy!”

  “How about that old dude who whacked the aforementioned jihadis by plugging them after they’d killed five and injured six? Sure, he lost his life doing it, but the body count would have been a lot higher if he’d tried to reason with them like the Carmelite they executed with a bullet to the face from two feet away. The grandkids he’d taken to the mall are alive because of what he did. It’s tragic he had to pull the trigger, but you’d have to be pretty cold hearted to wish what stopped them was running out of targets or ammo because talking to them like the nun did was a demonstrable failure.”

  “The police would have stopped them.”

  “Sure. Eventually. But the first to die was a mall cop, and another was found cowering in a changing room. But it would be a really strange reading of His Word to say that it’s okay for the State authorities to kill—the same State that executed Him—but not okay for an average Joe on the street to do the same in defense of innocent life. Cops are not supermen or omniscient. Heck, they get convicted for crimes at a higher rate than ordinary folk with concealed carry permits. You want to give would-be felons who happen to have a badge special rights? I can’t believe that God wants us to die in slavery; I remember a verse or two about lead
ing His people out of that sort of thing.”

  “If I understand you correctly, you think we should not accept the learned and well-researched official position of the Church on this matter but should instead use whatever translation supports our personal views. Like a Unitarian?”

  “Not at all. But many is the time I’ve seen five different people tell a man the same thing ten different ways, and it wasn’t until yet another teacher said it differently yet again that the light bulb came on for the student. Perhaps many slight variations are not so much a corruption of the Word of God as different notes in the same tune to reach different dancers where they happen to be in life. Can’t play classical music to a rapper and get much traction.”

  “Are you sure you are not actually a misguided Jesuit? You certainly argue well enough to be one.”

  “You’d never guess who got kicked out of Catholic school for arguing too much and joined the Marines. Took a couple of classes in college after discharge. Had the same problem.”

  Bishop Cranberry looked at the very average-looking man gazing blandly back at him and then around at the now empty training room. “You people make my head hurt.”

  “Us people?” Mickey asked dryly.

  “Everyone I’ve met here. All sorts of things that I thought I knew, that I had down cold, you upend and twist and scatter to the winds as casually as a, a…” He paused, looking for the right expression.

  “As a pregnant chick making a pint of ice cream disappear?”

  “Crudely put, but yes.”

  “I got a way with words.”