John 19:1-16a
There is violence all through this passage. Jesus is flogged. Mocked. Dressed in a purple robe and crowned with thorns. Struck. Displayed. The cruelty is not only physical. It is public. Humiliating. Performative. Power flexing its muscles. Fear protecting itself through domination.
And in the middle of it all, Jesus does something astonishing. He does not return violence for violence. He does not match humiliation with humiliation. He does not scramble for revenge. He does not become what is being done to him.
This is not weakness. It is not passivity. It is not surrender to evil. It is a different kind of strength. Jesus remains rooted in truth, even while surrounded by brutality. He does not let violence dictate who he will be. He refuses to mirror the spirit of the empire, even as it closes in around him. This is the heart of holy nonviolence.
Holy nonviolence is not pretending harm does not exist. It is not avoiding conflict or becoming silent in the face of injustice. It is the courageous refusal to let hatred shape our hearts or determine our response. It is strength disciplined by love. It is resistance without becoming cruel. It is truth spoken without contempt. That kind of strength is deeply needed in our world.
We live in a time when violence travels quickly, not only through wars and weapons, but through words, contempt, ridicule, and the daily habit of dehumanizing those we fear or oppose. We are constantly being formed by outrage. It becomes so easy to strike back, to harden ourselves, to believe that force is the only language power understands.
But Jesus shows another way. He shows us that love can remain unbroken even when the world is at its most merciless.
Today’s Sacred Rhythm invites us to practice that way in the places we actually live: in tense conversations, in online spaces, in moments of anger, in relationships under strain, and in the silent chambers of our own hearts.
I invite you to set aside 15-20 quiet minutes this week for prayerful reflection.
Begin by taking a few slow breaths. Let your body settle. Place your feet on the ground and notice the support beneath you. Now bring to mind a place of tension in your life. It may be a conflict, an ongoing frustration, a painful conversation, or even a pattern of inner anger that keeps rising.
Without judging yourself, ask:
- Where am I tempted to strike back?
- Where do I feel the urge to wound, dismiss, or overpower?
- Where am I being invited to respond with strength, but not harm?
Sit with those questions gently. Then imagine Jesus before Pilate, wounded, mocked, yet still fully himself. Notice his steadiness. Notice his refusal to become cruel. Let that image stay with you.
Now pray:
“Jesus, teach me strength that does not wound.”
Repeat it slowly a few times. If it helps, open your hands in your lap as a sign of release. With each breath, imagine letting go of the need to retaliate, to win, or to prove yourself through force. You may also choose one concrete act of holy nonviolence for the week ahead:
- pausing before responding in anger
- refusing to join harmful speech
- speaking truth without contempt
- choosing not to escalate a tense moment
- praying for someone you are struggling with
The goal is not to become small or silent. The goal is to become rooted, so deeply rooted in Christ that violence does not get the final word in you. Holy nonviolence does not mean we stop naming injustice. It means we name it without surrendering to hatred. It does not mean we abandon courage. It means courage is shaped by compassion. It does not mean we accept harm as holy. It means we refuse to spread harm further.
In a world that teaches us to mirror the wounds we receive, Jesus teaches another way: to remain human, tender, truthful, and free. That is not easy. It may be one of the hardest spiritual practices of all. But it is holy. And it is how the kingdom comes.
Let’s pray:
Christ of courage and compassion, when anger rises in us, keep us rooted in your love. Teach us strength that does not wound, truth that does not shame, and courage that does not crush. Where we are tempted to strike back, give us wisdom. Where we are hurt, hold us gently. Where violence has shaped us, begin your healing work. Make us people of your peace: steadfast, honest, and free. AMEN
