"Swords into Plowshares"
Swords are used to hurt people. That is the explicit purpose of their existence—to cause damage to another living being. A sword’s merits are evaluated upon criteria pertaining to that raison d’etre: its sharpness; how its weight and balance allow its user to thrust and strike with maximal force. Swords are necessary when people feel threatened or put on the defensive, and often times that same crippling sense of vulnerability leads people to go on the offensive preemptively, and to attack others.
Plowshares, that is, farm tools used to till the soil and prepare the earth for agriculture, are an object with a very different purpose. Made of the very same materials as swords, these instruments allow humans to produce food, to nourish their families and engage in constructive enterprise. Agriculture is a fundamentally life-giving type of activity. Swordsmanship is one that focuses on the most effective delivery of death. Swords exist to allow humans to destroy. Plowshares exist to permit humans to create new life.
In the ancient Middle Eastern society of which the Israelites lived, warfare between tribes was ubiquitous and unavoidable. Before modern agricultural practices allowed farmers to produce a surplus of food to support the community, it was incredibly difficult to reap enough produce from the land to stave off hunger and malnutrition. Such challenges were exacerbated in the desert lands of modern-day Egypt, Jordan, Iraq, and Israel, because water was so very scarce a commodity. In the face of prohibitive restrictions on natural resources like water, which was necessary not only for drinking but for irrigating the fields, and patches of vegetation that would allow sheep and cattle to graze, it was inevitable that various tribes would clash.
The tribes of ancient society were constantly on the defensive, always prepared for the next attack, or, conversely, seeking out new, better lands that they might come to occupy so as to give their own families the best chance of survival. Places that had sufficient access to water and vegetation; places that were elevated and easily defended. Swords had to be sharpened at all times; men prepared always to spring into action and defend their families from attack. So when Isaiah suggests that, on the Day of the Lord, the people would be able to beat their swords into plowshares, he is making an incredible claim: he is telling them that, no longer will they have to live in fear. No longer will they have to worry about being on the defensive and being prepared for the next battle. Beating swords into plowshares says that the constant threat of death is no more. All of the people’s energies could be poured into agriculture, that is, devoted to a fundamentally life-giving activity. With the weapons con- verted to farm tools and the men spending more time tilling the soil than learning the skills of swordsmanship, they would be able to produce more food. They would be able to spend more time with their families. To live in safety and peace—to flourish.
Obviously, this imagery has important meaning for our own day. The annual budget of the Pentagon is around $600 billion dollars. The cost of wars in Afghanistan and Iraq has topped $1 trillion. Imagine if all of those “swords,” were converted to “plowshares”—if the same resources we now commit to defending ourselves were put to the cultivation of life here at home. Funding better schools. Building more hospitals. Advancing medical research. There was only so much metal (the resource from which comes both swords and plowshares) to go around back then, and there is only so much money (the resource that funds education and military weaponry) in our own day. Imagine if Isaiah said to us today, “Melt down your tanks and build better highways. Defund the School of the Americas and bolster Teach for America.”
But the metaphor also bears import for us as individuals. Though the analogy is less literal, it is every bit as direct—we humans invest our psychological resources in “swords,” that help us ward off emotional attack from others. Perhaps we were ridiculed in school for our unique sense of style, and we develop the defense of “blind conformity” (or conversely come to loath whatever society deems “fashionable” and “hip”). Perhaps our intelligence caused us to be attacked at some point or another, and so we become arrogant and superior—or conversely, insecure and uncomfortable showing others our true talent for fear they will react with hostility. Maybe we have been criticized for our looks, or told we were not attractive, and so we develop defenses that help us cope with that threat of pain. Or we have gone through a painful breakup, and so we build up thick walls to keep others out and defend us against future hurt. The ancient Israelites sharpened their swords and thickened their walls to fend off attack from other tribes—many of us sharpen our sarcasm and thicken our emotional defenses to ward off the pain that can result from human relationships.
Isaiah’s words ring true for us on many levels—both communal and individual. What resources are we, as a nation, or you, as a person, investing in defense? What sorts of energies do we de- vote to keeping ourselves from harm, energies that could be invested in constructive, life-giving activities to help us flourish? The promise of Christ is that we will no longer need our swords. That our entire day can be devoted to bringing forth new life, whether it is plowing the fields or, for us, taking a pilates class; learning to play the guitar; trying the tango; or cultivating new friendships. The radical reality of Jesus is that accepting Him into our lives means we can beat our swords into plowshares. It requires an enormous leap of faith that, once this is done, we won’t ever need them again. It’s a risk, and a terrifying one. But it’s one made possible by faith. God says to us today: beat your swords into plowshares—I come to bring life, and death has no place in the Kingdom I am preparing for you.
Reflection Questions
1) What sorts of “swords” do you see us investing our current national or communal re- sources in? How are we motivated by fear, insecurity, and vulnerability to make sure our swords are sharpened and our readiness constant?
2) What types of plowshares might we create if we were converting our swords? What would the process of transformation look like?
3) What are some “swords” you have developed as defenses in your own life? What fears do you harbor? How are you on the defensive to protect yourself from hurt?
4) What would transformation of your own psychological “swords” into “plowshares” entail? Do you trust the promise of Jesus that your swords will no longer be needed?
Plowshares, that is, farm tools used to till the soil and prepare the earth for agriculture, are an object with a very different purpose. Made of the very same materials as swords, these instruments allow humans to produce food, to nourish their families and engage in constructive enterprise. Agriculture is a fundamentally life-giving type of activity. Swordsmanship is one that focuses on the most effective delivery of death. Swords exist to allow humans to destroy. Plowshares exist to permit humans to create new life.
In the ancient Middle Eastern society of which the Israelites lived, warfare between tribes was ubiquitous and unavoidable. Before modern agricultural practices allowed farmers to produce a surplus of food to support the community, it was incredibly difficult to reap enough produce from the land to stave off hunger and malnutrition. Such challenges were exacerbated in the desert lands of modern-day Egypt, Jordan, Iraq, and Israel, because water was so very scarce a commodity. In the face of prohibitive restrictions on natural resources like water, which was necessary not only for drinking but for irrigating the fields, and patches of vegetation that would allow sheep and cattle to graze, it was inevitable that various tribes would clash.
The tribes of ancient society were constantly on the defensive, always prepared for the next attack, or, conversely, seeking out new, better lands that they might come to occupy so as to give their own families the best chance of survival. Places that had sufficient access to water and vegetation; places that were elevated and easily defended. Swords had to be sharpened at all times; men prepared always to spring into action and defend their families from attack. So when Isaiah suggests that, on the Day of the Lord, the people would be able to beat their swords into plowshares, he is making an incredible claim: he is telling them that, no longer will they have to live in fear. No longer will they have to worry about being on the defensive and being prepared for the next battle. Beating swords into plowshares says that the constant threat of death is no more. All of the people’s energies could be poured into agriculture, that is, devoted to a fundamentally life-giving activity. With the weapons con- verted to farm tools and the men spending more time tilling the soil than learning the skills of swordsmanship, they would be able to produce more food. They would be able to spend more time with their families. To live in safety and peace—to flourish.
Obviously, this imagery has important meaning for our own day. The annual budget of the Pentagon is around $600 billion dollars. The cost of wars in Afghanistan and Iraq has topped $1 trillion. Imagine if all of those “swords,” were converted to “plowshares”—if the same resources we now commit to defending ourselves were put to the cultivation of life here at home. Funding better schools. Building more hospitals. Advancing medical research. There was only so much metal (the resource from which comes both swords and plowshares) to go around back then, and there is only so much money (the resource that funds education and military weaponry) in our own day. Imagine if Isaiah said to us today, “Melt down your tanks and build better highways. Defund the School of the Americas and bolster Teach for America.”
But the metaphor also bears import for us as individuals. Though the analogy is less literal, it is every bit as direct—we humans invest our psychological resources in “swords,” that help us ward off emotional attack from others. Perhaps we were ridiculed in school for our unique sense of style, and we develop the defense of “blind conformity” (or conversely come to loath whatever society deems “fashionable” and “hip”). Perhaps our intelligence caused us to be attacked at some point or another, and so we become arrogant and superior—or conversely, insecure and uncomfortable showing others our true talent for fear they will react with hostility. Maybe we have been criticized for our looks, or told we were not attractive, and so we develop defenses that help us cope with that threat of pain. Or we have gone through a painful breakup, and so we build up thick walls to keep others out and defend us against future hurt. The ancient Israelites sharpened their swords and thickened their walls to fend off attack from other tribes—many of us sharpen our sarcasm and thicken our emotional defenses to ward off the pain that can result from human relationships.
Isaiah’s words ring true for us on many levels—both communal and individual. What resources are we, as a nation, or you, as a person, investing in defense? What sorts of energies do we de- vote to keeping ourselves from harm, energies that could be invested in constructive, life-giving activities to help us flourish? The promise of Christ is that we will no longer need our swords. That our entire day can be devoted to bringing forth new life, whether it is plowing the fields or, for us, taking a pilates class; learning to play the guitar; trying the tango; or cultivating new friendships. The radical reality of Jesus is that accepting Him into our lives means we can beat our swords into plowshares. It requires an enormous leap of faith that, once this is done, we won’t ever need them again. It’s a risk, and a terrifying one. But it’s one made possible by faith. God says to us today: beat your swords into plowshares—I come to bring life, and death has no place in the Kingdom I am preparing for you.
Reflection Questions
1) What sorts of “swords” do you see us investing our current national or communal re- sources in? How are we motivated by fear, insecurity, and vulnerability to make sure our swords are sharpened and our readiness constant?
2) What types of plowshares might we create if we were converting our swords? What would the process of transformation look like?
3) What are some “swords” you have developed as defenses in your own life? What fears do you harbor? How are you on the defensive to protect yourself from hurt?
4) What would transformation of your own psychological “swords” into “plowshares” entail? Do you trust the promise of Jesus that your swords will no longer be needed?
