1 A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse,
and a branch shall grow out of his roots.2 The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him,
the spirit of wisdom and understanding,
the spirit of counsel and might,
the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.3 His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.
He shall not judge by what his eyes see
or decide by what his ears hear,4 but with righteousness he shall judge for the poor
and decide with equity for the oppressed of the earth;
he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,
and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.5 Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist
and faithfulness the belt around his loins.6 The wolf shall live with the lamb;
the leopard shall lie down with the kid;
the calf and the lion will feed together,
and a little child shall lead them.7 The cow and the bear shall graze;
their young shall lie down together;
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.8 The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.9 They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.10 On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious.
Isaiah 11:1-10 NRSVue
As a young seminarian, when I had to choose a text to preach for my ‘sermon evaluation,’ I picked this particular text from Isaiah and interpreted it with a call for shanti (peace) in the context of the nuclear tests conducted by India. I led that ‘sermon evaluation’ service with an interfaith focus, entitling my sermon on Isaiah 11:1-10 as ‘Pathways to Shanti (peace)’ with an emphasis on ‘jnana marga’ (way of wisdom), ‘bakthi marga’ (ways of devotion) and ‘nyaya marga’ (way of justice). This exposition was in correlation with the principles of the Bhagavad Gita, one of the Hindu Scriptures, to critically celebrate the inter-textuality of faiths’ yearning and call for peace. The critical thrust of that service was to resist karma mārga—the “way of duty”—from my Dalit theological location, insisting that peace does not arise from fulfilling the duties assigned to us within caste identities. Rather, genuine peace is forged in the dismantling of caste’s systemic structures of oppression, an act of justice that disrupts the very foundations of hierarchy itself.
When I reflect on that service from our postcolonial theological context today, I recognise how the episteme of coloniality influences the very understanding of peace, asserting that if how each person born in a particular caste does their job accordingly, the society will be harmonious. Dalit theology contests such colonial understandings of peace and strives for peace from below, from the margins, from those who have been victimised by oppressions, with justice at its heart of interpretation, execution, activism and delivery of peace.
Peace has been such a ‘beaten’ word used and appropriated by different people in different contexts, suited to their convenience. Particularly, those who have been waging wars have always upheld that to bring peace to the regions, there is no other way than to bring it by force, and history has many examples to testify to it. Those who are in power have always used peace and harmony as shields for them to engage in the industry of war. In November 2025, Ukraine has been pursued—and even pressured—to accept a White House peace plan without any meaningful involvement in shaping its terms. This is yet another example of how global geopolitical powers construct “lasting peace” on their own terms rather than from the perspective of those who have borne the suffering of war.
How do we then understand a biblical vision of peace relevant for our contexts today? Peace, from a decolonial theological perspective, is not a mere act of non-violence, nor is it about drawing peace plans from the perspective of the powerful global powers; rather, it is about the holistic well-being of the whole creation, coupled with justice, where life matters. To put it in other words, only when justice is achieved, peace is realised, and life is affirmed. Therefore, any discussion on peace, any interrogation of peace and any action plan for peace should always be about justice and peace, where issues of power are addressed, with peace evolving bottom up rather than being enforced top down. Just peace exists only where the lives of all living beings are celebrated, with a preferential option to those on the margins.
The political theology of just peace that Isaiah 11 offers is all about a radical flourishing of all God’s creation affirming life by building bridges of love with mutual respect, mutual dignity, mutual equality, with a preferential option to those on the margins, like that of the lamb, the goat, the ox, the calf, the child, the poor and the creation, where justice and righteousness are the guiding paths towards it. The God of Isaiah 11 is the divine Spirit, who covers the earth with the knowledge of God, where divisions are defeated, where walls are dismantled and where hatred is uprooted, for only justice, peace and love prevail all over God’s creation.
Yet even as we speak of just peace, the very language we use for “peace” reveals how contested and politically charged the concept has become. I have noticed Christians who feel at home with the word ‘shalom’ for peace because of its Judeo-Christian Hebrew language roots, but they are at unease about other worldviews and spiritualities of peace, particularly with the words ‘salaam’ and ‘shanti’ because of their Arabic and Sanskrit linguistic, political and cultural origins. This isn’t a mere clash of words or a clash of languages. Rather, it has deeply political and theological overtones rooted in xenophobia. If one is committed to peace through the nurturing of its idea from the vision of ‘shalom,’ then we are open to other visions of peace of ‘salaam’ and ‘shanti’—or from any other cultural worldview, for peace is complemented and strengthened by various diverse visions.
In other words, the more one is rooted in the biblical vision of ‘shalom,’ the more open and receptive one will be towards ‘salaam’ and ‘shanti’ in particular. ‘De-othering’ is a commitment of just peace, and the vision of Isaiah about a peaceful kingdom is just about that, inviting the readers to be committed to justice and peace that comes to us through shalom, salaam, shanti or any other cultural context like the word ‘samadhanam’ in my home language, Telugu. It is interesting to note that in Isaiah 11:1-10, there is never a mention of the word ‘shalom’ or peace recorded in it. Rather, the inference of a peaceful living among the creation of God is very much alive in it, with justice and righteousness as the guiding path towards it.
Having considered the politics embedded in the very words we use for peace, it is equally important to notice how our scriptural traditions themselves frame this vision through their own interpretive choices. It is also interesting to notice the way Isaiah 11:1-10 has been entitled by various versions of the English Bibles. While most of the versions, like the NIV, ESV, NLT, etc, that I have browsed have titled it around “Jesse’s Stump,” only the NRSV and its later updated versions have titled it as “The Peaceful Kingdom.” The hermeneutical emphasis of the majority of the versions is centred around the coming righteous reign from the Davidic lineage, therefore situating this text for the season of Advent, which is popularly and traditionally understood as waiting in hope for the arrival of the Messiah.
However, such a titling of ‘Jesse’s Stump’ to Isaiah 11 makes readers of this text appropriate this text as an eschatological prophecy about the coming of Jesus. But from the Christian perspective, since the Messiah has already arrived in Jesus Christ, a decolonial political understanding of Advent challenges the readers to recognise Advent as a season of active witnessing rather than mere passive waiting. Therefore, this Isaiahnic text, when read particularly in the season of Advent from a decolonial perspective, challenges the readers to witness, account and activate ‘the Peaceful Kingdom’ from below, from within and from the sites of the margins, here and now in our particular contexts. A decolonial reading of this text further interrogates which peace and whose peace this text speaks about, and invites the readers to re-read it from the positions of vulnerabilities and from the perspectives of the margins.
Just Peace from a Lamb’s Lens
To understand the politics of just peace, it is significant to understand what peace means to those on the margins. Therefore, I employ a decolonial hermeneutic to unravel the politics of just peace by reading it from the perspective of the lamb, celebrating the lamb as a living creature on the margins when compared to the wolf, leopard, lion and snake, who are powerful in this text. Lamb also serves a metaphorical value, representing those on the margins today. The order of the day was defined by the philosophy of ‘survival of the fittest,’ where might is right, and those powerful will always be powerful, making as many creatures as possible powerless. Lambs are meek and mild. Though they live together in flocks, they may disperse in search of green pastures. In that process, they become a soft target for the wolves and other predatory creatures to be attacked and killed. So, there always existed fear, hatred, animosity and even enmity for lambs against wolves, leopards, and lions.
When the spirit of the Lord, by exercising justice and righteousness and by deciding with equity for the meek of the earth (4v), creates a peaceful kingdom, where the wolf shall dwell with the lamb. Therefore, the first contour of the politics of just peace is that the powerful recognise their privilege, give up their power and seek reconciliation by dwelling with those they have threatened and killed. Peace is justice in action, where the mighty are brought down to identify with the weak, meek and mild. So, from the lamb’s perspective, just peace is where the oppressor, the predator, and the privileged give up their power and live in love and friendship with the flock of lambs, for there is no hurt or destruction on God’s holy mountain, the common dwelling for all.
The second contour is that the lamb receives its predator, the wolf, by giving up their fear, hatred, animosity and enmity, trusting in the divine spirit of justice and willing to cohabitate with the wolf. Just peace for the lamb is being liberated from his/her/their fear of hatred and to acknowledge that he/she/they is co-equal with the powerful.
The third contour is to celebrate a common dwelling for both the wolf and the lamb. Just peace is celebrating a common roof, a common shelter, a common home for both the oppressed and the oppressor, for God’s justice is unlike what the human eyes see, or ears hear. Rather, it is about a common divine dwelling for both the rival parties. Just peace for a lamb is to acknowledge that the wolf is a neighbour, friend and a co-creature in the creation of God who also has the image of God.
The fourth contour is a cohabitation of the wolf and the lamb together with the rest of the creation, where leopard, goat, calf, lion all live together with mutual respect and will be led by a little child in their divine playfulness. Just peace from the lamb’s perspective is to recognise that the lamb is not alone, living on their own with the wolf. Instead, the lamb is in community with all the creatures of God, eating the food of the weak and meek and playing with one another as the little child leads them all.
I have just come back from a “Stand Up to Racism Unity Rally” against fascism in our borough in Stockport, UK, where we have all affirmed our unity in being a nation of sanctuary, welcoming people who are seeking asylum and refuge. At the same place and venue, also gathered were a few far-right extremist people to counter our unity rally, demonising the refugees and spitting venom against us for welcoming the strangers at the expense of taxpayers. It is unfortunate and a disgrace to the God of the Bible to see how far-right groups hijack Christian faith in hating the ‘other.’ Just peace in such a context must be understood from the positions of people who have travelled on perilous journeys to reach Britain seeking sanctuary after fleeing from cruel contexts of war, conflict, poverty, discrimination and hunger. The peaceful kingdom has to be here and now, and we are called to join hands for its realisation today, in our midst.
The calling of Isaiah for today is to exercise justice and righteousness for people seeking refuge by standing in solidarity with them in their quest for a sanctuary. As we commit to just peace, we are challenged to resist far-right extremists and their toxic rhetoric against the weak and vulnerable, and to make a common dwelling for and with people seeking a sanctuary in our midst. Just peace applies to numerous conflicts and oppressions, including the context of reparations. Political theology calls us to start with people who have been victims of colonisation, wars, conflicts, casteism, racial injustice, gender injustice and ecological injustice, and creatively work on just peace, which is listening and acting to their stories and demands for justice.
Just peace from Isaiah demands that Ukraine determine their plans for peace, rather than peace enforced from above against its wishes. May the God of Isaiah 11 cover our creation with God’s knowledge so that we witness and work towards justice and peace in our contexts today. The politics of just peace, whether we understand it as shalom, salaam, shanti or samadhanam, etc, is always about justice-centric peace and peace-centric justice.
