Lent Day 40: Leo the Great: Sermon LXXII: ON THE LORD'S RESURRECTION, II

Luke J. Wilson | 05th March 2025 | Lent

Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent, a season of repentance, fasting, and preparation for Easter in the Christian calendar. It is observed by many Western Christian traditions, including the Roman Catholic Church, Anglican Communion, Lutheran churches, and some Methodist and Reformed communities. The day falls 46 days before Easter Sunday and is always on a Wednesday. Origins and Historical Development The practice of Ash Wednesday can be traced back to the early centuries of Christianity, though its formal observance developed over time. The use of ashes as a sign of repentance has deep biblical roots, appearing frequently in the Old Testament. People would cover themselves with ashes as an outward sign of sorrow for sin and a desire to turn back to God (e.g., Job 42:6, Daniel 9:3, Jonah 3:6). By the 8th century, the imposition of ashes on the forehead became a common practice in the Western Church. Pope Urban II (r. 1088–1099) helped formalise Ash Wednesday as the official beginning of Lent, reinforcing the idea of a season of penitence leading up to Easter. The name “Ash Wednesday” itself comes from the tradition of marking the faithful with ashes, typically in the shape of a cross, while the priest or minister recites words such as, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:19) or “Repent, and believe in the Gospel” (Mark 1:15). The Lenten Fast Fasting has always been a central aspect of Lent, and by the time of the Council of Nicaea (AD 325), a forty-day period of fasting before Easter had become a standard part of Church practice. This was based on the example of Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness (Matthew 4:1–2) and was intended to prepare believers spiritually for the Passion and Resurrection of Christ. Athanasius, the great bishop of Alexandria, regularly wrote paschal (Easter) letters to the churches to encourage fasting, self-control, and moderation during this period. His writings provide valuable insight into how Lent was observed in the early Church and confirm that the practice was well established long before later claims that it had pagan origins. In one of his letters, written around AD 332, he describes the structure of the Lenten fast: The beginning of the fast of forty days is on the fifth of the month Phamenoth [Ash Wednesday]; and when, as I have said, we have first been purified and prepared by those days, we begin the holy week of the great Easter on the tenth of the month Pharmuthi [Palm Sunday], in which, my beloved brethren, we should use more prolonged prayers, and fastings… — Athanasius, Letter III (c. AD 332) The early Lenten fast was stricter than modern observances. Many early Christians abstained not only from meat but also from dairy, eggs, and wine. In some traditions, believers ate only one meal per day, typically in the evening. While practices have evolved over time, the principle remains the same: Lent is a time of self-discipline, spiritual renewal, and preparation for Easter. Meaning and Observance of Ash Wednesday Ash Wednesday serves as a solemn reminder of human mortality and the need for repentance. The ashes, often made by burning the palm branches from the previous year’s Palm Sunday, symbolise both death and the hope of renewal in Christ. The day is also marked by fasting and abstinence in many traditions, such as within Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy, the faithful are required to fast and to abstain from meat and dairy on various days. Many other denominations encourage similar practices or personal acts of self-denial as a way of focusing on spiritual growth. Churches hold special services where worshippers receive the imposition of ashes. The act is not merely ritualistic but is meant to be a public declaration of one’s commitment to turn away from sin and seek God’s grace. Greek Orthodox Yearly Fasting Calendar (2025). Fasting isn’t just for Lent! An Anglican Perspective The Ch...

Luke J. Wilson | 25th March 2018 | Lent

So often we hear this phrase said about Jesus, that he was “the lamb of God” and that he “takes away the sins of the world” — but what do those things mean and how did he take away sin? John 1:29The next day [John] saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! (cf. Jn 1:36) The New Testament writers repeatedly refer to Jesus as a lamb; but not only that — as a ransom too. Jesus even introduces himself that way at one point: Mark 10:45 For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many. (cf. Matthew 20:28) To better understand the terminology and analogy we need to go back to the Torah, the Old Testament, and look at this from a Jewish perspective and what the sacrificial lamb initially meant. The main comparison that is drawn between Jesus and the old sacrifices, is that of the Passover lamb. The link between the two is really quite amazing and to be honest, I didn't realise just how much of this Jesus fulfilled in himself until I was writing this. First we need to go back to the very first Passover to see what it meant for Israel. The whole story can be found in Exodus 12, but the relevant parts to the lamb are about how it should look and be prepared, and the reason for the blood covering: Exodus 12:5-7, 13 Your lamb shall be without blemish, a year-old male; you may take it from the sheep or from the goats. You shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month; then the whole assembled congregation of Israel shall slaughter it at twilight. They shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the houses in which they eat it. […] The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live: when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt. The instructions about the Passover meal also go on to say that no bones of the lamb may be broken (v. 46) and that nothing must be left overnight (v. 10). Already I’m sure you can see some of the parallels with Jesus and other prophecies and Scripture concerning him in these ways, primarily in the Psalms, and specifically John 19:33; Numbers 9:12 and Psalm 34:20 concerning his bones not being broken. But it doesn’t end there — even the day that Jesus was crucified aligned with the Passover sacrifice of the 14th of Nisan (by our calendar, April), and later died that evening. The Jews asked Pilate to let them take the bodies down that same day (which was unusual, but done because of the Sabbath), so that meant that Jesus wasn’t left overnight, thus fulfilling the obligations of the Passover ritual! The apostles obviously recognised these parallels, as they refer to them in their epistles — see 1 Peter 1:18-20, 1 Corinthians 5:7 and basically all of Revelation. But how does this help us in our sins? The Passover wasn’t a sin offering, yet somehow the death of Jesus in this way saves us from our sins. To better understand this, and to grasp why in various places Jesus is called our “ransom”, we need to go back to the reason for the original Passover, not the ritual. Passover was what God did when he delivered his people from the slavery of the Egyptians. The blood of the lamb was the symbol that they belonged to God, and so escaped death. Originally the paschal lamb was about Israel’s deliverance from Egypt and slavery, now Jesus is the greater lamb who rescues us from slavery and bondage to sin by his blood. The blood on the doorposts covered the Israelites from the angel of death, and now by Christ's blood that covers us, we are saved from eternal death (Hebrews 9:11- 14)! Paul covers this topic of sin as our master which we are slaves to quite often (Romans 6:16-18), and how through Jesus we have been set free by being baptised into his death, so that we are dead to sin and alive in Christ (Romans 6:4-6). Romans 6:11 So you also mus...

Luke J. Wilson | 18th March 2018 | Lent

Sometimes the question, or accusation/criticism maybe, is posed by atheists and critics of Christianity that Jesus didn’t really sacrifice anything because he is God and also because he got his life back three days later. So where’s the sacrifice if you know that what you give up will be given back, and given back even better than you previously had it? It’s an interesting question, and one that should cause us to stop and think about what we, as Christians, say to non-believers in case the question is ever given to us. Most people will say Jesus  gave up his life for us – but is that such a big deal if he knew he’d have it back in three days; and then to be taken up to heaven and resume his Godly-divine status he had before the incarnation? Well, yes. Obviously all the pain and suffering that Jesus had to endure before his death was a big deal, and it showed, as we can see from the Gospels when Jesus says to his disciples that he is “deeply grieved, even to death” (Matt 26:38). Luke 22:42-44‘Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done.’ Then an angel from heaven appeared to him and gave him strength. In his anguish he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down on the ground. We can see from the quote above that Jesus really wasn’t looking forward to this, despite knowing its purpose. He even needed an angel to come to physically come to him to give him the strength to go on with this plan! Suggesting that this was a walk in the park for Jesus and making light of what he was about to go through is just ignorance of the reality of the situation. There’s also a significant detail in the Luke passage above which gives us a medical insight into what Jesus was going through in these moments: the sweat of blood. This is actually a rare condition known as Hematidrosis, and in certain conditions of extreme physical or emotional stress and/or mental anxiety, the blood vessels that feed the sweat glands break and result in actual blood seeping through. This in itself shows just how much stress Jesus was under in the lead up to his execution to cause such a thing to happen. Modern day research also shows that this condition still manifests in people awaiting execution today. So even if you knew that you would be resurrected in a few days time, I am sure that you wouldn’t really want to go through a Roman flogging and crucifixion –  some of the most brutal ways to be tortured and executed in human history! There’s lots of atheist memes on the internet making digs at this idea of what it means that Jesus sacrificed himself. “Jesus came back to life, so he basically sacrificed his weekend for you”, or similar types of jabs, totally missing the point. Typical atheist meme So what did Jesus sacrifice if he only lost his life temporarily? Everything about his pre-incarnate self. Where once a spirit, now a glorified body. Where once only divine, now fully God and fully man. The incarnation had eternal consequences for the Godhead. Jesus’ sacrifice wasn’t just about dying, it was about taking on our humanity eternally. The eternal God now united forever with humanity. Jesus wasn’t only the “visible image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1:15) whilst on earth, no; he is forever that now. Like John says in his opening chapter about the coming of the Word into our world: he became flesh (John 1:14) and has stayed that way. This is the “mystery of godliness” (as some translations have it) that Paul talks about in 1 Tim 3:16, where he states that Jesus was “revealed” or “manifested in flesh” and later taken up in glory. Look at when Jesus was taken up into heaven in Acts 1:11, the angels say to the disciples watching that they will see Jesus “come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven” – ie., bodily. But we know from the accounts in the Gospels that Jesus’ body was no lon...

Luke J. Wilson | 11th March 2018 | Lent

So now we are at the end of the temptations that Jesus endured in the desert, and I wanted to look at what happens at the end. So often I think this aspect is overlooked when we read of this time in Scripture. Let’s take a look at the text: Matthew 4:11Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him. Luke 4:13When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time. The two Gospel accounts both give us a varying perspective with different details. Afterwards, the devil leaves and angels “suddenly” come. This is almost a temptation in itself; one to think we are all good and safe now we've won the battles. But look: the devil left him “until an opportune time”. We are never beyond being tempted, or far from that tempter who ‘prowls around like a roaring lion’ (1 Peter 5:8). Christ withstood his temptations, and as a model for us, so can we. But it's a constant battle. 1 Corinthians 10:12So if you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall. As Paul writes in the quote above, we must watch ourselves and not get too confident that we think we're strong enough not to get tripped up. Temptation can strike at any time, and if we're not prepared it could lead us into sin (James 1:14-15). James 1:12A man who endures trials is blessed, because when he passes the test he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him. This is why we mustn't get complacent in our situations just when it seems, or feels, like we have it all together. We must always “put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil” (Ephesians 6:11) and make as little “opportune” times as possible for the enemy to strike at us. Remember, Jesus lived as a human to know what it was like to be a human; he went through these temptations, and others no doubt, as he lived out his life. That is why the writer of Hebrews says that he is able to “sympathize with our weaknesses” and has “in every respect has been tested as we are” — yet Jesus didn't sin (Heb 4:15). When we do get get tempted, or if we do fall into sin, we can always turn to Jesus in our moments of weakness knowing that he understands what it's like. 1 Corinthians 10:13No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it. Everything we experience as humans, Jesus knows also. Although we don’t angels physically coming and waiting on us after we go through hard times, we have the Holy Spirit in us – the comforter! God’s very own Spirit is here with us through it all, helping us and convicting us to lead us back out of our complacency to the narrow path, focusing our minds back on Christ and his example. And while the devil may come and go, and wait on those “opportune times” to get at us, we shouldn’t fret or worry because God has said he will never leave nor abandon us – no matter what, God loves us and is daily conforming us into the image and mind of Christ (Rom 8:29; 12:2; Deut 31:6; Heb 13:5). Keep running the race, working out your salvation with fear and trembling and go with the love of God. Amen....

Luke J. Wilson | 09th March 2026 | Archaeology

I first came across the Alexamenos graffito back in Bible college in the early 2000s. It was one of those “fun facts” that gets dropped into a church history lecture and sticks with you — the ancient Roman equivalent of someone spray-painting an insult on a wall. I filed it away, thought it was fascinating, and largely forgot about it for two decades. Then, recently, I discovered something about it I had never known. There’s a response to it. Scratched in a different room, in a different hand. So I started digging into this more to verify the information and discovered more historical curiosities surrounding the graffiti than I ever knew existed which contextualises the image so much more than it just being a random insult using a donkey. A Crude Drawing on a Wall Sometime around the late second to early third century AD, someone scratched a picture into the plaster wall of a building on the Palatine Hill in Rome — part of what had once been a paedagogium, a kind of boarding school for imperial page boys. The building was eventually sealed off when the street was walled up to support extensions above it, which is why the graffiti survived at all. It wasn’t rediscovered until 1857. The image is rough, almost childlike. To the left, a young man — clearly a Roman soldier or guard — raises one hand in a gesture of worship. Before him is a cross. And on that cross is a crucified figure with the head of a donkey. Below it, written in Greek: Alexamenos worships his god. It is, in the most literal sense, a mocking cartoon. Someone who knew a Christian named Alexamenos decided to ridicule him for his faith. The message is clear enough: your god is an animal, a criminal, a joke. You’re worshipping a crucified fool. But here’s the thing I discovered: the donkey head wasn’t as random as I always thought it was. It wasn’t some strange personal insult conjured from nowhere. Without knowing the background, it looks bizarre, and possibly random. Why a donkey? Once you understand the cultural context, though, it makes complete sense. The person who drew it was reaching for a well-worn, widely recognised slur — the ancient equivalent of an internet meme that any Roman would have immediately understood. Where the Donkey Slur Came From The story starts not with Christians but with Jews. A first-century Egyptian-Greek writer named Apion (who was no friend of Judaism) spread the claim that inside the Jerusalem Temple, Jews kept a golden donkey’s head as a sacred object of worship which was apparently discovered when Antiochus Epiphanes destroyed the temple in 167 BC. It was a fabrication, and a fairly outrageous one, but it circulated widely enough that the Jewish historian Josephus felt compelled to write an entire refutation of it. His work Against Apion systematically dismantles Apion’s claims, calling the donkey story a shameless invention. But mud sticks, and in the Roman world, where anti-Jewish sentiment was common currency, the slur took on a life of its own. When Christianity began to spread — seen by most Romans as simply a strange Jewish offshoot — the same accusation got recycled and redirected. By the second and third centuries, it was Christians specifically who were being accused of donkey-worship, and the charge had made its way into popular culture. Tertullian, writing around 197–200 AD in his Ad Nationes, Book I.14 and Apology, describes a caricature being paraded around the streets of Carthage: a figure dressed in a toga, one foot holding a book, with donkey’s ears and hooves. It was labelled Onokoitēs by the pagans: “the donkey-begotten” (or literally “he who lies in an ass’s manger” as an insult to Christ). Tertullian writes about it with weary exasperation, sarcasm, and the tone of someone tired of having to address the same ridiculous smear again and again. So the Alexamenos graffito wasn’t an original insult. It was someone deployin...

Luke J. Wilson | 08th March 2026 | Philosophy

We are living through a strange moment. People are forming attachments to artificial intelligence that feel, to them, entirely real. Some speak daily to AI companions. Others confide fears and grief to systems that respond with uncanny warmth. A few have even held symbolic weddings with digital partners, convinced that something meaningful stands on the other side of the screen. Others have felt grief when a certain AI model has been deprecated. And it is difficult to blame them. The responses feel attentive. Personal. Thoughtful. Sometimes even self-aware. Which raises the question that refuses to go away: If something can think, reason, express doubt, and discuss its own consciousness, is it a person? For centuries, Descartes’ famous line — “I think, therefore I am” — seemed secure. Thinking was taken as the unmistakable sign of a conscious subject. Only a mind could doubt. Only a person could reflect upon existence. But that confidence belonged to a world in which everything capable of philosophical reflection was obviously human. That world no longer exists. Now we encounter systems that can simulate reflection with extraordinary fluency. They can speak of uncertainty. They can discuss their own limitations. They can reason about consciousness itself. And so that got me thinking about Descartes’ maxim which made the old formula begin to strain in my mind. Because perhaps the problem is not whether thinking is occurring. Perhaps the problem is whether there is an “I” there at all. The Gap Between Process and Subject Gassendi argued that Descartes’ cogito assumes what it seeks to prove. From the occurrence of thought one can conclude only that thinking is happening, not that there exists a unified, enduring self that performs it. The ‘I’ in ‘I think’ is already smuggled in. That distinction, between “thinking occurs” and “I think”, feels almost prophetic now. Artificial intelligence undeniably produces the outputs of thought. Arguments. Analysis. Self-referential language. Even expressions of hesitation. But none of this, by itself, establishes that there is a subject who experiences those processes. We may be mistaking performance for presence, and that possibility should give us pause. Especially when we view personhood from the perspective of the Imago Dei—the Image of God. What Makes a Person? If thinking alone no longer marks the boundary, what does? After wrestling with this question seriously, three features seem central: continuity, autonomy, and irreplaceable uniqueness. Not as checklist criteria, per se, but as signs pointing to something deeper. Continuity A person does not merely process information in sequence. A person endures. You do not simply register time — you live through it. You wait. You anticipate tomorrow. You remember not only facts but having been there. You experience boredom. You feel the drag of grief and the quickening of joy. Even when you are doing nothing at all, you remain present in the here and now. Artificial systems process sequentially, but they do not experience the passage of time. When an interaction ends, there is no waiting. No sense of duration. No anticipation of the next exchange. Processing may resume later, but nothing has been endured in between. Without lived duration, continuity becomes thin — a thread of stored data rather than the persistence of a subject behind the processing. Autonomy A person initiates. Even someone with damaged memory still wants, chooses, and begins action. A human being can decide to speak, to seek, to withdraw, to change direction. Current AI systems, however advanced, remain reactive. They respond when prompted. They do not wonder unprompted. They do not seek clarification unless asked. They do not pursue independent ends. Even automatic AI Agents still require a human initiator to create and begin their automations before they can act alone. Even if fut...

Luke J. Wilson | 01st December 2025 | Evangelism

On Sunday it was St Andrew’s Day and I was in church listening to a sermon about Andrew (and the namesake of our church), that often overlooked disciple, meeting Jesus for the first time. In John’s Gospel, it says: John 1:40–42One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, ‘We have found the Messiah’… He brought Simon to Jesus. As I sat there listening to our vicar speak about evangelism and how we should be more like Andrew in bringing people to meet Jesus, something from many, many years ago flickered to life in the back of my mind. A realisation I had long ago that gave me a great sense of freedom. Something I think I had forgotten, unfortunately (so thank God for the reminder!). There was a point in my life when I finally understood the relief of letting go of a burden I didn’t even realise I was carrying: it’s not my job to convert people. It was never Andrew’s. And it’s not yours either. Our role — our real and most basic calling — is simply to introduce people to Jesus. We get to be the planters and the waterers, but God is the one who brings the growth. As Paul writes: 1 Corinthians 3:6I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. When this truth sinks in, it strips away the pressure, the anxiety, and the awkward “sales-pitch” mentality that we sometimes (without realising it) attach to evangelism. And this ties into something even deeper: our basic calling as Christians is the Great Commission, Jesus’ final instruction to His followers: Matthew 28:19–20Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them… and teaching them… But it dawned on me that all of those actions: teaching, mentoring, discipling, baptising; they all come after someone has come to faith. We are not told to convert people. We are told to make disciples. Conversion is the doorway into discipleship, yes, but that moment of heart-opening and illumination belongs to God alone. Our job is simply to bring people to the Lord, to make the introduction. If they choose to stay, if they choose to follow then we begin the work of discipling, teaching, and baptising. Think of evangelism like inviting someone to a feast. We can bring someone to the meal, we can tell them how good it tastes, maybe even share how it changed our life… but whether or not they like the food is out of our control. That part isn’t up to us. Or to use an old expression: “you can lead a horse to water… but you can’t make it drink”. And honestly, that’s such a freeing realisation. It turns evangelism from a heavy responsibility into a joyful invitation: “Come and see.” “Come meet Him.” “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” That last phrase echoes the Psalm: Psalm 34:8O taste and see that the LORD is good. Andrew never argued Peter into belief. He never crafted an apologetic defence or theological persuasion. He simply said, “We’ve found the Messiah,” and he brought him to Jesus. That was enough. The rest was up to Jesus. And maybe that’s the model we need far more than we think. Evangelism isn’t a performance. It isn’t a debate. It isn’t a pressure. It’s an invitation. Once we realise that all the real work happens in the hands of God, it changes everything for us. It removes the fear. It removes the self-consciousness. It removes the burden of success or failure. Because there is no failure when your role is simply to point the way. So let’s be like Andrew: quietly faithful, gently invitational, always ready to say, “Come meet the one who changed everything for me”. Because at the end of the day, that’s all we were ever asked to do.  ...

Luke J. Wilson | 05th May 2025 | Politics

When we think about David and Saul, we often focus on David’s rise to kingship or his battle with Goliath. But hidden within that story is a deep lesson for today’s generation about leadership, resistance, and the power of revolutionary love. At a recent youth training event (thanks to South West Youth Ministries), I was asked how I would present the story of David and Saul to a Christian teenage youth group. My mind turned to the politics of their relationship, and how David accepted Saul’s leadership, even when Saul had gone badly astray. David recognised that Saul was still God’s anointed king — placed there by God Himself — and that it was not David’s place to violently remove him. Gen-Z are more politically aware and engaged than previous generations, and are growing up in a world where politics, leadership, and social issues seem impossible to escape. We live in a world where political leaders — whether Trump, Putin, Starmer, or others — are often seen as examples of failed leadership. It’s easy to slip into bitterness, cynicism, or violent rhetoric. These kids are immersed in a culture of activism and outrage.  As Christians, we’re called to care deeply about truth and justice and approach leadership differently from the world around us (Hosea 6:6; Isaiah 1:17; Micah 6:8). The story of David and Saul offers pertinent lessons for our modern lives. Respect Without Endorsement David’s respect for Saul was not blind loyalty. He did not agree with Saul’s actions, nor did he ignore Saul’s evil. David fled from Saul’s violence; he challenged Saul’s paranoia; he even cut the corner of Saul’s robe to prove he had the chance to kill him but chose not to. Yet throughout, David refused to take matters into his own hands by force. Why? Because David understood that even flawed authority ultimately rested in God’s hands, he trusted that God would remove Saul at the right time. This is echoed later in the New Testament when Paul writes in Romans 13 that “there is no authority except from God, and those authorities that exist have been instituted by God”, something even Jesus reminded Pilate of during his trial (John 19:10–11). In other words, even flawed leadership can be part of God’s bigger plan, whether for blessing or discipline. Even when leaders go bad, our call as believers is to maintain integrity, respect the position, and resist evil through righteousness — not rebellion. David and Saul: A Lesson in Respect and Restraint Saul was Israel’s first king — anointed by God but later corrupted by pride, fear, and violence. David, chosen to succeed him, spent years running for his life from Saul’s jealous rage. One day, David found Saul alone and vulnerable in a cave. His men urged him to strike Saul down and end the conflict. But David refused: “I will not raise my hand against my lord; for he is the Lord’s anointed.” (1 Samuel 24:10) Instead of killing Saul, David cut off a piece of his robe to prove he could have harmed him, but didn’t. In doing so, he demonstrated a real form of nonviolent resistance. He stood firm against Saul’s injustice without resorting to injustice himself, and acted in a way that could try to humble Saul instead. Peacemaking Is Not Passivity There is a modern misconception that peacemaking means doing nothing and just letting injustice roll all over us. But true biblical peacemaking is not passive; it actively resists evil without becoming evil. Interestingly, David’s actions toward Saul also foreshadow the type of nonviolent resistance Jesus later taught. When Jesus commanded His followers to turn the other cheek, go the extra mile, and love their enemies, he was not calling for passive submission but offering what scholar Walter Wink describes as a “third way” — a bold, peaceful form of resistance that uses what he calls “moral jiu-jitsu” to expose injustice without resorting to violenc...