Reflections to the Granby Community on the Outbreak of War
Text: Psalm 46, Romans 8, selections
Dr. Geordie Campbell March 20, 2003
My heart aches to tell you that I have been anticipating this occasion for some time now. Much as I have prayed fervently for peace, I have known that war has been nearly inevitable. Much as I am an idealist, I have seen the anguish before our nation and the world. And much as I am a pacifist and dream of a warless world, I know that "the inexpressible sadness of every era is that each time that dream revives, it dies, overcome by the harshness of reality."1
That harsh reality is now here. No longer are we a people and a world on the threshold of war, we are at war. No longer do we wonder if diplomacy can divert the use of military force, we are using it. No longer do we send troops to wait a half a world away, we deploy them into danger's path. In the turning of a day it all shifted, and, the questions before us have shifted, too. And now, now it falls incumbent upon us to ask in fear and trembling: "What do we do as Christians?" and "How are we to be Christ's people in the face of war?"
As pastor to some of you and neighbor to all of you, I want to offer five suggestions in response to those questions. They are gathered from the faith that we share and are given that we might sustain the days before us with integrity. You might consider them pastoral care from the pulpit, and surely we all need the care and guidance of our faith these difficult days.
First, take no glory in what we are doing. This may seem self-evident, even odd to say, but as recent as this afternoon I have heard things like, "Now we'll show him." Please, no! War is always hell. Violence and bloodshed are always tragic. And though at times war may be the lesser of two evils - which is largely how we have come to see this war - it is always a sinful choice. In every place and time it has reflected the last of our acceptable ways of being human.
Augustine was the first to put his hand to what we call the Just War Theory. Aquinas and a host of others have revised that in the 1600 years since. They have all been clear that even if war can be framed as just, war it is not ever a glorious thing. The Psalmist echoes this, too, "The warhorse is a vain hope for victory, and by its great might it cannot save." I wonder, can you hear that? War alone cannot save us! Elsewhere the Psalmist says, "Trample underfoot and scatter the people who delight in war." And much closer to our own time, Martin Luther King said, "Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars."2 So please, take no glory.
Second, acknowledge the complexity that has brought the world to this harsh outcome. Honestly, it is so multi-layered. If there is anything that we don't need just now it's simplistic platitudes and polarizing chatter. Passion and the engagement of our best selves are surely in order, but none of us are served well by allowing single-minded opinions to cloud our thoughts. And I mean this for every standpoint along the theological and political spectrum - for my friends on the left and on the right.
My father once told me to always beware when I thought that I had the only correct answer to life's challenges. That's sage advice. More, he taught me that it's never a bad idea to find someone credible with whom I disagree, and to let his or her perspective remind me of the complexity of human life. So here it is. I am strongly pacifist and always have been. I simply can't read the Gospels and come to any other conclusion. But in the face of today I honestly struggle with that - especially knowing Saddam Hussein's record of terror on his own people, let alone what he might have in mind for the rest of the world. My father's advice came back to me when I read Elie Weisel's editorial in the Hartford Courant3 last week. He is a Nobel Peace Laureate whose wisdom was forged in the suffering of the holocaust. His editorial was about the need to remove Saddam Hussein. He went so far as to say that if such courage had been shown by world leaders in 1938, the holocaust might never have happened. All I could respectfully say in response was, "He makes a compelling case."
Again, acknowledge the complexity! These are not easy or simple issues before us, nor are they entirely pure or clear. So please don't let yourself sink to platitudes and polarities. The stakes are too high for that, and the world expects more from us, far more.
Third, pray without ceasing. Pray fervently. Pray in sighs that breathe too deeply for words. That's straight from the heart of Paul. It stands on the truth that though we can't fix a broken world by ourselves, we can express our anguish and concerns to God.
So pray. Pray for courage and fortitude in this dark hour . . . pray for the men and women who put their lives on the line for the freedom that we cherish . . . pray for George Bush and his advisors who have the weight of the world on their shoulders . . . pray for the leaders of other lands who share the mantel of this burden with us . . . pray for the international community that the division that has been a part of these recent weeks gives way to a new spirit of cooperation.
More yet, and very difficult territory. Jesus said "Pray for your enemies." So pray for Saddam Hussein that there would be a reckoning sooner rather than later . . . pray for the soldiers in Iraq, most of whom do not serve willingly . . . pray for the countless children and families who will bear the brunt of what we call collateral damage . . . and pray, pray for an end to the madness that envelopes the world that God so loves.
Fourth, work for peace. That's not a partisan statement because we all want peace. We may choose different ways of expressing it, but all of us want peace. In fact, this may be the clearest patch of common ground that we share - we all want peace. It is also the warrant and word of our Lord Jesus: "Blessed are the peacemakers."
Central to Jewish spirituality is the idea of tikkun olam. It refers to the act of repairing the world.4 Well, it seems to me our Christian responsibility at all times - but most especially now - is to work hard on repairing the world daily, in every little and large thing that we do.
A good friend of mine is a Catholic Sister, a Daughter of Wisdom. She has a phrase that she is fond of using and that rings so true. Especially as we go about tikkum olam, this work of repairing of the world. She says that we ought to always be about cooperating with God in the transformation of the world. Note in that: we don't do the transforming. God does. But we do the work, and the work right now is for peace.
And then finally, trust in God. We are, after all, a community of faith. Though we may each bear different traditions and expressions of that, we all look to the grace and love of God - above and beneath and around all that life and the world are about. So trust in God, and know that there is hope in that . . . vast hope.
A seventeen-year-old girl from Singapore recently wrote this. "I believe that there is still hope to live - not merely to exist. Somewhere in this hopeless whirlpool of life - a hand extended to help. In these battered days, you will find it if you search - one who has offered to mend. I know that somewhere in this canyon of despair there's a place of relief. Somewhere in this turmoil of confusion, a right path to follow. Somewhere in this world of too much truth, a faithful friend awaits, and a hope to lead us home."5 For those of us in faith's holding, that Friend is God.
So . . . trust in God, work for peace, pray without ceasing, acknowledge the complexity, and take no glory.
My family and my friends these suggestions I offer in the face of our wondering, "How are we to be Christ's people in the face of war?" I offer them in faith from the heart of this pastor to the community and land that I love. And, as always, I do so in the name of the One who yearns and longs and cries for peace and well-being, shalom and shalem, for every land and for all people, more than any of us can ever fathom. Amen.
1 William Sloane Coffin. The Heart is a Little to the Left. University Press of New England, 1999, p. 59.
