First United Methodist Church
Birmingham, Michigan
Scripture: Mark 13:1-8
February 9, 2003
While waiting for a first appointment in the reception room of a new physician, I noticed the framed certificate which bore his full name. Convinced that I had heard it before, I racked my brain until I remembered that a tall, gawky kid with a similar-sounding name had been in my high school class, some 45 years ago. But upon being ushered into his office, I knew….just knew….I was wrong. I mean, this balding, graying man with the double chin and a face the quality of old shoe leather was far too old to have been my classmate. But I thought” “What the heck?” No harm in asking him anyway.
So I said: “There isn’t a chance you attended Mackenzie High School in Detroit, is there?”
“Yes,” he said (looking surprised). “I did.”
“When did you graduate?” I asked.
“Class of ‛58,” he answered.
“Why, you were in my class,” I said.
Looking at me closely (as if trying to place me), he asked: “Just what class did you teach?”
Which is my way of admitting I have circled the track a few times. And if I haven’t seen it all, I have seen a lot. Some of which moved me. Some of which moved beyond me. And some of which came at me….did a U-ey….retreated momentarily from me….only to come back at me again.
Forty years ago, when I didn’t know a single graduate student….even a Yale graduate student…. flush enough to own their own television, I wedged myself into a divinity school lounge and watched a president talk about the need to disarm a tyrant. The president’s name was Kennedy. The tyrant’s name was Castro. Now, with most of you, I recently watched another president talk about disarming another tyrant. The president’s name being Bush. The tyrant’s name, Hussein.
I remember the anxiety I felt that long-ago night, given that Cuba was but 90 miles from Miami and I was but 23 years of age. Divinity draft deferments (especially in a school not linked to a particular denomination) were shaky at best. And while I sympathized with the historic peace churches, I was far from a pacifist. In short, the prospect of war that night was something I faced far more personally than philosophically.
I am older now….age-protected now….better-educated now….possibly-wiser now. But I am still anxious now. Because the stakes seem higher now. And while I have no responsibility to fight (as do those we prayed for this morning) or fly bombing missions (as do two of my daughter’s more recent male companions), I do feel a responsibility to care and counsel, pray and preach. Especially preach, which I do this morning in the largest, most influential congregation in Michigan Methodism.
Not that you need….not that anybody needs….one more “talking head.” The airways (both cable and network) are full of “talking heads,” equally matched by “writing heads” in newspapers and magazines. But in a denomination where all kinds of “briefcase bureaucrats” (not presently serving a church) are more than willing to speak for the church, I thought the time might now have come for one inside the church to speak to the church.
I do so, this morning, after much tightrope-walking, foot-dragging, sleep-losing and (yes, you’d better believe it) impassioned praying. I also do so of my own accord, speaking for no one but myself….not my bishop….not the various boards and agencies of my denomination….not my clergy colleagues (dispersed hither and yon)….or my local clergy colleagues (full-time and retired). Just me. So let me beat around the bush no longer and tell you where I stand, followed by a trio of words on why my decision was hard, how my decision was made, and what I believe an informed Christian conscience might consider next.
Simply put, I have concluded (within the very last few days) that the President and the President’s war agenda deserve my support, and that my meager weight should be diverted from the ethics of opposing war with Iraq to the ethics of how best to conduct it. This has nothing to do with my becoming a “hawk,” but everything to do with my becoming a “realist.” If I am wrong, may Christ forgive me. But if I am right (not a word commonly associated with me, by the way), may Christ use me.
Now I promised I would answer three questions, the first being: “Why was this hard?” I give you several reasons. First, it was hard because of my belief that war….any war….all war….every war….grieves the heart of God. Irrespective of necessity. Irrespective of outcome. Irrespective of noble purpose (to whatever degree noble purpose can be defined or claimed). If Jesus really wept over Jerusalem a mere five days before his execution (because, in his words, nobody in that town knew the things that made for peace), I can only conclude that he learned those tears at home, from a heavenly father who taught him how to cry.
Second, my decision was hard, given my belief that the preponderance of the Gospel witness (not the entirety of the Word, but the weight of the Word) favors peace-making over war-waging. Isaiah wrote: “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace.” While Jesus said: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.”
Third, my decision was hard because when I probe the scriptures in answer to the question “Why did Jesus come, really?” (I am talking about the Incarnation, here), my answer draws me to the word “reconciliation” every bit as much as it draws me to the word “salvation.” “God was in Christ,” said Paul, “reconciling the world unto himself, and entrusting unto us this ministry of reconciliation.” And it is hard to pursue reconciling with people you’re bombing….at least while you’re bombing them. Or so it seems.
Fourth, my decision was hard because I am far from convinced that attacking Iraq will make us any safer….and may actually widen the window of our vulnerability for a while. War has changed since “the Big One”….making the enemy less identifiable….the battle lines less discernable….and the risks less calculable.
Fifth, my decision was hard because there are so many analysts….heck, so many experts…. looking at the same data and spinning it differently. My impressionability makes me nervous when, after all this time, I can still be swayed by the one who spoke last and the one who speaks loudest.
Sixth, my decision to support war against Iraq was hard, given that my life-long “lean” has been toward those who would rather talk sense than knock sense. And I am incredibly patient when it comes to talking. Ask anyone who knows me.
Seventh, my decision was hard, given my fear that the one place this war will be neither swift nor clean will be the streets of Baghdad, where (from both sides) the best will be lost….the most will be lost….and scores upon scores of the youngest and poorest will be lost.
Those are just a few of the reasons why my decision was hard. So why was it made? Three reasons (well short of seven, but enough to tip the balance).
First, I said I was not a pacifist. I admire pacifists. I support pacifists. I regularly learn from and seek to emulate pacifists. When I was doing youth ministry during the Vietnam era, there were three occasions when I submitted briefs to the Dearborn Draft Board supporting young men in my youth group who were turning 18 and filing for C.O. status (as conscientious objectors). The law of the land did not require that I agree with them. It only asked my testimony that they were “seriously convicted,” and that their convictions were formed (at least in part) by their association with something that looked like a church. I was most willing to step forward on their behalf. But you might ask yourself how popular that made me in 1967 and 1968.
Getting in the way of any pacifism I might have embraced was, and still is, my understanding of sin….how pervasive it is….how powerful it is….how persistent it is….and how (on occasion) it needs to be reined in by power as much as it needs to be redeemed by love. Sin makes people do awful stuff. Some of which is very hurtful stuff. And while there is none of that awful, hurtful stuff that can’t be forgiven in the long run, there is some of it that must be opposed in the short run. Especially when it is blatant. Especially when it is deviant. And especially when it is on-goingly unrepentant.
Second, I believe that “evil” is an applicable word in this debate. I cringed when Ronald Reagan talked about “that evil empire.” And I cringed again when George Bush talked about “the threefold axis of evil.” But the one single line in President Bush’s State of the Union Address I couldn’t shake free from came when, after cataloging delay after delay, abuse after abuse, and threat after threat (traceable to Saddam Hussein), he said: “If this is not evil, then evil has no meaning.” And the temptation that comes to people like me is that, in my desire to believe the best about the most, while cutting the slack of grace even to the worst (which I still believe is God’s modus operandi eternally), I run the risk of whitewashing “evil” right out of the dictionary while it is still alive and out-of-control in human affairs. While no hands (including our hands) are clean hands, some hands need restraint as well as washing.
Third, it occurred to me (just a few days ago) that we have placed George Bush in a bit of a quandary. After the tragic events of September 11, 2001, there were many who suggested that our government (and our president) should have known more….should have had better intelligence….should have better communicated and coordinated the intelligence they had…. and, therefore, were ignorant.
While others suggested (in the wake of September 11) that our leaders did know, were aware, and had received numerous intelligence reports, but simply hadn’t acted upon them in a prudent and timely manner. Therefore, they were not so much ignorant as irresponsible.
So now, when the President (and the government) claim to have information and have taken steps to act upon the information they have, pardon my reluctance to leap in and say: “You’ve probably read the situation wrong, and your steps are only going to make the situation worse.” We start by damning them for doing nothing, then turn around and damn them for doing anything.
Therefore, I have concluded that some form of war is inevitable. Not laudable. Certainly regrettable. But, in this set of circumstances, understandable. And maybe, depending on its conduct, marginally acceptable.
As with the Cuban Missile Crisis forty years ago, I pray that we won’t have to play the hand we’ve laid on the table. But if we do, I find moral breathing space on page 61 of the United Methodist Church’s Book of Resolutions (2000 edition) which reads:
Some of us believe that war, and other acts of violence, are never acceptable to Christians. But we also acknowledge that most Christians regretfully realize that when peaceful alternatives fail, the force of arms may be preferable to unchecked aggression, tyranny and genocide.
Which brings me to question three: “What does an informed Christian conscience consider next?” Personally, I should like to see Christians turn from a discussion of the war’s validity to a discussion of the war’s conduct. I am talking about moral issues that relate to objectives, weapons, targets….those sorts of things. If the only war-related question Christians debate is “yes” or “no,” we forfeit the opportunity to influence anything that happens once the generals begin talking about “how.” For centuries, theologians and ethicists (especially Catholic theologians and ethicists….let’s give credit where credit is due) have worked on something called “The Just War Doctrine”….two points of which are of great personal interest.
First, proportionality. A nation waging a just war is careful that, in opposing and destroying evil, it does not create more evil than it destroys in the process. From time to time I will talk with my wife about a strategy I have chosen for addressing some conflict or another. It may involve a conflict with one of you. Or it may involve a conflict with the church. And after listening to my strategy, she sometimes asks: “Are you sure you aren’t going to do more harm than good?” Which is a rather simplistic phrase. But I believe it is worthy of ongoing debate, given that the conduct of war is much too important a matter to leave solely to the generals.
Second, non-combatant immunity. A war is considered “just” insofar as it is able to successfully exempt from aggression those who are not active participants in the aggression. For years, this has been taken to include women and children, the infirm, the sick, the elderly, etc.
When Kris and I were just starting out in Dearborn (where I was up to my neck in youth and young adult ministry), a young lady, very much in love, called and said: “I’ve got somebody special I’d like you to meet. Is it all right if I bring him by?”
“Come on over,” we said. So they did. She was radiant. He was young….handsome….relatively new to her life….and not all that many weeks removed from a tour of duty in Vietnam. Making small talk, I asked his impression of the war. To which he said: “They’re a bunch of gooks. They all look alike. They all sound alike. You can’t tell good gooks from bad gooks. You can’t tell our gooks from their gooks. So we ought to douse the entire country with gasoline and tell the last remaining GI to light a match.” The girl who brought him over for approval was my sister. The guy who wanted to torch the entire Vietnamese landscape eventually became my brother-in-law. I suppose it will not surprise you when I say that we were never close.
* * * * *
War against Iraq?
Inevitable? It would seem so.
Necessary? I reluctantly conclude so.
Winnable? I am reasonably persuaded so.
And while I won’t ask God to bless it, I pray that God will understand it….forgive it….sustain us in it….see us through it….heal the world following it….and eventually lead us and our enemies beyond it (toward something that most closely resembles the Kingdom that we prayed for earlier this morning).
Amen.
Notes
When I selected the text for this morning’s sermon, it was my intention to spend more time talking about the phrase “wars and rumors of wars.” Subsequently, I discovered that another member of our clergy team, Rod Quainton, surfaced the same phrase in a sermon two weeks previous. At that time, Rod discussed the apocalyptic imagery of the passage, meaning that I no longer had to. Additional comments on the passage landed on the cutting room floor due to time constraints. Clearly, war never receives an endorsement from Jesus as a method of conflict resolution. Equally clear, however, is the recognition by Jesus that war is an occasional (albeit unfortunate) occurrence in the course of human events. All told, the business about “wars and rumors of wars” is an interesting phrase in an interesting passage, and I am grateful for my colleague for exploring its implications (apocalyptic and otherwise).
Given the preponderance of anti-war statements from denominational leaders, I was surprised to find the language I quoted from the Book of Resolutions, 2000 edition. For fuller discussion of the complexities of this issue, read Section V:G (“Military Service”) in the United Methodist Social Principles, page 61 of the Book of Resolutions, 2000 edition. For a discussion of war and peace, look to the Book of Resolutions, pages 762-788. And for the only reference to Iraq, turn to page 682 of the same source.
Many of my understandings on this subject have been impacted by the writings of the late Reinhold Niebuhr, especially as found in his Gifford Lectures entitled “The Nature and Destiny of Man.” As concerns the Doctrine of the Just War, I find myself returning again and again to Paul Ramsey’s classic work, “War and the Christian Conscience: How Shall Modern War Be Conducted Justly?” I do acknowledge that both Niebuhr and Ramsey wrote in an age that was pre-nuclear (albeit well after World War II), but their treatments of human sin and military ethics are still considered classics in many circles.
Finally, I would confess that the opening illustration about my Mackenzie High School classmate is apocryphal. I owe the story to my esteemed colleague, Dr. Roger Wittrup. As for my brother-in-law, he mellowed in subsequent years. Alas, it has been over 20 years since he was my brother-in-law. And much of his post-Vietnam rhetoric can be traced (if not entirely excused) to the emotionally devastating experience of having been a foot soldier in that war.
